I was beginning to feel delirious. So much time in the ocean without shelter, and with the sun beating down on my head, perhaps had given me some form of sunstroke. My vision was hazy.
Just keep going.
Keep going…
Night fell again, and I transformed into a wolf. It was beginning to register in my addled mind that I might not have many more nights left if I did not reach solid ground soon.
But, as if the heavens had finally smiled down upon me, several hours later that night, I spied land. Land! A rush of excitement surged through my brain, igniting my limbs with energy I’d thought I had lost. I took in the sight hungrily, greedily, like the starving man I was. My first thought was that it must be The Woodlands.
But then reality dawned on me.
This was not The Woodlands. There were not enough trees, for one thing. But, still, it was land. A land I could maybe find water and food on, and rest until I could stand to reenter the water again to continue my quest for my own country.
Kicking rapidly with my legs, I swam as fast as I could toward the shore. The distance was deceptive, however. When I had first spotted the land, it seemed much closer. The waves were also rough and powerful, which slowed me down. Still, I fixed my eyes determinedly on the shore, glimmering like an oasis beneath the moonlight. It was drawing closer, slowly but surely.
My right foot kicked down hard against something slimy. I barely had time to look down and check what it was before an explosion of pain rocketed up my leg.
I cried out, my eyes shooting downward. Beneath the waves, a giant pair of jaws had closed around my right hind leg. It was some kind of black, rubbery-skinned water beast, with teeth about twice the size of a werewolf’s. It had a strange flap of cartilage poking out the top of its back, a long, jagged tail, and two fins at its front. I had never seen anything like it before. I had not spent enough time at sea.
Blood was staining the water fast. Extending my claws, I thrashed at the beast’s face, tearing and ripping at its slimy rubbery skin, until it became nothing but shreds of flesh. The monster released me before falling away into the depths of the ocean.
But my leg. I wondered if the animal had punctured an artery. I had never experienced such acute pain in all my life. I was swimming in my own blood by now, and more was pooling at an alarming pace.
I looked desperately toward the land. If there were more creatures like that roaming these waters, surely they would all sense my blood now. I have to reach that beach.
Whatever strength I’d recovered on sighting the shore was ebbing out of me with every gush of blood. I forced myself onward, having only three legs at my disposal.
I was half blind by the time I felt sand beneath my paws. My breathing was heavy and belabored, every movement an epic feat. I crawled out of the water and dragged myself across the sand, even as I left a trail of blood behind me. I needed to find somewhere sheltered. Somewhere out of sight. And do what, I did not know. I was not a warlock. I could not heal this kind of wound. I tried not to think too much about it. Maybe the heavens would smile down on me once more, and it would heal itself.
I reached a stretch of jungle that bordered the beach and drew myself in among the trees. I collapsed in the undergrowth, wheezing and panting.
The ground beneath me quickly became wet from my blood, but I felt too weak now to get up and move to a dry patch. I just sat where I was, my head lowered and resting on my two front paws. Images of the past two weeks flashed in my mind. Before the night of my family’s murder, but mostly after. Mostly images of Victoria…
My brain felt like it was slowly shutting down, less wired to the agony in my leg. My senses were calming.
Maybe the pain is leaving me after all.
Or maybe… I am leaving the pain.
Derek
We spent many days being led by the werewolves on a search through The Woodlands.
They first took us to the northernmost tip of the land, where we split into three groups, making sure that there were adequate dragons, witches and jinn among each. Then we embarked on a hunt for more IBSI men. We discovered countless other wolf packs along the way, who agreed to join our search party. And together we discovered several more bases of hunters, although none of them were as well set up as the first one we had destroyed. These were all makeshift bases, set up within the raided lairs of werewolves. We stormed all of them, eradicating every hunter present. Once we reached the southernmost tip of The Woodlands, we were fairly confident that we had disinfected this realm of the tyrants.
Now the matter remained of Bastien’s traitorous cousin and uncle. We had decided to leave that until last. Although this was a job that the werewolves had already agreed to undertake alone, still, we accompanied them to the Blackhalls’ mountain just in case some other hunters had taken shelter there with them. A group of fifty werewolves swept through the mountain like a raging tsunami. The execution of Detrius and his uncle took place in the grand court itself, where they had been sitting at the time we had stormed in. Detrius never knew what hit him. One minute he had been sitting aloft on his throne, the next he was on the floor, his crown ripped from his head and daggers raining down into his chest. They were no less merciful to the uncle, even though he was blind.
As for the rest of the mountain castle’s inhabitants, the only people we knew for certain were allied with the hunters were Detrius and his uncle. Thus, unlike the IBSI, the werewolves were noble enough to decide that the best course of action would be to hold an investigation to discover who was innocent and who was not… rather than go on a rampage slaughtering them all. Children, of course, would be excluded.