Remember that idea I posted a few days ago? Here’s more writings for it:

“They say you’re dangerous. They’ve declared any wolf-born to be part of the Dark Arts…” He trailed off as I whirled on him. My narrowed eyes focused on his wide pair and my lips pulled back with a violent snarl. Drool dripped from my fangs, a habit I still couldn’t get under control. At just over eleven feet high, with my ears back, by claws tense, it was no wonder that I saw fear in his eyes. He was just telling me what he had heard. But I couldn’t help but take my anger out on him.

“Dark Arts?” I snarled, taking one step forward and arching my back so my muzzle came close to his nose. He took a step back then froze in terror, staring into my orange eyes.

“It’s—It’s—” he stammered, unable to finish his sentence before I interrupted him.

“ ‘It’s, it’s’ what?” I lifted one talon right under his chin and held it there, the flesh bending away from the pressure. If I wasn’t careful, I would draw his blood. “While that king sits up there on his gold throne, the witches are slaughtering my people! They are hunting us and he sits there, listening to their whims! They might as well put a witch on the throne, for all the good it’s done!” I jerked my hand back, knicking his chin and causing a red scratch to form. I threw my hands in the air as I stood back to my full height.

“He’s done nothing on that throne! He thinks my kind are spawns of the Dark Arts? We’ve been protecting villages, we’ve been guarding his arse, and we’ve been fighting those old crows and their spell books for centuries! Long before he was even dreamt up! And we’re the outlaws? I suppose outlaws don’t eat for weeks so their people can survive, I suppose each time they stop in a village for refuge, they kill the lambs in their sleep so they could eat, not caring what the townsfolk might do to their people! I suppose when we stop in a village, and I starve for weeks and fight off the goblins and feast on their bodies, I should just count my blessings, huh? When I eat like an animal on the skin of a creature with as much protein as a grain of sand! And I suppose—” I cut myself off. I had spoken enough. I growled at the air and gripped the top of my head in my claws. I tugged at my ears and screamed at the sky.

“What cruel fate is this?” I seethed. “That my people, after years of wondering, have been declared spawns of the Dark Arts. That if we try stopping at a village once more, we could all be killed. What sort of punishment is this? Is this because I fled?” I let my hands fall to my sides and turned my head towards David. He was still standing there with mild horror, but now his eyes had softened into worry. I sighed.

“Go on. My brother will have caught something by now.”

“What are you going to do?”

I pointed my snout towards the broken tower that hid behind trees. “The only thing I can do. We need that castle.”

“But the witches—”

“David,” I turned to him and knelt down, one hand on my furred leg. With our eyes at the same height, he looked more calm. I put one large hand on his shoulder.

“David, I need you to keep this a secret.”

“But your brother…and your parents, they could help!”

“Ssh, David. I am the protector of this rag-tag group now. It is my job. I will clear out that castle and we will live there. We’ll be protected by the beach on one side,” I jerked my thumb back to the camp on the shore not far away, “and by the other, the walls of castle still stand. The mountains will provide some security, and the trees hold enough game to feed us for centuries to come. When the time is right, we can leave and find us a proper home again. When we aren’t the villains in the history books, we can go home. Until then, we need those ruins.”

“Sasha…” He looked as if he might still try to stop me. Then his older features smiled, “I remember when your mother told me the same thing when I was just a boy. You be careful.”

I smiled. I patted his shoulder and stood. “I will. Not a word to anyone. This will be finished by the morning.”

I turned and charged through the trees, falling on all fours to cover ground faster. I knew David stood and watched me for a time before returning to camp. I still do not know what he told the others. I don’t know what lie he told them.

But there are times, when I look at my reflection in the water, that I wish he had told everyone the truth. Maybe none of this would have happened.