The moon was heavy with guile. It rolled ’round and mocked the secrets that the forest below yearned to keep.
The whispered cries of frogs nipped at Ferus’ ears as he ran. The river rumbled, soft and distinct—water chasing over rocks toward a mythic destination. The wind murmured in the trees, a perfume of wildflowers, green grasses, and pine.
Beneath such charms there lingered yet another scent - calling out to him and him alone.
Alice.
Ferus stopped to raise his mighty head towards the sky. Her scent trailed behind her like sacred veils, torn and tattered with her effort to escape. Billowing in her wake, they beckoned him. Alice called to him with an ancient heart. She was unaware of her own desire, a secret behind a door kept fiercely locked. Time and again she had padded down that deserted hall within her mind to look upon the handle of that shunned door, to dare imagine raising the key—
Only to turn and run from her destiny.
Not tonight, my sweet Alice, he thought.
I will stoke the fire for you. A mighty pyre on which you will burn. You will submit the lie of your body to the flames. Only ash will remain—
Ash, and the grandeur of your true heart. Revealed, at last.
Ferus began to run. He savoured the wind raking reverently through his fur. Alice’s scent thickened. He could taste her: the tang of familiarity, of promises long forgotten.
He would call to her. Ferus slowed again. His eyes embraced the moon with all her duplicities. His howl, loud and haunting, vaulted from the earth. Ascending beyond the boughs of the trees, it teased the moon. It whetted nature’s immortal appetite.
And his own.
Again he ran after her, faster now. Soon the hunt would end, and he would lay his claim.
Alice would know he had finally come for her. He would not desist this time. There were no more bargains. Ferus would not surrender her to the darkness.
As Alice’s scent deepened into a wellspring, thin tendrils of a noxious odour joined with it. The smell of men’s labours reeked upon the air.
The cabin was up ahead.
The trees gave way, parting to reveal a meadow. Within its midst stood the cabin, made of timber and stone. It stood shakily within the theatre of the forest.
It knew itself to be an impostor.
Unclean and unwelcome.
The sharp snap of the door as it slammed shut seemed to echo through Ferus’ broad chest. His tongue wound and licked along the length of his lips. His gold eyes penetrated the dark—and then the walls where Alice foolishly sought a false safety.
He padded forth slowly, not hiding.
A warm glow floated from the window’s edges. As he approached the cabin door, Ferus’ form shifted. He stood upon his hind legs. His fur lightened and thinned. His paws reclaimed fingers as delicate as any man’s.
He laid both hands flat against the door’s surface.
“Alice, surrender to me. I smell your grief and your pain. Why allow them to consume you? Fear not, come to me. I will give you the divine kiss. The kiss that has been yours to claim since you were born. The forest will forgive you for having been unhallowed for so long. So great is the love of the trees, there admiration of your fierce spirit.”
Ferus could hear her weep behind the door. A mournful cry pulled from a sorrow she had tended for so long. She believed she deserved to suffer. And so she lingered—unrighteous and lost.
“Leave me to this life, forget me,” she said.
Ferus’ great strength surged, and he tore away the door from it’s hinges. He entered the cabin. Alice was before him and then backing away. She shuddered and her eyes grew wide.
Her hands came up before her. “Please, Ferus. Don’t do this. I don’t want The Great Run. Let me remain among the unclean. Let me fade from the memories of yourself and the woods. I beg you—a quiet death. To be forgotten beneath a cairn. That is my destiny.”
“No, Alice. The ache which plagues you is the poison of man. I’m sorry I did not take you sooner. I longed to honour your wishes. But you are sick, my love. Every day you remain among their kind, your illness threatens the purity of your precious heart. I will deliver you. Now.”
Ferus shimmered before her and his human cast dissolved. The great wolf leapt upon Alice, pinning her to the floor of the desolate and forgotten cabin. She struggled in vain. Ferus’ mass and strength were absolute. Her screams raged within his ears, driving him onward to complete his solemn task. His great head lowered and his teeth tore into the flesh of her shoulder as she screamed.
Alice’s blood flowed to seep into the rotted floorboards. Ferus’ thick tongue lapped at the wound. His low bestial growl changed a loving whine. Her cries rose as he persisted. The sound of her dying humanity fled past the shattered cabin door and into the forest.
The trees were listening. The delicate sway of their boughs sang an ancient nocturne.
Beautiful Alice would finally be coming home.
