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Home beyond the pines.
Septiem 7th, 1125 Dom. Midnight.
I came to the riverbend where across from me I could spot doe and birds sipping and dabbing their narrow heads into the water surface. Water rushing and broken and gleaming against moonlight like glass, foaming the edges where polished stones rolled downslope as I walked across. The creatures raised their heads and scampered away from me, my horse sniffed the air and I tethered it to a tree.
To one side, the trees half destroyed and dilapidating with rot and to the other side of the river massive grown trees the size of ten men in width harboring in their green ferns nosy life. I stopped in front of the river. A stream of blood like a ribbon ran down, I followed it with my eyes and saw the wolf, limp and weak by the riverbed. It stopped howling and its eyes looked to mine, neither of us breaking eyeline. It’s neck stooped, it’s body low. An arm hung limp off the rock it rested on.
A black wolf with red fur running down it’s spine. With eyes invisible, completely pitch dark against the outer dark of the perimeter. The river murmured. I stepped along its shallow waters, knife unsheathing and smiling with curved bright joy.
“I just wanted silence.” As if the thing could understand me. It raised its head and limped to the side. A weak gallop, it tripped and stumbled and rose again as we circled each other. “I just needed you to be quiet.”
It growled, white teeth seemingly floating in absolute darkness.
I raised my arms. Smoke came out from this walking shadow. Water splashed. Elks trampled. Birds scattered.
It lunged. I ducked, it struck me, teeth ripping into my armor. I spun in the air and struck the floor hard, the wolf rolling behind me, with shaky legs standing. But struck me and made me hit the floor harder, it’s whole body rolling around behind me and sprawling across the floor. My arms shook standing, the wolf tipped over and lost its balance and braced itself against a stone to stand. I tried to raise my left hand and found it limp and aching, I looked to it. It dangled off kilter from my shoulder blade, spinning and turning like a loose rope.
I picked up my knife with my right hand.
One mistake, another would have me killed.
It growled. I growled too, both our sinews matching in their deep ferocity. The wolf’s legs bent and it stepped in, then leapt off the rock towards me like a canon shot, black and red. I sidestepped, behind me the wolf landed shooting rocks at the back of my head as its weight landed and dragged across the sleek floor. Pebbles and glossy pretty stones shooting up like glitter. I breathed hard and steadied myself as the creature stood.
I raised the knife forward. I had nothing in my head anymore. Not Justinian, not the flock, not my father. Not a thing but my want burning, churning in me, inching me forward. A group of men inside my soul pulling at the chains and working my machined constitution.
I just wanted silence.
It came forward. I shot my knee up and struck it flat in the nose, both of us fell into collapse and scrambled on the floor. I came up first, raised blade with my stiff hand. The wold stood on its hinds and raised its body. Eyes open. Aim true at its round belly.
I struck and dragged my blade into crimson smile, curved. And it’s belly opened with crimson crescent mooned glory, an infants giant eye opening for its first and final time.
The wolf was gutted.
Whimpering, it spun and shook its head in pain and fell flat. The pool of blood spread into the riverbed, I walked towards the massive thing laying on the floor. It’s head shaking up towards me, legs twitching. Eye blinking. I knelt to it and braced my hand against its fur, feeling it between my fingers. The blade hung by a grip of my mouth and it tasted of hot iron.
It’s head reared up and grabbed my knife and lifted it high up. It looked, strained and scarred black eye staring into my own. It wanted it as much as me. I sunk the blade deep and twisted.
They found me like that, stooped and demure above the wolf. That was Kal told me after the fact. Both of them - Obrick and Kal - coming out of the noisy bristles, out of the truncated forest, lanterns swerving in their hands high above their heads.
“Virgil?” Obrick asked. “That you?”
Kal stepped down and rushed to me, he pulled me one side to another, looking for an injury.
“His shoulder.” Kal said.
Obrick ran afterwards. He stood over me, checking my backside with his cold scarred hands and then looked down to the wolf.
I hadn’t moved.
They inspected the animal, running their curious hands through the wounds and tracing along the ropes of viscera, holding their breaths as they did. Waving away flies collected at the lifeless eyes on the wolf.
“It’s over.” I said. “Isn’t it?”
Obrick looked at me and I could tell by that broken look on his face that something in him was hurt. More than me. Kal closed his eyes. In the corner of their lips I could see the quivering frown. They both had their hands on my shoulder as they walked me to camp, a group of scouts racing beyond us towards the noise. Stopping, hesitating on horse back only to oogle at my face.
And all the way there I could hear the drip of blood coming down from my finger tips, a prattle and trail of red foot steps.
I would later be told that I looked changed. That it was by unholy baptism that I had resigned my past life, and here in the ruined forest I had been reborn in the belly of the wolf. Which all of course was just horse shit. Myth. A song for the lute players and choir boys to sing.
It was just a fight, like any other. And I was just tired, but perhaps in a deeper and different way than before.
