Other Fan Fiction / Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The (plight/rise) of the Wolf King ❯ Prologue

The (plight/rise) of the Wolf King

Prologue

Sunny days are usually not depicted during times of great change, pain, or war. Most people tend to think of the day stormier than the sea or darker than their worst nightmares. The worse a situation becomes, the darker they see things, because of fear and their body's response to the emotion. Sometimes, this is true. A storm does cause change, life does seem darker after pain, and war leaves permanent traces of fear.

But for one man, change and pain he would never forget happened on a bright and sunny day, one made for optimism spanning over the whole journey of the sun. He was a lad still in a few ways but ready to prove his worth in his village. He was working that day for the village, delivering items and packages to others from people who were too busy to give the objects away themselves. Objects such as meat from the butcher to housewives and families who worked constantly all day and clothes the seam maker had made on request or repaired to those who couldn't get around too easily.

His name was Degera and his father was a scholar, making Degera become the village errand boy in order to make some money of his own, get away from the stuffy books his father kept trying to get him to read, and clean the scent of ink from trying to embed into his skin. Degera wanted to be a scholar as well, but he wasn't as motivated as his father wanted him to be and learning scholarly things all the time gave him a horrid headache so work let his mind relax as he went about his errands.

And everyone in the village was nice, some more than others. Degera knew them all and he could easily say that he would give his life for any one of them. It was the only reason he knew how to fight: to protect them all when he could. He wasn't the best fighter but he did what he could when it counted and he rarely had to use his skills, which made him happier than any one would ever know.

The children learned from him and his father and Degera found something new to learn everyday, even outside of books. The adults held him with some respect and his friends were always looking to have a little fun but always looking out for each other, just as Degera did. He was an example of a good citizen and a well-rounded individual and for that, he was considered a man even though he was only fourteen.

So this young man had gone about his day as usual. He had studied the moment it was light enough outside to read and now that it was near noon, he had set out for an errand to run. He ran into the assistant to the town chief, a man named Frun, and he asked him to run to the next village over with a message the chief had written. His reason for not doing so himself was that he had to help with some other paperwork the chief needed to fill out but without him eking him to do so would mean that it wouldn't get done. Degera didn't care what work he received as long as he could be useful so he took the job right away.

He planned on running over and walking back, since the next village would take an hour on foot to reach. Running would cut the time in half and then Degera could walk back on a scenic path that would take him about forty-five minutes and come out in the village square. It was a decent plan, if he could say so himself and he put that plan into action the minute he was given the papers to deliver.

Running cleared his mind, especially on a day as nice as this one. He would be lost in his own thoughts and arrive at his destination before he knew it, which is what happened today. He almost didn't stop but the inn keeper shouted at him to be careful of the horse and cart coming up behind him and that brought him to his senses.

He found the other chief rather easily, since his house was the largest and he had been to the village before. The chief was home and Degera delivered the papers and went on his way after making sure the other chief didn't have anything to go back with him. The scenic route started next to the town well and Degera took a drink before heading through the forest surrounding the path. He loved all the trees and plants on the path, being able to identify most of them through his studies.

The path itself was small but worn. It could barely let a person travel through on their own but it was completely dirt. Degera had never met anyone on the path but he knew people went through, for he had seen people come in and out on both sides. If he did meet someone though, he would step into the bushes and let them pass.

When the path started to come closer to his village, it widened a bit and there was a small clearing of the path about a ten minute walk away from the end. Degera knew he was making good time and he would soon be home to study so he decided to take the detour and rest a bit. He walked into the brush, treading carefully so as not to kill the plants

Then he heard something moving the brush other than him. Before he could react, a hand shot out and grabbed the collar of tunic, pulling him back with such force that it let go and Degera dragged backwards on the ground until he hit the trunk of a tree, hard. He didn't have time to open his eyes before the stranger was upon him once more, lifting him up off the ground with one hand on the front of his shirt at about the same height as it had pulled him back.

When Degera did open his eyes, he barely saw the face of scruffy-haired man before that man slashed a knife across Degera's chest. The look in the man's eyes was that of obsession, hunger, and determination. Degera was afraid of him even before he noticed that the man wasn't human. He didn't feel to be human in aura, according to the prickling of Degera's skin, and Degera estimated that the man was barely taller than him so being able to pick him up so easily couldn't be humanly possible.

After attacking him, the man threw Degera against a tree for reasons Degera didn't know, for he had already been injured and would be hard pressed to beat someone that could pick him up. Degera forced himself to open his eyes up as soon as possible and he managed to take one good but quick look at the man. To his surprise, his attacker wasn't much larger than himself but he had big feet with callused skin where there wasn't hair and nails like claws. What Degera thought was a knife was actually the man's claws, stained with blood and boney. The man's face was what one thought of instantly when someone talked about a stranger, especially with his dirty tan hair. Everyone on Degera's side of the mountain had dark hair and anyone with anything light stuck out like a sore thumb.

The man looked haggard and thin, hunger eating him from the inside out. As the man came at him faster than Degera had ever seen someone move, he realized what the man was hungry for:

Him.

Degera made an attempt to get to his feet but barely lifted his hips off the ground before the man had him in his grasp again. He slashed at him again, running Degera's wound deeper and closer to bone. Blood was now flowing abundantly out of him, though Degera couldn't see it at all, and finally the man thought that he had done enough and began to suck and lick the blood off his abdomen. It hurt Degera and he felt disgusting as the man continued to feast on him. He could do little more than grip the arm that was around his neck, pinning him on the tree.

No matter how hard he gripped or dug his fingernails in, the man didn't seem to notice. Degera tried to turn it to break it but the arm still didn't move. Eventually, Degera tried to kick the man wherever he could, especially where it would hurt the most, and succeeded only in getting the man's attention away from his wound to his face.

The man's face was covered in blood, his blood. Degera would be haunted by the vision for a long while after, wishing he had just let the man eat him. But right then and there, Degera gasped and found his voice, screaming like his life was ending.

The man wasn't a man at all, only a monster and this monster tried to shut Degera up by slamming him against the tree a couple times. Degera's voice cut out every time he hit but it didn't stop completely or become quieter. When the monster decided that using the tree wasn't going to work, he pushed Degera against the tree and slashed his shoulder, causing a huge gash and blood to run out as much as Degera's abdominal wound. This stopped Degera from screaming after the pain reach is brain.

Holding him with his forearm, the monster leaned in closer to his face, changing into more of the face of a dog while doings so. Breathing on his neck, the monster's muzzle caused Degera to break out into a cold sweat but that was the moment before the thing bit his neck. He could feel his blood run out and the monster's tongue lap it all up. He could no longer scream: with jaws that close his neck would be bitten off in a second. All he could do was cry out of fear and hope that he would pass on soon.

Then the thing bit back into his neck and tore off some of his flesh. Degera let out a scream he didn't think was possible, no matter what you were. Apparently he tasted good, for the monster man bit him again on the other side of his neck, taking flesh away from there as well. Degera screamed again and was thrown over into another tree.

But this time was different: Degera got to his feet before the monster could get to him, mainly because it was wiping it's face to lick off more of his blood. Without a second thought, Degera ran to the beast, knowing fully well that he could do little more than kill himself faster. The monster was too occupied to pay any attention to Degera so the young man managed to tackle it down.

The monster didn't stay down, however, and flipped Degera off of it like he didn't weigh more than a house cat. Degera rolled across the ground and farther down the path than he had been before, farther away from the village. No one had come to see what he was screaming about. He was on his own.

As he tried to get up, the monster was upon him again. It flipped Degera over on his back and began slashing at it like it was punishing him. For good measure, it slashed at his thighs as well, to make sure he wouldn't run away. It soon calmed down again and began feasting upon the blood staining his pants, letting Degera try his best to drag himself away, though the creature had a firm grip on him.

Then it moved to his back and began lapping up blood there as well, just as it had his abdomen. Degera was too weak to lift himself up and could only lay there, feeling as though he was about to be raped as his life blood continued to flow out of him through all his various wounds. Just lying there he could feel a pool of blood spreading around him. He tried to scream again but his lungs couldn't take it with the monster on top of him, nearly suffocating him.

And then, suddenly, he was picked up and tossed aside. Degera was so close to passing out that his vision turned red. He couldn't see the trees or bushes anymore but he could see the monster lapping his blood off the ground, thinking it was too precious to waste. Degera slowly got to his feet, thinking nothing. He suddenly felt stronger, enraged at being a meal. The longer he stared at the monster, the more powerful he felt seep into his body and banishing his thoughts of his own pain and injury.

His feet took off without him and in a second he was right next to the monster. He started kicking it over and over in the chest, not knowing if he was doing damage and not really caring otherwise. When the monster went down, he began to kick harder. His toes were being smashed and his feet were going numb but he kept going, his fists joining in the fury.

The monster didn't fight back. It was too surprised and when it did think of fighting back, it could only get to it's feet before Degera grabbed it's head and snapped it's neck. Degera kept hitting in as it fell to and laid on the ground until he was tired and fell to his knees. His breathing was ragged and he didn't care then and there if the monster got back on it's feet to finally kill him. He had made his point and he proved he wasn't an easy meal.

And then others came to help him. They ran up the path at most two at a time and stopped twelve feet away from the monster. They stared at him and the monster as they stayed where they were. Degera didn't look at them, barely noticed they were even there, as his head swam with an aftershock of fear. The monster continued to lie on the ground, not moving at all.

“Degera.”

Degera turned to the people staring at him at the sound of the worried yet breathless tone of his father's voice. The other villagers kept him from approaching Degera but he was in full view, his face a look of shock and in need of comfort, mirroring Degera's as he tried to reach out to his father with his closest arm, though they were so far apart.

“Father?”

His father struggled at Degera's call but the other villagers held him tight. Degera, still confused and disoriented, stayed where he was with a blank but frightened look on his face, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. It was enough to tear his father's heart out, for they were very close and only had each other. Degera's mother died giving birth to him and after a couple years, his father had decided to settle down in the village they were now living in, the place where Degera grew up. Degera was supposed to be his successor, for he had the brains, but he was much like his mother and very athletic, making it hard for him to sit still all day.

But athleticism was not running through the villager's minds as they looked upon the situation. Degera was covered in blood, his clothes saturated as if he had jumped into the river. A man was face-down and unconscious beside him, the man's neck twisted to a funny angle. There was a huge blood stain on the dirt below them both, big enough to where it could be laid upon and a person would not be able touch unsoiled dirt. If there was anything one could gleam from the situation, it was that Degera was a killer and any injuries he had and any tears that fell from his eyes could be feigned innocence.

It was then that the murmur's started. The villagers began to whisper what they had once deemed improbable or pure fantasy, of monsters disguising themselves as humans to take hold of their prey. They began to wonder if Degera was such monster, since it looked as though the man beside him was dead and gone like a tortured soul. What if Degera attacked travelers so the village wouldn't get suspicious? What if he dug up their graves to eat their flesh? What if the Degera they knew was all an act?

If this was true, they had to take action now. What killed a monster? Wood? Silver? Iron? Leather bindings?

“No,” someone whispered. “Metal. Metal always works.”

Everyone started to agree. Metal would always work. The villagers began to run back home to collect all the metal they had. By then, Degera's father had stopped struggling and had tried to assess the situation himself. He remained as everyone ran back. Was his son a murderer? Did he raise a killer?

Part of him remembered that his son disliked death, almost hated it. He would give the children a hard time if they picked on any animals and lecture them to no end until they stopped to save their ears from it all. But as a scholar, his studies had told him that men fought and killed in desperation. His son might have killed in defense but there had been cases when killing in defense became a thrill, a risk one was willing to take.

He loved his son but for once in his life, he didn't know what to do. He was torn between his mind and his heart and in the end, he knew he had to choose one. He began to cry as his son had.

“Run.”

Degera's hand flinched and his face was enough to kill, dripping with immense sadness. His voice wouldn't come to respond to his father's.

“Just run,” his father repeated. “Run and get away from here.”

It took a minute for Degera to realize he could move. It broke his heart that his father couldn't do anything for him and it broke his heart even more that his father couldn't tell that he was innocent. The people he had known all his life were going to kill him. He thought he should let them, for he wanted to die than be thought of a monster or be feared as a killer. He wanted to die while the thing had attacked him but his wish most certainly was not granted.

Still, his feet found a way to stand him up. His face was still focused on his father but it only took one shout from the village, signifying that all the metal had been gathered, that broke their stare. They both looked to make sure that no one was watching them, for fear of Degera being captured or killed, but when they focused back on each other, his father didn't have to say a word. His desperate and equally heartbroken eyes said it all,

Go.

And somehow, his feet found a way.