Where Fate Will Lead Us


“Patience, Tywyll,” an aged wolf with light grey hairs around his muzzle reprimanded sternly. Tywyll raised his head to stare his father directly in the eye, before sighing in resignation and sinking down in submission. He didn’t understand why his father was so intent on trying to teach him how to do something he had surely been doing since the day he was born. ‘Patience’ was hardly a skill that he didn’t possess; he had the patience to hunt, did he not?

“I am patient,” Tywyll growled reproachfully, his head on his paws. “I would be even more patient if you had the decency to tell me what I happen to be listening for.” His father regarded him with a calculated look in his pale yellow eyes.

“You’re not listening for anything.”

“Nothing? Then Tad, what’s –”

“Callineb. Not ‘Tad’. You used that name for me when you were a small cub – now you have grown into a strong young wolf. You are a cub no more.”

Tywyll thumped his tail in annoyance and flicked his eyes around the small clearing in the forest with blatant disinterest. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to learn what his father was trying to teach him – he simply couldn’t see the point in anything if success wasn’t within easy reach. If she hadn’t disappeared without a trace several weeks ago, his mother would have told him that he was as impatient as a she-wolf waiting for her first litter of pups. She had always loved to sit in that clearing and listen to the sounds of the forest. The fact that his mother loved it was one of the reasons that Tywyll absolutely detested it.

“Are you listening?” His father – Callineb – snapped suddenly, pulling Tywyll cruelly back to the surface of his thoughts.

“Yes Ta– Callineb. I am listening.”

The piercing yellow eyes surveyed him for a few moments until Tywyll resignedly pricked up his ears in a pretence of listening intently. Instead he was really thinking about how different he was from his father – too different to ever really co-operate peacefully.

A wolf that had never seen the father and son before could immediately tell one difference between them, since their fur colours were nothing alike. Unlike both his parents and his two brothers (who had left the pack already to seek mates) his fur wasn’t light grey streaked with darker shades; it was a pure black that had earned him the name ‘Tywyll’. Looking at their personalities… Wisdom gained through many years was Callineb’s pride and joy while Tywyll had the reckless, bold streak of an adolescent wolf. As father and son, they also had very different expectations for Tywyll’s future (even wolf parents have concern for their pups). Callineb desired to see Tywyll fight to be alpha male after him and take a mate from within the pack whereas all his son wanted was to leave the pack with another wolf and journey as far away from his father as possible. Was that too much to ask?

“How can you expect me to fight for the right to be alpha after you?” Tywyll questioned, his growls becoming sharper. “I don’t want that.”

“I expect you to, because you are my son,” Callineb snarled at him, laying his ears back flat against his head and baring a set of impressive fangs at Tywyll, who flinched. “Are you telling me that you have no wish to lead this pack?”

Not this pack, Tywyll thought, but didn’t voice his words to his father. He would never understand why he wanted to leave the pack as his brothers had – he would certainly be unable to comprehend why he would want to leave with a particular female from the pack.

His father sighed in resignation as Tywyll’s eyes glazed over and his thoughts turned elsewhere once again. He never had any real hope of keeping his attention, not even for a few minutes.

“Go on then,” he sighed. “Off with you.”

Tywyll had jumped up and was racing out of the clearing as quickly as his paws would carry him before his father could change his mind and call him back. Callineb heaved a deep sigh once more before lying down on the grass with a low moan as his old bones protested. Tywyll didn’t realise that his father knew exactly where he was going in such a hurry – to see Seren of course.

The pine trees flashed past Tywyll in a dark blur as he focused on keeping his lope steady and ground covering. He loved to run and took great pride in the fact that his stamina was greater than his father’s. Considering his father’s disappointment in him it was definitely something that he could be proud of.

He caught Seren’s scent on the breeze and quickened his pace; the swifter his lope the sooner he could join her. As the scent grew stronger, he realised that she was near the lake.

Perhaps she has been hunting, Tywyll thought. I hope she was successful in the hunt since prey is so scarce at the moment.
He didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that hunger gnawed at his stomach because he came to the edge of the trees into the bright sunlight and saw her.

The grey she-wolf was lying with her head on her paws by the lake, the remains of her last meal, a hare from what Tywyll could smell, a couple of metres away from her. She jumped to her feet, her tail beating the air as soon as she saw Tywyll. They were perfectly still then, just for a moment, simply taking in each other’s presence. Tywyll was the first to move.

“Seren,” he breathed before rushing to her side. They briefly touched their muzzles together with apparent relief as they were reunited once more.

“The only good part about being away from you is being with you again afterwards,” he whined softly, rubbing his head against hers.

“It’s a bittersweet reunion when we know our time
together is limited,” Seren replied. “Your return was swift – he did not keep you long?”

“No, he let me go. I’m glad; it makes me nervous to be away from you,” Tywyll admitted, hanging his head in mock shame. “And I get distracted.”

“Really? You’ve failed to mention that to me before,” she teased him, going along with what he was saying. “What distracts you?”

“Thoughts of you.”

His reply didn’t appear to catch her off guard as he had intended; instead she was looking at him with a strange twinkle in her eye… not quite what he had expected. Seren pushed her head under his making him start in surprise before she spoke.

“Wishing for light,
I search in darkness.
Waiting for truth,
I turn to you.
You are the sun,
My only lover,
Faith for the world to see.”

Tywyll was momentarily speechless and lowered his head as he desperately tried to think of a reply. But what could he say to a verse as beautiful as that? He spent too long wondering what to say, however, and by the time he had decided on his answer, Seren had backed away, her tail drooping. Too late, Tywyll realised that she had mistaken his silence for dislike of what she had said; he touched his nose to hers and quickly corrected her.

“I walked alone,
Through this long tunnel.
I longed for more,
Than this regret.
And you were there,
My only angel,
Hope for the world to see.”

Tywyll stopped there, uncertain about whether or not he should continue but Seren pressed her face against his once more and he gave her muzzle an embarrassed lick. He felt like he shouldn’t have been so bold as to respond in that way, but he had no objection to what she had said – none at all.

She seemed to be about to fill the silence that had fallen between them, when another voice came from the shadows at the edge of the trees – a voice that was cold and made bitter by hidden malice.

“Charmed by a snake,
I brought on darkness.
Sought by my past,
I fled from you.
Love is a curse,
My only demon,
Hate for the world to see.”

The two wolves froze as they took in what had been said by the unseen being that had interrupted their exchange. They both turned slowly in the direction that the sound had come from, scenting the air carefully to attempt to determine who it was. A wolf with a very dark grey coat streaked with black stepped out of the trees with a mocking expression on his face. Tywyll curled back his lip and snarled when he realised who it was; Seren flattened her ears in apprehension and sank into a crouch, anticipating a fight.

“Well, well. Isn’t this a charming little scene?” The wolf’s voice was as bitter as the wind on a cold winter’s morning, almost as if somebody had frozen his words in ice before allowing them to be heard by others.

“Go away, Taran,” Tywyll snarled, annoyed at the interruption.

“No.”

Tywyll bristled and dropped into a more aggressive stance so that his body blocked Taran’s view of Seren. Taran sidestepped, trying to see past Tywyll who snarled at him and felt his piercing yellow eyes land on him instead.
“You think you can protect her,” Taran murmured, almost to himself but just loud enough for Tywyll to hear him. “But you’re wrong. You can never hope to give her what I can, and will, provide her with.”

Seren heard what he said and snorted, lifting her head back up proudly.
“Satisfaction? What fool have you listened to, to have such lies planted in your head. Go now, Taran, and leave us in peace.”

He tilted his head as if he was regarding her words with some respect, but gave a mocking bark of laughter when Seren tore her gaze from his. Taran turned to walk away, then moved back into his original position with his ears flat back against his head and his body in an aggressive stance.

“I will return,” he growled menacingly, then was forced to jump back when Tywyll sprang at him unexpectedly. Tywyll’s jaws closed with an audible snap on thin air; Tywyll landed nimbly on all four feet and locked his eyes with Taran’s.

“She said to leave,” he growled. “I think you would be wise to listen to her now, unless of course you would like to have your throat ripped out.”

“I’ll save that experience for another day,” Taran commented dryly before twisting around and loping quickly into the cover of the trees, with Tywyll’s glare burning into his back.

They were quiet for several long minutes, before Seren sighed and pressed her side against Tywyll’s and he realised that she was trembling violently; he leaned against her to offer some support. After a while she ceased to shiver and simply stood there with her head hanging low to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Tywyll whined anxiously while he dipped his head to the level hers was on to try and get her to raise her head. She shook her whole body suddenly and some small tufts of fur came loose to drift away on the light breeze. Seren watched them float gently to the ground before lifting her head up and murmuring a belated reply to Tywyll.

“Nothing now,” she whispered. “I’m… just glad that he has left.”

Tywyll wagged his tail a little uncertainly and tried to ignore the feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling him. If she wanted to tell him, she would – her secrets were her own after all was said and done.

“The day is coming to an end,” Seren observed quietly. “We should return to the den.”

Tywyll looked up at the sun which was indeed setting and was just beginning to glow orange, bathing the forest in a dying flame – a flame that would never burn the forest. He sighed as he felt the end of the day begin to close in around him. No matter how perfect a moment in time ever was that moment always had to come to an end one way or another.

“You’re right . . . We should return . . .”

His voice sounded so wistful that Seren laughed gently at his sad tone and licked his muzzle; she thought that he wanted his chance to go against Taran.

“I’m sure you will have your chance to face down Taran soon enough,” she whined, only half seriously. Taran flattened his ears against his skull and curled his lip back slightly because she didn’t appear to be taking the matter seriously when she had been so… nervous only a few moments ago.

"I hope that day comes soon,” he growled, stalking past Seren with his tail rigid behind him. She hurried to catch up with him and they eased into a ground covering lope through the forest, in the direction of the den.

The current den was a small cave in the mountain, only just large enough for the pack of eight wolves to lie down in and sleep. As Tywyll was the largest wolf in the pack, the tips of his black ears just scraped the roof of the cave when he stood at his full height. Of course the pack didn’t live in the cave, as such, but travelled with the prey and the changing seasons to survive.

Taran was already in the cave, curled up in a furry ball at the very back next to the female who had become Callineb’s mate when Tywyll’s mother had disappeared. Her two small cubs were snuggled up against her side, their tiny noses buried in her soft grey fur. She raised her eyes to Tywyll’s but her refused to even look at her, retiring instead to the opposite side of the cave – as far away as possible from her.

Just as Tywyll was thinking that he might avoid a confrontation with Taran until the next day, or at least until after the next hunt, Taran yawned sleepily and stretched. He looked around him with his eyes only half open, but he visibly stiffened and his eyes snapped open as he caught Tywyll’s scent.
He glared at Tywyll who locked his gaze with Taran’s until Taran was forced to look away with a low, intense growl of dislike. Tywyll noticed Callineb watching the exchange but chose to say nothing to him; it wasn’t any of his father’s business, if truth be told.

Settling down near Seren to rest, Tywyll allowed his thoughts to drift back to a time when he had considered Taran a friend of his. It was hard to imagine that he had ever talked, laughed and played with the wolf who probably wanted nothing more than to kill him at the present moment.

What changed? He thought to himself as he drifted into a light sleep. They had been friends – and good friends too. It was only after Seren had joined the pack, when Tywyll’s mother had found her and not had the heart to kill her that Taran had become moody and refused to speak to Tywyll at all. Tywyll had been hurt by Taran’s behaviour and so had become friends with the new cub instead. He never saw the true meaning behind his once-friend’s actions. He shook himself free of his thoughts – there was no sense in worrying about something that was in the past – and gave himself up to a relatively deep, dreamless sleep.

It was the dead of night when he woke to hear the rest of the pack preparing to leave for the hunt – all members except Callineb’s mate and her cubs. The excitement at the promise of the hunt was like electricity in the air, leaping from one pack member to the next as they whined and snapped playfully at each other with the closeness of a family. Tywyll leapt to his feet and tackled his father who laughed as he tumbled to the floor, caught out by his son’s agility. Only Seren wasn’t joining in with the light-hearted behaviour before the seriousness of the hunt; she had her head on her paws and looked to be very tired.

“Do you feel well?” Tywyll asked her anxiously. She didn’t answer him immediately, her tail twitching despondently and her eyes glassy with concealed pain.

“I don’t feel like myself,” she sighed wearily. “Maybe that hare I ate…” Her voice trailed off and left Tywyll dithering, wondering what on earth he could possibly do to help her.

“You should stay here while we hunt,” he murmured, nudging her gently with his nose. “We’ll bring food back for you.”

“There’s no need for that – I know how difficult it is to find prey right now.” Tywyll paused, unsure of how to answer her practicality but there wasn’t any real need for him to answer in the end, since Callineb’s mate answered for him.

“Awyr was out searching for prey not too long ago and she had found the herd of deer near the southern lake,” she intoned quietly. “The pack will bring you and me something to eat soon.”

Seren hesitated but she couldn’t find any reason to argue so she slumped down again. The pack trotted out of the den, leaving Tywyll to catch up when he could. He tensed his muscles in anticipation of the hunt, but at the same time couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Seren when she was unwell. He wavered from a second, and then made up his mind quickly as his father barked an order to join them.

“I have a feeling that we won’t be very long,” he growled softly before whipping around and racing out of the cave after the pack.

Tywyll revelled in the sensation of the cool night air caressing his dark fur – his black fur rendering him almost completely invisible in the cloak of darkness. He caught up with the pack easily and trotted along beside his father, trying his best to ignore Taran’s eyes on him.

“Seren not well?” Callineb asked casually, not sounding very concerned at all, considering he was the leader of the pack.

“No, she isn’t,” Tywyll answered shortly, his brisk reply conveying to his father that he would rather not talk about it. His father looked set to ignore that and probe for more information, but they had scented to herd and fell silent.

The deer herd was grazing peacefully in the trees, blissfully unaware of the wolves that were watching them with hungry yellow eyes. The wind blew away from the herd and towards the wolves, so there was no danger of the wolves being scented by the deer before selecting their target. The herd was guarded by a strong looking stag with a full head of antlers – Tywyll knew they had to be particularly careful in this hunt. A blow from his hooves or antlers could kill any one of the pack members in an instant. But it wasn’t the stag that the pack was hunting; Tywyll was scanning the herd for an easier target.

There was one deer that stood apart from the others, grazing on a lush patch of grass – the wolves immediately recognised her as their target. The pack moved together in between the trees and spread out to trap the doe in their midst.

By the time the doe realised the presence of the wolves, it was far too late; she was ringed by a gleaming circle of yellow eyes. Callineb let out one short bark to send the rest of the herd on its way – the stag bellowed and gathered the herd together as they fled from the terror of the wolves. Tywyll grinned wolfishly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. It had been a surprisingly easy hunt; now all they had to do was wait for the doe to tire.

*

It took far longer than Tywyll anticipated for the doe to tire and fall at the teeth of the wolves. But when the doe finally succumbed, the whole pack was able to drive away the hunger that had been gnawing at their stomachs for so long. It was the first decent kill the pack had made in several weeks and they were all greatly satisfied with the success of the hunt.

Taran left before the others, claiming that he had eaten his fill and carrying a large chunk of deer meat for Callineb’s mate. Sprawled out on the forest floor, Tywyll thought little of his rival’s actions at the time; his stomach was too full and comfortable for him to be concerned about such a trivial occurrence. Since there was no rush to hurry back to the den (because Taran was taking meat back), he let his guard down a little and let sleep take him on a full stomach into a world of dreams.

When the pack eventually returned to the den near the end of the afternoon, Tywyll immediately knew that something was terribly wrong. There was no sound at all coming from the den and there was also no smell of fresh meat in the den; Taran should have been back long ago to give the two she-wolves their share.

“Seren?” Tywyll called uneasily into the den, dropping his offering of meat on the ground.

When he received no answer, he roughly pushed himself past Callineb, earning himself a disapproving snarl, and skidded into the small cave. Seren was nowhere to be seen, heard or smelt.

Callineb’s mate was cowering at the rear of the cave, her body hunched over her two small cubs, protecting them from harm. Tywyll growled and dived forwards so that he was directly in front of her – in her line of vision – and she could see him through her fear for her cubs.

“What happened here?” He demanded, trying to conceal the dread in his voice. She didn’t reply, only whimpered and pressed herself closer to the ground, still defending her cubs. Tywyll snarled impatiently and pushed her away from the cubs, avoiding her snapping teeth to pin her to the floor.

“Tell me what happened!” He half-howled in his desperation to collect information from the terrified wolf.

“Taran… Taran was here.”

Tywyll had guessed as much – Taran should have returned to the den to offer the meat to the females, but from the scents in the cave, the meat had not reached the den. Perhaps Taran had been attacked on the way by another wolf or even a lynx? It was possible. And of course Seren would have gone to his defence, kind-hearted as she was.

“Seren… he took Seren with him…” She whimpered pathetically, the terror in her voice evident. The wolves that had crowded into the cave behind Tywyll hissed in shock, understanding the meaning behind her words while Tywyll stood stock still in utter confusion.

“What do you mean ‘he took Seren with him’?” Callineb asked when Tywyll was too slow to respond. She didn’t answer, only continued with what she was saying in a broken voice.

“He said…”

The pack waited with bated breath to hear what she had to say. What was happening to the pack? What had Taran done? What had he done to Seren? As these questions flashed through his mind, Tywyll snapped out of his reverie and growled angrily at the rate at which information was being given to him.

“He said… he said…”

“What? What did he say?” Tywyll snarled angrily, pressing his claws deeper into her chest. “Tell me now!”

“If… if you ever want to see… Seren again… you should follow the deer track round the west side of the mountain until you reach the lake. He said that you should wait for him on the forested side, below the cliff…”

Tywyll was gone and out of the den before she had even finished her message, but he heard every single word that was said to him. And every word sent a fresh pang of anguish racing through his body. What if he was too late?

He heard his father call him back but he ignored him; his father would do what he wanted to do and that was most likely to be care for his mate at that moment in time. That stubborn streak rang true in his son also – the one instance in which they were alike. But it was the trait that had led Tywyll to many mishaps within the pack and, little did he know, to ones end in the ruthless world.

Tywyll knew the place that the she-wolf had spoken of well – it wasn’t very far from the den at all, but it was a difficult place to get to if one was not as young and strong as Tywyll was. The deer track was broken as it led down to the lake and many boulders had rolled free of restraint and careered wildly down to shatter in pieces by the lakeside. If a wolf slipped and fell on the narrow track, that fall might well be his last.

With a start of horror that increased his already reckless pace, Tywyll realised that Seren would not have gone with Taran of her own free will. What if he had dragged her over that ground? It would have been fairly simple for Taran to do, since Seren was naturally small and rather light as she hadn’t eaten properly in a while. What if Taran had been careless and she had tumbled down the steep, rocky slope and . . . It didn’t bear thinking about. Taran and she had passed this way, Tywyll was sure of it. Their scent was entwined and thick in the evening air. If he had scented those mixed scents at another time, a time when panic was less of an inconvenience, he would have wrinkled his muzzle in distaste. They just didn’t smell right together.

Sure-footed even in his thoughtless panic to reach the lake as quickly as possible, Tywyll made it down the deer track with mishap and skidded to a halt, his pads scraping across the stones, at the very edge of the lake.

All was silent. Even the birds that usually graced the skeleton line of pine trees on the forested side with their singing. It was eerie to have such a beautiful scene with such a cold, foreboding atmosphere to it. Tywyll shivered uncomfortably; he had the peculiar sensation that he was being watched and he suspected it was Taran lying in wait for him.

Despite the lack of sound, the scents lay heavy in the air and betrayed the location of the enemy to Tywyll. He pushed himself on into a powerful lope again once he had caught his breath and headed straight to the line of pine trees with the steep cliff rising sheer on the right of them. At the base of the cliff was a small, pathetic looking heap of grey fur.

“Seren,” he cried, the single word catching in his breath as fear swept over him and he rushed to her side.

She looked battered, beaten and there was blood caked in a wound above her eye – Taran must have disabled her by rendering her unconscious – but she was alive and breathing. For the time being, at least. Tywyll breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that she was alive and he still had a chance to keep things that way.

It was only then that he caught the scent of danger and stiffened as the human smells entered his nostrils. There was a human device behind the tree line, but from the smell of things, the human wasn’t nearby. All of Tywyll’s instincts told him to flee, but he couldn’t possibly run – he couldn’t leave Seren at the hands of the human who would undoubtedly kill her upon his return.

“Yes, that is a human truck,” an indifferent voice growled from behind Tywyll. “And the human shall return shortly, so please do not cause me any delays.”

Tywyll spun around and was not at all surprised to see Taran standing several feet back; in his confusion it would have been very easy to steal up on him without detection. He narrowed his eyes at his adversary.

“Why have you brought me here?” He demanded boldly. “And why have you hurt Seren so? Answer me now.”

“To tell you something and to put out a flame forever,” Taran replied coolly; Tywyll bared his teeth at Taran and the hackles on the back of his neck rose in his fury.

“Not good enough,” he snarled angrily. “Tell me what you want and then be gone – forever. You are no longer welcome in this pack.”

“Who are you to say where I am welcome or not?” Taran questioned, slightly taken aback.

“Who are you to take a she-wolf and drag her away from the den?” Tywyll countered rashly. “Get on with it.”

Taran paused, a small smile playing about his lips and Tywyll knew instinctively that a great and terrible truth was about to become known to him. Taran settled down comfortably on his haunches, as if relaxing in the den, and growled pleasurably, making Tywyll twitch with unease.

“Before I begin my tale, I would like you to know something. You are a fool, Tywyll. A fool to think that you could ever win this battle against me. A fool to believe that nobody but yourself and her knew of your ‘secret’ plans to leave the pack. And a fool to not detect the poison in the hare I left for Seren yesterday. Know this: you walked blindly into my web and I, like a spider, am coming to claim my prize.”

Tywyll growled at the words that were intended to hurt his pride. It was true that he hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the hare that Seren had eaten, but undoubtedly it had been that which had made her ill and likely as not cause to become weaker than the norm – an easy target in Taran’s twisted plan. But he could never be considered a fool when standing scant metres away from a warped mind.

“I may not have noticed that, but do not call me fool, cub,” Tywyll growled carefully, thinking his words through prior to speaking. “If you have nothing else of importance to tell me, bar that enlightening little speech, I and Seren will be on our way.”

However, when Tywyll moved towards Seren and turned to look at the path that would take him in the direction of the den, he saw with surprise that Taran had moved to block his way.

“Not finished?” Tywyll grimaced. “I thought I’d heard enough foolishness to last me a lifetime just then. Perhaps you desire to prove me wrong?”

Taran’s eyes hardened then and Tywyll flinched from his merciless gaze. It was hard for him to believe, in that instant, that Taran was close to his age and not many years older.

“Yes, I shall prove you wrong, Tywyll,” he whispered in a malicious tone. “So wrong that I shall have you cowering before me like the mere cub you are. Your eyes have not seen what mine have; my mind commands me to clear the record – to tell you what I have done, so that you will fight me with hate in your soul.”

As if I need a reason to fight him, Tywyll thought, sensing some of his old courage returning and flooding his soul not with hate, but the boldness of fire. Something in Taran’s eyes flashed as he watched his words heighten his adversary’s courage instead of lessening it. Tywyll could clearly see the bitterness in his eyes and also the pleasure he held in revealing a dark secret to Tywyll – a secret which Tywyll was certain would cut a deep wound into his heart.

“A few months ago, when I was hunting alone, I was foolish enough to fall into a human trap in the forest – a pit. Three days and three nights I was in that pit for while a storm raged around me in the forest. However, that very storm that dampened my willpower until I had all but welcomed death was my very saviour. A tree crashed down into the pit and I was able to escape. But the human that had set the trap was close by and he tracked me. I fled through the forest with death at my heels until I approached a she-wolf who was very familiar to me.

“It was then that a dark idea came to me. I knew how to hurt my greatest enemy and rid myself of the human hindrance at the same time.

“I led the human straight to the she-wolf, who didn’t suspect a thing. One bullet from the gun and she was dead. Finished. And I watched the human carry her corpse back to his truck, where the skins of his other prizes lay. I knew that she would soon become a mere skin like those other unfortunate beasts.”

Tywyll blinked in slight confusion – he didn’t have any idea at all why Taran was telling his this. His words held no meaning to him and he couldn’t link Taran’s experiences to any events in his own life. A short, harsh bark came from Taran’s muzzle when he saw that Tywyll was still ignorant to the truth.

“Take a sniff in the back of the truck,” he invited slowly, as if spelling the words out to a very small cub. Tywyll glanced at him suspiciously, suspecting a trap, but trotted cautiously over to the ‘truck’ nonetheless and put his paws up on the side.

The truck was filled with wolf-skins.

Tywyll made to back away from the truck in his revulsion at the myriad of smells that had met his nose – and the horror he had felt in his heart – but Taran was at his side, preventing him from moving away.

“No, no,” Taran reprimanded mockingly. “There’s more to be seen there. Or smelt.”

Reluctantly, but drawn by his curiosity at the terrible crime that had been committed, Tywyll leaned further over into the truck, taking in everything with sight and smell.

One wolf-skin in particular smelt familiar… how could that be? He hadn’t had that smell touch his nose since… Tywyll balked in horror and leapt away from the truck as the terrible truth struck him like a hammer.
It was his mother’s pelt.

His mother had never left – she had been murdered. She had been murdered… murdered by a monster. It was her that Tywyll had led the human to, those scant few months ago. Pain and anger tore through Tywyll’s body as he turned to face his enemy.

“Why?” The one bitter word caught in Tywyll’s throat. He half-wanted a reason not to kill his once-friend.

“Because she didn’t want me,” Taran’s equally bitter reply came out harshly, as if he was hiding something behind the roughness of his words. Tywyll was confused – his own mother wouldn’t have wanted another she-wolfs cub, so why did Taran want her to want him?

And then Tywyll understood; it wasn’t his mother Taran meant. It was Seren. Taran was in love with Seren and if he couldn’t have her, nobody could. He was going to kill her and her lover. Shock froze Tywyll in place as he allowed the thought of watching his only star in the dark die at the fangs of that murderer. He couldn’t allow it to happen.

“Soon the one you so appear to love will be nothing more that that – a wolf-skin,” Taran said conversationally, as if he was merely discussing the change in seasons. “As will you.”

“Never!” Tywyll snarled, anger ripping through him. He dropped into a half-crouch and bristled his fur in fury. “You will never have her! Seren is not a possession that you can simply claim when you feel like it! She made a decision and I plan to defend her with my life!”
Taran snorted at what he said and Tywyll snarled more menacingly to prove his point; he would give his life for Seren – anything to keep her alive.

“Not a possession! That’s all females are, Tywyll,” Taran laughed incredulously, shaking his head in clear disbelief at Tywyll’s apparent stupidity.

“Well, you’re wrong,” Tywyll declared valiantly. “She’s not a possession at all. Seren is a beautiful, strong, wonderful she-wolf whose independence is her greatest asset. That’s what I love about her – she would never let anyone such as yourself treat her like dirt.”

“I have no time for such sickeningly romantic sentiments,” Taran growled in a suddenly sharp tone. “Come! Fight me!”

He leapt forward before Tywyll could think of a reply, a raging mass of grey fur with two yellow orbs gleaming in its face.

Tywyll hadn’t had time to move a muscle when Taran’s body slammed into his, sending him flying backwards. All his breath was knocked out of his as he struck a loose boulder hard enough to hear a loud crack and feel the strange sensation of some wetness running down his head. Blood.

As the world spun sickeningly around him, Tywyll slumped over on the ground, only half-conscious. In the dim part of his mind in which he was still aware of his surroundings, he realised that he was practically defenceless and at the mercy of Taran. Some hope he had. To confirm his fears, he saw a huge, lethal paw come into his line of vision, terrifyingly close, and Tywyll’s head descending very close to his own.

“Your life ends now, fool,” Taran whispered harshly in his ear. “And your love I shall take for my own once more, for it never truly belonged to you.” He paused for a second as another cruel thought came to him and a sneer graced his lips for an instant. “Send my love to your dear mother, won’t you?”

“That’s what you think,” Tywyll snarled, launching himself upwards at Taran’s exposed throat; his enemy tried to escape his jaws but failed to move so far as to not have Tywyll’s jaws clamped around his right foreleg, breaking the bone with an audible snap.

Taran leapt back in shock as Tywyll released him and staggered to his feet again with strength he didn’t know he possessed. His head was clearing and the pain of his head wound didn’t seem so grievous any more. Tywyll sprung at Taran bravely, aiming for his throat again.

But Taran was quicker than he initially thought and twisted agilely out of his way, only to fasten his own teeth around Tywyll’s neck. The tables had turned. In the instant that Tywyll felt the cold teeth in his neck, he prepared for his life to end.

“No!”

Seren leaped and barrelled forcibly into Taran, knocking him and his teeth away from Tywyll’s neck. Tywyll lay on the ground panting heavily as he realised that his life hadn’t ended after all and the one that he had set out to save had indeed become his saviour.

“Foolish wolf,” Taran fumed. “You shall pay.”

Seren stood tall with her ears pricked forward and tail raised high in defiance of Taran’s will. They circled cautiously with the skill of seasoned fighters, each waiting for the other to strike first. Tywyll noticed that Seren was limping, not putting much weight on her back right paw.

Taran must have injured her when dragging her to this godforsaken place, he thought, wincing as he stood up and the ground tilted nauseatingly.

“Your battle is in vain,” Taran hissed menacingly at the brave she-wolf. “Your life ends today.”

“My life ends? Oh, but Taran! You must not murder your ‘one love’!” Seren mocked, her tone more bitter and disdainful than Tywyll had ever heard it. Taran himself trembled under her hard eyes. “Have sense, you fool. If indeed I do die here today, I know that at least you will be unable to follow me into the afterlife, for your deeds have been enough to guarantee you a place in the deepest pits of hell.”

She had gone too far with her goading, however, and it was her undoing. Seren allowed herself to be tricked into thinking that she was gaining the upper hand and had a chance at winning her fight; she was wrong. Taran was laughing at her as he soared effortlessly through the air to sink his claws painfully into her back. And his teeth deep into her neck.

Seren dropped to the ground like a stone and Taran turned his head towards Tywyll to grin madly, blood dripping from his sharp fangs. He dipped his head once, as if in salute to Tywyll, then ran along the edge of the cliff leaving a trail of Seren’s blood behind him on the stones.

There was a ragged sound of an animal in severe pain coming from somewhere; it took Tywyll a few seconds to realise that it has him that was making the noise. He padded slowly to Seren’s side as if he was walking in a dream and half-refusing to believe what had just happened. His head felt strangely foggy again, but he didn’t remember hitting his head. Seren looked up at him with great sadness in her eyes.

“I heard what you said about me,” Seren whined as her life blood seeped away. “Thank you, Tywyll. Thank you for everything.”

“No, Seren. Seren please don’t leave me!” Tywyll howled in anguish and pawed desperately at her side. “Get up! Please, please, Seren! Get up! Don’t leave me!”

But she was gone. Her last sigh escaped from her like a breath of wind and disappeared just as quickly. It took Tywyll several agonisingly long seconds to realise that she was no longer breathing and her heartbeat had halted forever.

“Seren? Seren! No, no, no, please no!”

Truly alone, Tywyll lifted his head back to let out one long, mournful howl of sorrow and love for his lost Seren. The sound sent shivers down the spines of the animals who heard it and those who could burrowed deeper into their dens, in the hope that whatever misfortune had compelled that wolf to howl with such sadness would not befall them also.

Tywyll felt the back of his neck prickle and he raised his head slowly so that he could see the peak of the cliff. Taran was watching him silently from the peak above Tywyll with eyes as cold and as hard as the granite boulders on the mountain.

“Do you see what you have done?” Tywyll cried in an anguished voice. “Do you realise what you have done to her? She’s dead. Dead! And all because you couldn’t have what you wanted. You’ve killed her. Blown out a flame of life.”

“Ah, Tywyll, her death could have been so easily avoided,” Taran sneered unsympathetically. “If only you had given in and let me have my way.”

Rage consumed Tywyll and an ugly snarl of sorrow and fury curled its way across his muzzle as he contemplated the injustice that had been done.

“Justice shall be done,” he growled, emotion thick in his throat. “By my jaws, if not by another’s. Fight me, coward, or do you hide behind your words.”

Taran snarled a response and leaped down the cliff using outcrops of rock for steps by which he could reach the bottom. Tywyll backed away from the cliff bottom, though he was loathe to leave Seren, so that Taran would not have the advantage of height when striking him.

Once Taran and Tywyll engaged in battle, it was difficult to tell what was happening at any one time. To begin with, it looked as if Tywyll had the upper hand, driven on by his passions, but Taran was both larger and currently stronger than Tywyll; he scored many hits on Tywyll with both his claws and teeth.

The sun had begun to set when they both backed away from each other with angry snarls to catch their breath. The two wolves regarded each other apprehensively as they took in the injuries they had inflicted upon each other – the injuries were certainly grave, especially to Tywyll. Taran saw this and grinned sadistically at him as his sides heaved; Tywyll was spent.

“So here it ends,” Taran growled, prowling slowly towards Tywyll. “Such a shame that it has to end this way.”

He jumped suddenly to his left as a large rock crashed into the spot where he had been standing a moment ago. He looked up fearfully as the cliff seemed to tremble and then, slowly, fall apart.

“My life is not over yet, Taran,” Tywyll snarled. “But yours will be soon. Nature herself seems to be turning against you. Justice will be done! Look above one last time at the light, for you are destined to die in darkness. If justice was not meant to be done by my jaws, then nature is doing the task for me.”

Taran howled in startled fear and ran for his life, ignoring the strain he was putting on his crippled leg. As he ran, the cliff seemed to collapse down and rush towards him as if it was made of water and not stone. A raging wall of rock flowed down the cliff and engulfed Taran completely in its mass before eventually slowing to a standstill. There was no movement from within the mound of rocks that had covered Taran. Taran was dead.

Shocked by the sudden turn in events and the justice that had not been dealt out by himself, but by a twist of fate or destiny, Tywyll stood very still for several minutes. When the falling dust settled and no trace of Taran’s body could be seen any longer; Tywyll turned his attention to Seren once more.

“Oh Seren . . . Why you?” Tywyll groaned mournfully as he limped to her side, blood leaking from the grievous wound on his flank. It was all he could do to keep moving towards her, but he was several metres away from her when his strength deserted him and he collapsed on the ground.

“Why couldn’t you have saved yourself?” He growled piteously into the dirt that was clogging his nose. “Don’t make me live without you Seren. Please.”

Slowly, he dragged himself to his paws once more and shuffled towards
Seren’s body. Four times, he fell to the ground, and four times he hauled himself to his paws again, clenching his teeth so tightly together that his own teeth sliced into his tongue and his own blood filled his mouth and trickled down his throat. He was going to reach Seren if it killed him and, judging by the state in which he was in, it looked like that was the price that he was going to be forced to pay.

After a long period of hobbling and collapsing, Tywyll finally reached Seren’s side and, with as much dignity as he had remaining, lowered himself carefully down beside her. Twisting his body slightly and painfully, he moved to place his head on her neck and let his grief take him.

The sorrow swamped him like a tidal wave, carrying him far away from the lake below the mountain to another time altogether. He saw himself as a cub, play fighting with the new pretty she-cub in the pack with the innocence that he had long left behind him. He was too young at the time to realise that his parents, the alpha male and female, disapproved of him being with the strange little cub they had found wandering along a riverbank. He had not understood why they had wanted to kill her although he knew that he had to protect her somehow.

Tywyll stayed immersed in his memories for a long time, reliving every
single, miniscule moment in his life in which he had been with Seren. For his memories were better than the reality of the situation – that fact that she was dead and lost to him forever.

There is no such thing as forever, he thought sadly, turning his head to lick Seren’s ear tenderly. No matter how much one would like to believe in such a wonderful thing, there is no forever. Look where fate has led us, Seren. But though fate is cruel, there is much happiness and, fleeting though that happiness is, it is what makes the whole journey through life worthwhile. That and love. Both are curses, because they will never last even if they bring one joy and comfort while they are present. Oh, Seren . . .

Tywyll was too lost in his sorrow to notice the sudden lack of birdsong in the skeleton-like pine trees. His nose was too overcome with the bitter smell of the mixed wolf’s blood lacing patterns into the earth to detect the smell of danger in the air. And his heart was too heavy with his suffering to allow his ears to hear the foreboding thud of heavy boots on the stones.

The first wrong thing he noticed was wrong was that there was a strange shadow falling over him. He tilted his head to the side to half-heartedly glance at whatever or whoever it was and a small grunt of surprise escaped his muzzle.

A human stood over him with his gaze flicking between Tywyll and the mound of boulders that were some distance away. Even if Tywyll had the strength in him to move, to run, he would not have moved an inch from his current position. To love would be to leave Seren in the merciless hands of man and that he could never do to her. He struggled painfully to his paws with a half-hearted snarl directed at the human while his legs quivered beneath him but did not give way. He did not have the energy nor the will to attack the human though; some small part of his mind told him that it was easier this way, easier for him to bear.

Easier for what? Tywyll asked himself in confusion, shaking his head slowly as he tried to get his thoughts in some sort of order. His head seemed grey and somewhat foggy, as if a damp mist had somehow managed to seep inside his head and cloud his thinking.

The man regarding him coldly for what seemed like a minute, passing the gun back and for in his large hands. Tywyll attempted to growl at him, but a sudden stabbing pain in his side made the growl change to a whine of pain. The human leaned forward a little and pushed Tywyll with the butt of the gun; the little strength Tywyll had managed to regain deserted him and he slumped in a heap of bedraggled black fur over Seren’s body.

He felt the other end of the gun press into the back of his skull then move away a little. There was stillness in the air and time seemed to suddenly become precious as Tywyll realised what the man was going to do.

The sound of the gun firing was shockingly loud to Tywyll but the ringing in his ears was nothing compared to the raging fire that was searing through his body. The bullet hadn’t hit him in the best place, which would have been the back of his skull, but behind his shoulder. The bullet was lodged firmly in his body, somewhere close to his heart, and didn’t promise him a swift death by any means.

He heard a low grunt of apparent satisfaction above him and he strained to open his eyes to see the man who had put a bullet in him. The stare that met his was dark with raw, unconcealed hatred.

“Nobody takes what’s mine,” he snarled in a low, cruel voice. He kicked Tywyll in his ribs and Tywyll yelped as he felt one or more of his ribs crack with the force of the kick. His vision clouded over and Tywyll gave himself up to the darkness that was washing over him. The human laughed sourly – a cold, cruel sound – and walked coolly towards the vehicle which evidently belonged to him. Tywyll heard it roar into life and race away, bumping roughly over the uneven ground. Leaving him to face his death alone.

Death is patient, Tywyll thought blearily as his blood stained the earth around him and Seren crimson in the dying sunlight. As am I. And the cold grasp of death cannot be cheated either – no matter what attempts are made to forestall the dark abyss that lies beyond life. For oneself… and for others…  Have faith, my dear Seren – I will join you in death soon.