AUTHOR'S NOTES

This story is, hopefully, going to be deep, dark, and bloody. I have not written something like this in such a long time since my writer's block has been saying that I should not write anything at all. Even my songwriting abilities seemed to be declining, and I decided to just stop any writing at all for a little bit. So, I took a LONG break, and I came up with this idea last night. I almost did not want to do a werewolf story, but the idea I had seemed original enough to me. There is going to be a lot of segments involving going into the main character's mind, but there will be enough blood and violence to, hopefully, satisfy your cravings.

This story would not have been made possible without inspiration from the following songs by the lovely band Within Temptation: "The Howling", "The Truth Beneath The Rose", "In The Middle Of The Night", "All I Need", "Murder, and "I Don't Wanna".

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Brutal Instinct: A Wolf and Humanity

These nightmares come often. He lays upon a bed of crunchy leaves, a blood colored moon breathing out an aura of darkness. An aroma of fresh rain hangs in the air, but the only kind of fluid anywhere around him is the blood that is starting to form in pools under the bodies around him. The air is cold on his skin, and his whole body aches with a pain that feels as if he is being stabbed by a thousand blades forged into flames. The winds howl around him, and he expects that there is a monstrosity in the woods that is going to come and tear him to pieces. The trees and brushes rustle wildly, but he cannot get up from his bed. He seems to be forced to stay there, although he is not enchanted by such a power to stay down like the dog he is.

From out of the plants that were just shaking wildly comes a young woman. She is the fairest girl that he has ever seen, her features almost perfect. Dark hair that flows down her shoulders compliment her eyes, which are a wondrous, bright blue. She seems to have taken the color of the seas and forced them to surround her pupils. She walks gracefully over to him, the long sleeves of her white dress flowing down to the blood soaked ground, and offers her pale hand, which almost looks as if it is glowing. He suddenly feels his arm moving toward hers, and their fingers intertwine with one another. She pulls him up slowly, and, for some reason unbeknownst to him, wraps her arms around him. He does the same in return after a brief period of shock and confusion.

It is at this moment that everything turns form a sweet paradise into a nightmarish hell. Her hair blows in the night air and brushes across his face. Her aroma is so sweet. Her skin is as soft as the skin of an infant child. Her entire body is just... Perfect. His fingers start to clench as a feeling wraps its fingers around his soul. He holds back, allowing himself to only enjoy this embrace, but the hunger is becoming far too strong. He licks his teeth silently, knowing that he is not in control of himself. He wants to keep this monstrosity inside of himself, but he can not do so now. The cross that he uses to hold back the demon is broken into a million pieces, and the changing begins.

He pushes her away, and kneels on the ground, holding his head tightly. The pain seers through his veins like a virus through the bloodstream and he screams in pain. He bites his tongue to stop the horrible noises he is making but only ends up screaming again when he feels his fangs pierce his tongue. The iron blood spills and drips out of his mouth as his bones begin to expand and get harder and stronger then before. His clothes begin to rip and tear as his muscles expand on his chest, shoulders, arms, and legs, leaving him in only a very torn up pair of what used to be jeans. The tufts of fur come soon after, and they are a deep brown color. His eyes have even become a sickly yellow, and his pupils have dilated substantially. Finally, his screams and moans of pain and agony are replaced by a deep, throaty growl that sends the woman into hysterics herself. She turns and runs as the howling comes, and he soon follows after her.

They run through trees, with the woman, somehow, outrunning this monstrous creature thought to be a legend. He does not give in though. His wolf-like instincts force him to go on. He wants - no, needs - this girl under his control, no matter what use he has for her, whether it be for food or for something... else. His teeth are barred in a threatening fashion as he growls loudly. The trees seem to be never ending, and this girl is not making any mistakes at all. She seems to know this place far better than he does. After another minute or so of chasing the beautiful woman, a branch catches upon his foot, and the wolf-like monster tumbles into a a tree that knocks him senseless. The world is blurry for a moment, and the last thing he sees is the woman disappearing...

Disappearing... Just like everything else that he has ever loved.

The dream, or nightmare, ends when he is awakened in the same form he was just stuck in within the dream. His dark hair covers every inch of his massive body, and what is left of his pants are now torn and ripped up to just below his knees. The wolf had been awakened by the sound of their howls. He hates the dream, but he has no time to think about it. It is early dawn, and the pack of creatures much like him are treading down this path, searching for something that they can feed themselves with. He growls when he hears them getting closer, and heads off into the trees that will hide him from the view of these creatures. Only a few moments later, about five of the massive wolves come, sniffing into the air as they search for the familiar stench of a doe or a rabbit. Suddenly, all five of them seem to go rabid at some sort of stench that could be their game and head off in another direction.

He has not eaten in five days, because he is always being outrun and beaten by these natural born killers. In fact, just the other day, a massive one of these things had lunged on him and bitten him up. He fought back, but to no avail, being much smaller compared to this hulking beast. Just like him, they are forced to stay inside of the body of a wolf of the night throughout each day and each night. Just unlike him, they rely upon one another to survive, sharing foods and hunting in packs. He is just like them. Huge, fearful, a creature of brutal instinct. But one thing sets him apart from them, and it is the fact that he still has his soul intact. He can still think like a human being can, and make smart decisions based upon the situation he is in. He is really just a boy stuck in a wolf's body.

After staying in the shade of the trees for a bit longer, he slowly creeps out and sees a tiny rabbit. The fur is grey, and the stench of the creature just forces him to lunge at it. The poor creature tries to get away, but his claws find their mark, right on the head. Assuring it is dead, he takes it into the trees as he makes his way toward the cave he calls home. It is hidden far within these trees, assuring that none of the other wolves can find him. He has never actually had an encounter with one of the creatures at his cave before. He is almost convinced that something keeps them at bay, such as a spirit or an angel, but he also doubts this possibility.

When he arrives, he immediately throws the food in front of him and digs his teeth inside of it. Minutes later, the bones are clean of any meat and flesh that may have been on the skeleton, and he throws it out. It is not much of a meal, and he craves more, feeling a horrible aching pain in the pit of his stomach. Instead of going out to hunt again, he decides to sleep, having searched for food the whole night before. He lies in a deeper area of the cave that shields the rays of sunlight from the sun from his eyes. Soon enough, the werewolf is sleeping peacefully.

He awakens much later than he had anticipated. The sun is high in the sky, but night will fall upon these grounds soon. At this time, the others will have already done their hunting, giving him the chance to go out and search for his meals for the next few days himself. He rises from his spot and steps out into the air, standing as tall as he can on both of his legs. He glances around, trying to choose a spot to head to where his possible prey may be lurking. He decides to head to the lake, as he is feeling parched. He gets on all fours and shoots of into the trees, going faster and faster as time passes by.

When he arrives at the lake, he immediately heads for a drink at the edge of the water. As he dunks his head under the water, he sees fish swimming about in random patterns. He flings a giant hand inside and manages to pull one out. He does not know what type of fish it is, but it is rather big. He continues to drink as he holds the now dead aquatic creature in his hand. He keeps drinking the water until he can take no more and begins to eat the raw fish. It does not take long, as this is merely a snack to him. He is about to go in for another, but is stopped when he hears an unfamiliar sound resonate through the air.

Is it... Talking? English? It is, and that can only mean one thing: Humans. Humans are a rare delicacy for him, and this really excites him. He hides in some tall grass and watches from across the lake. Four teenage boys suddenly come from out of the trees. He is unable to make out any details about their faces and clothing from his point of view, but he can make out their body types with ease. Two seem strong in their build, sporting broad shoulders and standing tall. Another seems to look somewhat short, but looks like he has an average build. The other is shorter than the other three and extremely thin, making him look almost scrawny and weak.

For the next two hours, as the moon began to rise and darkness found a place to inhabit, the werewolf watched the five as they sat about the lake, and the wolf assumes that they are probably camping or something. He missed partaking in such an event. He tried listening in on their conversation, but he was unable to make anything out. He was constantly being teased, though, by their stench. Fresh, red blood in his mouth just seemed so good right now, and their stench of living prey was just begging him to come and murder them. He knows that he cannot just make a wild appearance, but he knows that he must act soon, as the others might come out to play too.

Luckily, one of them begins to walk off, saying something about "Having a smoke". It is the short but average built one, and this excites him. Finally, some decent food for a change. He watched as the boy walked on a trail that was created by the trees. When he was finally out of his companions' view, the wolf moved in. He stalked quickly but quietly as the teenager lit up his disgusting cigarette and puffed the nicotine into his lungs. He puffed the smoke out, and then repeated the process. The wolf, now finally just behind his prey, stood to his full height, towering high above this ridiculous excuse of a human. When the boy turned around, he tried yelling out, but was met with a claw to the face. He fell to the ground, bashing his head off of a nearby moss covered log. He groaned in pain as he tried to scramble away, but the wolf did not let him. He punched his prey hard in the chest, and then went in for the kill. Taking his one of his clawed hands, he sliced the boy across the throat with his long nails. The blood poured out, and he had been longing for the taste so badly. He dug his teeth into the boy's neck, savoring the fresh, red, beautiful blood.

Soon enough, he was dragging away the body of the boy into the trees, his stomach completely hollowed out by the wolf. Said creature was feeling very content with himself, finally feeling that he was not going to die of hunger any longer. All that he needed now was the other three, and he would be fine for the next few days. But his plans changed when he heard the howling suddenly come.

He turned his head and listened closely, and then shot off, leaving the boy's body to rot in plain view. He sped through the trees toward the lake, and was not shocked by the sight. One of the "stronger" looking boys was lying dead, a pool of blood forming slowly around him. The other was holding... A shotgun? It must have been, because one of the werewolves went down almost instantly. He then began to take on the other two. But where was the thin, scrawny kid? He couldn't make out where the guy was, but that was not his focus right now. He charged toward the second guy with the broad shoulders. The shotgun fired, hitting the second wolf right in the head. Brains and skull splattered all over. He did not have enough time to reload the gun when he jumped upon him. He went for his throat, tearing at his neck with his sharp fangs, and eventually succeeded in killing his prey. Now, where was that little guy?

He heard an angry cry of "Mother fucker!" come from the left, and his attention shot in said direction. The final wolf was standing over the smallest boy, who was trying to crawl away with all of his strength. But, he did not succeed, as the wolf dug its claws into his back, tearing away his shirt and ripping his flesh apart. He screamed out loud in absolute agony as blood and flesh flew in the air, and that was when it happened.

The wolf who watched from afar was suddenly thrown into just a few days ago. He was in the exact same position; crawling for dear life, not wanting to be hurt any longer. But the wolf who was attacking him just didn't stop. It beat him and beat him and clawed him and kicked him until he lay there on the grass, weak and near death. Still, he'd managed to survive the brutal fight, given the fact that he had a very strong "healing factor". All of his wounds sealed up in only one night. This was a quality that he had not seen on any of the other nighttime monsters, so he must have been special or something. Still, being the underdog really takes its toll on a person, especially when your human emotions and empathy are still intact. Perhaps empathy is what forced his next actions.

He tackled the wolf who was ready to maul the boy, teeth digging into its neck. The attacker was caught off guard so suddenly that he had no time to react or fight back, and died seconds later when his throat was crushed under the sharp mandibles of the boy's savior. Feeling satisfied with his kill, the wolf of empathy howled in pride, and then turned his attention to the boy.

"Oh sh-shit!" He stuttered out through his pain. The wolf approached the boy, who was trying to make a getaway. He could not let this happen at all. Crouching down, he punched the boy in the side of the head, knocking him out cold. He took his thin body and flung it over his shoulder. He dragged the body that was soon to be his next meal behind him as he headed back to the cave, where he would attempt to heal the teenage boy. But how can he do so without the proper materials?

Wait... Was that why he was taking the boy back to the cave? Was he really going to attempt to heal up his wounds? Even if that was the reason, how would the human react to such treatment? He would probably attempt to run but end up being torn into a bloody pulp by the others. But he was simply a human trapped in another body. He would somehow communicate with the human, whether it be through actions or through some other form of communication.

Perhaps that is all that he had longed for. He had been longing for some sort of form of companionship. It has been years since he had a person to call his "friend", or even an acquaintance for that matter. Maybe he just wanted someone to be there with him. He had attempted to befriend the other creatures of his kind, but, to no avail, failed. Just like the few days beforehand, he had been beaten and clawed and scratched and bit by the entire group of them. Another thought came into his mind. Maybe it was not the fact that he wanted an acquaintance at all. Perhaps it was because this boy was just like him. Weak, small, the underdog. Well, he was really just assuming all of these qualities due to said boy's attitude and physical stature.

But he showed no fear in the face of those monsters. He tried fighting back, only to be on the receiving end of some razor-like claws that gave some nasty gashes. Even the wolf showed no fear in attacking to save the boy, since he felt that he was just watching a replay of the events from days ago unfold before his eyes. That was a quality that they both shared. They were dauntless.

The walk had seemed so short due to the wolf being in such deep thought about the boy and himself. The moon shined brightly in the sky and a bit of thin fog wavered above the ground an inch or two. The entire mood was very ethereal, but comforting and calm. It was nights like these that the werewolf really enjoyed the most. Of course, all of them loved it, as the howling from the others could be heard from a distance away. Still, with the current mood, none of them would come looking for food at all. This was a night that they were going to enjoy.

He placed the boy's weak body near where he had been resting earlier, deep within the cave, laying him on his stomach as to not cause any further pain or irritation to the wounds on his back. After doing so, he placed the dead body of the taller boy even farther back, hoping that the boy would not awaken to find his dead, mangled friend. But, as of now, the wolf's main concern was trying to find a way to talk with the boy and to tell him that he was not going to bring him any harm.

This was tough. He was unable to speak any words, even though he recognized any English word thrown out into the air. His mind played through the various ways of communication that he had known. Sing language? He had never learned any sort of sign language, and the possibility that this boy would understand it was slim nonetheless. Forget that idea. Through touch? No. That definitely would not work out at all. Verbal communication was out of the question. The growls and other ghastly sounds that he made would only send fear into the boy's heart. What else was there? He was about to give up when one final idea came to him: writing. He remembered each letter in the English language and knew how to form out simple sentences. Still, he did not have any sort of writing utensil or anything to write on to begin with. The final form of communication he could think of was even useless! Out of anger, he smashed his hand into the dirt beside him. This was hopeless.

He headed into the cave to find a comfortable place for him to sleep when he realized something. He was supposed to somehow fix this boy's wounds and help him survive. He did not have any sort of material suitable for such medical attention, with the nasty gashes and blood oozing out all over his body. His mind started to race, but stopped when he remembered the campsite that the four had set up earlier. They had bags that could possibly have some sort of first aid kit inside. It was a shot in the dark, but he set out to get there as fast as he could and return as soon as possible.

He arrived at the site of the bloody battle that had just taken place rather quickly. The stench of meat and rotting bodies led him there with ease. The campsite had not even been set up at all. They seemed to have just dropped all of their materials and procrastinated with setting anything up at all. The wolf was a bit annoyed with this. Humans constantly push everything out of their lives until it needs to be done. He did not think too hard on the matter, though, as he needed to find what he had come here for.

He tore open a black back with numerous pockets. He tore through random articles of clothing only to reach the bottom to find nothing at all. Tossing the bag away, he turned his attention to another, which was smaller, but seemed to be crammed with all of sorts of things based on the shape of the bag. He was surprised to find something that looked like a vaguely familiar weapon. It was given a black finish, and the moon reflected off of it brightly. This was a gun, a pistol of sorts. Very small, but a deadly weapon nonetheless. The size of it really did not matter at all. It would still send anyone straight into the arms of Death if the lead inside met either the brain or heart of a living being. He decided to hold onto hit, deciding to give it to the boy when he had earned his trust. Digging deeper through more clothes and useless objects, he found a small, red, rectangular-shaped bag with a white cross on it. This was exactly what he had been looking for.

The journey back to the cave was uneventful as usual, but the wolf had felt exhausted from the events of the day. He considered trying to heal the boy when he entered the cave, but sleep was what he had needed. The fighting he had done earlier along with the waiting game of hunting had taken a lot of energy out of his body. Plus, he tended to get tired after a massive meal. He entered the cave, and went to check on the boy to assure that he had not tried to leave. Luckily, he had not moved from the position that the wolf had placed him in earlier, let alone tried to escape from the cave. Finding a comfortable place to sleep for the night, the wolf laid on his back and fell asleep merely minutes later.

As the sun rose in the sky, the werewolf awoke and rose almost immediately. His eyes did not feel heavy and sleep-ridden, assuring that he was ready for whatever awaited him that day. As he neared the cave exit, he glanced at the boy, who still had not moved. Somehow, this panicked the wolf, and he immediately went to go and check his pulse. Placing to long fingers upon his neck, he moved his fingers around, trying to find the steady beat. There was nothing there for a moment, but then it came. Boom. A second or two later came another. It was faint and seemed excruciatingly slow for a heartbeat, but it was still a pulse, a sign of life flowing through his body. He felt a sudden wave of relief smash into him. He was alive. Not well, but definitely alive. Still, the wolf could not help but wonder when he would awaken so that he could fix his wounds.

He decided to have a bit of food while he waited for the boy to awaken. Going into the deeper end of the cave, he located the body that he had taken earlier. The stench of the rotting body was starting to become overwhelming anyhow. Plus, he did not need the boy to find the body of his friend all mangled and bloodied up. That would just make earning the boy's trust much more difficult than it already would be for the monster.

He dragged the body out into the early daylight and observed his meal. He was still particularly filled with the body from the night before, so this would only be a snack of sorts. But from which part of the body? His arms did not give off an appetizing aura one bit. Now that he actually looked at what he had dragged back to his home, he was extremely disappointed. In his disappointment and anger, he stomped on the boy's kneecap, a sharp cracking sound piercing the air. He pulled on the boy's foot, twisting it in unnatural angles until the flesh and meat tore off with a fierce shredding noise. He dug his teeth into the meaty part of the leg and felt a rush of iron blood pour into his mouth. The taste was absolutely amazing, the blood sizzling on the tip of his tongue, the chunks of meat tasting so savory and wonderful. He just loved the taste of human bodies.

He continued to dig into his savory meal as thoughts raced through his head. The boy in the cave needed to escape, there was no doubting it. He had a family to return to. A mother, a father, maybe even a brother and a sister. Perhaps he even had a pet of some sort. Something simple, like a cat. The idea of something extremely eccentric, such as a chameleon or tarantula, even crossed the wolf's mind. He remembered the days in which he had a family. A mother and a brother. He had never met the man who he would call his father, and he did not really care to. His mother and brother had been amazing people to him. It was so strange that he was now murdering human beings when he, himself, is-

Wait a second. He is a human being.

That thought suddenly sent a bug of some sort into his stomach. He dropped the now half-eaten lower leg of the boy. He was a human being trapped within this body of a nightmarish creature. How could it not have occurred to him before that he was practically partaking in cannibalism?! He clenched his stomach when he felt something rise up in his throat, and bent over low to the ground as he vomited. Chunks of human meat and blood spewed forth as the sickening thoughts ran through his mind: Cannibalism, intestines, crimson, flesh. Even after his stomach was completely empty of the contents that lay in front of him in a steaming pile, he gagged and choked at simply the thought of eating a fellow human being.

After some time, around five to ten minutes, he managed to recover from the entire experience. He stood up, knees feeling weak, his whole entire body shaking out of disgust and sickness. The werewolf was about to head out to find something more realistic to eat, such as another rabbit or some unidentifiable fish, when he heard a yell from behind him. He turned around quickly. The boy must be awake. He dragged the body of the human by the one leg that was left and his him under a surprisingly large brush, tossing in what was going to be his food for the morning before he vomited it all on the ground soon after. He headed into the cave quietly, hunched over, on all fours. He walked quietly, one giant claw ahead of another at the pace of a turtle. He approached the rock in which the boy had been laying, and his short, labored gasps for air were quite noticeable. He made a low growling sound, and the boy's gasping noises as he tried to listen for whatever had made the sound.

The werewolf made his appearance to the boy only seconds later, who had his back leaning up against the wall, and the boy immediately began to yell out of fright and shock. He threw out venomous phrases such as "Get away from me, you ugly mother fucker!" or "Shit! No! Get the fuck away from you, dickface!" These insults would have drawn laughs out of him, and he almost felt a small grin twitching at his lips. He decided to have a bit of fun with the weak human being. He shoved his face close to his, drawing out a yelp from the teenager. Now nose to nose, he barred is teeth, showing off his fangs as he made a threatening growling sound. Saliva dripped from his mouth, which he had not intended to happen, but he was glad that it had given him a touch of "I am about to maul your face off".

The boy whimpered with tears in his eyes, trying not to look into the werewolf's pale, yellow eyes. "P-Please don't-" The werewolf turned away, obviously having had enough fun with striking fear into the teen. He stalked to where he had kept the objects he had recovered from the boy's campsite and grabbed up the red pack. He could feel the boy's eyes glued to him with fear and curiosity as he approached with the object. When his eyes were drawn down to the familiar object in the werewolf's clawed hand, they seemed to pop out of his head in recognition. The wolf motioned for the boy to turn around by spinning his finger around, but the teenager was completely confused. He did it again, this time giving a menacing scowl with fangs fully exposed. He immediately turned around with a look of fear upon his face. Now he could finally observe the bloody wounds much more closely.

They were not as bad as they had actually looked. Not very deep at all, but the skin is still stripped from his back in four arching strokes that are caked in dried blood. The wolf is still surprised by the fact that the attacker had not dug so deep into the boy's skin. He does not think too hard on it, though, knowing that he needs to clean these wounds and then wrap them in some sort of gauze or bandage. He tears open the first aid kit, finding a roll of gauze about three inches round in diameter. However, the actual gauze itself is not made of a thick material and is very thin. He hopes that the length of the gauze is actually enough to cover up all four gashes, if not most of it. Inside of the pack is also a very small bottle of peroxide. He remembers this stuff. It stings and burns any fresh wounds, but it cleans it out in order to prevent any disease or infection. Not giving any warning, he untwists the cap and splatters in a sloppy fashion all about the wounds. The boy gasps at the initial shock and pain as the alcohol does its work on the wounds. The boy turns his gaze to the wolf, with tears welling up in his eyes. The two share a look for a moment before the boy speaks up.

"Th-Thank y-you," he says in a shaky tone. The werewolf gives a small nod and then turns to grab the gauze. The wolf grabs the boy by his forearm and forces him to his feet, although the sudden movement forces the stinging sensation to return on the boy's back. The wolf turns the boy around again so that he can wrap up the wounds. He forces the boy to raise his arms as the wolf wraps the gauze his back and chest in an attempt to keep the thin material around his bloody cuts.

"You nodded at me." The sentence is simple and natural. "You can understand me." The wolf meets the boy's gaze and, after a moment of silence, gives another nod. He is surprised that the boy is managing to keep his composure so well. He has encountered many other beings of the human flesh and all of them have run off, screaming at the top of their lungs. The only way to silence them, unfortunately, was to make them his next meal. The wolf, now feeling a bit of angst fill up his heart, backs away, his work on the boy finished. It's a messy job, but it will, hopefully, hold for a bit.

"So... You can understand me...?" the boy asks, exhaustion filling his tone as he sits with his back leaning against the cave wall. The werewolf nods again. "Than my name is Bryce." A silence that feels very peaceful and just falls upon the two as they sit, staring at one another as they study each other. The werewolf sees that"Bryce" is without any sort of shoes or socks, and the only clothing he has is the pair of dark brown shorts he is wearing, which are torn and dirtied from the attack the night before. His body looks weak and abused from his attack. His eyes look tired and distant, but a hint of revenge is sparking in them. Perhaps he is wanting to get back at the wolf that had attacked him last night. But the werewolf knows that this short, weak-looking boy is no where near any condition to take on a full grown, monstrous, blood-lusting werewolf.

A strange, grumbling sound comes from the boy's direction. He clutches his stomach. The werewolf realizes, almost immediately, that he has positively nothing to give to him for food. Unless he was a cannibal, the wolf would have to find something. Fish? It would have to do. It was the only food source that could be acquired easily that the boy could actually eat. Rabbits and squirrels were not a common food source for human beings. Without giving any warning, the werewolf held up a huge, clawed finger, which signaled Bryce to stay exactly where he was. Running out of the shelter, he sped out of the entrance and tore through the trees as he made his way to the lake. He felt a sharp tree branch cut open his shoulder, but he did not care. He had to get food for Bryce. Wait a moment...

Why, exactly, was he doing this? He was a werewolf! A creature that- no, he was human. He had a human conscience, human emotions. For fuck's sake, he had even tried to figure out a way to communicate with Bryce! He was a human trapped in the body of a monster. He was trapped in the travesty of transformation. Whenever the curse had been put upon him, he was stuck in this form until... Until when? He had been in this form for so many years that he had never really put a finger on these thoughts. Would he ever go back to being human? Well, his mentality was very human indeed, but his physique? Definitely not. Eight feet tall when he stands on two legs upright is not a common feature for any sort of human. Sure, broad shoulders and a muscular chest and huge arms can be, but not to this extent. He is a monster among monsters, and he is just now realizing it.

These thoughts bring out his brutal instinct once more. He breaks through the trees into the clearing near the lake and charges faster toward it. Instead of slowing down near the edge and clawing at a fish from the shore, he dives in, claws extended and ready for a kill. His body pierces the water cleanly and he opens his jaw wide. He clamps down when a large fish randomly flutters in front of him, and a veil of red paints the water around his face. He swipes swiftly with his claws at a fish with strange looking whiskers of sorts and misses. But, when he attempts to do it a second time, he feels the blades on his hand find a mark, and he feels a sense of satisfaction. He is surprised by how quickly he had managed to get the food for Bryce. He expected it to be far more difficult for him, but his rage and instinct kicked in just when he needed them to.

He heads back to the cave, and Bryce has not moved from his spot. He did understand what he'd meant. Good. The wolf really didn't need the boy walking around and finding the torn and mangled body of his friend. He throws the fish in front of him, not realizing that Bryce can not actually eat the fish raw and with the scales still intact. Luckily, Bryce spots the bag the wolf had retrieved from his campsite and grabs it up, searching through it until he pulls out a small package of matches.

"We can start a fire up with these if we can get some firewood and shit," Bryce says. The werewolf nods in agreement. He heads out to a patch of trees and gathers some branches that seem to be a decent enough size. He even finds some dried up leaves which will catch fire with relative ease. After arranging the sticks and bloodless chlorophyll filters in a spot in the dirt, the wolf clears the shiny scales from the fish while Bryce attempts to create a fire with the matches. Soon enough, a small flame is slowly growing bigger and bigger and a contraption has been created to cook the fish over the open flame once it has grown big enough. The contraption is very simple; the fish is speared with a long branch, being held up over the flames by two sticks on each side bundled together by a thick rope (which Bryce seemed to have in the bag for some unknown reason).

After eating their meal in silence, which the wolf thoroughly enjoyed, having not had fully cooked food in many years, the two retained their places for sleeping that they had taken the night before. Bryce leaned up against the rock in a sitting position as he slept. The wolf was curled up deeper in the cave, fully awake and staring intently at the boy. His yellow eyes tried to break the tough exterior of his mind and personality. He seemed to be so full of life in what he said, aside from when he had been terrified in the face of danger and a werewolf. Even though he was wounded and still healing, he walked in a stoic manner, with an aura of absolute confidence surrounding every part of his body. It was strange, honestly. If the werewolf were in this boy's situation, he would be absolutely petrified and traumatized. Well, he had been in the situation once, but with any sort of guiding force or companion? None at all.

He let himself think these thoughts as he drifted off to sleep. The same dream from many nights before came again; the girl, the blood, the chase, the fight, the emotions, the lust for blood, it was all there again. There was no difference. Yet, it woke him up each night and he would feel a morose veil fall down upon his soul and heart. He almost felt as if he could cry, his throat feeling thick and choked up. For some reason, though, he did not wake to the dream. He slept through it, as if fighting off some sort of cancerous disease that would take his life away if he did not put his defenses up against it.

Instead, he woke to the sound of a threatening, evil growl. He opened his eyes upon instinct, only to find two deep bronze orbs staring back into his. A snarl escape his throat once he realized that this was another creature of the night. He lunged at his, claws digging into his opponent's shoulders as the two monsters rolled out of the cave and into the moonlight. The opposing wolf kicked the other off of him, sending him flying onto his back. The wolf recovered, and immediately looked around. Where was Bryce at?!

He didn't have time to take another look around. The attacker, who was at least another foot taller or so and adorned a coat of thick, white fur, dove at him. He stepped to the side, leaving his attacker to fall on his face first. He lifted his massive foot into the air and stomped down on his opponent's neck, and a howl of misery came from the receiving end. A clawed hand wrapped itself around the werewolf's ankle and threw him with brute force against a massive tree. The impact knocked the wind out of him and the trunk of the tree actually cracked. Just like before, the white-coated werewolf dove again, this time actually pressing his opponent farther against the tree. He slashed at the underdog's face, giving the occasional punch, before tossing him toward where Bryce and he had made the fire.

He felt blood dripping out of his mouth and oozing down his temple. His eyes felt heavy and tired, and he just wanted the pain in his body to end. The white form of the monster appeared above him, ready to take the kill by crushing his foot with his head. But just as the foot came down, the wolf on the dirt rolled quickly, and sent an entire arm straight through the white wolf's body. There is a silence as the wolf makes some horrific gurgling noises and then falls off of the human-wolf's arm, sliding off and landing with a nasty thud. The werewolf, now victorious, wipes the blood from his chin and flips his head in multiple directions, trying to find Bryce. The only thing that catches his eye are the tracks. This wolf that he had just killed was not the only one here. There were others, and it was a very fair assumption that they had kidnapped Bryce.

He kicks off and follows the tracks, and the trees, once again, trigger up his mind and though process. He used to be the one constantly being ripped apart, wounded, and beaten to nearly death. So, how has it been that he has been the hunter? When did he become the predator hunting another just as equally dangerous predator that ended up victorious? Perhaps it was the feelings that drove him. Rage played a harp on his heart unlike any other. The feeling of flames and anger rose up and gave him the strength he needed to kill. Instinct, which is not really a feeling, played a big part, too. The brutal instincts that his wolf-like form had given him have been with him ever since he had been stuck in this form. But he has only really realized these abilities until recently, because of Bryce. Perhaps that was the other emotion that drove him; the feeling of friendship. He felt the need to protect the boy, even though the two have only been with one another for two days. Well, really, one, considering a night does not really count as a twenty four hour period. Still, he felt that he could not let the human die, which was what pushed him through the rosebushes and massive trees as he followed the trail and the stench of the nasty dogs that had taken his friend.

He followed the muddy tracks into a deeper part of the trees that he was very unfamiliar with. In fact, he was a complete stranger to this part of the trees. He had never ventured out here. This must be the road leading to their home. He couldn't help but wonder if they had created some sort of structure or if they had simply taken shelter in a cave of sorts like he had been doing. Stupid, rabid fuckers... What could they possibly want with that teenage boy? He is ridiculously small and nowhere near being capable of defending himself against them! The werewolf began to tread even faster then he had been before when that thought penetrated his mind. His claws dug deep into the mud as he sped on, his soul burning brightly with a flame of absolute rage and desire for crimson on his hands. There was no way that he would let those monsters take Bryce away from him.

As he drew closer, the musty scent of instinct and animal grew stronger and thicker. They were near this place. The wolf managed to stop himself from speeding out and going in for the kill. There was a time for insanity and a time for stealth, and now was a time for both. He crept quietly, allowing the overwhelming scent to lead him toward the place where the mutts resided. The word repeated itself in his head again and again. It seemed as if this was a means of making himself stronger. They're weak, repetitive creatures that only live to kill and never kill to live.

The wolf stopped just at the edge of the trees when he heard the sounds that the monsters were making. The howling sounded so... lively now that he was so close to it. But what were they doing? Perhaps it is a ritual of sorts? An animal-like practice? He did not care. He just needed to find who he had come for. If the stench of the creatures wasn't so strong, he would easily be able to track his friend down just by using his scent. But every smell had mingled into some sort of nasty smelling gas that just made him sick to his stomach. He looked closely at the monsters in the dark. They were all surrounding... something. He was unable to tell what it was, as they were all hunched close to the ground, but his flame exploded when he heard that familiar scream. The scream, somehow, triggered something that sent the werewolf off into a sort of rage, and the night was suddenly over when he awoke the next morning.

He had no memory of the night before. All he knows is that his body aches all over and that the taste of blood lingers on his tongue. He sits up slowly, and sees the bloodshed all over the place. Crimson droplets are splattered all about the once green grass. the bodies of the monsters are either torn into unrecognizable forms or are missing various limbs. He does not need to have any sort of memory to know that the bloodshed was caused by his bloody claws. But... if he had murdered these vile creatures, where was Bryce at? His answer came to him when he began to feel around in the grass, and something warm and thick covered it. The werewolf glanced to the grass next to him, and saw the last possible sight that he'd expected to see.

Bryce is lying there, his stomach torn open, his entrails littered on the ground around him. Blood covers every inch of his body. The boy who he'd sworn to protect, who he'd sworn to himself would escape this place alive, lies in a bloodied mess of intestines and raw meat. But... how?! He'd gone off once he'd heard him scream, murdering every monster that was in his way! He'd torn everything apart, kept every creature at bay, and then...

The werewolf gags, and, once again, vomits. It was his actions that had caused this. He was the monstrosity that tore Bryce apart, eating away at his insides. This blood on his claws belongs to the human boy. Even after his stomach is emptied, he continues to gag, the taste of human blood still fresh on his tongue. Tears fill his eyes, and he feels that, for the first time in many years, he could break down into tears, letting out all of the sadness and grief that he is feeling. But he does not. He knows that he cannot lose that part of himself.

That night, the werewolf buried the boy near his cave. The moon shone brightly in the sky as he stared at the site of his friend's grave, his entire body feeling numb. He just sat like this for the longest time, thoughts spinning in his mind. Despite all of the humanity he had tried to keep within his soul and heart, he was, in the end, just a monstrosity, an outcast. No one would ever love him. He would continue to live his life as a creature of the night without a single friend, without a single word. He used to be human, and he had a wondrous life as- no. He was human, trapped within the body of a werewolf. A monstrous human who was given this life for a reason, and this has to be it. It is a lesson: even in the end, everything is a monster. We are all given a monster to hide within ourselves, and our challenge in life is to keep it caged. After the rain began to fall, the werewolf headed into the cave and lay down in his favorite place. He leaned upon the rock, his heart feeling a bit comforted by the sounds of the water hitting the caves roof. His thoughts and hopes of living the good life one day sent him to sleep like they did every night, and he entered the ever so familiar dream once again...

"The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost."

~ Gilbert K. Chesterton ~

AUTHOR'S NOTES

So there you have it. This long, bloody, emotional story that I have been working on for the past month. Originally, I intended to have a happier ending in which Bryce lived, but then the meaning(s) of the story would not have been conveyed as strongly. Plus I don't tend to have sad endings. I really like to have things wrapped up in a nice way to make any potential readers feel good.

The quote at the end of the story was thrown in at the last minute. I first saw it in a music video for the song "ICUCM" by Bentley Jones, and thought, "Hey, that kind of fits the story." So, I tossed it into the end.

As I said before, I wanted to convey the meanings of this story as strongly as possible. So, if you are reading, leave a review! Tell me what your take on the story is. What does it mean? What did I do good on? What could use some improvement?

What I did good on: A couple of things, actually, seemed to stick out to me.

~ I liked writing the parts in which we are in the werewolf's mind. He seems very human and real to me, and I feel anyone can connect with him as his mind wanders.

~ The length of this piece makes me very proud. I did not expect it to be as long as it turned out, but it came out to be this long anyways!

~ I also really enjoyed writing the dream sequence at the beginning. It was a fun thing to write and I enjoy reading it again and again for some reason.

What I did horrid on:

~ The parts in which I had to talk about the main werewolf and the enemy werewolf. The fight scene was 'meh', and I was getting confused with calling each of them "the wolf", "the werewolf", "that crazy mother fucker with the claws", etc.

~ I suck at describing characters. I am sorry.

Please leave a review. Even a little comment is appreciated. Thank you~