The Wolf and The Fox

Exhume and Resume

An unbearable sting on her wrists woke Robin, but she found it hard to open her eyes as her head roared with renew pain and her eyes ached from the onslaught of dizziness. She took a deep breath in to calm herself and steadily released it, surprising herself when a low growl emitted from her vocals. Someone close to her yelped which was shortly followed by a painful sounding thump.

"You idiot! Be careful!" A familiar gruff voice berated a person.

"S-Sorry, Pete." Another man's voice slurred in agony, gaining a resounding sigh from the first voice.

"Just watch what you're doing. We don't need any accidents with the doctor on the posts." He sullenly stated. That caught Robin's attention as she tried to focus her will to open her eyes.

"I-I didn't slip," the second voice stuttered, "Sh-she's awake."

Robin opened her eyes then, blinking back tears of pain as the little light from the many torches increased her headache. A guttural curse announced from Peter, "Hurry it up, before she becomes frantic!" He ordered to someone she could not see.

Scampering sounds followed by echoes of wood reached her ears, causing her to growl again in pain. She was confused and disoriented; Peter and others were obviously terrified of her, but why? She cracked open an eye and glanced around slowly to find out.

The first thing she noticed was that everyone was beneath her, yet she could feel no ground under her feet. Everyone's expression was a mix of determined glares and horrified disgust. Confused, she turned her head and gaped, both eyes widening despite the pain. She saw a familiar, thick iron shackle strapped to her wrist, but it wasn't her wrist anymore; it was thicker with a dark coat of fur. She flexed her hand and nearly wrenched from the sight as a distorted pawed-hand reflected her motions. She could feel that her other hand—paw—was shackled on her other side in similar fashion. Her arms were spread wide on either side of her, straining her up above the ground by a good seven feet, or so. Or were they a hideous transition of paws, as well?

Another slam of wood caused her to look directly down and her eyes widened in terror as she snarled in fear; they were building a rood pile right beneath her. They truly meant to burn her alive, just as they had done with Sarah.

A strange sense of broken calm washed over her as she wondered if this was what Sarah felt when she watched her death being prepared, three months ago? She snarled again and tried to protest and struggle herself free, but all that came out of her were snarls and yips of clashed fangs as she rubbed her furred wrists raw. She was beginning to fear herself with those fearful sounds. She growled again, this time in frustration as her nose twitched from the strong scent of burning oil.

Her eyes snapped open with renewed vigor and she began to search frantically for one soul among the feared villagers. He wasn't among them, the coward. Her growl turned into a fierce snarl that presented her gleaming fangs to the terrified crowd below her, ordering her deceiver with her strange vocals to show himself.

Immediately, a powerful scent flooded her sensitive nostrils that forced her to pause in resignation; it was dangerous, angry and murderous. She turned her head slightly upwards to follow it and flinched back in fear, but it was too late. She saw her deceiver on the hill that overlooked the valley of the fire-posts, his eyes reflecting to the likeness of a wolf on the kill from the moonlight shining behind him. Before she lost total control from the powerful tug of the swollen omen, one final observation of the women that stood next to him struck fear in her that was more powerful than the powerful scent; her hair shined a familiar shade in the glow of the moonlight, one of a certain fox that struck her on this path. The woman's eyes that should have been dark were glowing an amber yellow that would have frozen her, if she could move.