Swords & Claws

The people cower and whimper in their wet muddy cages. Their horror is lit by the flames of the burning stakes. The horrid screams of burning people mixes with the howling and cackling of the frenzied werewolves.

They dance around the bonfires. Singing, chanting, laughing, barking, howling.

One figure approach. From the darkness, a werewolf approaches the cage. Some of the people start mumbling prayers, others start crying, while the rest are in so much shock their selves refuse to react in any way.

The large beast opens the cage. It looks well experienced with violence. Patches of its black fur missing, replaced with deep scars, both fresh and old. It’s also missing an eye, which, unlike the others, isn’t glowing. It is not frenzied by mushrooms or moonlight. His figure looms over the humans.

“Hey, shh. Quiet!” It whispers. “Now’s your chance. Run. Go now!”

They hesitate, but one. One of them immediately jumps out and runs away into the dark of the night. Another one follows. Another one. Three. Five. One by one they flee for their lives as quiet as they can into the forest, back to the grand metropolis.

“Well look what’s going on here,” says a voice from behind the scarred wolf. “Everyone! Sagwan just let go of the humans!” It’s another black wolf, about the same height as Sagwan. His eyes glow green.

The other werewolves stop their rituals and turn their heads at the two.

“What do you think you’re doing, son?” He squeezes his claws over Sagwan’s throat.

“Something I should’ve been doing since ages ago,” His veins glow red. His palms shine crimson and begin to steam. With all the strength he could muster Sagwan gives his father a flaming right hook across the face.

His father is taken aback and lets go of his grip. He touches where his son’s blow landed, and starts laughing. Red lights glow from his veins as he stops. “Tie him up!”

The frenzied werewolves howl as they pile on him and drag him to one of the stakes. They tie Sagwan’s hands beside a man whose flesh is in the middle of turning into ash. He can even still hear the man’s soft raspy helpless breath. Sagwan would’ve faced the same scenario if he’s anything but a summer wolf.

The werewolves pick up leather ropes and stones. They start to whip and throw at Sagwan. He grunts and growls with each hit.

“How many times must I teach you this lesson? They slaughter us! They take our homes! And they’ll keep doing it if we don’t stop them!” His father shouts as he whips his son.

“Never! So just kill me. Kill me now!” Sagwan taunts.

“Oh, ho ho ho, nice try, but we’re not that forgiving. Let him have it!” They start whipping and throwing rocks faster.

The wooden pole cracks because of the weight and the flames. It slowly tilts before speeding up into a fall. Sagwan takes the chance to slide the chains off and runs away. Away from the mad laughter.

“Run away you dumb shit! They’ll kill you on sight!” His father cackles.

However, the scarred wolf doesn’t care. At least he has a chance with the humans, to converse and, perhaps, come to terms with. Even if the only thing they’ll give him is death, it’s still an acceptable gift.