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The New Idol

A God of Wolves?

By Taylor InmanPublished 3 years ago 3 min read

It was three days after Jonukan unexpectedly - and somewhat amusingly - ascended to reverence when he noticed something was wrong. He awoke shortly before dawn, a moment of relative peace and quiet, and found it... Wanting. Unrest and impatience bubbled within his chest, anxiety making his heart pound, eyes dilated and breaths coming in short bursts. He knew what was wrong the moment he gained clarity, and growled to himself, knowing that the clarity wouldn't last much longer. Of all the times for him to regress.

Shadows flickered in the corners of his vision as he made sure his supplies were sufficiently hidden. He had done so the first day a random villager wandered their way up to his cave, and things had only grown more irritating since then. If there was one thing he had plenty of, however, it was patience, and he made a point to be distinctly absent from the cave every time someone came close to it. Signs of habitation remained there, and he certainly wasn't going to let their offerings go to waste, but they never saw hide nor hair of their new 'idol.' He was nearly ready to leave the cave entirely, and he could easily enough accelerate his plans, but-...

He blinked, finding himself standing in front of the riverbed, crushing bioluminescent mushrooms under his feet and staring at the flowing water. He swore under his breath and glanced around, grounding himself, before making his way towards the entrance of the cave. The bright light shining on the entrance implied it was early afternoon, now, and also implied that another /tour/ would be arriving. He growled with startling vehemence and turned his back to the entrance, ignoring the sounds of laughter and voices that were quite distinctly not yet there, and-...

Pain. Screams. A sweet, coppery taste coating his tongue in a delightful stickiness, sharp fangs ripping flesh from bone and claws digging into that supple skin as they thrashed and panicked beneath him. Dark eyes were full of bloodlust and possessed no humanity within them as he ripped the child's throat out with his teeth. Arterial spray stained the stone walls a glistening ruby. The scent of fear drove him forward, and a tour guide that was trying to shield the last remaining two found his throat cleaved open, a clawed hand thrusting through muscles and tendons and forcibly separating vertebrae in a powerful thrust. Those high pitched, desperate shrieks were music to his ears.

Suddenly, he staggered to the side, and narrowly avoided being bisected vertically by a broadsword. One of the few Knights of the realm had arrived. The wolf's hazy eyes suddenly cleared and his entire stance changed - hunched back straightening, furious snarl turning completely blank, and bloodlust quickly flowing out of him as he turned to face the man. "Wait-"

The moment of lucidity passed, and as the soldier swung his sword once more the lupine berserker stepped inside his guard, the swinging arm uselessly colliding with his shoulder and the sword failing to strike its mark entirely. The man had swung one-handed and left his shield lowered, giving the werewolf entire access to his vulnerabilities. An uppercut with an open hand drove his claws beneath his helmet and into his throat, an ecstatic grin stretching across wolfish features. As the metal-clad body of the knight fell to the ground he turned and faced the last two survivors of the tour, a young boy and a young girl, cowering and holding onto each other with the instinctive, desperate, beautiful terror and knowledge that their lives were forfeit. He stepped towards them, fur matted down with blood not his own, eyes gleaming with a dark light, and fangs exposed in a Cheshire grin that threatened to split his face in half. He seized both of their heads, staining their rosy skin with the blood of their fellows, and smashed their skulls back against the cave wall they were backed against. Leaving them for dead, the werewolf stalked out of the cave and into the bright, sunny day. Emerald verdure was stained with iridescent ruby leading from the first dozen feet outside the cave and further inward, depicting a scene of absolute slaughter that even the most hardened warriors would cringe at the sight of.

When Jonukan awoke from his psychotic state, it was miles away from the village and his cave, his fur still coated in rusty stains and his claws long-since blackened by congealed and coagulated life fluid. He took stock of himself, sighed deeply, and aligned himself with the setting sun and the mountain side he could see peeking through the canopy of the forest. He had none of his supplies, and he had no intention of going back and getting them. But at the very least, he didn't have to make the journey to the next town over the mountain on an empty stomach.


About the Creator

Taylor Inman

I'm a Computer Engineering major who enjoys reading, writing, fitness, and Crafts, and who occasionally writes stuff that can be published. Most is opinion, some is fact, a good majority is fiction - unless otherwise specified. Enjoy!

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