Cry of The Beast, Ch. 1 EnglandxReader

The sound of an arrow whistling through the air caught the attention of a white beast, whose ears pricked and head jerked at the source. With a small huff, the creature nimbly leapt out of danger, leaving the hawk feather-fletched arrow embedded in the tree behind. Landing gracefully on its padded feet, the animal wasted no time looking for the one who shot the deadly object, and wisely loped off into the safety of the forest.

“Damn it!” cursed a young man, clenching his bow tightly in his hand and gnashing his teeth in frustration. His thick eyebrows drew together in a scowl as he ran his free hand through his messy blonde hair. “That’s the third time this week!”

He groaned in frustration as he trudged forward, proceeding to attempt to get his arrow back. Much to his frustration, chagrin, and disappointment, the object refused to budge; he muttered a string of curses at the waste, but straightened up and turned around. He needed to get home before dark, regardless of how well he knew these woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur Kirkland: a young man with messy blonde hair, green eyes, thick eyebrows, and a bit of a foul mouth, had lived in the glen of Whitefall Forest his entire life. Along the way, due to a tragic fire, he had been forced to learn how to live all alone, with no parents to guide him. Since then, he had run the small plot of land he called home all by himself. The property didn’t extend very far into the forest; Whitefall was far too great for one man to own, even a king. And besides, it wasn’t as if he owned much to fill its vastness; at most, he had a small cabin, a horse, a few chickens, and two sheep. Arthur sighed in exasperation as he rode on horseback out of the tree line.

Arthur wiped away some of the sweat that had gathered above his thick eyebrows; the shade from the leafy trees that so thickly congregated in Whitefall no longer could protect him from the summer sun’s relentless heat. But he needn’t wait long, for there, waiting for him, was the one place he called home.

Or at least, what was left of it.

Arthur dismounted, patting the gray stallion on it shoulder as he turned to hitch it to the water trough waiting for it in the shade of the one tree that stood in the glen, away from its towering brethren in Whitefall. That tree symbolized many things in Arthur’s life as far as he was concerned.

And right now, it was a reminder of yet another failure. Arthur gritted his teeth as he carved yet another tally mark in its trunk with an arrowhead. Long ago had he lost count of how many there were, and he didn’t care. It was still too many.

I’ll kill that damned thing if it’s the last thing I do! He mentally snarled.

Growling under his breath in frustration, Arthur turned towards the cabin, stomping angrily the whole way. Before his hand reached the door, however, a flurry of feathers clouded his vision. Arthur yelped and flailed his arms in surprise and shock as his own rooster attacked him as if its life depended on it.

“GAAAAH! Damn it all, Ruxford! It’s me!” he shouted. The dark-feathered poultry ignored his owner and continued to claw and peck angrily at the poor man’s head. Arthur struggled, but finally grabbed the crazed rooster’s feet and pulled him away from his face. The blond man basket-tossed Ruxford to the side, yanked open the door, rushed inside, and proceeded to slam it shut behind him. He panted heavily, running a scratched-up hand through his messy bangs.

“Blasted bird…” he wheezed. “You’d think that raising something from the time it hatched would make it less inclined to attack you!”

Arthur said nothing, leaning back against the door and letting his head tilt backwards so that it hit against the wood with a soft thump. He stared wordlessly at the thatched ceiling before he eventually pushed himself away with a grunt. He needed to start cooking lunch.

Hanging his hunting cape on an awaiting hook, Arthur proceeded to take off his boots. He glanced at the soles, noticing the thin layer of dirt leftover from his failed attempt in the woods.

Arthur huffed, but decided to let it go for now. He really needed to get started on lunch; earlier he had decided against eating breakfast in hopes to get a head start and catch that white beast off guard, but the decision backfired on him. Half of his thoughts were on finding the creature, the other on his protesting stomach. Nor did it help his mood.

Arthur was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of crazed clucking on the other side of the door. He scowled.

“It’s a miracle I haven’t thrown that oversized canary into the pot already.” He muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Arthur lit a candle, so as to brighten the cabin without having to light the fireplace in the middle of August. He sat down on his bed with a groan. All that wandering in Whitefall Forest for hours on end for nothing, again. His muscles ached.

He held his hands in his eyes while his elbows rested on his knees. A tired sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed his eyes. Arthur’s mind began to wander…

*Flashback*

The arrow sank into the ground, a good ten feet from the painted target on the trunk of a tree.

“What the-!? I missed!” Arthur grumbled. His father laughed, much to his thirteen-year old son’s annoyance.

“It’s not funny!” Arthur protested. The man just chuckled even more, ruffling his son’s already messy hair.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, lad.” He grinned. Arthur pouted, much to his father’s amusement. Just then, a pretty young woman appeared in the doorway, followed by Arthur’s older brother, Allistor, who was visiting for a short while.

“William! Arthur! It’s dinnertime!” she called, waving her hand high in the air to signal them to come in. William lifted his gaze to his wife.

“Coming, Martha!” he called back. Arthur frowned.

“But mum! I have to hit that target!” he protested, gesturing to the poor tree that had the misfortune of growing all by itself in the glen, with no other tree to take its place. William and Allistor guffawed.

“By the time that happens, a week will have passed!” Allistor teased, only to be smacked in the head by his mother’s wooden spoon.

“Keep talking like that and YOU’LL be the one wearing a target.” She threatened. Allistor only laughed, rubbing his sore head.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry, mum.” he replied, grinning. William took Arthur’s hand and led him toward the cabin, where his mother and brother were waiting. Allistor gave a lopsided smirk as he ruffled Arthur’s hair.

“I’m sure you’ll get it one day, runt.” He stated slyly.

“I AM NOT A RUNT!” Arthur fumed.

~~~~~*fast forward*~~~~~

Arthur, now fifteen, groaned as his brother kept beating him with his own pillow.

“Wake up, you lazy good-for-nothing! Water ain’t goin’ to draw itself!” Allistor drawled, not relenting in his merciless barrage. Arthur flailed his free arm at his redheaded brother in an attempt to show that the assault was unnecessary: he was awake.

“Knock it off, you bloody wanker. I’m awake!” he croaked. Allistor paused, arm half raised in the air with pillow in hand; he smirked.

“If mum heard you use such language, she’d surely kill you.” he chided. Arthur shot up, leaning in towards Allistor until they were practically nose-to-nose, green eyes glaring into more green eyes. He wore no shirt, only the trousers he had fallen asleep in. Compared to his brother, who was dressed similarly, Arthur was scrawnier and still gangly with adolescence.

“Don’t. Even. Think about it.” He growled. To Arthur, it didn’t matter that Allistor was twenty years old and he was only fifteen, or that Allistor was taller and stronger than he was. Allistor paled in comparison to their mother; that much they agreed on. Allistor’s grin only grew wider.

“What’re you goin’ ta do about it, runt?” he challenged. Arthur clenched his teeth and tensed his bare shoulders, throwing the covers off his legs.

“FOR THE LAST TIME! I AM NOT A RUNT, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!” And with that, Arthur launched himself at his redheaded brother, who barely managed to brace for the impact. The two grunted and cussed and yelled as they wrestled each other. Allistor easily fended off Arthur’s attacks, and any hit that did land didn’t seem to affect the man. Soon, Allistor had his younger brother in a chokehold. He guffawed at Arthur’s frustrated expression and flailing arms.

“Say ‘I’m a pretty wee lass,’ and I might let you go, runt.” He quipped cheerfully. Arthur couldn’t really speak with Allistor’s arm wrapped around his throat, but managed to glare at his brother.

“I’d rather DIE.” He spat. Allistor only chuckled as he flexed his arm, cutting off Arthur’s air supply. The blond teen gurgled.

“Say it.” Allistor persisted.

“No!” Arthur shot back. Allistor grabbed Arthur’s arm and pinned it behind his back. He then forced his brother onto the floor, so that Arthur was lying on his stomach.

“Saaaay iiiit~!” he prodded. Arthur struggled furiously in his eldest sibling’s grip.

“NEVER!” he shouted defiantly.

All of a sudden, Allistor rolled off, clutching his backside and howling in agony. Arthur stared at him confusion, and then looked up to see his mother, clutching a dirty dishrag.

“Now that I have you boys’ attention…go get the water.” She said slowly. Both boys stared at her, hesitant. Her eyes narrowed. “NOW.”

Allistor and Arthur almost tripped over each other on the way out.

*a little while later…*

Arthur and Allistor hoisted the full buckets higher, panting at the heaviness of their burdens. Allistor looked over at his younger brother.

“Hey, runt-“he began.

“I AM NOT A RUNT!” Arthur retorted, completely out of reflex. Allistor chuckled.

“Sorry. Look, Arthur…I know what I’m about to say is going to sound strange…” Arthur looked over at his older sibling in surprise and confusion. Surprise at Allistor’s serious and heartfelt tone; confusion as to what the redhead was going to say. Allistor went on.

“But I’ve been thinkin’ about goin’ off on me own. Live by myself, ye know? I’m a grown man, and I think it’s high time I live like one.”

Arthur almost dropped his bucket in shock. Allistor? Leave home? The thought seemed ridiculous, incredulous... and -even though Arthur would NEVER admit it-sorrowful. The idea that he would no longer have his older brother to talk to, to fool around with...sounded so lonely. He nearly jumped when Allistor gave him a hardy slap on the back.

“Ahhh, don’t make that face, Artie! It’s not like I’m going to fall off the map!” he guffawed. Arthur blinked. “I was thinking about setting up my own little hideaway somewhere deep within Whitefall. Up in the mountains…” Arthur’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, an expression at which Allistor nearly burst out laughing.

“God, Artie! Calm down! You’ll end up looking like a toad if you keep makin’ that face!” he hooted. Arthur turned red from a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“Shut up!” he snapped. He honestly didn’t know how to react to such news. He didn’t want Allistor to go, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to fall to his knees and beg his brother to stay!

Arthur bowed his head down, trying to hide the emotions running across his face as he gritted his teeth. Allistor chuckled, reaching over and ruffling his younger brother’s blond hair.

“Didn’t think you’d be this opposed to me leaving, runt.” He teased. Arthur gasped, his face reddening. His head shot up to glare at the redhead.

“What are YOU talking about!? I don’t care! AND I’M NOT A RUNT!” he spat. Allistor only smiled.

“Right.”

And with that, the two brothers picked up their buckets and continued walking back home.

~~~~~*fast forward*~~~~~

Allistor approached the large bay mare, slinging the last of his things onto her back. He was only taking what he could carry; the rest he could buy himself. He took one last look at his parents and little brother.

“I’ll be sure to come back and help you out when you need me.” He promised. Martha wiped a few tears from her eyes, and William nodded. “And I’ll write, so we’ll always be in touch. No need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“We know you will.” William replied, walking up towards his son and giving him a hardy handshake. Martha, on the other hand, ran to him and embraced him, trying not to burst into tears. Allistor gently patted her back.

“Aw, mum…” he sighed. If there was one thing he and Arthur were helpless against, it was a woman’s tears. “If you cry, I’ll never be able to leave.”

His mother nodded, still sniffling. Allistor kissed her head, and then turned to Arthur, who walked towards him. When they were at least a few feet from each other, Arthur turned his head away and scowled, not looking Allistor in the eye.

“I really don’t care whether or not you leave, you-“ he began, but Allistor cut him off warningly.

“Mother’s right THERE, you idiot.” He hissed. Arthur’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“…you wanker, but you had better come back to visit, for Mum and Father’s sake .” He finished. Allistor’s frown drew back up into a slight smile. He ruffled Arthur’s hair.

“Ahhh, I’ll miss you too, lad-“

“I AM NOT A RUNT!” Arthur growled instinctually. Allistor grinned.

“I didn’t call you runt. I called you lad.” He chuckled, patting Arthur, whose eyes were wide and face was slightly red in embarrassment, on the back.

Then the redhead strode towards his awaiting horse, mounted, and gave his family a wave.

“I’ll see you soon! Don’t worry!” he called to his parents, who waved back at him with a mixture of sadness and pride. Allistor then focused his attention on Arthur, who only blinked dumbly back at him. “Be sure to visit me sometime, Artie! When you’ve become a man!”

And with that being said, Allistor clicked his tongue and set the mare off into a gallop, away from the cabin, out of the glen…and away from home.

*End of Flashback*

Arthur paused his reminiscing when he thought he heard his horse whinnying outside. When it subsided, he was reminded of yet another memory.

*The Second Flashback*
*a few days later*

“Arthur! Get up! The water isn’t going to draw itself!” a voice scolded, whacking him in the head with his own pillow. He groaned, but sat up, rubbing his tired eyes. The morning sun pierced through his window, its light warming his bare chest.

“Dammit all, Allistor! Stop shouting so early in the bloody morn-“ He began, but he cried out in pain when someone boxed his ears.

“Watch your language, young man! And I’m not Allistor, though I do suspect he influenced your vocabulary.” His mother scolded again. Arthur bowed his head low in shame.

“Sorry mum…” he murmured. His mother’s harsh gaze softened. She bent down do hug him.

“I know, dear. I miss him, too.” She said gently, rubbing his back and patting his head. Arthur squirmed as she did so, embarrassed.

“Mum…I need to get dressed...” he said slowly. His voice sounded muffled in her shoulder. She loosened her grip on him and chuckled.

“Ah yes. I forgot.” She teased, rolling her eyes at her son. “A man shouldn’t get dressed in front of a woman, even his own mother, right?” Arthur blushed.

“MUUUM!” he protested. She laughed.

“Right, right. I’m sorry, dear.” She headed out the door, mumbling something under her breath.

“I’m going to kill that boy for teaching such language to my baby…!” she hissed, her eyes glinting with diabolic scheming. Arthur shivered for an unknown reason, and walked over to his trunk to pull out a shirt. Running a hand through his messy blond hair, he stumbled out the door in a drowsy stupor. Arthur looked up to see his father chopping wood. Feeling someone staring at him, his father looked up and smiled, wiping the sweat from above his brow. His red locks were slightly matted to his face with sweat, proof of his hard work even so early in the morning.

“There you are, son! Be a good lad and draw the water, will ye?” he asked. Arthur nodded. Now that his brother was gone, Arthur noticed how much Allistor and Father were alike, looks and personality wise.

“Yes, Father.” Arthur replied, going to get the buckets.

*a little while later…*

Arthur stumbled back with the buckets, water sloshing back and forth.

“Got the water!” he called out, setting the buckets down. His father walked outside the stable, wiping his hands with a rag.

“Ah! Arthur, good lad. Come here. I want you to see something.” His father replied, beckoning him with a dirtied hand. Arthur blinked, but obeyed. Following his father, Arthur’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

“Arthur, this is Hawkeye.”

There, standing in front of him, was an impressive dapple gray stallion. He tossed his magnificent head, shaking his pale mane back and forth. Arthur just stood there, too dumb to speak. His father gave a hardy laugh and slapped him on the back, knocking the wind out of him.

“What are you doin’ just standing there, lad? Go get the saddle and try him on fer size!” Arthur gaped at him. William only smiled. “You heard me. He’s yours.” Arthur’s jaw went slack. “Go on, lad.”

Arthur nearly tripped over his own feet as he threw the saddle on the stallion’s back. Arthur hauled himself up with a grunt. Hawkeye snorted when his father patted his flank.

“I’ll take care of your chores today. You go on and take him out for a ride.” William told him. Arthur smiled for the first time in the past few days. William smiled back at him, but then his eyes widened, as if he had just remembered something. He handed Arthur his pistol.

“Take that with ye. Ye can never be too careful these days.” He instructed. Arthur nodded and put it in his knapsack. With a flick of the reins, Hawkeye shot off towards Whitefall Forest, with an overjoyed Arthur whooping and hollering the whole way.

About fifteen minutes later, Arthur slowed Hawkeye to a trot when they reached Faery’s Meadow, a small, open field barren of Whitefall’s trees and brush. It was quiet and peaceful, and a perfect place to rest. Arthur dismounted and lay on the grass, his arms folded behind his head for comfort. Hawkeye snorted and walked a few feet away to graze.

After a few minutes of staring at the clouds and trying to guess what they looked like, Arthur’s eyes fluttered shut. Memories of his and Allistor’s escapades together, of their father telling them the legends of Whitefall…The one that stuck out the most in his mind, however, was that of the White Wolf.
*******

Supposedly, the creature brought bad luck to whomever saw it, but Mother would always disagree. She always believed that the poor thing was lonely-a rare and beautiful gift of nature cursed to be feared by other living things. Allistor, who had just turned eleven, shared Mother’s opinion. Six year-old Arthur, frightened by the tale, believed his father. William laughed, ruffling his youngest son’s hair while Martha scolded him for frightening the poor child.

“Ahh, don’t worry, Arthur,“ his father had assured him. “ That ole brute hasn’t been seen in years. E’ lies away hidden within the deepest glades of Whitefall. He won’t get ye here.” Arthur nodded, but still remained wary. Suddenly, a melancholy howl rang through the night, snaring everyone’s attention. Allistor’s eyes widened in excitement.

“It’s the White Wolf! It’s the White Wolf!” he and Arthur cried unanimously, albeit Arthur did so with terror in his voice. William quickly got to his feet, grabbed his gun, and slowly peered out the window. His eyes went wide in amazement as Martha joined him at the window, holding the two boys up so they could see.

“It really is! Can you see him, boys? Isn’t he beautiful?” she whispered. Arthur and Allistor’s jaws dropped.

Standing on the dirt trail that led from the forest to the cabin was a white wolf- its fur gleaming silver in the moonlight. It sniffed the air and stared at them with pale eyes. Arthur whimpered.

“I-is h-he going to try to get into the house?” he asked, tilting his head upwards to look at his mother. His father scoffed.

“He better not, or he’ll be answering to me pistol.” His father muttered. Arthur’s mother smacked him in the arm. “Ow! Dear, what was that for?”

“Do that and I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.” She threatened. She turned her attention to her sons. “No, Arthur. He won’t. See? He’s going back into the forest right now.”

Arthur and Allistor watched as the wolf elegantly strode up the trail into Whitefall.

“He’s goin’ back home, where he can roam free.” William sighed, rubbing his sore arm and setting his pistol down. Martha nodded in approval and set the boys down.

“Alright. Now, who wants supper?” she asked.

“ME!” was the immediate reply from William, Allistor, and Arthur. Martha laughed. She headed towards the fireplace, which crackled happily. William sat down.

“Smart thing, he was. Probably didn’t want to come too close to the house. Did you see the way he sniffed the air? He’s learned associate smoke and fire with man.”

Smoke and fire…

Smoke and fire…
*******

Arthur’s eyes drowsily slid open. He looked up at the sky, only to freeze when he saw the sky was a mix of pink, red, and yellow. He had dozed off! He rushed to his feet, spotted Hawkeye grazing a few feet away, and hurriedly mounted the stallion’s back. And with that, he raced towards home, thinking of all the ways his mother would yell at him. He barely noticed the storm clouds rumbling in the distance.
****

As he drew closer to home, Arthur tensed when he thought he smelled smoke. He looked up at the darkening sky and noticed with rising panic that there were sooty black clouds floating overhead, and thunderheads were trailing behind him. He urged Hawkeye to go faster. Once they reached the forest edge, Arthur ordered the stallion to a halt.

His heart nearly stopped.

The cabin was on fire.

And his parents might still be inside.

Arthur wasted no time. He snapped the reins and sent Hawkeye sprinting down the trail. He didn’t even wait for the horse to stop as he jumped out of the saddle. He rushed towards the stable, where he had seen his father last.

All the animals inside were in a frenzy, and Arthur could see why-the fire had started here. Arthur got a sick feeling in his stomach when he counted only three of the seven lambs that had been born earlier that spring. He rushed in, opening all the holding pens.

When he heard the frantic squeals of the horses, he snapped his attention to the stalls, where the beasts were hitched and trapped, unable to flee the danger. He set to work, scrambling to untie the knots with his shaky fingers. His father’s prized horse was the first to go, followed by the now fully-grown colt of the mare Allistor had taken with him. Arthur’s mind raced as he tried to think of any other animals he might’ve missed. He rushed to the hen house and tore open the door to the coop, releasing the birds from what could’ve been a death trap. He peered inside to see if any chicks had been left behind. He saw none, so he tried to duck his head back out, but when he heard the faint *cheep cheep* of a hatchling, he groaned and looked back inside. Out of all the eggs in the nest, it was the only one to have hatched. Arthur scooped it up in his hands. He rolled his eyes.

“Fine time for you to come into the world.” He muttered, setting it down in the grass, far enough out of danger. Not bothering to waste his time with the eggs, Arthur ran towards the house. He nearly tore the door off its hinges. He coughed and covered his nose and mouth. His eyes watered, but he refused to leave his parents to die.

“Father! Mother! WHERE ARE YOU?” he called out over the roaring of the flames. Arthur barely dodged a burning piece of wood that fell from the ceiling. He coughed again.

“FATHER! MOTHER!” he cried out. It was then he heard sobbing coming from the room he just passed. Arthur dashed inside without hesitation, but stopped in his tracks when he saw his mother kneeling on the floor crying, her face tarnished with tears and ash; Arthur could see she had injured her ankle as well. Confused, he stepped towards her, but froze when he approached her. There, under a pile of flaming rubble, was his father’s outstretched arm. Arthur’s mind went blank. His mother continued to sob. The ceiling above them, however, made a large cracking noise, which sobered his mother up enough for her to speak. She slowly turned her face to him.

“Arthur…go.” She choked. His eyes widened in shock.

“You’re coming with me.” He exclaimed, moving towards her and extending his hand to grab her arm. It was then that Arthur heard the crack of thunder outside over the roaring of the flames. His mother shook her head furiously, and Arthur grabbed her hand in desperation. The ceiling began to groan.

“Mother! Enough of this nonsense! I’m not leaving you here!” He shouted. His mother started sobbing again.

“Leave me, Arthur! I can’t even walk! I’ll only slow you down! If you help me we’ll both die!” she wailed. The banisters above them began to fall apart, sending ashes sprinkling to the floor. “PLEASE GO! AT LEAST YOU WILL LIVE! LEAVE ME! LEAVE ME WITH MY POOR WILLIAM!”

Arthur’s throat felt so constricted he could barely breathe. He couldn’t move .And out of sheer desperation, his mother lunged at him and, with all the strength she could muster, pushed him out the window. Arthur gritted his teeth in pain at the sharp edges of shattered glass and fell on his back with an agonizing THUD. His head was spinning from the impact and pain, but he scrambled to his feet to stare at his mother through the broken window.

Just as the ceiling caved in above her.

“NOOOOOOOO!” He howled, extending his hand towards the house, in some vain attempt to stop fate. He fell to his knees and stared at the cabin in horror, tears openly streaming down his face. The sound of thunder clapped above his head, and he felt the cold drops of rain start to fall from heaven. He slowly looked up at the sky. The thunderheads he had seen in Faery’s Meadow had finally come. He gritted his teeth.

Suddenly, there was the sound of panicked bleating as the sheep that had survived shuffled nervously. Arthur looked at them curiously, even in his anguish. He looked around and felt his heart stop when his eyes settled on the thing in question.

Something was peering back at him, its white fur illuminated by the blazing fire. Its icy blue eyes stared at him, black nose quivering. In its jaws hung one of the lambs Arthur had saved earlier; its large, black eyes dull and lifeless.

The White Wolf had come.

It had killed one of his dead father’s beloved animals.

And it was just standing there, watching him suffer.

Remembering the legend, Arthur had never felt so enraged. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. His expression was that of a feral animal.

“YOU! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU DID THIS!” he roared. Its ears flicked towards him in attention. Arthur scrambled to grab his father’s pistol out of his knapsack. Realizing what he meant to do, the White Wolf dropped the dead lamb. Arthur watched it crumple to the ground and felt something inside him snap. He cocked the pistol and rushed to his feet. The creature bristled with apprehension.

“YOU DAMNED, CURSED MURDERER! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU!” Arthur screamed. He aimed straight at the animal’s head and fired, but to his complete shock it moved out of the way. He snarled as it sprinted towards the forest edge. He shot at it again, but this time his anger made him miss entirely. The bark of a tree splintered where it was hit, and the White Wolf escaped into the night.

Arthur yelled out of frustration.

“YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME FOREVER! I’LL FIND YOU! AND WHEN I DO…” he shouted after it. The thunder claps, flashes of lightning, and heavy rain seemed to reflect his storm of emotions.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

Another clap of thunder rang through the sky, and Arthur turned towards the house. Even with his bangs plastered to his forehead he could see his former home smoldering, the flames dying out because of the rain.

Rain drops mixed with salty tears on his cheeks as he fell to his knees again, and cried.

*End of Flashback*

Arthur sighed again and rubbed his temples

I’m giving myself headaches. I really should be getting t-

The eerie howl of an animal echoing through the glen made Arthur’s head turn towards the open window. His green eyes glinted in the dancing light of the candle’s flame. He recognized that call. It was the cry of the one creature he sought out every day to kill.

The lonely white wolf of Whitefall Forest.