The Wandering God

38 Snow On Top Of Frost 2/3

雪上加霜
Xuě shàng jiā shuāng
Snow and then frost.
One disaster after another.

*~*~*~*~*~*

As often happened when I retreated too far into my mind, a memory found me.

Torch light illuminated the lower branches of the pine trees that surrounded the clearing, but their tops, jet black, stretched up to the starry night sky.

A furious snarling filled my ears.

I approached the pit in the center of the clearing. It was dug deep in the earth, and then surrounded with wooden posts shaved to spikes to make doubly sure what was held within did not escape.

I felt certain that with the amount of snarling that was coming from the pit, a whole pack of rabid dogs must be trapped inside, trying to claw each other's throats out.

Instead, when I reached the edge of the pit and looked down, the torchlight showed a single beast.

It was big, big as a horse but with legs shorter, and closer to a dog's. The body was strangely distorted, the gaping rib cage narrowing to a much too small middle, as though the organs contained there were not essential.

Fur covered parts of its body, but in places bare skin showed through. This skin was not pale, and rough, as dog or wolf skin commonly was, but creamy and pink.

I looked to the creatures' paws, where they clawed at the dirt of the pit. Except they were not paws, they were hands, and feet, that had been stretched and twisted. Black nails, grotesque, but human, grew from the ends of each finger and toe.

And finally the head.

The head, yes that had been human once. But no more. A jaw, that jutted out, ears that pointed and stretched toward the top of the misshapen skull. And eyes, so black, as though two jet stones had been inserted in the skull.

The creature, monster, animal, whatever it was, ripped around the floor of the pit, snarling at nothing, tearing at the dirt, as though trying to take its rage out on the air around it.

"What do you think?" asked a voice beside me.

"It is disgusting," I said, not taking my eyes from the monster. As I spoke, the animal turned and snapped its jaws up at me. Spittle from the distorted mouth flew through the air, gleaming in the torch light.

"It is supposed to be efficient, not beautiful. It is made to kill."

I forced my eyes away from the creature to the man standing beside me. His face was in shadow, but I saw pink lips, pretty enough to be a woman's, quirked in an amused smile.

His forearms were bare, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and in the torchlight, the black swirls inked onto them seemed to move.

"What is it?" I asked, turning to look down at the thing in the pit once more.

"It was man once. But now it is not. I intended something like a wolf, and this is as close as I got. The Old Black Lord had his loyal wolves, and I will have mine."

"Conceit," I said. I rested my arms atop the wooden stakes, gripping the pointed tops beneath my hands. "The Wild Wolves of the old lord swore their allegiance willingly. No one will agree to become such a monster."

The beautiful lips curled further. "Oh, you'd be surprised what men will do, when faced with death."

"Ao?"