#11 Wolf

| November 17, 2011 | 0 Comments

It was the name that stuck.  Even after all these years, still seemed to be the name that stuck.  Even after the wolf in question had been dead and buried for hundreds of years, never mind the fact that the galumphing beast had been more of a huge black dog far too fond of licking your face.  Sure, he’d brought down a bunny or two in his day, but he was hardly a wolf.

The name had been given to the dog, more of a joke than anything, but within days it slid right over on to him.  Which stood to reason, given that pet and master were almost always at each other’s side.  So, the dog remained dog and he became Wolf.  Had he known it was a christening, he might have fought it off with a bit more force.  But perhaps it was a blessing of sorts, in that it both separated him from the bloodline he came from but still kept him connected to his past, before the inception of the creature he was to be.

He wondered idly sometimes if perhaps his creator had played a hand in his naming, had left him this anchor as a parting gift.  He never knew who had made him into a vampire.  Among the current creatures of his ilk, much was made of the master-spawn relationship, but back then you were surrounded by people who both believed in your existence and had far fewer reservations about throwing a person or two on a pyre for no damn good reason.  Indeed, in those first days he didn’t know what he was or what he was to do about it, but he learned right quick.  The body knows, the body teaches.  The blood speaks, and contrary to so many ridiculous movies and tv shows, the hunger gives the soul enough time to learn how to hide before it rips all thought from the mind.

He had little more than glimpses, brief memories of his master from the hours, or perhaps days of his transformation.  And he could not remember his face as little more than a shadow.  But he remembered a voice that called him Wolf and told him he could live forever if he could manage to stay out of the sun.  The casual way that young man’s voice said it somehow made a deeper impression than any dire waring would have.  So, he stayed out of the sun and survived.

Hundreds of years later, he would not admit that he was still searching for that voice.  He liked to believe himself a more pragmatic creature than that.  The nature of his creation had demanded a realistic point of view, something which he felt younger vampires, so coddled and cared for in their early years, might benefit from.  It made them weak and prone to beliefs and flights of fancy which were little more than impediments to achieving the full and terrible glory of their true nature.

But perhaps, he mused, he was just a creaky old man with a downright childish name.  He didn’t know.  If there was one thing he had learnt in all his years was that none were more foolish than those who thought they had the answers.  If there was one thing that his unnaturally long and violent life had taught him, it was that there were no answers.


Category: 2011, Drama, Fantasy, Horror

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