The mountain air felt good on Victor's sweat-drenched skin. The walk through the forest had made him sweat. At least that's the excuse he used in his mind. Hiking was a way for him to forget the brutes that continued to torture him whenever they came across him in the town.
Twenty-seven years old and he was still getting harassed by his high school bullies. He had hoped they would eventually grow up, or at least find something better to do than beat up their nerdy classmate from their school days, but they still found some enjoyment in his continual torture.
There was a sudden rumble in the air, and what little light Victor had been hiking in, vanished. Victor looked up, surprised to see ash-colored clouds gathering, lightning occasionally flashing deep within them. Victor pulled on the straps of his hiking pack, tightening it to his back, and ran. He went upwards, knowing that the forest would be terribly dangerous with the lightning in the clouds.
He went further up the mountain than he ever had before, being careful not to cut himself on the jagged ridges. The last thing he needed was blood. To attract any of the animals who called this mountain home, Victor grabbed a hanging ledge and pulled himself up on a ridge that had eroded with time.
Thankfully, there was a cave opening carved into the rock itself. Victor walked in just as the first droplets came down, Victor watched as the drops turned into a sudden downpour. Victor shook his head, pulling his pack off, and sat on the cave floor. He stayed close to the opening, not wanting to disturb any occupants of the cave. He pulled out a sketchbook and his bundle of sketch supplies.
Xxxx
Freya woke up from her deep slumber much earlier than usual. She sniffed deeply and smelled the rain and then heard the telltale sound of thunder and lightning crashes in the distance. Her ears went flat to her head. She hated these types of storms ever since the curse.
It reminded her too much of the time the curse was first put on her. She growled low in her throat as she thought of her treacherous Uncle, and the Witch Whore that cursed her to this form, rather than face her army.
Her nose perked up suddenly. Someone was in her cave. Her space. She went low on the ground, her hackles rising. Despite her overbearing size, no doubt a gift from the witch whore Evanora herself, Freya was good at staying silent. She despised her hulking size. She was more bear than a wolf. She sniffed once more and knew some unsuspecting human had made his way to her cave.
No doubt hiding from the lightning and the rain. Freya was about to head back the way she came when she saw the flash of a blade. She growled, not loud enough for the human to hear with his pitiful ears. Hunters rarely found her, but she always made quick work of them when they did.
She crept closer, hearing the blade scrape against something. A fresh smell invaded Freya's senses. Charcoal. The blade wasn't a hunter's blade, but an artist. She watched silently as the human sheathed the small dagger, putting it on top of some canvas-type material, and then taking the charcoal he moved to sit cross-legged facing the storm in a way Freya never could have. He etched the storm on paper, Freya went as close as she dared, watching the man drew the storm in all its devastation. Making it look beautiful in the way he captured the tempest. He entranced Freya and made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long while. Awe.
Xxxx
Victor felt uneasy in the cave. He felt as if there were eyes upon him. Even though he knew (hoped) that was impossible. As he drew, he remembered that ancient tale of the wolf. His sister Jessa had always loved telling him that story during every storm.
"Once there was a Regent who believed he deserved to be King. Freya the wise. Freya, the beautiful and kind, would be a just and noble Queen as her mother before her. Her parents had long since passed, leaving her Uncle as the regent. His time as Regent through the Kingdom in Chaos. Freya left with a handful of Knights at her disposal. It wasn't too long until Freya the Just had an army, ready to take the throne if need be. Many of the lands were loyal to her than to Daroque, her Uncle King. But Daroque was greedy and only wanted more and more. He became lusty over power and ordered his whore witch to cast a spell. And so Freya the Just fell to the hands of darkness, never to be seen again. Her cries sounding like the wolves howling to the moon." Victor finished blowing on his sketchpad.
He finished his sketch just in time as the clouds disappeared as quickly as it came, but the sun had already gone down, so he began packing up his materials, not looking forward to trekking down the mountainside in the dark.
He stood, cracking his back as he did. He heard the telltale sound of breath behind him. He turned slowly, seeing a hulking mass of dark fur, and glowing sharp eyes the color of steel and storm looking back at him. His eyes widened at the sight. What he now realized the hulking mass was a wolf the size of a bear.
The wolf just sat there calmly watching him. Keeping the wolf in his line of sight, he slid his backpack on and backed slowly out of the cave, and when he finally left the wolf's line of vision, he heard a huff from the wolf. He continued down, never looking back. He exited the forest into a parking lot, which he knew better to do, because his tormentors were there, smoking and drinking by their BMWs.
Victor supposed it was better than the werewolf. He wondered why he assumed it was a werewolf over a wolf. Of course, that moment of thought gave one of his tormentor's room to pelt a can in his direction.
Xxxx
Freya knew better. She knew to let the human walk off. But he wasn't a Hunter. He was an artist. He made such beautiful art. She needed to make sure he was alright. Then she saw those beasts pelting him, and she couldn't help but roar, growling ferociously at the men who nearly wet themselves trying to get away. She huffed towards the artist who turned slowly to look at his savior. Freya found herself lost in a sea of blue, a familiar blue. His eyes so very familiar that she didn't feel his gentle touch or the feeling of fur turning into skin, but she felt her hair tickle her as it draped around her. She fell on the wet asphalt in surprise. She looked up at the artist in shock. "Wilhelm?"