Faster. Faster! Fur, you make me stick out like a sore thumb!
Chased by an enraged mob, I scamper away from the town I once called home. A pitchfork wound in my side still burn, but they’re healing quickly and should be gone by the time I lose the villagers that gave them to me. Gradually, as my feet pound into the dirt again and again, it all disappears: their shouts, the smell of the smoke from their torches, the faces of my old friends and neighbors.
However, fear remains deep within me, as new sights, sounds, smells, and even tastes fill me with an even greater dread. I’ve run into a dreadful swamp which reeks of corpses, both new and old. I slow to a strut, my feet sticking to the muddy ground. I look up toward the moon. Though barely visible through the treetops, it still hangs like a beacon in the foggy night. Considering the moon’s position, I must have been running for hours.
A screech pierces the cool air and my bones rattle. I realize exactly which swamp I am in.
I let out a short whine and turn around in circles, the mist encroaching fast. I can see out about ten feet, even with my highly capable night vision. Lost in Wraithmarsh, I’ll be an embarrassment to my kind everywhere, standing alone and wringing my paws, shivering in fear.
The wind picks up, fur rustling across my body. On the breeze, I smell something interesting. It’s certainly a more pleasant aroma than any other in this marsh. I decide to follow my nose toward its source, eager to find a warm place to dry my fur and fill my belly. It doesn’t take long for me to realize, however, that not all good scents lead to good things.
My nose brings me to the creaking and groaning remains of an old village. The scent I traced vanished, and all I could smell was rotting wood and dead bodies. Breathing in sparsely, I set down a torn-up pathway. Glass from the windows of destroyed houses litter the street. The fog thickens, and a heavy rain begins to fall. I pick up my pace, and manage to find one building that hasn’t collapsed. I hurry toward it, hoping nothing dangerous waits inside. I could hide there until morning, or at least until this rain dies down.
Five paces from the splintering door of the house, I hear a rustling in a nearby bush. Startled, I yelp and scurry into the house, tugging open the door and slamming it shut. My heartbeat is all I can hear, but then there’s someone outside, whispering unintelligibly.
A red mist surrounds my body as I change back into human form: my fur recedes, my body shrinks, my claws round out and become normal fingernails. I feel strange being in this form, after running for so long as my true self. Now I stand vulnerable in the darkness, the rain sounding as though it’s shattering the weak roof. Is this really the safest option?
My night senses kick in and I begin picking up the moonlight which filters through the windows and wooden slats of the walls. I can see as though it were midday, so I decide to explore the small home. My heart still races as I step down a dusty hallway, but I should make sure that I’m truly safe. The dress I wear swishes softly as I walk, and I feel even more vulnerable. I turn a corner and see a light coming from a room on the left. I swallow hard. Who could be living all the way out here?
With nothing to lose, I tiptoe forward and peer into the room. It's a large study, a few unrecognizable paintings garnish the walls, a fireplace is lit and crinkling, bookcases take up the empty wall space, brimming with old tomes, and a couple chairs dot the middle of the room.
Seated in one of the chairs is a woman. A human woman, with a strange smell. She hasn’t been here long enough for the sour odor of decay to consume her. Through the dank and musty smell of the house, I also pick up the smell of the salty sea, and my nose winds up in confusion.
I begin stepping backward, silently as possible, heading toward one of the other rooms.
"Hello, young one,” the woman says, without looking toward me. “Come, sit. I have been expecting you."
"Y-You have?!" I stutter in surprise. The woman wears a red cloak, and when I speak she looks up at me with a grin.
"Come, Caitlyn. Sit. Stay for a while; we need to talk."
Gulping again, I walk into the room and sit down in a big cushioned armchair across from her.
"There is no need to fear, for I will not harm you. Now then, Caitlyn. Since I know your name, I'll give you mine. I am Theresa, keeper of the Spire."
My mouth falls open. “Theresa? From the stories? Then, they're true?!" I've heard stories of the blind seeress that helped the King of Albion overthrow Lucien and gained the Spire in return, but I didn’t think they were anything more than stories. I look into the pale eyes of a legend.
"Yes, youth, but we are not here to talk about me. I must help you. It seems you've caused quite the stir in Brightfield, and word has spread throughout the kingdom. You are no longer safe within Albion, and so I am going to take you elsewhere. I can't guarantee security, but you’ll have much better luck there than here."
"But why would you help me?” I ask, my voice weakening. “I'm...I am a-"
"I know what you are, but more than that I know who you are.” She stares into my face, and I wonder what the blind woman sees. “You are the first of your kind, different from the rest. Your fate lies within a distant land. That is all I can tell you, and far more than you need to know. All you need concern yourself with now is rest, as you will need it."
"A distant land...fate?” I repeat. “But please. I need to know...more..." My head is suddenly very heavy, and I lose my train of thought. I topple out of the chair and onto the damp carpet, where everything begins to grow dark. The last thing I see is Theresa standing over me, looking at me with her glassy eyes.
~~~~~
I turn over with a groan, falling out of sleep. Whatever I lie on is dreadfully uncomfortable. Overwhelmingly tired still, I try to sleep again. Then I hear a strange sound. It’s a bleating sound, like a sheep. But the bleating seems cut into syllables, like human language - I can almost understand words. I imagine it's just part of my dream, and attempt again to fall back asleep. I nearly doze off when the clattering of a steel bowl onto a hard ground completely breaks me out of my weary state. With a gasp, I sit up and learn two things that horrify me. One is that I sit in a cage of sorts, and the second is that I am stark naked.
I lie on a thin mat of straw, covered by a thin blanket riddled with holes. Next to me is a plate of dirty carrots and lettuce. I look toward the cage door and see a brightly colored creature, so bright that I shield my eyes. I realize that it was not a sheep’s bleating that I heard, but the voice of a horse, or rather a pony. I glance at the creature again. Though it is certainly not like any pony I have ever seen. The pony stares at me with an eyebrow cocked and loaded. It wears a dark uniform, which I find strange simply because I have never heard of a pony wearing anything more than a saddle or a blanket. I remember then that I wear nothing at the moment, and with a small cry, I tug my own blanket over my bare legs and torso.
The pony continues to stare at me. I take quick sniffs of the air, and learn that there are more humans here, though they smell so strange. There are many other smells, as well. Most are oppressive, like the stench of the damp walls covered in a creeping moss, and the burning coal of the torches that light the prison. I also smell the pony’s masculine chemicals, and seeing as he is clearly anthropomorphic in at least dress and stature, I fear for what ideas currently dance in his mind. To my relief, after a short moment he walks away.
Wrapping my blanket around my shoulders, I stand, walk over to the barred door, and peer around. There aren't just humans in here: cats, dogs, all sorts of other animals are also in cages. Some even are chained. I suddenly realize what is going on.
"I'm going to be sold as a pet!" I whisper, frantic and panicked. Is this the place Theresa spoke of? What fate could I have here? Though my legs are numb, I wander back to my mat and pull the plate of food closer.
I awaken slowly to the sound of neighing and whinnying. I shake my head, but nothing changes. This is no dream. I really am trapped in a pet shop.
Something fastens around my neck. My eyes dart around, searching for the attacker, I claw at the noose. I will not die - not here, not like this. The horse responsible stands outside my cage, its horn aglow. I really must get used to that. In the glass of the window across from me, I can see what is around my neck. A dog collar. How appropriate.
I gaze forlornly at the collar adorning my neck, and then the cage door swings open. With the magic from its horn, the horse lifts the leash attached to my collar and tugs. She wants to take me outside.
"No, please. You don't want me free - I'm dangerous!" I back up to the bars opposite the horse, my fingers wrapping around them. "Please, I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm a monster!" The flames of the torches my fellow villagers held blaze in my memory. They wouldn’t have attacked me if I wasn’t a monster.
There's another tug on the collar, and the horse neighs softly. She's not going to comply. I gulp, and step toward her. All I have to do is keep myself hidden. I kept safe in Brightwall until yesterday - I can hide among these things too. Just don't change…
I follow down a few hallways and we come to a door. She opens it and we walk into the sun. We’re in a large yard surrounded by a fence, and I’m alarmed to see several naked females, all around my age.
The ones nearby look at me, before looking at the largest female - the leader, it seems. Though she is the tallest of them, I still stand a foot taller. The child walks closer to me, examining me. At this distance I can smell all sorts of things about her: her emotions, her last meals, her hormones, and her age. This child who stands before me looks at least twelve, but somehow, it seems she’s only two years old. The fact seems so unbelievable, I question my senses. But I know better than to doubt my abilities.
She steps closer, until she’s only inches away. She sniffs me. Something flickers in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can smell it out. Her mouth contorts and she sniffs again. This time her eyes widen and she screams, stumbling before running back to the rest. They glance at me with open mouths before all scrambling away.
I hear whinnies and neighs in a pattern, almost like a sentence. I turn to the pony holding my leash and she stares back at me. I can see the worry in the creases around her muzzle. It seems she’s wondering the same thing as me.
She turns around and pulls on the leash. I follow her back inside, relieved to get away from those people. She locks me back in my cage, and I look her in the eye.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I could have killed them. I could have killed you! I’m a monster…” The pony snorts and whinnies. It seems like she’s trying to speak to me, but seeing the confusion on my face, she shakes her head and leaves. But when her back is turned, I think I hear her at last.
“...good home.”
Those two words are the first I understand of their language, but I don’t know what she means by them. I fear she’s implying someone has already adopted me. The hair on my nape prickles and I feel sweat forming on my forehead and my palms as I clutch the bars of my cage. They don’t realize the danger they’re in…
A voice echoes in my head. “Then show them.”
I feel the blood pulsing past my ears. No, they’ll get hurt.
“Do it.”
I don’t want them to get hurt!
“Why not? You are a monster. A balverine. Change. Free yourself.”
A light whinny snaps me out of my trance. I find myself curled in the corner, tears streaming down my cheeks. Looking down at me from outside the cage is a smaller version of the other pony. We gaze at each other for what feels like hours, and then she turns to the older one, who stands beside her. They neigh to each other, and this time I catch more words.
"Can.....get her?" No! You don't want me! I curl up even tighter. Please! I'm dangerous!
"Yay!" No. I'm dangerous.
It sinks in - what's happening. I'm being bought. Taken home. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Food…” the voice in my head says.
No...
