Days and Nights

The lone wolf smelled deer blood, its rank, dark scent, filling his nostrils, and his ears perked up, as his eyes scanned the awaiting darkness. Why was there deer blood on his turf? He sniffed again, and sure enough, the scent remained, waiting for him to follow. He trotted off into the trees, all senses alert, heading towards the deer carcass. He would eat well tonight.

Leaves crunched in the distance, in the otherwise eerily silent night. Every organism in these woods had smelled the death and carnage; and not a soul was ready to explore unless they were willing to fight, or worse, get eaten themselves. Those leaves were his tracking beacon - that, of course, and the stench of deer slaughter. The wolf moved faster, into a lope and then a full out sprint as he noticed his targets in the distance. Goblins.

They were smaller than a full-sized man; but then again, a full sized man couldn't leave deer intestines scattered around a small clearing in so little time. No, it was goblins. Their beady eyes and maniacal laughter filled the wolf's sense as he growled menacingly, warning them away. They didn't back away, but they didn't advance either. But, he could sense movement behind him, and knew soon that he would be surrounded.

With no better options, before the goblins behind him launched their attack, the wolf bounded forward and took the closest goblin by its cold, leathery neck. He shook with all his might, as the goblin's screams filled the night air. Finally, a satisfying crunch ended the screams with an eerie sharpness, and the wolf realized that there were claws raking down his hindquarters. He kicked out, yelping a little as one claw dislodged a chunk of skin, and turned to face his new opponents.

Five goblins surrounded the wolf, their giggles contagious. The wolf growled deep, hungry for goblin blood. He hadn't tasted it in a while, and he missed its sweet, sinful flavor, that seemed to linger in his throat for hours. He heard movement to his left side, and with a snarl, he jumped to meet his assailant, managing for a second time to grab a goblin by its cool, leathery throat, but this time, his teeth sought blood. He felt his teeth puncture through the leather and knew it would be moments -- ah, there it was. The sweet, dark, savory deliciousness. The blood made him hungry for more, and he closed his jaws with an ominous crunch, tearing through the goblin's main arteries and vocal box. The other goblins chittered as the wolf pulled his mouth free, searching for his next victim.

The next goblin was trickier: he hid his throat from the wolf, sidestepping as the wolf lunged. Instead, all he got was a disappointing arm, which he tore off with ease. There was an upside though: the wolf languished in the goblin's screams, which probably roughly translated to, "That fucker bit my arm off!" The wolf decided to finish his job and latched onto the other arm, gnawing for a bit, not even paying attention to the occasional kick that landed on his ribs or hindquarters. He finished this one with ease, latching onto its throat and shaking it like a rag doll until he heard the satisfying snap of its neck. He dropped his quarry and looked up for his next victim.

Three left, they were more cautious, beginning to realize that their relentless kicks and punches meant nothing to the hungry wolf. One brave one -- probably the ringleader -- brandished a stick at the wolf, whose wide eyes mocked fear in an almost too-human gesture. Fear rose in the goblin's eyes as he began to realize that this wolf was not like the normal wolves they encountered on their forays into the human world. This wolf was something else.

The goblin had no more time to think as he swung the stick at the wolf in an attempt to deter its attack. The wolf grabbed the stick instead of the goblin and, digging his forepaws into the ground, pulled backward. The goblin reluctantly relinquished the stick, and in a moment of clarity, began to run. Unfortunately, the wolf had plenty of experience chasing down prey. The goblin crumpled under the weight of the wolf as it tore into goblin flesh with ruthless efficiency.

When the wolf released his meal to look for another, he found the clearing disappointingly deserted. He loped off, nose in the air, searching for noise, smell, or movement that would alert him to the last two goblins. As he moved closer and closer to the portal to hell, he began to sense their smell, if not their movement. They were somewhere, but he was unsure of where. Turning to the left and right, he gave a dramatic huff and began to trot off at a tangent, hoping that his apparent departure would lure the two remaining from their hiding places. Moments later, sure enough, the two goblins emerged, quietly chattering, moving towards the portal with the ferocity of a child who has been out too late and must get home immediately. The wolf made his move, and took down one of the two quickly, before it even had time to scream. He bounded off the first to catch the second before it ran away, and silenced its chatters with an ominous tearing of the flesh. He glared backwards to make sure that his second prey was still grounded -- it was -- and so he took his time, having half of a meal before hearing movement behind him. The second goblin was struggling to get up and move towards the portal, and so, the wolf downed the final goblin with ruthless ease. Yes, the wolf would eat well tonight.

#

The wolf was hunting again. He smelled trouble, and he was hungry for more demon-flesh. The woods were eerily silent, and he was becoming uncomfortable, for he could not sense a single thing out of place -- other than the silence. But something was lurking, and the sooner he found it, the better.

Almost reluctantly, the wolf bounded towards the center of the area. Perhaps whatever it was, was close to the portal. Maybe he couldn't sense it because it hadn't yet come his way. Not even the crickets were chirping, he realized, although off in the distance he could hear the nightly chatter as usual. He slowed to a prowl as he grew closer to the clearing that always held the eerie green glow. The portal always smelled of death to him, to the point where it often overpowered any other smell in the area, even for the wolf's keen nose. His eyes searched, his ears perked, and finally, hit upon gold as he heard leaves crunch behind him.

He turned warily to find a young woman crawling towards him, reaching out. His human-mind searched for answers: no woman in her right mind would be begging help from a wolf. Or be in the woods in the middle of the night. Her fine, curly brown hair was mangled, looked almost wild in the moonlight. He dark grey eyes were hooded with pain, and he realized that she was bleeding. He could smell her blood. And it was not... human. As beautiful as her dark, lithe body was, it was not truly human, and therefore, she had to be eliminated.

She still reached for him even as he approached her warily. He hated it when the demons took shapes that hurt him. He wondered if this demon had built this human from memory or just out of the blue -- regardless, the wolf knew that he would take no pleasure in killing this creature. With a snarl, the wolf left at the woman's throat, her cold hands doing nothing but grasping his fur as he bit into her tender flesh.

She tasted human. And suddenly, she felt human. She could no longer scream, but she gurgled as he jumped away, as if burned by the realization that he had killed a human. Her body crumpled into a lifeless pile, her arms still outstretched, as her blood pooled under her mangled, exposed throat and head. He nosed her desperately, as if somehow, his actions could change her fate, but she did nothing but gurgle at him. A different wolf would have reveled in the sound, in her flesh laid bare to the world, but not this one. This one looked at her broken body and saw lost opportunities, lost children, and a giant shift in how the world would operate.

He nosed her harder, but he could do nothing to help her. He painted his fur with her blood, trying desperately to take back his leap at her throat, his taste of human blood. He licked her, but she was still now, and he realized with a deep sadness that this poor human woman that he had wronged had left the earth forever. The wolf backed away from the scene slowly. Her eyes were stuck wide open and sick to his stomach, the wolf turned his back and trotted off into the distance.

#

Alex awoke with a start. His dream had been so real, and he could still taste her blood. Naked and shaken, Alex rose from his bed and was quickly knocked down by something ethereal. His head hit the bed post with a sickening thud and he started his change with grim determination. If something was going to sneak up on him in the night, he was not going to play nice. He was changed in seconds, back to wolf form, and he scrambled off of the bed and lunged at the dark shadow in the night. A woman's scream echoed as he grabbed her - its leg - and bit down. This time, he was sure. The blood was sweet and dark and savory, and reeked of demon.

He hated the "Changing Ones" -- he decided as he relinquished his leg to narrowly avoid his bedside lamp impacting his head. They were so random, and could be powerful, depending on what form they took. And more importantly, they could use his memories. How many times had he killed his own mother? His own father? What about his coworkers? They knew no bounds, and when many Changing Ones came to him, it began to blur the line between reality and demon-space. He looked at his friends -- the few that he had -- and could only remember the last time he tore their head off with a sickening pride. How it felt with their lifeless eyes staring at him as he devoured their bodies. After all, the Changing Ones always made sure to die in the last body they inhabited, which meant that he had to destroy the evidence completely.

Avoiding the lamp, wolf-Alex swung back up and this time, latched onto the woman-thing's throat. No matter the form they took, the throat was always vulnerable. Her screams were suddenly muted as he tore into her voice box. His eyes grazed over the room, and he was suddenly grateful that he had left his bedroom door open. Blood is hard to clean. The demon, of course, had left the front door open, and the warm evening breeze flowed through the bedroom and filled his nose with the scents of nighttime on Kir'nu.

Reluctantly, he loosened his grip on her throat for only a moment, and demon blood swelled into his mouth. He re-tightened his jaw, hoping to stave off the waterfall, and began to drag the now-silent Changing One out of his house and onto the front lawn. Finally able to let go, he sat some four feet away and watched as blood spouted from her throat in one big burst, and then slowed to a trickle. She had been dead -- of suffocation -- before he let go, but now that the arterial pressure was gone, the blood slowed and stopped. It would pool in her backside if he did not dispose of the body soon. He knew, though, that this time, it was a demon. Not a woman. Not like his dream at all. Tiredly, he began his feast. Demon flesh and blood was always sweeter to him, probably a side effect of the magic that ran through him when he changed. It helped him consume his quarry without remorse, as all evidence must be gone by morning. That was a smart tradition, handed down to him by his teacher -- leave no evidence, in case a wandering innocent comes into the area. After all, you can't just keep burying bodies in such a small area. And what else could you do? Pile them up behind the firewood? If wolves could laugh, he would've chuckled at that.

The sun was rising as he finished his meal. Only bones were left, and those, he would add to a barrel of acid that [was]{.underline} behind the firewood. Before the modern age, his teacher explained, they would put the bones in a bag with some heavy weights and once a month, bring them out to sea to send them to a watery grave. Once they were off the island, they were not his problem. Water erases all, in time.

Wolf-Alex rose from his meal, wearily, and began the change. Soon enough, naked, with the morning sun filtering through the dense forest canopy, Alex was collecting the skeleton with care. His choice of "front lawn" was perhaps not the best, but it was better than in the house. After carefully depositing the demon remains, he returned to bed to regain his lost hours of sleep. Perhaps this time, he wouldn't dream of killing strange women. Newborn bunnies, perhaps. Yes, he would like that.

Next Chapter: Learning To Date
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