UNBOUND (MXM)

CHAPTER I: A PUP AND WEREWOLVES

The sun was already far from the horizon plane when Snow managed to get himself out of bed. He readied for his now late morning run, and by the time he stepped outside for his warm-up, he let out that grateful sigh at the smell of what was left of the fresh, dewy morning air. He walked to his usual run-hiking trail, stretching until he reached the entrance, and the winds and the branches welcomed him in as he started to jog his way in.

It has been a month since they moved to this small town and three weeks since he started trailing these woods, and back then, the hidden inhabitants of the forest were not as welcoming to him. Noises here and there echoed from one tree to another, his name ringing in his ears in the sound of his own voice, roars bouncing from mountain to mountain. It was Pandemonium, not that Snow had ever been to the wretched place, but he thought it would fit the description. The winds howled songs of discord with the occasional gust, but still, he ignored them; however, he traversed this woodland with the utmost courtesy, threading lightly to every townfolk caution. If you see it, no, you don't; If you hear it, no, you don't; Eyes ahead, don't linger; Don't look in the trees.

Although the last one was not so keenly observed, he managed to build respect among the locals of this somewhat eerie place. He guessed it was his distant kinship with these entities and creatures. He deduced that this is perhaps why he still has all his parts intact despite his casual late-night pathing here. Whatever it was, he appreciated the gracious, irenic occasional short-lived run-ins. Not that he wants their lingering company in the first place.

Although, he would gladly welcome a civil tête-à-tête with one of them. He only knew of the Demimonde for as long as he could remember, and the thought of an existing plain beyond it allures him; to converse with a local from such a place... mental rapture.

He was fifteen minutes into his jog when he slowly built his speed into a sprint, and the woods woke with his tempo as if to cheer him on. Otherworldly moans and rattles break with the gushing winds against his cheeks as he zoomed in on his trail, burying the attention-seeking onlooker in the trees in the blur of his pace until he reached the clearing at the rocky river bank.

There, he halted and, with slow breaths, calmed the drumming of his hammering heartbeat. From the side of his vision, a glimpse of his now intimate stalker slowly retreating into the trees, disappearing with the calming of his pulse; he released a relieved sigh.

He has been meeting it for quite a while now. It is probably playing a game of catch with him, and as much as he wants to meet it, there is still this dread that lingers in actually completing the thought, so if this is a game it is playing, it would definitely rage on for a while.

He sat on one of the boulders, breathing in and out and sprawling as he let out another sigh, relaxing into the refreshing damp cold. The thought of the daily grind nags at him to get up, chores piling at remembrance as his entirety eases into the call of the inert moment for relaxation. He was ready to ignore the thought of his errands and just sleep in his current state when the moment was rattled by the blaring sound of a gunshot; he sat up. Two, it boomed, followed by the echoing crackle. It was coming from behind him, not too far.

To normal human hearing, it would come distant, but to Snow, it was as if it was fired beside his ear. He turned to the sound, and from a distance, he witnessed barbarity, the scene coming to him in a  flash of bangs, splats, screams, and laughter.

It was a man tumbling at his legs as he made his way to the rocky river bank. He almost made it to the waters when the woosh came at the coming of an arrow piercing his back, pinning the stranger on his face to the rocks. Not too long a moment, a group of armed men came running to him; they halted at the sight of their work, their gratified chuckling reverberating to Snow's ears.