Epsilon [Werewolf]

Chapter 10 (✓)

Seconds melted into minutes, and minutes into hours as I charged across the uneven terrain of the forest, the bizarreness of what I'd seen fuelling my every step. Even when the pain lashing up my legs became unbearable, even when I was forced into a limping gait, I kept on. I kept on even when I passed the same land marks thrice, when I believed I may have gotten myself into some endless loop. After all, if magic truly did exist, who was to say the forest wasn't enchanted? Wouldn't it make sense that me, a naïve human, could become prey to the deceptions of magic? A trick my mere mortal eyes could not see past?

So, when I finally caught sight of my distant town through the trees, I sobbed with relief. With relief and pain, for my muscles burned as though they were on fire. As I made my way forward, I became acutely aware of my shuddering joints and heaving lungs, and it occurred to me then that I may have over exerted my body. Once I finally breached the treeline, I dared a look at the sky and swallowed. 

Past noon. I'd left that palace of nightmares sometime early morning. I got the sense that it should have taken me much less time to get here, but with my distorted mind and lack of direction, I suppose it made sense I'd gotten lost. 

The thought of the creatures kicked up another bout of that strange fear, and despite my body screeching in protest, I broke into yet another limping run down the footpath. I had to put this bizarre dream to an end. I had to disprove Azriel's claims. I wasn't a werewolf. I wasn't one of them. Once I reached the outside of my house, I had to brace my hands on my knees to stop myself from collapsing. I was putting far too much strain on my body, but I didn't care. 

I glanced towards the wooden door, to the brass doorknob I'd twisted so many times. Home. This was home. This was where I belonged. Even so, that thought didn't do much for the knots in my stomach, nor did it stop the icy dread skittering down my spine like hail. 

Every part of me was torn -- from the muscles in my body to my mind itself. Everything I'd seen this morning, and everything that'd happened the night before... What had happened, what I'd seen, wasn't natural. It shouldn't be real. Talking wolves and desolate castles only existed in fairy tales, not in some mundane forest of California!

I swallowed against the horrible sensation of Zion's claws digging into my skin. Shuddered as I recalled the shattered air hitting my face, air Azriel had broken with sheer force. I recalled the wind rushing through my fur and the cold earth pounding under my paws. All of it had felt so... real.

I shook my head. Stop stalling, I scolded, striding towards the door. Even so, it took everything in me just to twist the knob and force it open.

I noticed something was off almost immediately. The room felt so... empty. I glanced around. The old grand father clock still ticked in the entry hall. The scratched side table still held various mementos, mainly trinkets from small trips we'd taken around America. The furniture in the next room over was sagged and worn as always. 

So why did it all seem so wrong?

Then I noticed it. Bare hooks jutting from walls, empty spaces on the accent tables. Panic crawled to my throat. All of the family portraits that had once coloured the room were gone, removed from existence. Well, all but one.

With baited breath, I stepped forward, staring at the golden-framed photo on the small side table. I looked younger there -- no more than five. My mother and I wore lopsided grins, me holding an ice cream whilst she rested a hand on her pregnant belly. I looked happy in that picture, and so did she. In fact, she looked to be almost glowing, her dark eyes like polished granite rather than that of the brewing storm I'd become so familiar with. Maybe that glow had to do with the child in her stomach, the stomach she caressed with a gentle hand.