Warning: Graphic, Violent Content.
@Eskil and any other Willow Ridge wolves that might be at the border.
Audio: "Believer" by Imagine Dragons.
@Eskil and any other Willow Ridge wolves that might be at the border.
Audio: "Believer" by Imagine Dragons.
She really didn't know how it happened, exactly. It was a blur, like most days had been lately. The drizzling rain that had begun to fall lately had turned her quiet, monotonous world into varying shades of gray that had begun to suffocate the monochrome wolf. She'd left Eskil after he'd yelled at her, telling him that she had made her choice, but she still had yet to leave the shelter of the willows. It was like something was holding her there, and she couldn't bring herself to leave.
The silver woman had entertained the idea of joining Willow Ridge to be with her daughter and the man that she loved, but was far too much of a coward to go through with that idea. So, she lurked, like a ghostly shell that had nowhere to call home. And that was what she was; what she'd always been, really. She'd known for her entire life that there was nothing good for her in this world, but when she'd seen Elle's little face, she'd begun to have the slightest bit of hope. But they could never feasibly be together...
...and Asha had always known it would end bloody.
She hadn't thought much of the white wolf with the red eyes upon first glance - even skin-and-bones as she was, she was still a trained warrior and wasn't concerned with fighting. But then the two of them had started to speak, and the wolf called @Paschal had wielded his words like a master swordsman. He'd been a perfect gentleman, had empathized with her when she'd told him about losing her puppies, and had even offered her some food.
She suspected that that was where it had gone wrong.
The woman had bent her head down to take a bite of the meat, and had been hit hard from behind. Lack of food and sleep had made her reaction time particularly slow, and she'd been unable to prevent the sharp bite to her spine that caused a burst of agony, and then numbness in the lower half of her body. She'd tried to turn on her forepaws, her hind legs dangling awkwardly behind her, but had frozen up for reasons she couldn't quite explain. The redness of his eyes seemed so vivid all of a sudden, his head down near her face and their opposite-colored irises clashing.
"Do not be afraid, my dear. You shall serve a higher purpose."
He sounded as though he had about a million octaves resounding in his one, singular voice, and Asha's muddled mind couldn't comprehend how it was just coming from one body. Logically, her atheistic mind understood that there was nothing religious or demonic in this moment, but the white wolf certainly believed there was. And it was absolutely, frigidly terrifying.
The red-eyed wolf bit her throat, only grazing the windpipe but still snipping through enough muscles and nerves that it would be impossible for her to raise her head from the ground. Which, to be honest, was probably for the best, as she was fairly certain she wouldn't have wanted to see what he was doing to her body.
She didn't feel him cutting into her at first, because he started lower, where the spinal cord had been severed. He began slow around the abdomen, her blood flowing into the mud and creating a ruddy brown around her staining silver coat. In shock, Asha just lay there, shaking and staring into the middle distance, her hammering heart causing the blood to flow quicker and quicker. She wasn't aware of the moment when he began tugging her intestines out, and she only vaguely saw, through a haze of red, that he was drawing on the ground with her blood.
Death came slower than she'd imagined, and the white wolf made it relatively painless. Occasionally, she'd feel a twinge of discomfort - a tug as he removed another of her organs and laid them out on the ground in patterns and shapes of his own language. All the while, he murmured to her - sometimes she understood him, and sometimes not. But she did hear him speak of voices, and of a land called Paradise that she would be taken to for her sacrifice to a being known by the name of Asheroth.
It made no sense to the dying, paralyzed wolf. Paradise was a fairy tale that she had never been taught.
She was trying to picture Elle as she drifted away, trying to imagine what she might be like a little older, and a little older than that. She imagined blue eyes and weird coloration. She hoped that Enoki and her pups were kind to her baby, and that Eskil would take care of her if she needed it. In a moment of clarity that only encroaching death could provide, the young woman realized that the love she had felt for the evergreen-eyed man had been a mere illusion - a projection of what she hoped would come in the future. She wished that she could speak to him, to apologize for confusing him so badly and lying to him with those three dreaded words.
Perhaps she would've loved him, in time. Perhaps he would have loved her. It could've been a possibility.
An image of Eskil playing with Elle was dancing across her vision when something barged into view. Paschal stepped before her, his white pelt so deeply soaked with her own blood that it was drenched red. She realized, vaguely, that in comparison to the crimson streaking his face, his eyes weren't actually red at all. They were more of a soft, rosy pink shade. In any other situation, she would've considered them quite beautiful.
"Rest now, beautiful. Paradise shall reward you."
There would be no Paradise for her - there would be no reward. If there was anything after death, for the young woman who killed and abandoned and lied, nothing but hellfire was fitting. Bubbling skin and singing fur would be what she would expect. She hoped for darkness in the afterlife, or perhaps reincarnation, so she could have a reset in life.
But Asha had never been much of a believer.
She did not feel the fangs once more around her neck, nor was she aware of the crunching bones in her neck or the fading of pawsteps. She died dreaming of nothing but burning rather than the bloody, visceral scene around her. A corpse of a girl who had been dead for years rather than just moments. Her soul had stiffened and grown cold far before her entrails had been ripped from her abdomen and splayed out in sigils and words that she could not understand.
No, she hadn't been alive for a very, very long time.
This had always been the inevitable.