CONTENT WARNING: threat, discussion of death and murder as per usual! a scene of animals hunting (no blood pictured), description of violence, scene of animal in bear trap if animals in peril are something you struggle with.
Violeta
The journey back from Windenburg to Henford is dreary and exhausting. The recent news made me wonder if any of it was worth it. I've spent so many years with him that I can't stand the thought of this happening...I decide to make a stop at the Annorin mansion; I must know what Owen has found with his research. I have to know that Oskar is going to overcome this somehow.
He seems confused at my presence at the door. "I'm sorry, have you booked an appointment at all?"
"No. I need to know exactly what you've found regarding the research you are doing on Oskar Nivelheim's illness. I know your medical prowess is well-respected, and I am not about to lose him."
"Madam, I'm afraid I cannot share such information with-"
I grab him by the throat and lift him off the floor. His eyes become bloodshot, and his words turn to nothing but raucous spluttering.
"I am not asking you, I am telling you- what have you discovered? How far have you gone to save your own patient's life?!"
"I can't-"
I tighten my grip, and his eyes and face is almost the same hue as my dress at this point.
"What do you mean you can't?!"
I became so enthralled in choking the life out of the man that I realise he can't give me much of a response with my hand around his throat... nor is he any help to my cause if I suffocate him. I drop him to the ground, and he wheezes deeply with his hand against his throat.
"I can only do what is possible," he splutters between breaths. "That's as much as I'm willing to tell you. Some ailments are easier to cure than others. And some...are not curable at all, even in this day in age."
Owen finally regains his voice, and stares at me as if he's trying to intimidate me for a moment. "Either you can kill me, and have zero chances of success...or, you can let me live, and we at least have a fleeting one."
"Another question, then," I reply. "Where is your father?"
He lifts himself to his feet, and gestures at me to follow him into the kitchen. He offers a cup of tea before looking at me again, nodding to himself and not bothering to offer.
"You didn't answer my-"
"Patience," he snaps, taking a pause for a sip of tea. He clutches onto his neck in pain for a moment. "You and everyone in Henford wants my father dead."
"Do you blame me? He's responsible for the eventual death of the only man I ever trusted! I raised Oskar like a son for almost one-hundred-and-forty years, and now I'm going to lose him!"
Sometimes, I mourn the fact that vampires cannot cry. I can almost feel my numbness cracking, and the cold and painful sensation of despair stirring in my chest- and it is only going to get worse. If anything is to happen to Oskar, then I cannot promise that I will be able to keep up the veneer of humanity that I've learned from being here.
"No, no, I don't blame you at all," he says, speaking in a much calmer tone than before. "I don't blame anyone for wanting my father dead. But, you see, he's expecting people to come after him at this moment in time."
"If you want it to count, then you wait until his confidence has returned to him."
Reynold
Practicing lunar magic with my father had completely exhausted me, and left me feeling a little nauseous. I was so out-of-touch with my own magic that it made me feel unwell simply practicing it.
My dreams are stranger than usual- I recall a dream of being visited by Lunvin, in a form that I saw in one of Alistair's very-old books. A heavily-pregnant feminine figure with an enormous crystal sword and a moonlight core, and a silver mask in the shape of a wolf's muzzle, flanked by a pack of white wolves.
A dream of Lunvin is supposed to be some kind of message- though, in true Lunvinchenaîne style, whatever that message is meant to be is incredibly vague.
I wake at a yelping sound outside. At first, I wonder if I'm still dreaming, but it's definitely coming from outside- a yelp of pain.
The shift from the cosiness of the cabin to the blistering cold wakes me up almost immediately. The yelping sound is coming from within the trees. I wrap my arms around myself in a vain attempt to keep myself warm, then I notice what the sound is- it's a wolf, and it appears to be stuck in some kind of metal trap. Who on Earth is laying traps out there? I thought Alistair, Róisín and I were the only people out here.
There's blood at the foot of the trap. I get down on my knees, as not to frighten her, and try to reach closer to the trap.
"Hold still, and don't panic," I tell her. "I'm going to try and help you out of this."
I can almost sense her agony and her panic. Her pack must be wondering where she is. What if she's got pups of her own?
It takes all of my strength to try and prize the trap's teeth apart, but I manage eventually. The wolf shakes her fur clean of the falling snow, and whimpers quietly to herself. Her leg is quite badly injured, but it looks like it's just a deep cut- nothing that my magic won't be able to sort out.
"Come here," I tell her, gazing up at the moonlight. To my surprise, she comes straight to me. I place my hands around her leg. She squeals out again, but I let the lunar magic do its work, slowly but gradually healing the damage until her wounds are completely healed over. She does a sort of twirl on the spot, stretching out her leg, and gazes back to me. Animals can't talk, but their eyes say everything that's needed.
"Are you going to be okay?" I ask her, in Lunvin's tongue.
The wolf turns to face her side, but doesn't take her eyes off me.
Safe.
I freeze for a second. Did the wolf just...speak to me? Her mouth didn't move, but I know I definitely heard her say something in some sense- maybe I heard it in my head? Am I going mad? Is the overindulgence in moon magic slowly turning into lunacy?
Follow.
With that, she runs off into the snow-blurred distance.
I'm still not entirely sure what just happened. Alistair mentioned communication with wolves, but I didn't quite expect anything like that. It's hard to explain what it was- it wasn't quite a spoken word, but a strong conveyed feeling that seemingly translated into a word in my mind. I'd been slowly learning our language with Alistair's books, but I still had a way to go. Despite it being very straight to the point a lot of the time, there were plenty of flowery words. It seemed even wolves knew the beauty of the world around them.
Alistair did mention that I need to get more in-touch with them. They are sacred creatures, and if they need my assistance, then I need to be there for them the way they'd be there for me if it were the otheer way around. The trouble is, when she 'said' safe, did she mean that she felt safe when I freed her, or that her safety was on the line? Is that why she asked me to follow her?
I suppose there's only one way to find out.
* * *
As I follow the pawprints in the snow, the chorus of howls grows louder and louder and more raucous. I can sense their unease from here.
Eventually, amongst the trees, I come across what appears to be a ruin...and what appears to be the wolves' territory. I stop at the foot of the crumbled walls so I'm not intruding, but a number of them crawl out onto the old stone and howl towards me, including two adorable little pups doing their very best to join in the song with the grown-ups.
Their song has changed from pain and unease to something that feels warm and comforting in my chest, as if I'm being welcomed into their home. The largest one stands proud and tall on the rock, and he stands out with the dark grey that runs down his sides. He looks like he might be the father of the pack. Perhaps the wolf I saved might have been his mate?
As I enter, I'm take aback by the beauty of it all. Nature had completely overtaken this old ruin, and roses crawled up the stonework. A weather-worn statue of a deer lurks in one of the corners, likely a grateful homage to common prey in Lunvik. Right at the very end was a large statue of Lunvin, not unlike the one in my father's home. Could this be an old Lunvinchenaîne building of worship? Was it lost to time, or the witchfinders, I wonder?
The pack seem tight-knit. I watch them play and socialise and scrap with each other, bowing afterwards to ensure the other knows it's just for fun and there are no hard feelings. Then I see her- the female, mother of the pack, watching everyone intently.
She paces over to me and stands at my side, looking ahead at the Lunvin statue, gazing at her own image reflected in eternal stone, and likely expecting me to revere her all the same. The father of the pack brushes past her, and his packmates move out of his way, allowing him first bite of their hunt.
Your pack, she says to me, her eyes still fixated on the statue.
"I suppose I have a pack, in a sense," I tell her, in my slightly-broken langue du loup. "I have a daughter and partner- or a pup and a mate, to you- and I have my people as a Peteran priest..."
I knew she wouldn't understand that last bit, but it was more me speaking to myself. I know what she's trying to say- and I feel a connection between us both. This is her family- her children, her partner, and her grandchildren. Many have tried to study the way wolf packs work, and many more have completely misunderstood them. If the father of this pack understood Simlish, I'm sure he'd scoff at their misconceptions of him. She can sense that I worry for my family, both blood and the Peterans- and she feels the same way.
Human, no safe, she says to me, and a sense of anxiety fills my chest. Teeth catch.
"You mean the trap? You saw humans lay that trap? Is that what you mean?"
The entire pack gather around me in a half-moon shape. I keep looking down at the Lunvin statue, partially in wonder at how Her altar has survived completely untouched for what might have been hundreds of years. Have the wolf packs here been guarding it?
I look around and every single wolf is staring at me, even the two little pups.
Teeth catch. Your pack. My pack. rougarou. 'Rougarou' is one of the words used to refer to the werewolves in our tongue, something borrowed straight from Champs les Simlish.
"You think that they're after us as well as you?"
She lowers her head and her tail, tucking it between her legs. Young weak. Hunger.
If there's been other humans around here causing trouble after so much time of it being largely untouched by people, then the likelihood is all their usual prey has fled from the one bigger threat to them than the wolves are.
"I could help you find food, if you wanted? I mean, I'm not much of a huntsman, but-"
Out of nowhere, she and the rest of the pack let out a shrill, synchronised howl that completely overwhelms me. The familiar sensation sinks in almost immediately-the migraine-esque burning in my mind, the searing pain throughout my entire body. The wolves vent their frustrations to Lunvin, and both her ire and theirs reflects back in burning moonlight.
It's not just the physical pain, but the emotional- Their anxieties and their rage become my own. Are they doing this on purpose to induce the transformation? Do they need the help of a wolf, and not of a man?
I don't try to hold back like I normally do. Alistair and Oskar were right- trying to hold back my true nature won't do me any favours. It's a necessary catharsis, and it's an irreplacable part of myself. Whether it was my father's lack of attention to my blood, or my own...there's no use trying to pretend I'm something else.
Prey.
Hunt.
Follow.
* * *
* * *
I wake to the aggressive snarls of the two brothers fighting for their share of the meal. The two of them and their father are tucking into a deer carcass, with the females at the other one. The others are fast asleep, resting up after filling up on a good meal.
I haven't moved yet; the pups are curled up asleep on me, and the mother of the pack is curled next to me, with her head next to mine. As the unspoken rule goes, if an animal is asleep on you, don't move a muscle. A bit of venison over a fireplace sounds amazing right about now, but I worry starting a fire would frighten the pack.
My muscles ache and my head is pounding. I remember the wolves howling, and nothing after that. Did we hunt these deer together? I remember the female saying her pups were starving, but I peer down at them fast asleep, with full stomachs and dried blood all over their muzzles.
I feel a stirring- my pillow is awake. She sniffs at her pups and licks their coats clean, and they both look towards me with glassy, buggy eyes before sitting at my side.
Young. Safe, she says to me, looking between the two pups.
"I'm glad your pups feel safe around me," I reply, petting them both gently in unison."And I'm glad that your family- pack - have food. But I need to return to my own pack soon."
The mother of the pack lowers her head and tail for a moment, and looks to the pups, who whimper at me. Their eyes glitter, and now I see why no-one says no to a puppy.
Your pack.
"Yes, my pack. I should get back to them. They're probably wondering where I am."
We follow. Unsafe. Forest.
"I appreciate the concern, but-"
That shrill scream is unmistakable. Every single one of the wolves' ears pricks up when they hear it. The chorus of snarling is almost deafening.
Your pack, the female wolf repeats, only this time, it feels like it might be a question.
So the wolves were spot-on. There's definitely other people lurking around Lunvik, and I'm betting the likelihood is they aren't just poachers or game hunters. There's only kind of person who would be lurking around a village that was once home to the Lunvinchenaîne- and the last I checked, treasure hunters don't lay down traps.
I look towards the female wolf, and I ask her as best as I can if she and her packmates can howl at the moon once more. Róisín might finally get to see the wolf she's been asking about since she was a toddler...
Alistair
I get Róisín inside and lock the door shut as they approach. How did witchfinders get all the way out to Lunvik? There's been nothing to find here for years- what good is it coming out here now? I make out two or three of them, but there's definitely more in the distance. Just as we thought this would be a safe place to teach my granddaughter the basics of magic...Is no place safe from them?
I hold my sword towards them. I do not plan on swordfighting, however- Lunvin's eyes are upon me. Their cocky mockery of how I'm outnumbered is soon silenced with a blast of lunar magic.
Throughout most of his life, by not teaching him his magic, I had cut off Reynold from the cathartic and freeing beauty of Lunvin's ire. I think part of it was my devotion to the placidity of Peterism in my younger years- obsessed with peace, despite going to war- my explanation was that you couldn't have one without the other. A creature of ferocity attempting to live a life of peacefulness...
Lunar energy carries the rage of Goddess and Earth alike, from the cries of the planet to those of Lunvin's dearest children, the wolves. There is nothing more empowering than rage, providing you know how to use it. Without it, you cannot protect yourself or your loved ones. A life without a little rage is a willing blindness to evil, and what good is that when evil turns up on your doorstep?
Just as my ire had peaked near the point of turning into my true form, I hear a familiar sharp call, followed by the din of barking wolves.
A sense of relief fills my chest. I wondered where Reynold had gone off to when I'd woken up, and half-panicked that maybe the lurking witchfinders had gotten him once I'd noticed them at the door- but it seems all he did was take my advice and get to know his cousins, returning with what looks like an entire pack at his side. Their eyes glow blue as his do, their energy completely attuned to his. For now, even the mother and father of the pack follow his lead. His dark-grey fur blurs in and out of vision from the spluttering snow, and I can barely see the wolves' paws touching the ground.
Each and every one of the downed witchfinders falls victim to one of the wolves, and I watch in glorious horror as Reynold's claws spear through one man's throat, cutting his screams short. In what feels like it might have been seconds, those who weren't torn apart ran screaming in the other direction.
Reynold makes a strange call to the wolves, who begin burying the bodies underneath layers of snow, rime, soil and grass. Why would he make them give them a proper burial, I wonder? And then I think I pick up on what he's doing... He wanders over to me, howling sorrowfully at the door and almost whimpering. I see now that he was covering them up so a certain someone didn't see. He scoops up a mouthful of snow a few times, trying to wash the blood off of his teeth.
"Róisín, you can come out now," I tell her. "Your father has returned, and he's brought some friends with him...Though you might not have seen him like this before."
Róisín
I wipe the tears from my face. Father says it isn't weak to cry but I don't want him to see me scared and upset. I can't stop shaking. I open the door, and as I walk out, I can't believe what I see! It's...a werewolf? And there's a whole pack of wolves behind! They look so brave. But...a werewolf? Is this...him?
"Father?"
Alistair and Mother told me not to be scared when I eventually see Father like this. I'm not that scared, not really. I think werewolves are interesting, and Father wouldn't hurt me. His eyes are pretty and glowy and they're shaped like the crescent moon in the sky. He looks soft, but I don't know if I should touch him.
He makes a grunting sound of some kind, and a sort of high pitched sound as well.
"I don't understand you."
"Don't be scared, Róisín," Alistair says. "Hold out your hand."
I carefully put my hand to his face. It's warm and surprisingly soft. I notice his eyes look a duller shade of blue. I hope he's not sad, but he doesn't sound sad, I don't think.
"It's okay," I tell him. "I'm not scared. Look!" I hold out my other hand for him, and he puts his huge paw on my hand. It's cold from the snow, but the fur is so soft. His claws are a bit sharp, though. He accidentally pokes my hand with them, and makes a little sound, licking my palm...Yuck!
"It's okay. It didn't hurt."
"See? I knew you knew it was me," I say to him, laughing. I don't know if he understands me like this. "I knew you and Alistair would look after me."
"I love you so much, Father. I'm so lucky that I have a werewolf for a father! And one day I will look like you too! Maybe even scarier!"
Father looks towards the pack. Did they help him, I wonder?
They all look like a big family! I think the two that are stood next to each other might be the mother and father. Then I look down and I see...Puppies! Cute little wolf puppies! I want to cuddle them, but I probably shouldn't. But they're looking up at me.
"I can hear the wolves," Alistair says to me. "The parents are telling me and the puppies that you're safe. You can have a little play with them if you want."
"Alistair...I want you to tell the wolves I said a big big thank you for helping out Father and for helping protect us!"
He speaks to them in the mooncaster language, and they both look at me.
The puppies both run up to me with cute little yaps and they're both so soft and warm! I don't want to let go of them, but I don't want the parents to worry, so once I give them both a cuddle I put them carefully back next to the mother. She and the father give me a little bark. They look happy.
I wave bye-bye to the wolves and to the puppies, and they run off into the dark back to their home. We went all the way out here and those witchfinders still were putting down traps to hurt the wolves. I wonder if they were after werewolves? But why would anyone be after them if there aren't many left? Don't people just think they all died or went away?
"Alistair, when will he turn back?
"Once he's calmed down," he tells me. "Let him rest and he'll be back to his usual self. I'm sorry that we have to delay teaching you magic again. I know it's important and you're excited, but I thought it would be safe out here. I promise me and Reynold will teach you, okay?"
"Okay. Since I've been really, really good whilst we've been here-"
"No, you're not getting a puppy. You already have a werewolf!"
"Aww..."