Writing Contest! (ANNOUNCED WINNERS)

Happy holidays! This is based on pack lore. Sombh and Sio are two wolves of mine ^^

Silence Rings

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So this is where her sense had led her. A sharp-tugging bell, swaying, beckoning, calling her forth, now subdued to light tings of satisfaction. Though she can not see, she's not blind to the creature before her. It's mere presence crackling in the air and the trees it moved away to loom before her. She could smell it too. A harsh scent of burnt fur and rot. An undertone of ash which she also felt on the ground, clinging to her paws. She could smell her sister, Sio's, fear. However, Sombh was not afraid. She felt the creature's breath, hot on her face as it leaned to her level. An act of respect, which surprised her.

"Hello, I believe you've been calling me. Are you in need of something?" It let out a hissing laugh, undertones by light tings. 

"Fearless and right to the point seer? Impressive..." The creature took a pause, shifting closer and snapping a tree in the process. Their speech was slow and Sombh found it oddly calming. The snap didn't even startle her. "Yes it is I who called you. I could not pass up a chance to speak. It's been... A very long time... But tell me, why did you bring along another? They are not seer." 

"I didn't wish to walk off a cliff or fall to quicksand." She replied with a scoff. 

"Mm, you do not trust yourself. How curious. A young seer?" She could tell they tilted their head by the soft jingle that followed. 

"I do not know what a seer is, though I suppose this is about my visions... I have not had any as of late." Sombh felt her sister bump into her side. She started slightly, not expecting the sudden jostle, but relaxed into it. The scent of fear was lighter now so she suppose it was for her own comfort and she leaned into it with gratitude. The creature hummed in understanding. 

"If I may ask, how do you make those noises? Are you wearing something?" 

"What noises?" Her sister whispers hesitantly. 

"It's something between a ringing and a sparrow's song. Can you not hear that?" The creature chuckled again, interrupting their aside. 

"I believe wolves call it a seer song for only they can hear it... However all life reacts to it. Most escaped my forest before its destruction because of my frantic tune... But many died as well." 

"Oh! You were this forest's guardian!" Sio exclaimed. 

"I was... And am. I alone will watch over the ashes. When saplings begin to grow, I will protect them. And when the forest is healed once again, I shall protect the returning life... It will take many wolf lifetimes to fully heal."

“That does sound lonely.”

“That it is.” A moment of silence passes between them before Sombh responds.

“This was a far journey, and we can not stay long, but we may return again soon.” The guardian sits with a huff of breath and a puff of ash, billowing off the ground around them.

“I do not wish to waste short mortal lives on my own whims.”

“Our lives are not so short as to be wasted on such visits.” They seem to think about this a moment.

“I can not see your return without giving something back. If you return, I’d offer you immortality.”

“Im-Immortality!?” Sio shouts in surprise. “You can do that?”

“Of course. However, be warned. It is irreversible.”

“May we speak again if we don’t want the offer?”

“No. You may return but I will no longer show myself to you.” Silence falls over them. The only sound being a light wind whooshing through the burnt landscape. Ash being picked up and gently laid in piles and upon fur. A night bird twits quietly in the far off trees of greener land, alerting Sombh to the setting sun. She comes to her decision.

“I accept and shall return to you-”

“Do not be so rash young seer. Forever is a long time. I do not need your answer now, but instead on your return. But what of you non-seer? Have you also rushed to a quick commitment?”

“No, not at all. I will think on it but I don’t want to watch all those I love die forever. It seems.. Isolating. I don’t think I could get close to anyone again.”

“Ah yes, immortality can be a very solitary existence. As a seer, do you not feel the same?” Sombh takes her time thinking of what to say. She doesn’t want her decision to see rushed, though it is. It's a chance she can not pass up, a chance she thought she’d never have.

“I don’t. My visions have not been gentle in what they show me. I've seen the death of loved ones. I’ve seen tragedies of old and of some to come. But I’ve learned from them too. I’d like to learn from them forever. And I’d like to help protect my pack- my family, forever. Any further thought on the matter would be my nerves asking what ifs. Those thoughts are not worth my short mortal life.” Sombh smiles at her own cheeky response. The guardian chuckles soft like a breeze, seeming pleased by it.

“I can promise you with this gift if you return and your dedication has not wavered.” They address Sio with a turn of the head. “Or if you’ve judged it worth the isolation.”

“When would you like us to come?”

“Whenever you feel ready.”

“Will you still be here or do we call you somehow?”

“If you call my name into the wind, I shall come to you. You shall know of my name when you are ready. I see it is getting late, so I shall say a farewell. Thank you for answering my call young seer and non-seer.” The guardian gives a small bow that the two wolves return before rising up with surprising fluidity. Then, they turn and with a rush of air and disappear. 

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Two months later, Sombh awoke with a rush of confidence. Today was the day. Sio had said she would not be going back so Sombh would have to do it alone. She’d never done such a long trip by herself before. Self-doubt had been heavy upon her, but she’s been learning to trust herself more. She wanted to do this, both for herself and for the lonely guardian. Today is the day.

She went early, leaving with nothing more than a goodbye. She’d done this journey once before, and the paths had not drastically changed past a light onset of frost. Her confidence grew as she got closer to the burnt forest. The guardian's presence resonated through the ashen plane, and although she still had a ways to go, It sat like a compass upon her senses. When she reached the clearing she slowed her pace.

The guardian was not where it was before, she knew that much. Its scent and sound were absent from the area before her. A name did not come to her right away. This confused and frustrated her. She debated attempting to howl like the seer’s song but it didn’t feel right. So instead she sat and waited. ‘It will come’, she tells herself. ‘I just have to be patient.’

Then it comes. A soft cooling breeze she’d recognized from when she was here last. It patted her fur and stirred the ash even softer than before. A soft ting echoing in its sound. Then it came to her.

“Zephyr.” Sombh whispers with confidence. A name and a word to describe the gentle wind.

“So you’ve returned.” She nods in response. The air shifts, the pressure changes, and she knows before her now is Zephyr, the creature, the guardian. Nothing more needs to be said. She feels them lean forward and press a gentle hand upon her head. Then a flash. If she could see, she’d have seen it as light as well. Instead she just feels it. A bell that's always been with hers next ring is silent. Time, she realizes, has stopped counting down her death.

Word count: 1356, not including title

Well, that was a fun Christmas Eve. I was wandering about the forums in the early hours yesterday and I stumbled upon this contest. Normally I wouldn't bother to try to put something together in such a short timeframe but... That picture was so evocative I couldnt resist. I managed to put this together in just 24 hours, so I am proud of myself for that. 

The Midnight Wolves 

This story is a mystery story at its heart so I highly recommend reading my inspirations after. You will definitely spoil yourself otherwise. With that in mind, here is another doc with it in so people dont read it by accident. 

Inspiration for Midnight Wolves

It took me almost as much time editing it to make it fit the 1,500 word limit as it did for me to write it. oof

Thank you for hosting this! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Good luck to everyone! :3

Word Count: 1,496

Grief

1085 words, almost as long as the midterm essay I had to write lol. If only the words were as easy to write with that essay as they were with this. Anyway, this is inspired off of two of my wolves and their lore that I haven't fully written :/ maybe someday though lol

Best of luck to all the other entries! I look forward to reading them :)

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Returning

Stigandr’s ears twitched at the sound of crunching snow behind him. He turned just in time to see Geir cresting the hill, jaws splayed and panting heavily.

“I was wondering when you would catch up,” Stigandr huffed, shaking his head to brush off the half-melted snow that clung to his thick black fur.

Geir let out a soft whine, half-turning his head away to avoid being pelted with the water droplets. He looked like he was a few paw steps short of collapsing into the snow. “We’ve been walking for hours now. Are you sure this is the right spot?”

Stigandr returned his gaze ahead. Tall tree trunks, stripped bare of their thick summer branches by heavy piles of snow, seemed to surround them in every direction. The sun had been at their backs when they’d set out, but either it had long since slipped below the horizon, or they’d gone deep enough into the woods that it could no longer reach them.

It was no matter. He didn’t need the daylight to know where he was. The place had long since been burned into his memory, and despite the continued snowfall, the wind was almost preternaturally still. “Yes,” he said softly, voice hushed as if too loud of a bark would disturb the peace. “Yes, this is it.”

Apparently not sharing his concerns about being disruptive, or simply not noticing anything was out of the ordinary, Geir sneezed to dislodge a clump of snow from his nose. “My paws are frozen stiff,” he moaned.

Stigandr didn’t respond. He could hardly feel his own, but he didn’t think it was because of the cold. All he could do was stare into the trees, waiting, hoping, as the minutes ticked away.

He didn’t know how long it had been before Geir sighed, turning to face him. “Look, Stigandr. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it doesn’t seem like anything is happening. Maybe we should…”

“I’m not going home. Not without him.” He didn’t care if he had to wait here all night. He wasn’t leaving. Not again.

“Don’t be foolish. I know how much this means to you, but you can’t stay here any longer. If anything was going to happen, we would have seen it already.”

Stigandr shook his head. “Not yet. I can’t leave yet.”

Geir’s voice dipped into a frustrated growl, the harsh sound almost surprising to hear from his old friend. “You think this is what he would have wanted? For you to freeze to death miles away from your pack?”

Abruptly, Stigandr rounded on him, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” His voice was low and controlled, but he could feel his fur bristling along his spine.

“I understand perfectly well! I understand that you were afraid, and confused, and moons ago you made a single mistake that-”

“A mistake?!” They were practically at each other’s throats now. It made Stigandr feel sick, arguing with Geir after he’d come out all this way with him, but guilt and pain burned hot in his belly, shame and frustration crawled up his throat, converted too quickly into blind fury. “A mistake is letting a rabbit get away on a hunt. It’s tripping over a rock and landing face first in a river. It’s not-”

Abruptly, the ground seemed to tremble under their paws. Stigandr and Geir both cut themselves off, heads snapping around to track the source of the vibrations, argument largely forgotten in the face of a greater threat.

Or at least, that’s what Stigandr’s instincts were shouting at him. His paws pricked with the need to run, to return to his pack safely. But he couldn’t go. That treacherous, persistent sliver of hope in his heart that had dragged him out here in the first place wouldn’t let him.

Geir had already taken a few steps back. “Stigandr, we have to go.” Stigandr didn’t move. “Stigandr! Are you mad?” The shaking of the earth only grew worse the longer it went on, and in the distance the tops of the trees trembled. Something was headed their way. Something large.

Geir was trying to physically shove Stigandr back when the thumping and shaking rose to a near-deafening level. Stigandr braced himself to stay standing; Geir wasn’t so lucky, losing his footing and nearly toppling forward.

The trees in front of them snapped like twigs.

A large, clawed hand emerged, then another, parting the few that remained standing to reveal a massive beast.

The creature was all the more terrifying for its lupine features, which had been twisted and distorted. They had pointed ears and tufts of fur along their cheeks, but where eyes should have been there were only sunken, glowing pits, and their maw had been twisted into a rictus grin of slavering jaws and teeth. They loomed impossibly large, back bowed to protect sunken ribs and long, spindly limbs that ended in sharpened claws that dug into the bark of the trees in their grasp.

Geir gave an involuntary yelp next to him, curled and half-cowering. All his fur stood on end. “Run!” Then the last of his courage deserted him and he bounded away across the snow.

Stigandr didn’t move. Geir would notice he wasn’t following soon, but that was alright. He couldn’t leave. This was what he had come for.

The creature peered down at him, teeth bared. They made a low growling noise, but it too was just off enough to be uncanny, with a sound like the rasp of metal under its snarl.

Stigandr stretched up as best he could to meet their gaze. He was not afraid. “I know,” he said, so quietly it was nearly drowned out by the beast. “I know, but I’m here now.”

They made a curious grumbling noise then. Their head lowered further, bringing wolf and monster eye to eye, but Stigandr hardly saw them. Instead, he only saw the same horrible scene play out before his eyes that had haunted his nightmares for moons.

They had been barely out of puphood then. They’d come to the woods to explore even after being warned off. They’d traveled here, to this spot, and something had reached for them out of the darkness.

Stigandr could have stayed, could have helped. But he’d run. He was too afraid of the beast his mate had become, too frightened to suffer the same fate. He’d left him there in the grasp of the woods and hadn’t had the strength to even look back.

But he wasn’t afraid now. Slowly, carefully, he stepped forward and rested his forehead against the tip of the creature’s snout, closing his eyes. “Never again,” he promised. “I’m so sorry. I’m not leaving you ever again, Björn.”

A whuff of hot air stirred the fur on his cheeks. A deep groan rumbled underneath him. The pressure against his forehead shifted, but Stigandr didn’t pull away.

Not until a soft, disbelieving voice called his name.

He opened his eyes to see not a beast but another wolf, dark brown with ruddy red patches along his flank and muzzle, and yellow eyes that were as familiar as his own.

A wave of relief crashed through him. All he could think to say was, “Björn.”

“You came back.”

“I never should have left.”

~~~

Wordcount: 1225

Happy holidays! Haven't written in a while but it was fun trying to think of something for this. :D

The Folklore of Wolves (986 words)

The folklore of wolves is a strange, strange thing, far different from the folklore of humans that you may know. You see, humans will tell you their tales of the dreaded big bad wolf, but the wolves know that something far worse than them lurks in the dark, dark forest.

Not many wolves have seen that something, but when the sky grows bleak from a night covered by clouds without even a drop of moonlight to guide the way, they feel it. They feel that chill in the air, brought by a cold breeze that ruffles up their fur, slipping underneath skin and rattling their bones. They toss and turn in their dens, or frantically pace along the ground, because they feel a terror in their souls, and no matter their actions, they can’t shake it off. 

But worse, they hear it: they hear that high pitched, shrill whine piercing the gloomy night, like the eerie creak of a tree about to snap and crush an unsuspecting victim underneath, or the dying shriek of a poor creature caught by its predator, or the deep, harsh growl of an unknown beast. The wolves hear it, and though they flatten their ears as best they can, the sound still reaches and unnerves them. 

Yet, these wolves that never come across it—they count their blessings, for they are the lucky ones. They are the lucky ones who, though they will hear about the nightmares of their fellow packmates, will never have the misfortune of experiencing it. 

But the wolves that have seen it bring home either terrible wounds or terrible tales—or both. They cower in fear upon returning, but then for the sake of their pack, they muster up their courage, gather with their packmates, and howl out their agonies to the moon, warning other wolves of the dangers they have come across:

Some wolves tell the tales of their own experiences, where upon reaching the border of an empty clearing and the towering trees of their forest, they instinctively freeze, limbs trembling, ears twitching. They hear a heavy thumping, a loud cracking from trees being pushed back by a great force, an eerie whine, and they slowly, slowly tilt their noses to the sky, eyes rolling upwards. 

For a split second, they take in a giant creature, many times larger than they ever will be! They see a creature covered in fur like theirs but somehow not like theirs at the same time, with glowing eyes like a stolen full moon and sharp, sharp teeth the size of their heads, long limbs as long as a tree branch and talons made for ripping flesh—

Then they flee. They run, as if broken from a trance, and shoot into action, paws drumming desperately against the ground. They are the smart wolves, for who knows what would become of them had they stayed still or tried to be brave? No wolf knows, for the wolves that do stay are never seen again. Not even a trace of them can ever be found.

Sometimes the creature reaches out for them as they flee, its mouth emitting strange moans and grunts like a misunderstood creature, as if begging for them to stay, as if it is lonely and is merely in want of company. But the wolves that run are too afraid to stop. They race forward, away, to their safety, and so when the creature reaches out, its gargantuan talons rip along their pelts, leaving wounds that will turn into scars that will be carried until death. These scars serve as reminders for those wolves that flee, reminders that when they are in danger, they must never look behind them, and always keep on running.

Other wolves tell tales of how blessed they were to not have to face that creature themselves, but also cursed at having to witness the fates of some poor unfortunate souls. 

One she-wolf’s howls stick out in particular, and her tale, though not the most dreadful of them, has since been passed down throughout generations of packs: at the edge of her forest, her eyes once fell upon two wolves facing that terrible creature. She forces herself to recall her unwanted memories, and howls. She howls her grief at watching the two brave souls, one wolf standing firm and upright, masking its fear, another one crouched down and wounded. Their decision to stay and confront the creature was evident. She howls her admiration for their loyalty to each other, for the one standing wolf unwilling to abandon its partner to a fate unknown but likely worse than death. She howls for the lightning bolt of fear that struck her twice—once for seeing the dreadful sight of two wolves in danger, and once for when the creature’s glowing eyes discovered her, hidden away behind trees. She howls her misery—her survivor’s guilt—towards herself, unwilling to stay and help those two wolves, instead fleeing off into the snow to leave them to their fate. What would become of those wolves? She would never know, and truth be told, she would never want to know. The fate of those two wolves is only between them and that dreaded creature. Who else would ever know? 

Despite the differing experiences of each of these unlucky wolves, their tales all have one thing in common—an undeniable foreboding, a sense of fear reflected in their flashing, rolling eyes, their tongues lolling out of their mouths, foam frothing on their lips as they recall what they do not wish to ever recall, if only for the sake of other wolves.

And so, every night, the wolves keep on howling, hoping their warnings reach each other, hoping to protect their packs from the dangers that creep through the night.

You see, when wolves howl, humans close their doors in fear. If only the humans knew that there are far greater beasts that lurk in the dark. 

Thanks so much for hosting this! I had a ton of fun writing an entry, and it's been really neat seeing everyone's interpretations of the picture! :D

My two characters are named Nathanael and Norah, after the two protagonists of the Fallout 4 video game, Nate and Nora. It's my favorite video game and has gotten me through some hard times. Other than that my characters themselves are original! 1473 words!

Winter's Gift

Winter shouldn’t be so dreary. Norah paused along the edge of the treeline, breath fogging the midnight air. Even with the full moon above to cast light over the landscape, all she could see were skeletal trees and a blanket of suffocating white.

“What spirits would have us celebrate at a time like this?” She muttered. “There’s nothing out here at all.”

A chuckle answered her, as Nathanael trotted up and shook snow from his dark fur. Cold powder showered her face.

She growled, smacking him with a heavy paw. “Ugh!”

“Well I’m celebrating.” Nathanael answered, hoping to appease her with a playful grin as he flopped down onto his side. “Why’d you even agree to come for the offering if you didn’t want to be out in the snow?”

For a moment she scowled. Then, with a good-natured roll of her eyes, swept a paw towards him and tossed another pile of snow onto his face. Nathanael yelped in surprise, kicking up as she dove to embrace him, tail wagging. “I wanted to spend time with you, silly. Even if it’s just this.”

He hummed, nibbling affectionately at her throat as she nuzzled him. “I guess that’s a good reason.”

The task they’d been assigned wasn’t difficult, but it was important. On the first full moon with snow, two wolves would bring an offering of hare and pheasant to the edge of the mountain – where woods turned to prairie. A gift for the spirits of the land to ensure their partnership for another year. Benevolent ones would see the offering and be inspired to reciprocate. Troublesome imps and boggarts would prefer to limit their trickery, in hopes of continued offerings the next year round.

It would be tempting to curl up here with Nathanael and lose themselves in each other’s eyes, huddled warm in the snow, but if they didn’t complete their task, the pack would feel it come spring. Norah gave his muzzle an affectionate lick and then stood again. “C’mon, we can be foolish once this is done.”

He wagged his tail, reciprocating the kiss, and then trotted back to the carcasses. She’d offered to carry one, but Nathanael seemed to consider it a point of pride that he could fit both in his mouth at once.

They weren’t too far from the flat stone where the meals would be placed. It took twice as long as it should have, because Nathanael kept stopping to romp in a snow pile, or admire the way the ice glittered in the moonlight on barren branches, or greet the curious ravens who came to follow them. Each earned a longsuffering sigh from Norah, but she had to admit, his infatuation with winter weather was endearing. He made the season beautiful, in a way she’d never imagined it to be before.

When the stone came into view, Norah ducked into a bow, taunting Nathanael to race her. They bolted through the snow, sending white flurries behind them. Playful barks and muffled yips echoed over the otherwise grim and silent valley. Perhaps not the solemn, stoic visitation the pack typically attended this event with.

Only when they were out of breath did Nathanael place their offerings out. His chest ached from the cold air and the effort of laughter. But his tail continued to wag. “I’m glad you came with me.”

Norah licked at a creamy shoulder, an ear flicking coyly. “You might win me over on winter. In puppy-steps.”

A snicker. Ears pricked, he looked back over their appeasement. “I guess we should go. It’s bad luck to wait for the spirits, they don’t like being watched.”

“Has anyone ever tried?” Norah scoffed. “I can’t recollect a single story where anyone waited here.”

“The Elders must say it for a reason.” His tongue brushed his nose, “Maybe we forgot why, but that doesn’t make it untrue.”

An earsplitting crash echoed through the woods, sending them both to their feet, fur bristling. Nathanael’s ears lay flat against the base of his neck.

“…Probably just ice breaking a tree branch.” He suggested. Which was reasonable. Believable.

 Norah swallowed, forcing herself to take a step back and relax the fur along her hackles. “We should still go back.”

He didn’t argue.

As they walked, Norah’s steps were slow and her head low, quiet, ears swiveling. Both knew it was silly. Nathanael stayed silent, too. Neither teased the other for their nervous gait. Norah might mock the superstition of her packmates, but she knew there were things out there besides wolves and benevolent ghosts. If it had heard her, she may have offended it.

They’d barely crossed the treeline before another CRASH tore the air like a lightning strike, reverberating through her chest. It left her ears ringing. And a low, stuttering bugle carried through the static air. “That’s not ice,” she hissed, pressing against Nathanael’s side.

No. It wasn’t ice.

The ground shook. Splinters and snaps of frozen wood made it sound as if the entire forest was being torn down. Such a din Norah thought it might deafen her. A spirit. It must be. She’d angered them, and they were here to extract vengeance. She hadn’t time to feel guilt or remorse, only terror. Her yellow eyes were wide with it.

They should run, but Nathanael stood stock still, ears and eyes toward the sound, showing neither fear nor aggression as she shrank beside him.

And the pack called her the impulsive one!

“Running wouldn’t do us any good.” He barked, barely audible. As if he’d read her thoughts. Trees crashed down through the cold night fog, until she realized they weren’t all trees. Long, black, spindly legs shifted through the pine bones. And above them, a shaggy black skeletal frame. Eyes that glowed white like the moon above.

Norah’s teeth bared, fur fluffed up to twice her normal size as the forest parted for this unearthly creature. Her tail curled with submissive terror.

Nathanael stepped forward. His paws left deep prints in the snow behind him.

The beast paused. Air sighed from its mouth but left no smoke. A cold creature. Cold as the winter snow. It didn’t strike. Only leaned down – which for a moment terrified her further. And she nearly lunged. Maybe it would be more interested in her, maybe Nathanael could escape.

“Hello.” He offered. Calm enough to think he was insane.

After a moment fighting her own instinct, Norah crept up beside him. She kept her tail tucked, each step an effort. The creature held unnaturally still. With no pupils, it was hard to know who it looked at, but she couldn’t shake the feeling the spirit’s attention was fully on her.

Then it shifted, immense weight borne on lopsided trees with grasping, unnatural fingers. She couldn’t bite back a whining-growl, as if warning it would do any good.

The spirit tilted its head and cooed. Loud. It shook through her core. But a gesture so benign that for a moment she didn’t know how to react.

Nathanael’s tail wagged with encouragement. “Are you a winter spirit?”

It rumbled louder. Not really a yes, but answer was heartening enough. With its next breath upon her fur came the sense of sleeping trees and bitter cold, burrowed animals, biting wind. A lonely, quiet waiting as the world hunkered down to sleep away the storm. And this – the steward of a thousand unseen things, shepherding the silence. It’s curiosity was piqued by the two creatures brave enough to play in its domain.

Not safe. Not tame. But it hadn’t come to claim them. Nor was it here to punish her arrogance. Only curious, and disinclined to hide its true form – as monstrous as it might appear to mortal wolves. They were being blessed.

“We’ve left an offering.” She spoke in a whisper, but it seemed to be listening. “On the old stone at the edge of the woods ...”

Of course it must know that, if it was here. Slowly it lifted itself upright, glowing eyes high above them casting milky light on the forest floor. And then with great strides it parted the forest, cascading over them and vanishing – but how or when they lost sight of it Norah realized she couldn’t quite recall. Spirits, after all, kept no measure of time the way wolves did. There was simply silence once more, and only fallen winter trees as a sign of its passing.

When she felt able, she looked back to Nathanael, yellow eyes meeting pale ones. He gaped faintly, then grinned, and laughed in disbelief. “Did that-?”

“Really happen?” Panting, she uncurled her tail. He staggered forward to nuzzle her, still laughing, and licked the fur down on her hackles.

“The pack will never believe us.” She realized, and buried into Nathanael’s shoulder, too in awe now to still be afraid.

The Hearts

Word Count: 1495

Inspiration: Two Steps From Hell

(no specific song - just listened to this artist to get me in the mood)

Notes: While this piece was done within a short crunch - I'm hoping it's easy and fun to read. Also definitely recommend listening to a song from the artist above when reading.

I'm really pushing it with the deadline haha -- I just learned about this contest a couple of days ago and really wanted to join! So glad I made something on time. I really hope whoever reads this little story enjoys it! and I also thank you, reader, for taking the time to actually read it c:

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Within Weakness there is Strength

By Remmie #8429

(1416 Word Count)

The snow dusted forest was tranquil. Everything appeared serene and especially beautiful under the radiant light of the moon. Icicles shimmered, the snow glowed and glittered, and the frozen brooks and creeks reflected the gorgeous colors of the forest. The beauty that the frost brought to the forest, however, was nothing but a thin veil to what travesties were to come. The layer of snow still thin enough for grass and plants to poke through will become crushing. Food will grow scarce. Starvation will run rampant. The cold will take hold of the weak and sickly.

            Within this terrifyingly beautiful forest ventured two wolf brothers. One walked with unsteady, struggled steps. The other, though slow to match his brother’s speed, moved strongly and on nimble feet. “We’re almost there,” the strong one barked encouragingly. His voice was soft and deep. “You’ve made it this far, Dhaifu. I won’t let you give up now.” He carefully and lovingly nudged his brother’s backside.

            Dhaifu’s eyes, half closed and gray, were fixed to the ground. He put great concentration and effort into each step he took. “It’s not up to me Nguvu,” he croaked, his voice broken and raspy, “my body can only take so much. The winter air is harsh on my bones and the frozen earth is hard on my paws.” The poor wolf’s fur was ragged and thin to the point of balding. His skin suctioned to his bones.

            Nguvu gave an acknowledging yet sad whimper. His brother reeked of sickness. Though pungent, Nguvu was used to it for he had known Dhaifu to carry the scent since birth. “Soon you will be gifted with newfound strength,” he barked, “and a healthful body you’ve never yet experienced. Surely this provokes a momentary strength within you?”

            “Who is to say this being will accept me? Perhaps it is too good to be true,” Dhaifu wheezed, “surely a lame wolf such as myself won’t make much of an apprentice, even without the sickness that ravages my body.” He inhaled deeply as he struggled for breath. “Why, of all living things in this forest, would it choose me…?”

Dhaifu sighed. “I will admit, however, that I wouldn’t have taken a single step on this journey had I not any hope. Though small, it is still there.”

            A bitter silence fell over them and Dhaifu came to an unexpected halt. The sharp outlines of his ribs seemed to pierce through his skin as his body lurched with each sudden and painful gasp. His legs trembled as they struggled under the strain of his abrupt coughing fit.

            Nguvu watched the pitiful sight in absolute horror. Although he’d seen this exact scenario play out numerous times before, he couldn’t help the fear that consumed him. His heart fluttered sickeningly within his chest and the want to vomit arose in his throat. Is this it? he’d always think, is this where I lose him?

            There was a high pitched gasp … and then a thud.

            “Dhaifu!”

            Dhaifu’s breathing was nothing more but a slow wheeze as he laid, collapsed, on the frozen grass. “I’m okay…” he moaned, “Just… give me… a moment.”

            Nguvu let out a soft whimper as he stroked his brother’s cheek with his nose. He sighed in relief as Dhaifu’s breathing became steady.

With a groan, the sickly wolf sat up, pawed at his muzzle to rid it of snow, and gave Nguvu a weak yet warm smile. He begrudgingly rose to his paws and hobbled onward. Nguvu followed beside him.

The forest around them suddenly opened up into a large clearing. The moonlight danced freely against the unobstructed snow. The wind was far chillier here and furiously threw around the loose snow now that the trees weren’t there to block it.

Nguvu paused and motioned Dhaifu to stay back. His ears stood tall and swiveled cautiously.

There was a long, whiny creak and then a loud snap!  Another creak. Another snap.

Soon, the ensemble of creaking turned into an entire orchestra of harsh cracks and thunderous booming. The forest sounded as if it were crumbling before them. Dhaifu’s patchy fur stood on end and, with his tail tucked tightly between his legs, he took a step back. He couldn’t help but cower in the presence of such unruly noises.  

A yellowish glow, soft and dim like a dying candle light, bobbed within the forests shadows. The mysterious glow seemed to glide effortlessly through the air. With one final chorus of crackles and creaks, the trees were pulled back and a massive creature appeared into the moonlight.

Its long neck hung low, head cocked and mouth ajar. Although this creature appeared to be the very definition of horror, with its exposed ribcage and long, spindly limbs, Dhaifu felt an ease come over him. His fur settled and the rapid beat of his heart slowed to a soothed rhythm.

The creature stared at the two brothers for a moment. Its jaw moved slowly as it spoke. “Nguvu…,” it bellowed, “Dhaifu…”

“You know our names?” Nguvu barked, standing as tall as ever. His strong yellow eyes glowed in the shadow the beast casted over them.

The creature slinked its head closer to the brothers. “I am the God of life and death within this forest,” it spoke in a deep murmur, “I know the names of all who inhabit my woods.” It turned and fixed its gaze onto Dhaifu. “I also know why you two have sought after me.”

Nguvu’s gaze softened. “Y-you do?” he whined. He took a step towards the creature, his voice now low and choked as he fought to hold back tears, “Please…”

With its large, paw-like hand the creature gently stroked Dhaifu’s rugged back. Dhaifu found comfort in this gesture and leaned into it. “You’ve had a hard life,” the creature cooed. Its voice was filled with a warmth and tenderness similar to that of a mother speaking to her child. “I haven’t had an apprentice in what seems like centuries.”  

Dhaifu looked up at the beast. “I have dedicated my life to healing and aiding others. I’ve become quite the respected healer back at home,” he croaked, his voice raspy and quivering in the icy winter air.

“You would be giving up life as you know it,” the creature began, “caring for an entire forest is no easy feat. It comes with its own set of challenges, nothing of the likes in which you’ve seen nor experienced before.”

Dhaifu glanced over at his brother who gave him an encouraging nod. “I understand,” Dhaifu responded, “I will not make it through this winter. I would love nothing more than the chance to expand my healing ability and bring relief to those who suffer within this forest.”

“Your words ring genuine. I can sense you are a very hard and capable worker, regardless of your ailment,” the creature murmured softly, “There is a blazing strength hidden inside you – a passionate fire caged within that withering body of yours…” It paused for a moment. Its bright glowing eyes seemed to burn brighter still as it stared, unwavering, at Dhaifu. Time seemed to grow still.

“You will make an exceptional apprentice.”

A spark lit in Dhaifu’s sickly grayed eyes. His ears perked up and a massive smile stretched across his face. He turned to his brother who shared the same spark and smile.

Nguvu pressed his muzzle lovingly into Dhaifu’s neck. “You did it…,” he muttered.

Dhaifu rubbed his chin against Nguvu’s forehead. “I did…”

The brothers were locked in a momentary and loving embrace. Nguvu’s tail wagged gently behind him.

“Come, Dhaifu,” the creature bellowed. It turned towards the bare forest, ready to venture back into the depths of its woods. “We have no time to waste.”

Dhaifu broke away from Nguvu with hesitance. With one final touch of their muzzles and a departing whine, Dhaifu limped after the creature.

Nguvu’s heart nearly burst with bliss as he watched the wobbly, faltering steps he had always known Dhaifu to take turn capable and strong. His frail and crooked frame grew tall, new muscles softened the sharp angles of his bones, and his fur grew thick. The old Dhaifu seemed to melt away as he was swallowed by the surrounding trees. Eventually, the sound of his newly weighted footsteps disappeared and left Nguvu with nothing but the pleasure of finally seeing his brother how he was always meant to be, even if it was for no longer than a moment.

     Eevrek took long nimble steps between the dark slender trees that loomed around her. Her long hooked claws gorged deep scores into the murky ground as she lurked onward with hallow eyes that flashed like fire in the shadows, searching the woods for a creature worthy to be her prey: a bear, natural enemy of the wolf. She was of wolf-kind, at least, her face bore the skull of a wolf, yet it was stripped to the bone of any pelt, her lanky osseous matter draped in tightly wrapped skin and fur. Eevrek was born, like all are, to others of her kind, but lived many moons longer than normal wolves. Like most days it was quiet, and no wolf who knew of her presence dared enter her stretch of the forest for centuries. It was better this way, she had come to decide, the wolves feared her and she prefer not to see the horror in their eyes as they looked upon her harrowed mass.

     This day, however, as she neared the fringe of the trees a low howl caught her attention, it carried a tone of desperation. Her ears flicked in the direction of its source and her elongated neck bent quickly to follow, emphasizing her eldritch features. The call came from just outside her borders, much closer than any wolf had come for several moons. It beckoned to Eevrek's curiosity, forcing the spindly hairs on the drape of her neck to quiver. Lurching forward toward the sound a long remembered disdain crawled like mites beneath her thin skin; she knew these wolves would lay eyes on her and run, but pulsing intrigue encouraged her to keep her momentum.

     As the trees thinned she slowed, gapping her flesh-starved jaws apart to let their mortal scent coat her throat. It had been so long since she had encountered another of wolf-kind, and now before her stood two lesser wolves. One shook on ridged paws, cowering at her approach, fur bushed up, lips drawn, eyes wide as black holes swallowing up the vision of her approach; this was to be expected. The other, however, stood stationed on steady limbs, eyes fixated undoubtedly on her, stiff with self control. Eevrek hovered at the tree line but emerged no further; silently she watched them, waiting for them to flee---they did not.

     The unwavering one held its tail higher, "Creature, we need your help." It pleaded.

     "'Creature'?" She roared, "I have a name, puny wolfling!" Teeth grinding teeth she leaned forward enraged, gripping the nearby trees with curved claws and splitting them apart. They creaked and snapped as they splintered to the ground. The already frightened wolf shrunk lower still, ears drawn back as the forest floor shook beneath it. Eevrek craned her bristling neck to bring her face level with these two strangers. "I am Eevrek," she howled, "master of wolf-kind." Clicking sounds rumbled deep from within her ribby chest. "Your ancestors have tried to kill me, your brothers live in fear of me. Why do you think I would not devour you?"

     Her voice was shrill, but the brave wolf did not falter, instead it bowed its head, eyes careful not to lose sight of the monstrous specter that towered before it. "Apologies, Eevrek, we have known you by no other name. I am Misha and this is Harron." She gestured pointedly at the trembling wolf-shaped pile of fur. "You have left us in peace despite what our fathers have done in the past and what our brothers think now," she explained. "Surely you mean us no harm if you do not seek us out beyond these woods?"

     Eevrek straightened again and looked down on these wolves. They were valiant, she mused, to be willing to face a 'creature' such as herself. "I have never wished to hurt any of wolf-kind," she admitted. More clicks tumbled out of her throat as she gave a long pause. Finally she grunted, "I will help."

     The two wolves exchanged a hopeful glance before addressing her again. "A terrible beast, one much like yourself has moved into our lands," the wolf called Misha described, "hunting us for some moons now." Expressions of distress and trepidation now flooded over her face, as though visions of what she was recounting flashed behind her fluttering eyes. "But this creature," she shuddered before continuing, "it was not wolf-like as you are. It is some apparition of a bear."

     Eevrek jerked back bewildered, a disgusted growl rolling against her tongue. Though she knew others like herself had to have existed she had never seen one, nor had she envisioned that one could be anything other than wolf-kind. She had hunted common bears for centuries, protecting her kin from them. But how could she protect them from this? Still though, she thought as she hunched over protectively, her void eyes narrowing with determination and sacrifice, she had to try.

     Without waiting for direction from the other wolves she barreled forward, crashing through the trees faster than an avalanche ripping down the mountainside, with each step her legs sinking craters in the terrain. She drew her breath in pants, scanning with an open jaw for the bear visitant, head swiveling every which way attempting to pinpoint a whiff. Colorful visions began to manifested in her glowing eye sockets, twisting and turning through the undergrowth like the lights that dance in the sky each winter. She was near.

     The bellow of a bear rung out beside her and she swung her neck around in time to see the a flurry of colors and the massive dark creature bowl into her scrawny shoulders. The two tumbled through the valley as a flash of limby skin, bone, and fur, each their own pair of deep empty eyes. Strong bear jaws fastened into Eevrek's hide and her own lethe maw clutched at the hanging skin of his neck.

     They snarled and screeched and tore at each other like this for days, neither eternal creature exhausting, the valley bathed in their arcane blood. It was when they fell apart the bear snarled a threat, "I will not back down, wolf! My kin have told me of your treachery; you will hunt them no more!" He lifted himself on gaunt hind legs, ready to dive back into battle.

     "Wait!" Eevrek protested, dreading the inevitability of being united in a constant skirmish with this other entity. "Let us propose a deal," she suggested, ducking back on all fours.

     He swayed on his legs but did not come pummeling towards her. "Im listening," he answered, clearly entertaining the idea of not grappling with her til the end of time.

     "Neither of us want our kind hunted, yes? I preyed on bears because they are enemy to the wolf. You have done the same. We are each only here now to protect our kind," she dipped bare skull to demonstrate respect. "I offer a truce. No wolf shall attack any bear, if no bear shall hunt any wolf," she urged.

     He thought on this, settling onto his bony haunches. They held each others gaze, silence seeming to drag on after days of exhilaration in combat. The bears fleshless face finally moved with decision. "It is settled then. I shall leave you and your kind be and you shall do the same." With a curt nod of his broad head the bear turned and blundered out of the valley back to where he had come.

     Eevrek, relieved, nestled on the ridge where their brawl had concluded. Her fur matted to the bone in blood she watched him fade into the distance, withering out of sight like a forgotten shadow in the fog. Misha and Harron crept out from where they hid with their pack to witness the unworldly bear's departure and stood seemingly so small next to where Eevrek sat. She lifted her pale head towards the heavens and considered that by accepting these two wolves plea for help the centuries long war between wolf and bear kind had now ended.