Magic and Wolves: Book 1 of West Mountain

Run

Steve^^^

Steve ran.

He had never been a strong willed or brave man. Physically he was strong and naturally fit like all shifters but emotionally he was never one to assert his will or ideals. Instead, he was withdrawn in himself and watched without interference.

He had been a small quiet boy. He watched and listened rather than speak. Many kids found his quiet nature boring; others were told to avoid him because no one was sure where he had come from.

He had been found wandering, lost in the woods in his wolf form as a 5-year-old. Where he had come from, no one could figure out.

He had refused to shift to his human form for months after the Pack took him in. He didn't speak for nearly 2 years, to anyone. Something had happened to the boy, and it had traumatized him.

Jake and Zachariah had befriended him when he was 8 and they were 11. No one knows why the two had taken a liking to the younger boy, but they took him under their wing. He followed where they lead, they never forced him to do anything or to talk, just lead him, like a small silent shadow. Steve looked up to them, idolized them.

When other kids would try to engage Steve, they sent them away with taunts and cruel jokes, assuring him that he didn't need any other friends, the other kids were just fake, and he only need them.

As they got older, he began to notice how harsh and cruel they could be, how aggressive they acted towards anyone they had dislike or took a sexual interest in. But he kept his dislike of their behavior to himself not wanting to lose his only friends or risk their wrath turning on to him.

By the time they were adults Steve was to numb to Jake and Zachariah's evil natures and thrusts for power to change things. They created chaos and he followed silently behind cleaning up the messes, taking the blame, trying to ease and comfort the recipients of their sexual urges. He kept them safe and silently tried to lessen their destructive path. He was like a shadow, few noticed that he did not participate with them, they only saw that he was there.

He didn't want to believe he was a bad or evil person, but he knew that because he did nothing to stop them, he was just as bad as they were, their sins were his sins.

Now they were gone, and Steve felt conflicted, on one hand they couldn't hurt anyone anymore and he could finally rest, however his only connections to the world were gone and he was alone again.

Steve ran.

The howls of the pack echoed around him. Ignoring the burning in his legs and chest Steve sped up. He was close to the edge of the territory he could feel it. Just a bit further.

He didn't know if they would follow him out of the territory, but he hoped they would let him go.

As he crossed the border, he felt a snap in his mind, his link to the pack officially severing.

He was alone... again.

Steve ran.

Steve ran until his legs gave out. He crawled under the foliage of a nearby bush, hoping to hide. His dark grey fur was not easily spotted at night, but the light of the full moon reflected off his white markings and he just wanted to disappear.

He shook uncontrollably, from exhaustion and fear. A low whine escaped him. He may not have been the most social being, but he was a wolf, deep down he needed a pack, even if he was sitting quiet and unnoticed at the edge. He felt the loss of the pack more than the loss of the two men he had called friends.

This is your own fault. He thought to himself. If you had been braver, stood up to them, protected people from them instead of cleaning up behind them, they would have let you stay.

Laying his head down on his paws, Steve felt himself slip into an uneasy sleep.

His ears twitched at the rustling underbrush waking him from his uneasy sleep. Moving slowly, he opened his eyes. The sun was starting to rise, the forest awakened around him.

Coming out of his hiding spot, he looked around, trying to gauge where he had run to. He walked around slowly, an uncomfortable feeling growing inside him. He couldn't understand why this area made him uneasy until he saw a cave, partially tucked away in the side of the mountain, a large boulder blocking part of the entrance.

Suddenly memories slammed into his consciousness. In his panic the night before he had returned unknowingly to a place, he had been avoiding for 20 years.

Images, brutal memories, he had buried deep for so long, flashed in his mind like a horrible movie he couldn't turn off.

The evil sneers of men coming out of the trees.

His father shoving him into the shadows to hide him.

The men beating and restraining his father as he shouted.

His mother's clothes ripped off her as she's thrown to the ground.

His father's screams turning into gut wrenching sobs after she stops trying to push the men off her, just letting them do what they want to her.

Sharp knives sinking into flesh, over and over and over and over again.

Red blood, flowing from them both.

His mother's vacant eyes, her hand reaching out for him.

Her dying words to him, "You mustn't tell anyone about who you are Steffan. Your name is Steve. Don't draw attention to yourself. You need to leave us Steffan. Shift and run my beautiful wolf."

Steve ran.

Trying to outrun the memories crashing through his mind.

Steve ran.

He didn't get far when a white-hot blinding pain shot through his leg. He couldn't move. Looking behind him, he saw a trap had snapped around his leg, cold metal was deeply embedded in his skin. He wouldn't shift, it would make it worse. Shifters could heal quickly but he needed his leg to survive on his own.

Panic set in. He was alone and trapped. His ears twitched, picking up the sound of footsteps. His nose took in a new scent, the smell of spices permeating the air. Old world spices.

A man's voice reached him, thick with an Irish accent.

"Well, well, well. Looks like I caught myself a new pet Laddies."