As the worlds got closer, and The Destroyer's power grew, the wolves watched the man climb the slope up to their den. They kept silent, choosing to rest and let their alpha take care of it. As the man got closer, he spotted the wolves, and began to walk carefully, heading towards where the alpha sat.
Then, with the sun setting and the wind silent, the man nodded. "Zoolk."
"Captain Isaac," Zoolk said, keeping his back against the stone wall behind him. He had one leg crossed over the other and his arms folded. His gnarled-wood staff leaned next to him. "I have nothing to say. Go away."
"Zoolk, why? The town still needs you. I still need you."
"If you need me so badly why did you let them accuse me?"
Captain Isaac said nothing in return. He shifted from one foot to the other. "You know why I left. Just leave me be."
"Those responsible have been punished," Captain Isaac said. "You'll be welcomed back with open arms."
"And how long will it be until the next person accuses me?" Zoolk said, rising. He towered over Captain Isaac by half a foot. His large, bristly beard and scowl made him all the more daunting. "As they always seem to do. As they seem to love." He made a sound from deep in his throat, and the wolves around the den rose to their feet. "Consider what you say next, Isaac."
"You trusted me once," Captain Isaac said. Even with the wolves around him prepared to leap he kept his demeanor. "I'm asking you to trust me again. Am I not trustworthy? I did nothing but defend you."
"Until it was clear you could not win!" Zoolk shouted. The wolf next to him growled. "You, a man with a female's name that has risen to such heights! You couldn't face the crowd." Zoolk drew his sword. "Leave. On two feet or one."
Captain Isaac sighed and turned. "If the wilderness wants you, let the wilderness have you. Remember you are human, Zoolk, and not a dog." He walked away. Some of the wolves began to follow, slinking low, but Zoolk called them back.
He replaced his sword and sat back down. Isaac--a female's name, as it started with a vowel--receded, walking back in the direction of the township he defended and policed.
As the sun started to sink down behind the trees and his shadow grew longer, Zoolk remembered. He had been Isaac's right hand, a six-foot-six giant with dark skin, wild eyes, and wilder beard. He was liked, or so he thought. He'd been seen as a behemoth, a monster, with skin the wrong color and attitude unkind all his life. He thought Isaac could protect him and help him feel at home, but after a murder attention was brought to him. Charges were levied, calling him brute and beast. Isaac had tried to defend him, yes, but too many called for his head.
Zoolk cracked. After a life of being shunned and cast out, he realized he wanted nothing more to do with the realm of man. He escaped the prison he had once presided over, heading far into the wilderness. He found his pack, and wrestled the alpha to the ground with his titanic strength. This pack, a small one of five, now had a sixth: a human. He lived as they did, cooking his meat instead of tearing into it raw and constructing clothes instead of living in his fur alone.
The wolf beside Zoolk, the old alpha, growled. Zoolk nodded and rose, banishing his past away. He rolled his head and shook the cramps out of his long legs. It was time to hunt.
On his world a week passed. The pack hunted and feasted, and Zoolk enjoyed the quiet and simple life. No humans to pass judgment on him, no one to hate him behind his back. He had reached his limit with the foolish men and women he had known. He loved his pack, and they loved him--as wolves do, at least.
Zoolk sat watching the sky one night as the pack ate. He'd had his fill of the deer he'd helped catch, and he rested, happy. The sky had a purple hue, something Zoolk had never seen. The stars glittered as the clouds moved back and forth across them. The clearing the pack used as their den was filled with the growls and snarls of wolves fighting over scraps. Zoolk considered a fire, but decided he wanted to watch the strange sky more. The purple color had a calming effect, and he began to drowse.
When he woke up, the pack wasn't around him as they normally were, sleeping off their meal in the diminishing night. He looked around on a stiff neck, surprised. It was nearly morning; they were never active at this time. He started to search.
After an hour he leaned against a tree to catch his breath. They were nowhere around the clearing and not close by, either. He started to worry, which surprised him. He had worried about fewer people than five. In another hour the sun watched him from just over the hills to the east as he plunged through the wilderness. He'd howled a few times, trying to hear a response, but there was none. He tried not to think about what would happen, but he did: they had left him, making him an outsider even to the outsiders, casting him out as the humans had done over years of hatred and foolish actions. He returned to the clearing, mind fierce and furious.
He found them sleeping. Two under a stone leaning up against the rock wall making up one boundary of their den, two more languishing in the shade of the trees. The previous alpha trotted up and sniffed him, sensing his fear. The wolf turned his head, lazily looking for the danger, then went back to cleaning himself.
Zoolk found a shady spot to sit, still confused. He knew they had been gone a few hours ago, when the sky was beginning to get brighter. He'd called for them, something they had always responded to before, and now here they were, back where they belonged, sleeping peacefully and unaware of his worry.
Zoolk feel asleep still concerned. He loved the wolves because they were wolves--not humans full of whims, who would wander off if the notion struck.
More days passed, and slowly Zoolk forgot about their disappearance. The pack stayed in their spot; the event was not repeated. The air began to get warmer as summer approached, and Zoolk wondered if he should cut his hair and beard. The few times he'd catch sight of his reflection--in a pool of water perhaps--he'd smiled at the wild face looking back at him. Already the wrong color skin, and too large to be natural, as sometimes was said, his feral appearance seemed to fit perfectly and make him the creature everyone seemed to think he was. And now, with less to eat and more running, he had become lean and muscled, hard-carved, showing definition and lacking any fat. His ribs showed through his skin, his Adam’s apple was a hard ball on his throat, and his arms and legs were tough stalks of bone and fiber.
He liked the look. He'd been away from other humans for a year. Isaac was the first person he'd seen since then, and he was in no hurry to go back. He liked his life for the first time since childhood.
Several days later--he didn't have the days anymore, or even the months--he awoke to growling. It was evening, and the pack had been sleeping off a fresh kill. The fire Zoolk had made to cook his cut was hot ash, and the smell of blood and meat still hung in the air. Before falling asleep during the early morning, Zoolk had noticed another purple tint to the sky, but he just thought it was the wash of color before the sunrise.
The growling came from a female wolf, heavy with pup and nearing her time. Zoolk thought perhaps the pack would be gaining a new member, and roused himself quickly to see if he could help.
A moment later, as he kneeled over the wolf, he realized he both didn't know anything about wolf-birth, and something else was wrong. The mother was writhing back and forth, as if dreaming. There was no evidence of impending birth, so Zoolk backed away. The other wolves were awake now, glaring at the noise. Zoolk couldn't shake the idea something was wrong, so he crept closer. He laid a hand on the wolf's back.
She jumped awake, spinning on the ground, snarling at him. Spittle flew out, and as Zoolk recoiled she bounded to her feet and ran into the wilderness, every fur standing on end.
Zoolk rose, shaking. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he'd seen the wolf's eyes as glowing purple circles
She didn't return, and as the night went on and Zoolk howled for her, he recalled the night weeks ago when the pack had left him alone and afraid. He didn't make the connection between the purple sky and the strange happenings, but he would soon. The other wolves seemed unperturbed by her disturbance, and Zoolk wondered if it was all part of a wolf's natural life.
He returned to the den after a night of fruitless hunting, both for her and for prey. The wilderness seemed empty and quiet. Hungry, he slept and worried.
When he woke up he heard more growling. Disoriented, tired, and still hungry, he got up and grabbed his stick, thinking something was intruding on their den. Standing, dizzy, he realized it was two of the remaining wolves snarling in their sleep as the pregnant female had done. He stood still, unsure.
Slowly, the wolves' sounds wound down. As before the rest of the pack--only two others remained--watched where they had slept. As the growling stopped, the wolves woke up.
They both got to their feet and, without a second glance or acknowledgment from the pack or each other, ran off. Zoolk watched them go with a falling heart. There were only three left now, including him. Their small pack had shrunk.
He found a pool of water to splash his face and wake himself up, and then went looking, sending his unique howl up into the night and listening for a response from any of the missing wolves, though none came. He caught a rabbit and could barely wait for it to cook before devouring it in the den. The other two wolves, the old alpha and the oldest female, finally showed some recognition of the events: they paced back and forth, barking and growling with their eyes open wide and the canines bared, showing their aggression towards something. Not Zoolk, or each other, or really anything in particular; they seemed aggressive toward the very air around them, and the sky, and the ground.
Zoolk couldn't help but feel the same. The wilderness seemed to be eating his pack whole, swallowing them one by one and not even deigning to spit out their bones. His family dwindled, and as all men will feel when their loved ones are threatened, he resolved to fight it, if he could.
The next morning, he stayed awake as long as he could as the pack slept. He used a small rock to dig furrows in his skin to stay alert, and the hours passed slowly. Finally, when the sun started to go down, the two last wolves began growling and heaving back and forth, twisting their bodies and spines. Zoolk jumped up and fell on the female, pinning her snout closed with one hand and all four limbs with the other.
The wolf woke up immediately, spasming and snarling through his hand. her body bounced, trying to shake him away. The other wolf, the old alpha, kept on writhing. Zoolk was just trying to keep one, but she wouldn't rest. Her whole body tensed and shook, yearning for freedom, and the hand holding her mouth slipped. She bit his hand fully, drawing blood and tearing the skin on his fingers and knuckles. He yelped and jumped away. The bitch went tearing into the wilderness, followed a moment later by the old alpha.
Zoolk sat, alone, in the den clearing, cradling his bloody hand. He ran to a nearby river and dunked it in, howling at the stinging sensation and his loss. The drops of blood washed away in the river, and he was able to inspect the wound. She had bitten deep, the old girl. It looked as if muscle had been exposed and torn in some places, and in others he could see knuckles poking up like mountains on a plain. His whole hand stung, and he shook as he got to his feet. He stumbled back to the den and found a bit of cooked meat to eat. He collapsed under the shadow of the den's rock wall and fell asleep.
He woke up to the sound of growling. He had to fight to get his eyes open. His hand burned, looking and feeling swollen. It was still late at night.
The pack had returned. They paced in from the underbrush, fangs exposed and fur standing on end. Zoolk expected the alpha to be leading them in, hoping to take back what had been his, but they all seemed to approach at once, coordinated.
Their eyes glowed purple. They approached under the light of the half moon, and Zoolk backed away from them. Their eyes were shining like fire as they advanced.
Zoolk got to his feet, searching for his walking stick. Weakness pumped out of his left hand, but his stick would at least give him a weapon. He took a breath and bared his teeth back at the pack. "Stay away," he growled, finding his stick against the wall. "Down!" he commanded, using his alpha voice. He held his stick in front of him, and saw the length of it waver. He drew himself up to his full height and snarled, but they continued to get closer, stepping silently and growling deep in their throats. Even the pregnant female inched closer, dying for a taste of his blood.
Zoolk crouched, watching them all. He knew what was next.
The old alpha leapt, letting loose a booming snarl. Zoolk whipped his staff, smashing the alpha to the side and sending him rolling. Another jumped, and Zoolk danced out of the way. All the while their eyes shone eerie, unreal purple.
He knew he had to run. Even as the alpha got to his feet and another wolf leaped at him, he knew they wouldn't stop until he was dead. They'd gone rabid, or had been infected by something worse.
He goaded a final wolf into leaping, and he had an opening. He ran, pumping his vast legs and trying to ignore the pain in his hand. He got to the river and dove in, trying to wash the scent off him. He climbed to the far bank quickly, gasping. The pack assembled at the other side and was beginning to forge across, and he plunged into the wilderness as they had done, one or two at a time. It was a hunt now, and he the prey instead of a hunter. He wasn't fast enough to get away from them, and only one of them could take him down, but he could do several things they couldn't.
He went to a wide tree and jumped for the first branch, a foot over his head. Clambering on, he pulled himself up and looked down, seeing five pairs of purple eyes watching him from twenty feet away. They collected under his tree, snarling at him, jumping to try and reach him. He climbed a few branches up, and started jumping from tree to tree, making his passages carefully to keep from falling or injuring his hand more. The eyes followed him, tracing the scent of his blood and fear. He kept jumping, climbing higher above the ground, until he got to a ridge. He could see the top of the ridge from where he stood, wedged in his current tree. The pack still milled around under him, barking and growling.
He tossed his stick over the ledge, and, after taking a moment to catch his breath, jumped.
His chest hit the ledge and he gripped handfuls of grass. One leg, and then the other, helped him up. The wolves were forty feet below, with no way to climb the ledge and no way to go around. He picked up his stick and jogged away, confident in immediate safety.
When morning found him, he was no longer so confident. He hadn't seen the wolves, or heard them, but he was too hungry to do anything other than walk forward with his head down. He'd found a few handfuls of berries, and eaten them until his beard was stained. The wilderness thinned out, and as morning passed into afternoon he found himself stumbling across a wide green plain. His neck prickled, out from under the protective cover of the trees, and he shot darting glances over his shoulders, looking for predators, or his pack.
Finding a clear stream, he fell to his knees and dunked his head in it. When he emerged, the heat on his head had cooled and his skin felt calm, no longer as if it was roving across his body. He sat at the edge of the stream.
Something had happened to his pack. An outside force had invaded and taken it from him, taken the last thing he loved. He wanted it back, but he had no idea how. He couldn't bear see them hurt or killed, though they didn't hold the same sentiment for him. There was magic in their eyes, he knew. No eyes glowed as theirs had.
He knew what he should do, but denied it. To go back there would be to give up. He looked at his injured hand. He'd wrapped it in part of his cloak, and now revealed it. The wounds were trying to scab over, but they were too big to heal in a day. He knew he needed help.
It took another night for him to admit it. He found a grove of trees and climbed the tallest one, wedging himself in to sleep the night. His stomach growled as he did, and he resolved to hunt something in the morning. He slept fitfully, hunger and hand keeping him awake.
Some time during the night he heard rustling in the grass below him. He snapped awake and looked, thinking the pack had found him. Instead, he saw a lone deer, a buck, and his hunger spiked. He shifted in the tree, waking his limbs up and getting ready to fall on the deer and bring it down. His hand, asleep and still stinging, lost its grip, and he lost his balance. His foot made a scraping sound and the deer looked up at him.
Zoolk recoiled, seeing the same purple shine from the buck's eyes as had come from his pack. Instead of darting away as deer did when sensing danger, it grunted at him, a low, unnerving, aggressive sound. It wanted to fight!
He sat in the tree as the buck lifted to its hind legs and started scratching at the bark with its hooves. It bared its teeth at him with its ears laid back; in the darkness it appeared startlingly wolf-like.
Out of the trees came more deer. Their eyes all glowed, and they circled the tree just like the pack had. Unsure, Zoolk wedged himself back into the tree and tried to sleep.
The deer were still there when he woke up. He watched them glare. He knew there was no way for them to reach him, but he had to leave. He had eaten little in the last two days, and needed to find something. He needed to find help.
He needed Isaac.
He spent some time figuring a way out. The deer weren't going anywhere, and the more time he spent in the tree, the more he risked attracting a larger group. He had nothing other than his sword and his staff and his bleeding hand, but it would be enough.
Holding his injured hand over the largest group of deer, he squeezed, forcing blood out through the partially-healed cracks and sending it raining to the ground. He was lucky enough to get drops in several of the purple eyes watching him, and took his chance as they shook their heads and bellowed. He used his staff to push him away from the tree, stabbing downward with his sword. He took one doe in the back, splitting it nearly in half and dousing the grass under him with slick blood. Quickly he rolled in it, coming to his feet, dripping ripe blood. He bared his teeth and howled as a wolf would, bringing himself to his full height and spreading his limbs wide, turning into a bloodthirsty monster. He hoped his wild beard and height would make him a bear in the deer's eyes, but no such luck. One charged at him as he rose.
Whipping his sword in the early air, he hacked at the base of the buck's head, spraying more blood and dropping it to the ground. He shook his weapons, flinging drops of blood, and roared. It was enough to break through the purple haze clouding the creatures, and send them running. As they disappeared, Zoolk fell to his knees and cut open the doe he'd killed with his sword, ripping out hot muscle and eating it in strips. The part of him worried about cooking and diseases was silenced as he ate. He slurped blood to complete his brutal breakfast.
Without hesitation, he got up and found the direction to Isaac. He started off, mostly unaware of the blood covering him from head to toe, his stained and unsheathed weapons, and the furious look in his eyes.
The wild man, the wild man, The children would sing, Sword and staff and blood in hand. Here he comes, the wild man, to take the children from the land.
Zoolk might have laughed if he knew the song to come from his approach to the town. It was evening, and the guards along the log walls of the community surrounding homesteads and towns and fields started shouting as he got closer. All the running and excitement annoyed Zoolk. When he got to the main gate inside he knocked on it with his staff. The wood clunked and didn't open. He looked at the top of the wall. "Let me in!" he shouted. "I need to see Captain Isaac!"
"Who are you?" one guard shouted down. "What do you want!"
"The animals!" Zoolk shouted back. "Something's happened to them!"
"What's happened to you?!" the guard asked.
Zoolk looked down at himself. The blood from the deer had dried on him, covering him in a cruel, crimson cloak. It had even dried on his skin and in his hair, streaking it with dark burgundy. Some even remained on his sword. Turning his head to peer up again, he scowled. "This is because of the animals. Now let me in!"
The guards talked; he couldn't hear them. Finally another looked down. "What's your name?"
"Zoolk," he said, keeping an evil smile back. "I was a guard, like you. Now bring out the one with the woman's name!"
"Zoolk! Lord!" the guard said. "It's me, Horward! You look like you've battled hell!"
"Perhaps I have," Zoolk said to himself, as Horward ran off.
The people who gathered around the gate gasped as the wooden doors swung open and Zoolk walked in. The song of the Wild Man was born and it sprung, nearly fully formed, to the many young minds watching this monstrous figure lurch inside, covered in dark stains and wielding weapons in both hands.
Horward and another guard escorted Zoolk down the main road toward the main compound the guards used. It was a strange mirror of the time Zoolk had been driven out by the same townspeople, called a murderer and a butcher and worse. Now, covered in blood, thin, ragged, and sick to death of all humans, he walked back down the road toward where his fate had nearly been sealed.
Captain Isaac was there to meet him. As the guard dispersed the crowd following Zoolk down the road, Isaac brought him inside, to a small room with a table and chairs. He requested food, and water, and sat down. He motioned to the other chair, but Zoolk remained standing.
"Something's happened to the animals," Zoolk said, watching Isaac with bloodshot eyes. "All of them."
"And what happened to you?" Isaac asked, looking back at Zoolk, meeting his gaze. "Tell me. Since we last spoke."
Zoolk eased himself into the chair, deciding to rest instead of fight. He told Isaac about the wolves and their flights into the wilderness, not to be found again. He told him about trying to keep the female from leaving, and receiving the wound on his hand. He told him about the wolves coming back, his flight through the trees, and his fight against the wild deer, resulting in his red bath. His throat was dry from the unaccustomed talking when he finished.
"Did you see any other animals? Any that didn't have the purple eyes?" Isaac asked. Zoolk shook his head, chewing bread and drinking soup. Isaac thought for a moment. "Do you remember how many days ago they first disappeared?"
Zoolk thought back. "Eleven. My best guess." Isaac stayed quiet for a moment, staring down at the table they sat at. Zoolk slurped water.
"Did you see the sky that night?" Isaac asked, and Zoolk coughed. "It looked to us like there was a purple glow in the sky. Perhaps it was different for you."
Zoolk stared. "I saw it too. And again the night the first wolf got purple eyes. Not since then."
"No." Isaac stood up. "I should tell you...we've seen some of the same things. Farm animals going wild, birds and rodents too."
"What?!" Zoolk shouted. "Why didn't you tell me this?!"
"I wanted to make sure you didn't know anything you weren't supposed to. To protect you. Many of the townspeople still don't trust you, and I bet your entrance today didn't help matters. Do you know how you look?"
Zoolk surged to his feet. "Damn you and damn them! I don't care how I look! I care about my pack! You wanted me to come back; I'm here!" Anger pumped in his veins. "But I will leave without a thought if you can't help me!"
Isaac was the only person to combat Zoolk's stare before, and he did so now. He remained sitting, calm, as if the wild giant baring down on him was only a child to be chastised.
"Yes," said Isaac. "I wanted you back. To apologize. You were mistreated. All your life. I wanted to help you forget that, but clearly you cannot. I wanted to give you a place you could be happy, but I can't do that. You did it yourself. But I promise to do what I can to help your pack."
Zoolk relaxed. The words surprised him. So did the pounding on the door behind him. When Isaac opened it, a guard stood there, took one look at Zoolk, and then went back to Isaac. "Sir! The animals!"
Zoolk and Isaac stood on the community's wood walls and watched, shocked, as the animals got closer. Wolves, bears, deer, elk, rodents of all sizes, and even birds advanced as an army. To a one they had glowing purple eyes. Zoolk couldn't see his pack.
"Captain, what do we do?" one guard asked. Isaac kept staring out, open mouthed and with his brows furrowed, at the approaching horde. He shook himself awake.
"Barricade the doors! Don't let any of them through! Get archers up here for the birds!" Guards started scrambling, and Isaac looked at Zoolk. "You want my help with your pack? You help us here and I'll do whatever it takes! I wouldn't have any other warrior at my side right now!"
Zoolk nodded. He surveyed the army assembled against the community, trying to understand the animal's reasoning. A force had driven into them and maddened them. Zoolk could almost understand the feeling.
"Captain Isaac!" they heard from the ground below them. A civilian stood looking up at them with his hands on his hips. "Just give them the wild man!" he shouted, not looking at Zoolk. "It's clear they want him! Throw him over the wall and they'll leave us alone!"
Isaac looked at him for a moment. "Someone give that man a sword and a shield. He's going to help us. And if I hear anyone else saying that sort of garbage, they'll also be joining the ranks. Understand?" A guard grabbed the man's arm and dragged him away, but not before Zoolk and the man locked eyes. Zoolk saw hatred, and gave it right back.
"Captain!" someone shouted. "The birds!"
"Archers!" Isaac screamed. "Helmets, everyone!"
The sky darkened. In a rain of feathers and talons and beaks, the birds came at them. Zoolk cut the first one in half, and went on swinging to the next. Arrows sang up to meet birds, piercing them. A man found a sharp talon in his eye and fell from the wooden barricade. An eagle dove for Isaac but Zoolk intercepted it.
It banked and circled, shifting its focus to the big, bloody man. It dove, screeching, purple sunlight reflected in its eyes. Zoolk ducked under it and swung his sword over him, hoping to catch it, but missed. It zoomed in a tight circle, screeching. Just before it would have collided with him, Isaac stepped in front of it, hitting it with his shield. It floundered to the ground, and Zoolk stomped it, spraying blood from under his foot. For an instant he was furious at Isaac, but the man was already running to help the next person. The air was sharp.
They heard a boom, and Zoolk peered over the barricade. Bears and wolves crashed into it, trying to knock it down. A grizzly cracked it. As the birds fell from the sky or retreated, the guards moved to the ground, prepared to fight back the wilderness. The roars and howls sent chills down Zoolk's spine.
He leaped to the ground, surprising the men there. He stood up to his full height, stretching his shoulders. He knew what his job would be when the doors burst open.
With a thunderous crash, they tore free of their joints and collapsed, releasing wolves and deer and bears. Zoolk charged, bellowing, at the grizzly leading the charge, and it reared back in surprise. Arrows flew over him, sticking into the bear's chest and stomach and doing little more than bees to a man. It swiped at Zoolk, huge paw threatening to take his head. He ducked and jabbed his sword, drawing blood on the bear's thigh. It roared and lumbered forward, yellow teeth dripping. Zoolk roared back.
It came, massive frame shaking under its own weight. Zoolk jumped backwards and rushed, swinging his sword down on its face. A cut appeared on its skull and it growled over the screams around them. A deer appeared on Zoolk's side and he cut its head off without turning, making the ground a muddy red. The grizzly crashed through it, drenched up to its stomach.
Zoolk met it head on, looping around its swipe and burying his sword in its arm. As it roared, he rushed forward, dragging the sword out and swinging it overhead down on the bear's shoulder. It stuck there, lodged in the collarbone, shaking as the bear reared up again, trying to bat at Zoolk. Isaac rushed in front of him with shield and sword.
The grizzly batted him aside in one motion and continued on to Zoolk. Zoolk rushed in, bashing into the beast with all his weight, and toppled it over. Now on top with the bear on its back, Zoolk wrenched free his sword, sending more blood into the air. Not letting the bear take a move, he buried his blade in its face, through its snout and into its brain. It struggled weakly, heavy limbs flopping, but could do nothing. Zoolk jumped off and went to Isaac.
"I'm all right," Isaac said, panting. The bear had struck his shield, but the strength of the hit had knocked him dizzy. Zoolk helped him up as other guards came forward to keep them safe. Zoolk set him down away from the heaviest fighting and only paused to cut a bird out of the air. "I just need to catch my breath."
"Captain!" a guard shouted. "There's too many! We can't fight them all!"
"We have to!" Isaac said, getting to his feet. "Or they'll tear your families apart!" He rang his shield with his sword. "Fight! Fight for your families!" he screamed, running forward at a wolf with an arm in its jaws.
Zoolk gave a ferocious grin. He thought of a few certain events--things humans decided needed doing to him, for one reason or another--and let out everything he'd been keeping in.
He fell on a white wolf like a natural disaster, squeezing its throat until blood ran from its eyes and using it like a club on another wolf. He used his sword to finish the job, decapitating the second wolf. An elf rammed him from the side, but instead of falling he grabbed the elk's antlers, planting his foot inside its mouth. With a scream and a rush of muscle, he ripped the top of its head off, shaking it like a prize at a carnival. He brought his sword to his right hand, and shifted his grip on the antlers to make them a gruesome mace in his still-bleeding left.
He slaughtered any animal too close. When too many passed through the gates, and the other guards ran, Zoolk stood tall in a lake of blood, eyes stuck wide, limbs whistling through thick air.
A howl split him in two.
His primal ears picked it out from the other sounds, the other howls, and knew his pack had joined the fight. He fell still, frozen by the idea of fighting his family.
A wild boar took the chance to strike, and he fell backward, the boar's jaws around his leg. He screamed wildly, fear and pain merging together. Isaac came from the side and cut the boar's side, drawing blood and gore and sending the boar squealing away.
Isaac helped Zoolk up. "We're retreating," Isaac said, not giving the other a moment to resist. He led Zoolk away. Pain flared out from Zoolk's leg, overriding his smaller injuries.
"My pack," Zoolk growled. "They're here. I can't fight them."
"We won't be fighting them," Isaac growled back. "We're too hurt." He pulled them away from the line of guards still battling. "I'd be surprised if you can even stand. You've done enough. The other guards will be able to handle things from here."
"No!" Zoolk pushed away from Isaac and tottered, gritting his teeth. "No one will hurt my pack!"
"Zoolk, be reasonable! They're wild animals! They're trying to kill us!"
"Reasonable?! Reasonable!" Zoolk shouted. The pain disappeared, replaced by anger. "The only things that have ever accepted me are five wolves outside your wooden walls! After a lifetime of being hated by humans, you want me to fight against the only things that have ever made me feel loved?" Zoolk spat. "I'd should expect that from a woman-named man."
Isaac's eyes narrowed. "Do you know why I have this name?" he whispered. Zoolk had to put out a hand to steady himself. His leg wept. "I was an orphan. Did you know that? I never knew my parents. I grew up here, in the streets. Many nights I slept in the mud. I didn't have a name."
Isaac looked at the line of guards trying to fight the animals. There were too many. "I grew older and still didn't have a name. People called me scoundrel, bastard, and thief. When I was thirteen, or fourteen, as I slept in a field, I heard a whisper on the wind." Isaac looked back at Zoolk, face hard as steel. "Isaac."
"Who said it?" Zoolk asked.
"There was no one. I was alone in a field under the summer stars and the purple sky. The name came to me like a dream, and I took it. It's a woman's name, yes, but I liked it nonetheless. It had the right letters. I joined the guard after that, and here I am."
"Why are you telling me this?" Zoolk asked, looking toward the gate nervously.
"I had to make my own way, just like you. You even had parents, for a few years. I forged a path against everything, and I lead, now. But what do you do? Quit. It was too much for you, a little bit of teasing and name-calling."
"They would have killed me if I hadn't run!" Zoolk shouted. "They wanted my head! You had to protect me from a mob!"
"And that means humans are worthless?" Isaac thundered. "A few people incite gullible fools, and we're all twisted monkeys? Look!" Isaac shot a finger at the dwindling line of guards. "They fought with you. Defended you! You'd have them die to save your dogs."
Zoolk stared, shocked. "I endured worse than you, and I still think humans are worth protecting. Men and women falsely accuse you, and you leave us for dead. You want humans to accept you?"
He turned away, toward the fighting guards. "Accept them." He left Zoolk there, leaning against a house, to help the guards.
Another familiar howl attacked Zoolk. The sound reminded him of the times in the wilderness, hunting with the pack. He thought he led the pack then, but the events fell into place. He was in the back, getting just a slab of meat from a deer when the rest would get their fill. He thought he was the alpha, after fighting the old alpha, but they never deferred to him like they should have, never honored him.
Even they hadn't accepted him. He fell to his knees in the mud, leg too weak to support him. He put his hands down and gripped handfuls of the ground, mixing it with the blood from his body. He had nothing. Tears came to his eyes. Man and beast alike, neither would have him.
Casai
Like Isaac's voice on the wind, he heard the sound, and he turned his head. He thought it had been a voice.
Hunt, wild man
He was sure it was a voice. It spoke to him alone, as he rested on his hands and knees in the mud, a broken and worthless person.
Join your canine brothers and destroy this world
He saw a great purple sheet in front of him instead of the red mud, dimples appearing in its surface like a piece of fabric pulled tight.
As all worlds will
The purple sheet started ripping, rending from top to bottom and revealing a stark blackness behind it.
When all comes together.
The blackness gave dim light to a face. He stood, no longer feeling the pain in his leg, or his hand, or his heart. His eyes glowed purple. The humans would die.
Through a dark haze, he saw Isaac turn and glimpse him. The Captain's mouth turned into a shocked O as Zoolk advanced, sword dragging through the mud. Zoolk's vision tilted back and forth. Behind Isaac, five wolves ran abreast. Zoolk saw them, and the purple haze solidified, blocking out images, but he moved forward, unburdened by sightlessness, stumbling ahead in wild anger.
Peering through the mystic haze, he saw the five wolves jump on Isaac from behind, ripping and tearing. Zoolk watched motionless as his friend died, torn to bits by the creatures once his family.
The two worlds inside him collided, driving away the purple haze. His head pounded, his body shook. His sword thumped to the ground. The other guards, seeing their Captain fall, ran. They passed Zoolk without a second thought.
The animals advanced on him, growling and howling and making all manner of sounds. Zoolk shut his eyes; the conflict inside was too much.
A few moments later, he opened them. The animals were configured around him, teeth bared, but none of them got any closer. A ring of purple eyes watched him. They waited for him. He looked past their bodies at the ugly pile of meat named Isaac.
After another moment, he bent down to take his sword.
He turned and ran, through a weak spot in the circle. The human side had won out. He needed to get to where the guards had set up their defense. His tired body pounded across the ground, and he saw two of his wolves dart in front of him to cut him off from his retreat. He cut to the side, running between two houses. The wolves chased, snarling as they sloshed through the mud. His leg screamed at him.
He still didn't want to fight his pack. If only he could find some way to free them from whatever evil influence had fallen over them, he would take it in an instant. He followed the line of houses, blood pumping in his ears as he ran. The alley between the houses led him back toward the entrance to the township. His retreat was blocked by his wolves, so he pushed on.
He came out surrounded but for one direction. He found a circle of animals flashing their teeth and claws, or shaking their antlers, as he slowed. He breathed hot air. His wolves padded out behind him. Only one path was left open, through the gates to the field beyond.
He couldn't go there; they would chase him down in an instant. When Zoolk glanced at it, he saw something strange. There was a circle in the center of the gate, looking as if it had a different image behind it. Instead of the new crops in the fading light and bloody ground, it showed green grass being blown by the wind, and a golden sun shining down.
He heard a silent whisper through it, like the voice from before, but instead of a purple haze and spitting anger--peace.
The world settled down to a quiet halt. The animals waited for him to make his choice. As his heart beat, he felt the blood spill out his leg and hand. To run out the gate was death, to stay was suicide. He wondered what lay there, waiting, on the other side of a whole torn between two worlds too close. He turned to his wolves, watching the foam drip from their teeth, even the pregnant one. They were lost to the purple as he had almost been.
Time restarted, and he dove forward at the hole, slipping through and rolling onto the grass. A sick pop came from behind him, and the hole was gone. The sun was warm on him. He stood and took his first steps in the world where others had already gathered.
Where all will come together.
Then, with the sun setting and the wind silent, the man nodded. "Zoolk."
"Captain Isaac," Zoolk said, keeping his back against the stone wall behind him. He had one leg crossed over the other and his arms folded. His gnarled-wood staff leaned next to him. "I have nothing to say. Go away."
"Zoolk, why? The town still needs you. I still need you."
"If you need me so badly why did you let them accuse me?"
Captain Isaac said nothing in return. He shifted from one foot to the other. "You know why I left. Just leave me be."
"Those responsible have been punished," Captain Isaac said. "You'll be welcomed back with open arms."
"And how long will it be until the next person accuses me?" Zoolk said, rising. He towered over Captain Isaac by half a foot. His large, bristly beard and scowl made him all the more daunting. "As they always seem to do. As they seem to love." He made a sound from deep in his throat, and the wolves around the den rose to their feet. "Consider what you say next, Isaac."
"You trusted me once," Captain Isaac said. Even with the wolves around him prepared to leap he kept his demeanor. "I'm asking you to trust me again. Am I not trustworthy? I did nothing but defend you."
"Until it was clear you could not win!" Zoolk shouted. The wolf next to him growled. "You, a man with a female's name that has risen to such heights! You couldn't face the crowd." Zoolk drew his sword. "Leave. On two feet or one."
Captain Isaac sighed and turned. "If the wilderness wants you, let the wilderness have you. Remember you are human, Zoolk, and not a dog." He walked away. Some of the wolves began to follow, slinking low, but Zoolk called them back.
He replaced his sword and sat back down. Isaac--a female's name, as it started with a vowel--receded, walking back in the direction of the township he defended and policed.
As the sun started to sink down behind the trees and his shadow grew longer, Zoolk remembered. He had been Isaac's right hand, a six-foot-six giant with dark skin, wild eyes, and wilder beard. He was liked, or so he thought. He'd been seen as a behemoth, a monster, with skin the wrong color and attitude unkind all his life. He thought Isaac could protect him and help him feel at home, but after a murder attention was brought to him. Charges were levied, calling him brute and beast. Isaac had tried to defend him, yes, but too many called for his head.
Zoolk cracked. After a life of being shunned and cast out, he realized he wanted nothing more to do with the realm of man. He escaped the prison he had once presided over, heading far into the wilderness. He found his pack, and wrestled the alpha to the ground with his titanic strength. This pack, a small one of five, now had a sixth: a human. He lived as they did, cooking his meat instead of tearing into it raw and constructing clothes instead of living in his fur alone.
The wolf beside Zoolk, the old alpha, growled. Zoolk nodded and rose, banishing his past away. He rolled his head and shook the cramps out of his long legs. It was time to hunt.
On his world a week passed. The pack hunted and feasted, and Zoolk enjoyed the quiet and simple life. No humans to pass judgment on him, no one to hate him behind his back. He had reached his limit with the foolish men and women he had known. He loved his pack, and they loved him--as wolves do, at least.
Zoolk sat watching the sky one night as the pack ate. He'd had his fill of the deer he'd helped catch, and he rested, happy. The sky had a purple hue, something Zoolk had never seen. The stars glittered as the clouds moved back and forth across them. The clearing the pack used as their den was filled with the growls and snarls of wolves fighting over scraps. Zoolk considered a fire, but decided he wanted to watch the strange sky more. The purple color had a calming effect, and he began to drowse.
When he woke up, the pack wasn't around him as they normally were, sleeping off their meal in the diminishing night. He looked around on a stiff neck, surprised. It was nearly morning; they were never active at this time. He started to search.
After an hour he leaned against a tree to catch his breath. They were nowhere around the clearing and not close by, either. He started to worry, which surprised him. He had worried about fewer people than five. In another hour the sun watched him from just over the hills to the east as he plunged through the wilderness. He'd howled a few times, trying to hear a response, but there was none. He tried not to think about what would happen, but he did: they had left him, making him an outsider even to the outsiders, casting him out as the humans had done over years of hatred and foolish actions. He returned to the clearing, mind fierce and furious.
He found them sleeping. Two under a stone leaning up against the rock wall making up one boundary of their den, two more languishing in the shade of the trees. The previous alpha trotted up and sniffed him, sensing his fear. The wolf turned his head, lazily looking for the danger, then went back to cleaning himself.
Zoolk found a shady spot to sit, still confused. He knew they had been gone a few hours ago, when the sky was beginning to get brighter. He'd called for them, something they had always responded to before, and now here they were, back where they belonged, sleeping peacefully and unaware of his worry.
Zoolk feel asleep still concerned. He loved the wolves because they were wolves--not humans full of whims, who would wander off if the notion struck.
More days passed, and slowly Zoolk forgot about their disappearance. The pack stayed in their spot; the event was not repeated. The air began to get warmer as summer approached, and Zoolk wondered if he should cut his hair and beard. The few times he'd catch sight of his reflection--in a pool of water perhaps--he'd smiled at the wild face looking back at him. Already the wrong color skin, and too large to be natural, as sometimes was said, his feral appearance seemed to fit perfectly and make him the creature everyone seemed to think he was. And now, with less to eat and more running, he had become lean and muscled, hard-carved, showing definition and lacking any fat. His ribs showed through his skin, his Adam’s apple was a hard ball on his throat, and his arms and legs were tough stalks of bone and fiber.
He liked the look. He'd been away from other humans for a year. Isaac was the first person he'd seen since then, and he was in no hurry to go back. He liked his life for the first time since childhood.
Several days later--he didn't have the days anymore, or even the months--he awoke to growling. It was evening, and the pack had been sleeping off a fresh kill. The fire Zoolk had made to cook his cut was hot ash, and the smell of blood and meat still hung in the air. Before falling asleep during the early morning, Zoolk had noticed another purple tint to the sky, but he just thought it was the wash of color before the sunrise.
The growling came from a female wolf, heavy with pup and nearing her time. Zoolk thought perhaps the pack would be gaining a new member, and roused himself quickly to see if he could help.
A moment later, as he kneeled over the wolf, he realized he both didn't know anything about wolf-birth, and something else was wrong. The mother was writhing back and forth, as if dreaming. There was no evidence of impending birth, so Zoolk backed away. The other wolves were awake now, glaring at the noise. Zoolk couldn't shake the idea something was wrong, so he crept closer. He laid a hand on the wolf's back.
She jumped awake, spinning on the ground, snarling at him. Spittle flew out, and as Zoolk recoiled she bounded to her feet and ran into the wilderness, every fur standing on end.
Zoolk rose, shaking. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he'd seen the wolf's eyes as glowing purple circles
She didn't return, and as the night went on and Zoolk howled for her, he recalled the night weeks ago when the pack had left him alone and afraid. He didn't make the connection between the purple sky and the strange happenings, but he would soon. The other wolves seemed unperturbed by her disturbance, and Zoolk wondered if it was all part of a wolf's natural life.
He returned to the den after a night of fruitless hunting, both for her and for prey. The wilderness seemed empty and quiet. Hungry, he slept and worried.
When he woke up he heard more growling. Disoriented, tired, and still hungry, he got up and grabbed his stick, thinking something was intruding on their den. Standing, dizzy, he realized it was two of the remaining wolves snarling in their sleep as the pregnant female had done. He stood still, unsure.
Slowly, the wolves' sounds wound down. As before the rest of the pack--only two others remained--watched where they had slept. As the growling stopped, the wolves woke up.
They both got to their feet and, without a second glance or acknowledgment from the pack or each other, ran off. Zoolk watched them go with a falling heart. There were only three left now, including him. Their small pack had shrunk.
He found a pool of water to splash his face and wake himself up, and then went looking, sending his unique howl up into the night and listening for a response from any of the missing wolves, though none came. He caught a rabbit and could barely wait for it to cook before devouring it in the den. The other two wolves, the old alpha and the oldest female, finally showed some recognition of the events: they paced back and forth, barking and growling with their eyes open wide and the canines bared, showing their aggression towards something. Not Zoolk, or each other, or really anything in particular; they seemed aggressive toward the very air around them, and the sky, and the ground.
Zoolk couldn't help but feel the same. The wilderness seemed to be eating his pack whole, swallowing them one by one and not even deigning to spit out their bones. His family dwindled, and as all men will feel when their loved ones are threatened, he resolved to fight it, if he could.
The next morning, he stayed awake as long as he could as the pack slept. He used a small rock to dig furrows in his skin to stay alert, and the hours passed slowly. Finally, when the sun started to go down, the two last wolves began growling and heaving back and forth, twisting their bodies and spines. Zoolk jumped up and fell on the female, pinning her snout closed with one hand and all four limbs with the other.
The wolf woke up immediately, spasming and snarling through his hand. her body bounced, trying to shake him away. The other wolf, the old alpha, kept on writhing. Zoolk was just trying to keep one, but she wouldn't rest. Her whole body tensed and shook, yearning for freedom, and the hand holding her mouth slipped. She bit his hand fully, drawing blood and tearing the skin on his fingers and knuckles. He yelped and jumped away. The bitch went tearing into the wilderness, followed a moment later by the old alpha.
Zoolk sat, alone, in the den clearing, cradling his bloody hand. He ran to a nearby river and dunked it in, howling at the stinging sensation and his loss. The drops of blood washed away in the river, and he was able to inspect the wound. She had bitten deep, the old girl. It looked as if muscle had been exposed and torn in some places, and in others he could see knuckles poking up like mountains on a plain. His whole hand stung, and he shook as he got to his feet. He stumbled back to the den and found a bit of cooked meat to eat. He collapsed under the shadow of the den's rock wall and fell asleep.
He woke up to the sound of growling. He had to fight to get his eyes open. His hand burned, looking and feeling swollen. It was still late at night.
The pack had returned. They paced in from the underbrush, fangs exposed and fur standing on end. Zoolk expected the alpha to be leading them in, hoping to take back what had been his, but they all seemed to approach at once, coordinated.
Their eyes glowed purple. They approached under the light of the half moon, and Zoolk backed away from them. Their eyes were shining like fire as they advanced.
Zoolk got to his feet, searching for his walking stick. Weakness pumped out of his left hand, but his stick would at least give him a weapon. He took a breath and bared his teeth back at the pack. "Stay away," he growled, finding his stick against the wall. "Down!" he commanded, using his alpha voice. He held his stick in front of him, and saw the length of it waver. He drew himself up to his full height and snarled, but they continued to get closer, stepping silently and growling deep in their throats. Even the pregnant female inched closer, dying for a taste of his blood.
Zoolk crouched, watching them all. He knew what was next.
The old alpha leapt, letting loose a booming snarl. Zoolk whipped his staff, smashing the alpha to the side and sending him rolling. Another jumped, and Zoolk danced out of the way. All the while their eyes shone eerie, unreal purple.
He knew he had to run. Even as the alpha got to his feet and another wolf leaped at him, he knew they wouldn't stop until he was dead. They'd gone rabid, or had been infected by something worse.
He goaded a final wolf into leaping, and he had an opening. He ran, pumping his vast legs and trying to ignore the pain in his hand. He got to the river and dove in, trying to wash the scent off him. He climbed to the far bank quickly, gasping. The pack assembled at the other side and was beginning to forge across, and he plunged into the wilderness as they had done, one or two at a time. It was a hunt now, and he the prey instead of a hunter. He wasn't fast enough to get away from them, and only one of them could take him down, but he could do several things they couldn't.
He went to a wide tree and jumped for the first branch, a foot over his head. Clambering on, he pulled himself up and looked down, seeing five pairs of purple eyes watching him from twenty feet away. They collected under his tree, snarling at him, jumping to try and reach him. He climbed a few branches up, and started jumping from tree to tree, making his passages carefully to keep from falling or injuring his hand more. The eyes followed him, tracing the scent of his blood and fear. He kept jumping, climbing higher above the ground, until he got to a ridge. He could see the top of the ridge from where he stood, wedged in his current tree. The pack still milled around under him, barking and growling.
He tossed his stick over the ledge, and, after taking a moment to catch his breath, jumped.
His chest hit the ledge and he gripped handfuls of grass. One leg, and then the other, helped him up. The wolves were forty feet below, with no way to climb the ledge and no way to go around. He picked up his stick and jogged away, confident in immediate safety.
When morning found him, he was no longer so confident. He hadn't seen the wolves, or heard them, but he was too hungry to do anything other than walk forward with his head down. He'd found a few handfuls of berries, and eaten them until his beard was stained. The wilderness thinned out, and as morning passed into afternoon he found himself stumbling across a wide green plain. His neck prickled, out from under the protective cover of the trees, and he shot darting glances over his shoulders, looking for predators, or his pack.
Finding a clear stream, he fell to his knees and dunked his head in it. When he emerged, the heat on his head had cooled and his skin felt calm, no longer as if it was roving across his body. He sat at the edge of the stream.
Something had happened to his pack. An outside force had invaded and taken it from him, taken the last thing he loved. He wanted it back, but he had no idea how. He couldn't bear see them hurt or killed, though they didn't hold the same sentiment for him. There was magic in their eyes, he knew. No eyes glowed as theirs had.
He knew what he should do, but denied it. To go back there would be to give up. He looked at his injured hand. He'd wrapped it in part of his cloak, and now revealed it. The wounds were trying to scab over, but they were too big to heal in a day. He knew he needed help.
It took another night for him to admit it. He found a grove of trees and climbed the tallest one, wedging himself in to sleep the night. His stomach growled as he did, and he resolved to hunt something in the morning. He slept fitfully, hunger and hand keeping him awake.
Some time during the night he heard rustling in the grass below him. He snapped awake and looked, thinking the pack had found him. Instead, he saw a lone deer, a buck, and his hunger spiked. He shifted in the tree, waking his limbs up and getting ready to fall on the deer and bring it down. His hand, asleep and still stinging, lost its grip, and he lost his balance. His foot made a scraping sound and the deer looked up at him.
Zoolk recoiled, seeing the same purple shine from the buck's eyes as had come from his pack. Instead of darting away as deer did when sensing danger, it grunted at him, a low, unnerving, aggressive sound. It wanted to fight!
He sat in the tree as the buck lifted to its hind legs and started scratching at the bark with its hooves. It bared its teeth at him with its ears laid back; in the darkness it appeared startlingly wolf-like.
Out of the trees came more deer. Their eyes all glowed, and they circled the tree just like the pack had. Unsure, Zoolk wedged himself back into the tree and tried to sleep.
The deer were still there when he woke up. He watched them glare. He knew there was no way for them to reach him, but he had to leave. He had eaten little in the last two days, and needed to find something. He needed to find help.
He needed Isaac.
He spent some time figuring a way out. The deer weren't going anywhere, and the more time he spent in the tree, the more he risked attracting a larger group. He had nothing other than his sword and his staff and his bleeding hand, but it would be enough.
Holding his injured hand over the largest group of deer, he squeezed, forcing blood out through the partially-healed cracks and sending it raining to the ground. He was lucky enough to get drops in several of the purple eyes watching him, and took his chance as they shook their heads and bellowed. He used his staff to push him away from the tree, stabbing downward with his sword. He took one doe in the back, splitting it nearly in half and dousing the grass under him with slick blood. Quickly he rolled in it, coming to his feet, dripping ripe blood. He bared his teeth and howled as a wolf would, bringing himself to his full height and spreading his limbs wide, turning into a bloodthirsty monster. He hoped his wild beard and height would make him a bear in the deer's eyes, but no such luck. One charged at him as he rose.
Whipping his sword in the early air, he hacked at the base of the buck's head, spraying more blood and dropping it to the ground. He shook his weapons, flinging drops of blood, and roared. It was enough to break through the purple haze clouding the creatures, and send them running. As they disappeared, Zoolk fell to his knees and cut open the doe he'd killed with his sword, ripping out hot muscle and eating it in strips. The part of him worried about cooking and diseases was silenced as he ate. He slurped blood to complete his brutal breakfast.
Without hesitation, he got up and found the direction to Isaac. He started off, mostly unaware of the blood covering him from head to toe, his stained and unsheathed weapons, and the furious look in his eyes.
The wild man, the wild man, The children would sing, Sword and staff and blood in hand. Here he comes, the wild man, to take the children from the land.
Zoolk might have laughed if he knew the song to come from his approach to the town. It was evening, and the guards along the log walls of the community surrounding homesteads and towns and fields started shouting as he got closer. All the running and excitement annoyed Zoolk. When he got to the main gate inside he knocked on it with his staff. The wood clunked and didn't open. He looked at the top of the wall. "Let me in!" he shouted. "I need to see Captain Isaac!"
"Who are you?" one guard shouted down. "What do you want!"
"The animals!" Zoolk shouted back. "Something's happened to them!"
"What's happened to you?!" the guard asked.
Zoolk looked down at himself. The blood from the deer had dried on him, covering him in a cruel, crimson cloak. It had even dried on his skin and in his hair, streaking it with dark burgundy. Some even remained on his sword. Turning his head to peer up again, he scowled. "This is because of the animals. Now let me in!"
The guards talked; he couldn't hear them. Finally another looked down. "What's your name?"
"Zoolk," he said, keeping an evil smile back. "I was a guard, like you. Now bring out the one with the woman's name!"
"Zoolk! Lord!" the guard said. "It's me, Horward! You look like you've battled hell!"
"Perhaps I have," Zoolk said to himself, as Horward ran off.
The people who gathered around the gate gasped as the wooden doors swung open and Zoolk walked in. The song of the Wild Man was born and it sprung, nearly fully formed, to the many young minds watching this monstrous figure lurch inside, covered in dark stains and wielding weapons in both hands.
Horward and another guard escorted Zoolk down the main road toward the main compound the guards used. It was a strange mirror of the time Zoolk had been driven out by the same townspeople, called a murderer and a butcher and worse. Now, covered in blood, thin, ragged, and sick to death of all humans, he walked back down the road toward where his fate had nearly been sealed.
Captain Isaac was there to meet him. As the guard dispersed the crowd following Zoolk down the road, Isaac brought him inside, to a small room with a table and chairs. He requested food, and water, and sat down. He motioned to the other chair, but Zoolk remained standing.
"Something's happened to the animals," Zoolk said, watching Isaac with bloodshot eyes. "All of them."
"And what happened to you?" Isaac asked, looking back at Zoolk, meeting his gaze. "Tell me. Since we last spoke."
Zoolk eased himself into the chair, deciding to rest instead of fight. He told Isaac about the wolves and their flights into the wilderness, not to be found again. He told him about trying to keep the female from leaving, and receiving the wound on his hand. He told him about the wolves coming back, his flight through the trees, and his fight against the wild deer, resulting in his red bath. His throat was dry from the unaccustomed talking when he finished.
"Did you see any other animals? Any that didn't have the purple eyes?" Isaac asked. Zoolk shook his head, chewing bread and drinking soup. Isaac thought for a moment. "Do you remember how many days ago they first disappeared?"
Zoolk thought back. "Eleven. My best guess." Isaac stayed quiet for a moment, staring down at the table they sat at. Zoolk slurped water.
"Did you see the sky that night?" Isaac asked, and Zoolk coughed. "It looked to us like there was a purple glow in the sky. Perhaps it was different for you."
Zoolk stared. "I saw it too. And again the night the first wolf got purple eyes. Not since then."
"No." Isaac stood up. "I should tell you...we've seen some of the same things. Farm animals going wild, birds and rodents too."
"What?!" Zoolk shouted. "Why didn't you tell me this?!"
"I wanted to make sure you didn't know anything you weren't supposed to. To protect you. Many of the townspeople still don't trust you, and I bet your entrance today didn't help matters. Do you know how you look?"
Zoolk surged to his feet. "Damn you and damn them! I don't care how I look! I care about my pack! You wanted me to come back; I'm here!" Anger pumped in his veins. "But I will leave without a thought if you can't help me!"
Isaac was the only person to combat Zoolk's stare before, and he did so now. He remained sitting, calm, as if the wild giant baring down on him was only a child to be chastised.
"Yes," said Isaac. "I wanted you back. To apologize. You were mistreated. All your life. I wanted to help you forget that, but clearly you cannot. I wanted to give you a place you could be happy, but I can't do that. You did it yourself. But I promise to do what I can to help your pack."
Zoolk relaxed. The words surprised him. So did the pounding on the door behind him. When Isaac opened it, a guard stood there, took one look at Zoolk, and then went back to Isaac. "Sir! The animals!"
Zoolk and Isaac stood on the community's wood walls and watched, shocked, as the animals got closer. Wolves, bears, deer, elk, rodents of all sizes, and even birds advanced as an army. To a one they had glowing purple eyes. Zoolk couldn't see his pack.
"Captain, what do we do?" one guard asked. Isaac kept staring out, open mouthed and with his brows furrowed, at the approaching horde. He shook himself awake.
"Barricade the doors! Don't let any of them through! Get archers up here for the birds!" Guards started scrambling, and Isaac looked at Zoolk. "You want my help with your pack? You help us here and I'll do whatever it takes! I wouldn't have any other warrior at my side right now!"
Zoolk nodded. He surveyed the army assembled against the community, trying to understand the animal's reasoning. A force had driven into them and maddened them. Zoolk could almost understand the feeling.
"Captain Isaac!" they heard from the ground below them. A civilian stood looking up at them with his hands on his hips. "Just give them the wild man!" he shouted, not looking at Zoolk. "It's clear they want him! Throw him over the wall and they'll leave us alone!"
Isaac looked at him for a moment. "Someone give that man a sword and a shield. He's going to help us. And if I hear anyone else saying that sort of garbage, they'll also be joining the ranks. Understand?" A guard grabbed the man's arm and dragged him away, but not before Zoolk and the man locked eyes. Zoolk saw hatred, and gave it right back.
"Captain!" someone shouted. "The birds!"
"Archers!" Isaac screamed. "Helmets, everyone!"
The sky darkened. In a rain of feathers and talons and beaks, the birds came at them. Zoolk cut the first one in half, and went on swinging to the next. Arrows sang up to meet birds, piercing them. A man found a sharp talon in his eye and fell from the wooden barricade. An eagle dove for Isaac but Zoolk intercepted it.
It banked and circled, shifting its focus to the big, bloody man. It dove, screeching, purple sunlight reflected in its eyes. Zoolk ducked under it and swung his sword over him, hoping to catch it, but missed. It zoomed in a tight circle, screeching. Just before it would have collided with him, Isaac stepped in front of it, hitting it with his shield. It floundered to the ground, and Zoolk stomped it, spraying blood from under his foot. For an instant he was furious at Isaac, but the man was already running to help the next person. The air was sharp.
They heard a boom, and Zoolk peered over the barricade. Bears and wolves crashed into it, trying to knock it down. A grizzly cracked it. As the birds fell from the sky or retreated, the guards moved to the ground, prepared to fight back the wilderness. The roars and howls sent chills down Zoolk's spine.
He leaped to the ground, surprising the men there. He stood up to his full height, stretching his shoulders. He knew what his job would be when the doors burst open.
With a thunderous crash, they tore free of their joints and collapsed, releasing wolves and deer and bears. Zoolk charged, bellowing, at the grizzly leading the charge, and it reared back in surprise. Arrows flew over him, sticking into the bear's chest and stomach and doing little more than bees to a man. It swiped at Zoolk, huge paw threatening to take his head. He ducked and jabbed his sword, drawing blood on the bear's thigh. It roared and lumbered forward, yellow teeth dripping. Zoolk roared back.
It came, massive frame shaking under its own weight. Zoolk jumped backwards and rushed, swinging his sword down on its face. A cut appeared on its skull and it growled over the screams around them. A deer appeared on Zoolk's side and he cut its head off without turning, making the ground a muddy red. The grizzly crashed through it, drenched up to its stomach.
Zoolk met it head on, looping around its swipe and burying his sword in its arm. As it roared, he rushed forward, dragging the sword out and swinging it overhead down on the bear's shoulder. It stuck there, lodged in the collarbone, shaking as the bear reared up again, trying to bat at Zoolk. Isaac rushed in front of him with shield and sword.
The grizzly batted him aside in one motion and continued on to Zoolk. Zoolk rushed in, bashing into the beast with all his weight, and toppled it over. Now on top with the bear on its back, Zoolk wrenched free his sword, sending more blood into the air. Not letting the bear take a move, he buried his blade in its face, through its snout and into its brain. It struggled weakly, heavy limbs flopping, but could do nothing. Zoolk jumped off and went to Isaac.
"I'm all right," Isaac said, panting. The bear had struck his shield, but the strength of the hit had knocked him dizzy. Zoolk helped him up as other guards came forward to keep them safe. Zoolk set him down away from the heaviest fighting and only paused to cut a bird out of the air. "I just need to catch my breath."
"Captain!" a guard shouted. "There's too many! We can't fight them all!"
"We have to!" Isaac said, getting to his feet. "Or they'll tear your families apart!" He rang his shield with his sword. "Fight! Fight for your families!" he screamed, running forward at a wolf with an arm in its jaws.
Zoolk gave a ferocious grin. He thought of a few certain events--things humans decided needed doing to him, for one reason or another--and let out everything he'd been keeping in.
He fell on a white wolf like a natural disaster, squeezing its throat until blood ran from its eyes and using it like a club on another wolf. He used his sword to finish the job, decapitating the second wolf. An elf rammed him from the side, but instead of falling he grabbed the elk's antlers, planting his foot inside its mouth. With a scream and a rush of muscle, he ripped the top of its head off, shaking it like a prize at a carnival. He brought his sword to his right hand, and shifted his grip on the antlers to make them a gruesome mace in his still-bleeding left.
He slaughtered any animal too close. When too many passed through the gates, and the other guards ran, Zoolk stood tall in a lake of blood, eyes stuck wide, limbs whistling through thick air.
A howl split him in two.
His primal ears picked it out from the other sounds, the other howls, and knew his pack had joined the fight. He fell still, frozen by the idea of fighting his family.
A wild boar took the chance to strike, and he fell backward, the boar's jaws around his leg. He screamed wildly, fear and pain merging together. Isaac came from the side and cut the boar's side, drawing blood and gore and sending the boar squealing away.
Isaac helped Zoolk up. "We're retreating," Isaac said, not giving the other a moment to resist. He led Zoolk away. Pain flared out from Zoolk's leg, overriding his smaller injuries.
"My pack," Zoolk growled. "They're here. I can't fight them."
"We won't be fighting them," Isaac growled back. "We're too hurt." He pulled them away from the line of guards still battling. "I'd be surprised if you can even stand. You've done enough. The other guards will be able to handle things from here."
"No!" Zoolk pushed away from Isaac and tottered, gritting his teeth. "No one will hurt my pack!"
"Zoolk, be reasonable! They're wild animals! They're trying to kill us!"
"Reasonable?! Reasonable!" Zoolk shouted. The pain disappeared, replaced by anger. "The only things that have ever accepted me are five wolves outside your wooden walls! After a lifetime of being hated by humans, you want me to fight against the only things that have ever made me feel loved?" Zoolk spat. "I'd should expect that from a woman-named man."
Isaac's eyes narrowed. "Do you know why I have this name?" he whispered. Zoolk had to put out a hand to steady himself. His leg wept. "I was an orphan. Did you know that? I never knew my parents. I grew up here, in the streets. Many nights I slept in the mud. I didn't have a name."
Isaac looked at the line of guards trying to fight the animals. There were too many. "I grew older and still didn't have a name. People called me scoundrel, bastard, and thief. When I was thirteen, or fourteen, as I slept in a field, I heard a whisper on the wind." Isaac looked back at Zoolk, face hard as steel. "Isaac."
"Who said it?" Zoolk asked.
"There was no one. I was alone in a field under the summer stars and the purple sky. The name came to me like a dream, and I took it. It's a woman's name, yes, but I liked it nonetheless. It had the right letters. I joined the guard after that, and here I am."
"Why are you telling me this?" Zoolk asked, looking toward the gate nervously.
"I had to make my own way, just like you. You even had parents, for a few years. I forged a path against everything, and I lead, now. But what do you do? Quit. It was too much for you, a little bit of teasing and name-calling."
"They would have killed me if I hadn't run!" Zoolk shouted. "They wanted my head! You had to protect me from a mob!"
"And that means humans are worthless?" Isaac thundered. "A few people incite gullible fools, and we're all twisted monkeys? Look!" Isaac shot a finger at the dwindling line of guards. "They fought with you. Defended you! You'd have them die to save your dogs."
Zoolk stared, shocked. "I endured worse than you, and I still think humans are worth protecting. Men and women falsely accuse you, and you leave us for dead. You want humans to accept you?"
He turned away, toward the fighting guards. "Accept them." He left Zoolk there, leaning against a house, to help the guards.
Another familiar howl attacked Zoolk. The sound reminded him of the times in the wilderness, hunting with the pack. He thought he led the pack then, but the events fell into place. He was in the back, getting just a slab of meat from a deer when the rest would get their fill. He thought he was the alpha, after fighting the old alpha, but they never deferred to him like they should have, never honored him.
Even they hadn't accepted him. He fell to his knees in the mud, leg too weak to support him. He put his hands down and gripped handfuls of the ground, mixing it with the blood from his body. He had nothing. Tears came to his eyes. Man and beast alike, neither would have him.
Casai
Like Isaac's voice on the wind, he heard the sound, and he turned his head. He thought it had been a voice.
Hunt, wild man
He was sure it was a voice. It spoke to him alone, as he rested on his hands and knees in the mud, a broken and worthless person.
Join your canine brothers and destroy this world
He saw a great purple sheet in front of him instead of the red mud, dimples appearing in its surface like a piece of fabric pulled tight.
As all worlds will
The purple sheet started ripping, rending from top to bottom and revealing a stark blackness behind it.
When all comes together.
The blackness gave dim light to a face. He stood, no longer feeling the pain in his leg, or his hand, or his heart. His eyes glowed purple. The humans would die.
Through a dark haze, he saw Isaac turn and glimpse him. The Captain's mouth turned into a shocked O as Zoolk advanced, sword dragging through the mud. Zoolk's vision tilted back and forth. Behind Isaac, five wolves ran abreast. Zoolk saw them, and the purple haze solidified, blocking out images, but he moved forward, unburdened by sightlessness, stumbling ahead in wild anger.
Peering through the mystic haze, he saw the five wolves jump on Isaac from behind, ripping and tearing. Zoolk watched motionless as his friend died, torn to bits by the creatures once his family.
The two worlds inside him collided, driving away the purple haze. His head pounded, his body shook. His sword thumped to the ground. The other guards, seeing their Captain fall, ran. They passed Zoolk without a second thought.
The animals advanced on him, growling and howling and making all manner of sounds. Zoolk shut his eyes; the conflict inside was too much.
A few moments later, he opened them. The animals were configured around him, teeth bared, but none of them got any closer. A ring of purple eyes watched him. They waited for him. He looked past their bodies at the ugly pile of meat named Isaac.
After another moment, he bent down to take his sword.
He turned and ran, through a weak spot in the circle. The human side had won out. He needed to get to where the guards had set up their defense. His tired body pounded across the ground, and he saw two of his wolves dart in front of him to cut him off from his retreat. He cut to the side, running between two houses. The wolves chased, snarling as they sloshed through the mud. His leg screamed at him.
He still didn't want to fight his pack. If only he could find some way to free them from whatever evil influence had fallen over them, he would take it in an instant. He followed the line of houses, blood pumping in his ears as he ran. The alley between the houses led him back toward the entrance to the township. His retreat was blocked by his wolves, so he pushed on.
He came out surrounded but for one direction. He found a circle of animals flashing their teeth and claws, or shaking their antlers, as he slowed. He breathed hot air. His wolves padded out behind him. Only one path was left open, through the gates to the field beyond.
He couldn't go there; they would chase him down in an instant. When Zoolk glanced at it, he saw something strange. There was a circle in the center of the gate, looking as if it had a different image behind it. Instead of the new crops in the fading light and bloody ground, it showed green grass being blown by the wind, and a golden sun shining down.
He heard a silent whisper through it, like the voice from before, but instead of a purple haze and spitting anger--peace.
The world settled down to a quiet halt. The animals waited for him to make his choice. As his heart beat, he felt the blood spill out his leg and hand. To run out the gate was death, to stay was suicide. He wondered what lay there, waiting, on the other side of a whole torn between two worlds too close. He turned to his wolves, watching the foam drip from their teeth, even the pregnant one. They were lost to the purple as he had almost been.
Time restarted, and he dove forward at the hole, slipping through and rolling onto the grass. A sick pop came from behind him, and the hole was gone. The sun was warm on him. He stood and took his first steps in the world where others had already gathered.
Where all will come together.