Fenrir's dreams had turned sour again. He woke with a start, breathing heavily. He pressed his palms against his face, trying to still the tremors in his body. No matter how far he ran, no matter how many blood-soaked nights he endured, the same emptiness hollowed him out from within.
Fenrir took a glance around the room, hoping to see Theobald, but unfortunately he's nowhere to be found. Suddenly, his nostrils flared, catching the fading trace of his guardian's scent. But underneath it lingered another odor, faint but distinct. Fenrir snarled softly. He could tell it's a woman and a human.
Fenrir tightened his jaw until his teeth ached. He didn't need to guess who it was. He had smelled her before on Theobald's cloak after long absences.
Pushing away the rough blanket, Fenrir rose to his feet and began to walk towards the door. In an instant, he pushed it open and stepped into the cool embrace of dawn. The forest was awake in its own secret way. For a long time, he just stood there, listening to the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush and the distant cry of a raven.Something was shifting, and he could feel it. Not just in the world around him, but in his own blood.
The words he could never speak pressed against his throat, aching to be released. Fenrir clenched his fists and let out a growl instead, guttural and raw. The sound scattered the birds from the treetops, and with a loud cry, they flew away.
He stared at the sky for a moment, then finally turned and headed back to the cabin. His eyes fell upon the carved symbols etched into the wood near the doorway. He could tell it's Theobald's work, protective runes older than memory itself. Fenrir traced them with his fingertips, and for a few seconds, he thought he saw them pulse faintly with purple light. A name formed in his mind.
''Elsbeth.''
He staggered back, holding his breath as memories flashed into his head. The memory was not his, yet it felt as though it had been carved into his very marrow. He could hear a woman's laughter, low and melodic, echoing loudly in his ears.
Fenrir shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against the rough wood. His chest ached with a longing he could not name. Something inside him was breaking open, and it's making him shiver. Fenrir pressed his lips tightly together, clenching his fist at his side.
A twig snapped behind him, and he turned swiftly, a feral gleam flashing in his eyes. However, it wasn't danger that greeted him—it was Theobald, his arm wrapped casually around a cloaked figure. The sight made Fenrir's stomach tighten. The woman leaned against Theobald with the ease of long familiarity, her copper-red hair shining brightly in the morning light.
It's none other than Bertille. But Fenrir did not know her name nor her history. But his blood reacted before his mind could. He opened his mouth instantly, revealing his teeth that were too sharp for any human mouth. Theobald froze when he saw him. For a moment, there's silence between them, until Theobald decides to break it.
"Fenrir," he began, his voice steady but weary, "you're awake earlier than I thought."
Fenrir said nothing, though his eyes flickered between his guardian and the woman in front of him. Bertille's smile was slow and sly. "So this is your little wolf." She said in curiosity, staring at Fenrir in disdain.
Theobald's jaw tightened, but he didn't let go of her. His silence spoke volumes, yet his gaze flickered once more to Fenrir. "Inside, boy. There are things we need to speak of."
Fenrir hesitated for a moment, glaring hard at Bertille, who only tilted her head as though mocking him with her very breath. Biting his lower lip, he finally turned and walked back into the cabin, trying to control his anger, the wrongness of her scent flooding him.
Theobald exhaled heavily, rubbing his forehead. He could already feel the storm brewing. He had Elsbeth's message weighing on him, Bertille clinging to him, and Fenrir teetering on the edge of something he couldn't yet name.
Theobald grabbed Bertille's hand and led her into the house. On the bed sat Fenrir, placing his hands on his face.
"Fenrir, are you alright?" Theobald asked, but he didn't respond. He didn't even look up at him anymore.
Theobald glanced at Bertille in astonishment, and she shook her head gently and drew closer to him. "I think you should tell him now. He's no longer himself, I guess.''
Theobald nodded his head and gulped down horribly, then turned his gaze back to Fenrir, who's trembling slightly. His eyes were burning, and he didn't know why. His claws were beginning to emerge.
"Fenrir, I want to tell you something." Theobald said, but Fenrir wasn't paying attention to him. Instead, his ears were fixed on the voice echoing in his head.
"Come! Come to me! Come!''
He stopped breathing and jerked up as if the sound itself had pierced through his marrow. His eyes widened, glowing faintly with a wild, dangerous light. Theobald moved back quickly, raising his hands in fright and trying to calm him down.
"Fenrir, listen to me..."
Fenrir staggered backward, clutching his head as the carved runes etched into the cabin walls began to thrum, glowing with a violet fire. His knees buckled, and a strangled sound, half-snarl, half-cry, erupted from his throat.
His body froze, and every muscle in him was taut, his eyes blazing with feral light. He looked like a creature caught between man and beast, the call of blood and memory tearing him apart from within.
Theobald swore under his breath and rushed towards him as he finally realized what this means. But before he could reach him, Fenrir threw back his head and roared, a sound not human, not wolf, but something far greater. The cabin shook, the runes seared with light. And before they knew it, Fenrir collapsed onto the bed and lost consciousness.
"Fenrir! Fenrir!" Theobald called in panic, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. But unfortunately, there's no response.
''What's going on?'' Bertille asked in bewilderment, staring at the motionless form in front of her.