Content Tags: Coarse language, sexual content, dubcon, violence. *Since this takes place in a historical time, some characters are younger than modern ages of consent. If any of this bothers you, please don't read.

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Disclaimer: All characters/settings/events are fictional and used in a fictional way. This story contains coarse language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences.

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He woke in complete agony. Unable to open his tear-stitched eyes or lift his grief-bloated head, he could only lie there, blind, in shock.

I am… alive…

His body took an unwilling gasp of air, momentarily awakening his senses with the sharp aroma of ginseng, sage, and blood. Shuddering at the unfamiliar scent, he shifted his limbs, and realized that the ground felt smooth beneath his limp body – there were no pebbles, no brambles… no corpses.

Alive… I’m…

The crushing thought left him with drowning in a wave of harsh bitterness, and despite the pain, he forced his body cruelly upwards with a panicked growl.

No…

Even on four legs, he could barely stand – the weight of his conscience was too much to bear. Limping forward with a dry, wheezing pant, he headed for the scent of cold air. Quickly, his body screamed. Quickly, die. Hurry up and die.

If he didn’t… this pain would never end. The beast hung his head with an agonized growl and dragged his body forward. Staggering towards a suddenly foreign sky, alone… that was the only thing that he was sure of.

***

Oh no…

The little boy was already running as fast as he could, oblivious to the twigs whipping his legs and the dark, muddy water splattering onto his calves. But as soon as he entered the bamboo grove, he stumbled to his knees with an appalled gasp. The door of the hut was already open, and the russet, smudged pawprints leading out had long dried.

No, no!

Crouching and setting down the big bag of herbs he’d been carrying, the boy rested his head against the bundle and sighed heavily.

I was going to save you, you idiot…

A sting rose from his throat to his nose, and he found himself sniffling. Overcome with a sudden wave of sorrow, the boy grabbed his bag of herbs and hugged it tightly, burying his face into the paper bag as though it were a warm body.

I knew it…

It had only been four days since he’d discovered the beast, lying like a rotting corpse by the side of the road. At first glance, anyone would have decided that the young wolf was already dead, but he had known better. Or at least, he thought he had… with those wounds, the beast was as good as dead, now.

I can’t save anyone…

The boy squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, struggling to hold back his despair. For a moment, he had been hopeful – for a moment, there had been a chance for him to escape the life of loneliness and guilt laid out before him. But that was gone, now. Gone, like his mother.

Gone, like the poor lycan pup, and the rest of his kind.