Darkness. Cold. Heavy.
The weight presses on my chest. I can't move. Something squeezes my sides, my head. There's no air. Darkness surrounds me, fills every part of me. I try to push, but my body is weak. I don't know what my hands are, but I feel fingers opening and closing. I don't like it. I don't want to be here.
I push. With everything. Head, legs, arms. The pain comes, but I don't stop. Push. Push. The weight gives way. The pressure vanishes.
Light.
It's blinding. It hurts. I close my eyes, squeezing them shut. I want to go back to the darkness, but I can't. Something grabs me. Lifts me. A strange sound, sweet but unfamiliar, fills the air. A voice.
— You did it… you're here… you're here with me…
The sound touches my ears. It's not like the sound of rain or wind. This is warm, it slides inside me. I don't understand the words, but I feel the warmth.
Her hands are soft. Her fingers run along my wet body. Her nails don't scratch. She's different from me. Her skin is smooth, thin. Mine is not. Mine is rough, hard.
— I won't leave you. I swear.
"I won't leave you." I don't know what it means, but the sound calms me. Her voice is a rhythm, like a heartbeat. My head rests on her chest. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It's not like mine. Hers is smaller, faster. But it's the same rhythm I heard in the darkness.
Years later
The warmth of burning wood fills the room. I like warmth. My skin tingles, but it doesn't hurt. My eyes see better now. I no longer need to close them when there's too much light. She taught me how to see.
— What is this? — she asks, holding a paper in her hand.
Paper. Page. Word. She taught me all that. The paper has strange marks on it, but I know what they are. Letters, numbers. She made me repeat them until I saw them even with my eyes closed. Word. Written. A voice that doesn't sound. I look at the paper. Three marks on it: 3. 7. 5. She looks at me. She waits. She stares at me as if it's a challenge.
— Three. Seven. Five, — I say. My voice comes out rough, like stones rolling down a hill.
She smiles. — Good job. You're amazing. You're truly amazing. — Her hands stroke my head. Her fingers pass through the thick fur, and I close my eyes. I like it. It's like the sun touching my back.
But I know what that feeling is. Pride. She's proud of me. I know it because I saw her do the same thing with the wolf pups she cared for. When they learned to walk, she stroked them like this.
— One day… — she says with a tired voice, — one day, I won't be here. You'll have to take care of yourself. You're special. But the people out there… they won't understand. Her hands are trembling. I don't like it. I move closer and press my forehead against her shoulder. She sighs, and the trembling stops.
— I will never leave you, — I say. The words are heavy, difficult. Each sound scratches my throat. She looks at me with wide, shiny eyes. She says nothing. Her fingers remain on my fur.
The day everything changes
The noise comes from outside. Voices. Not hers. Other voices. I don't like them. They are broken, sharp, like the sound of rocks smashing into the ground.
She looks at me, and in her eyes, I see a word I know: fear.
— Go. Go away! — she says, pushing me toward the back door. — Don't let them see you! If they see you, they'll kill you!
Kill. I know that word. I saw it happen to the wolves caught by hunters. They don't move anymore. They don't breathe. I don't want to stop breathing.
Her hand pushes me again. — Go away!
I move. My legs are strong. My steps make no sound. The cold air wraps around my skin and fur. I'm outside. I'm free. But I don't want to be. I don't want to leave her there.
I stop behind the trees. I hear the sounds, the footsteps, the men's voices. Their hearts beat too fast. They're not hunters. They're predators.
— Inside, it must be inside. Stay alert. No mistakes.
Their voices cut the air like blades. I hear her scream. I hear her struggle. She's strong, but not like me.
I can help her.
No. I can't.
She told me, "Don't let them see you." But my chest burns. I'm strong. I can knock down trees. I can knock down men.
I move toward the house. One step. Two. Three. My heart is a drum in my ears.
The door opens. One of the men drags her out. She twists, screams, but her strength isn't enough.
— Shut up! — the man shouts.
He touches her. His hand grips her tightly. Too tightly.
I don't think. I don't decide. I move.
The sound of leaves under my feet is drowned by the beating of hearts. Hers, his, mine. All the hearts together. I hear my breathing grow deeper. A roar.
They see me.
— What… what is that?! — one of the men shouts.
The first one releases her. But it's too late. I'm already there.
My hand. My fingers. My claws. The smell of hot metal. Blood. He screams. His arm is gone. It falls. It falls along with the man. He looks at it. His eyes are huge. Too late.
I am not like him. I do not fear.
— No! — she shouts. — Stop! Please!
Her voice. It stops me. I don't turn to look at her, but I feel her everywhere. She is warmth. She is light.
The bodies are on the ground. I am not. I walk away. Their hearts no longer beat. My eyes close. I want the darkness. I want not to know.
The sound of her voice follows me.
— Forgive me…
But I don't want forgiveness. I am alone.