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[zgtiger]

The days felt shorter, with Preston mostly cooped up in the clinic overseeing the welfare of his patients. Many individuals, ranging from young children to the elderly, had all visited him for their monthly checkups or to explain how they contracted a certain type of illness. Preston managed to tend to all of them, albeit with a sense of monotony. Often, he thought about Savannah and how she, once upon a time, lay on one of those hospital beds with bandages around various wounds. He also thought about his wolves and how they had been doing, well away from Lakeshire, away from civilization, living in the woods as wolves should be doing, rather than in the comfort of his Redridge estate.

One such morning when Preston was sorting through patient files at his office desk, he receives a knock on the door that snapped him to attention. He pulls his specks off his face and folds them over the front of his shirt, addressing the person with a firm, "Come in." Then situates himself with fingers interlocking one another, settling on the desktop. Preparing for the visitor to wander in with a sense of professionalism.

Yet, he was in awe when he spotted Savannah entering, without the escort of a nurse or another doctor, but completely by herself. At first, he looked to her flank as if he'd be able to spot one of the shorter nurses creeping behind her, but there was no one assisting her. That was unusual. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I discharged you months ago, Savvy."

The woman smugly grins and approaches Preston's desk and leans against it on dainty forearms. Fingers flex and dance along the top of the wood. "I couldn't stay away," she replied. "I hear you're a wolf man."

Preston chuffed. "Who told you that? I personally didn't think that was much of a secret-"

"Half the town did." Her grin stretched from ear to ear. "Why didn't you tell me you're a woodsman? You don't seem like the type."

"Well. Not everything is as it seems." It was Preston's turn to grin. "Once upon a time, I would shoot people in Stormwind for saying the wrong thing or looking at me weirdly. Would you believe that? I used to take drugs- the hard stuff, not just Peacebloom. I used to drink when I was a boy, smoke cigarettes, and get into pointless fights with middle-aged adults." He sneered. "Me being a woodsman is probably the most believable thing about me these days."

Savannah shakes her head. "I wouldn't believe any of that. You're too much of a softie for all of that, Doctor. But," she pauses, stepping around the desk so she can close the distance with the man. "If it weren't for the scars, I wouldn't believe it for a second that you're an outdoorsman." Slowly, with deliberation, she traces one of the man's scars with a fingertip. Following the contours of the textured claw mark, only to stop at his lips. "I'd like to know more about you, Preston Blackwater. Who are you? Who's your family? How is it, that a man from Stormwind City, was able to obtain lands in Redridge?"

Gently, Preston takes the woman's wrist to pry the finger off his smiling lips, though not unkindly. "Stories for another time, I'm afraid." There was a pause, as Preston weighed some ideas in his head. "I'll tell you what, meet me this weekend at the lakeside. Right now, at the clinic, this is a little inappropriate. I have to get back to work."

That much would urge Savannah to reel away from the man, though Preston could sense the hesitation in the slowness of her gait. "Very well then, Doc. I'll see you this weekend." And it was with that, the woman, with a finger tracing against the polished wood of the doctor's desk in finality, that she would head out with snake-like grace. She exited the office in silence, leaving only the scent of her perfume for Preston to inhale for the remainder of the hour.

[zgtiger]

The next day, Preston hurried into the clinic, carrying his equipment and some paperwork he had taken home to file. He placed his medic bag on his office desk and, without delay, made his way to the opposite end of the facility to enter the room where the previously mauled woman lay in bed.

From her lidded eyes, it was evident that she was asleep, but her breathing was steady, and when he checked, Preston found her heart rate to be normal. The stethoscope allowed him to clearly hear the strong, rhythmic heartbeat, a steady pulse of life, along with her faint, yet audible, breathing like a soft gust of wind.

Yet, after he sets his equipment aside on the adjacent table, there was no other reason for him to be sitting here. He made the initial checks, but the man felt anchored to the chair next to her bed, staring down at her lidded eyes contemplatively. What was she dreaming about? Where was she right now?

"You don't have to stay here the whole time, you know." Her words cut through him like a knife, and suddenly, he was on edge. Had she been awake this whole time? He immediately straightened up, adopting that sense of professionalism. The man was a doctor, not a relative. He had to remind himself.

Nevertheless, he responds in kind, "Technically, I do. I'm a doctor after all and this is my clinic."

She opens her eyes, half-believing. "You have to be right by my bedside?"

Preston nodded.

"If you're going to be sitting here all morning, you might as well lend me some conversation. It'll make things less awkward than you sitting and staring at me for hours."

Preston snickered, "What would you like to talk about?"

For a moment, the woman considered. "Let's start with this: what's your name? I don't think you ever told me."

"I never thought you'd ask, honestly. I'm Preston Blackwater, but here you may only call me Dr. Blackwater, Mr. Preston, or Doc is fine."

In return, the woman grins. "I'm Savannah, but you may only call me 'miss Savvy'."

"Miss Savvy," Preston said to himself, committing it to memory. "That's a clever one. I suspect you gave it to yourself?"

She stirs a little in bed, even going as much as rolling onto her side for a better view of the dark-haired man with the faded scars. "Are you as perceptive as you are charming?" Her lips stretched into a beaming smile. "Yes, I gave it to myself."

"It think it suits you well." Preston leans back in his chair, crossing a leg over the other casually. His eyes held hers, a playful spark in his grey and green gaze. "It has a certain flair that fits you perfectly."

Her smile widened as she studied him, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and something more. "Flair, huh? I'm taking that as a compliment."

"It’s meant to be one," Preston said with a grin, enjoying the lighthearted banter between them. "Though I’m starting to think you’re the one with the real charm here."

"Maybe the pair of us are too good at what we do, wouldn't you say?"

Again, Preston snickered. "As long as we don't get in trouble for using our mouths, I think it should be good enough."

"At that point, we'll both get each other out, won't we?" Her lips twisted into a mischievous smile this time.

For a moment, Preston and Savannah eyed one another, thoughts running through the both of their minds. There were things that Preston wanted to say, things he was experiencing right then and there, and things he genuinely wanted to tell her, but nothing would come out. He was a doctor, not a friend and not a relative. He was in no place to be speaking to this woman the way he was. So, the pair only stared on in silence-though a silence that did not feel awkward. This felt intimate.

That is, until Preston breaks the direct eye contact by standing up from the chair and fixing the collar of his shirt, just finding something to do that would tear the interaction apart from the seams. He could not be doing this, he should not be doing this. He scolded himself ten times over. "You should be able to discharge soon, I just want to hold you for a few more days to make sure your vitals are good."

"Aren't my vitals already good?" Just like him, she also tore from that interaction, with a renewed interest in her own wellbeing.

"For now, yes. But after a coma, it's best that you stay here for a little while longer. Do you have family to contact or anything?"

Savannah shakes her head. "No, I don't."

There was a moment of silence as Preston considers what to do for her next, but instead of linger for long, he breaks from the bedside and starts for the door. "I'll see what I can do, you should keep resting." With that, without waiting for her response, the man leaves the room with a gentle thud of the closing door.

[zgtiger]

Hours ticked by, and Preston was in his office for most of it, sometimes leaving to check on his patients. They were few and far between at this hour, but he mostly checked on the mauled woman in the room on the opposite side of the facility.

He was alone with her again, sitting in his chair and checking her vitals with the stethoscope, when he saw her eyes flicker. Immediately, it caught Preston's attention, and he gently pulled the chestpiece of the stethoscope away from her body.

He straightens up, adopting a sense of professionalism for when she inevitably awoke. Then, just as expected, Preston watched as her eyes fluttered open. A pair of vibrant blue eyes would first catch sight of the man sitting beside her. Groggily, she tries to lean up in bed.

Preston extends a hand to gently hold her back and lay her down. "Be still," he told her. "You don't want to move too quickly right now."

It took a moment for the woman to understand, but she obliged and pressed her head back against the pillow. "Where am I?"

"You're safe in the Redridge Medical Clinic," Preston smiled, warm and welcoming. "I was hoping you could tell me what happened to you. You endured quite the attack; you should honestly have passed on by now." The man was gentle but honest.

The woman was addled with confusion, "What? I don't remember anything."

Preston nodded formally. "That's alright; you don't have to try racking your brain for anything. But you should know that your wounds are healed, although they've left some pretty ugly scars. I could recommend some treatments to reduce their appearance, but that may not be necessary."

"It'll be expensive, won't it? I look like a hideous sack of meat, don't I?"

The doctor winces a little, his nose scrunching in distaste. "I don't think you do, and that's a doctor's opinion." The ghost of a smile returns to Preston's features, which had seen scars of their own. "As long as they don't hinder your ability to function, you needn't worry about them."

The woman haughtily scoffs. "That's rich, coming from you, Doc. You're not a sack of chopped meat-" Yet, when she had looked at the man's bearded face, she was entirely wrong. Preston's skin was laced with scars streaking as claws crossing his forehead, left cheek, and chin. Another gash and slash rent through his right, and an old, textured bite mark had torn off the flesh of his left cheek once upon a time. "How are you so ugly and so handsome at the exact same time?" The woman's breath hitched.

Momentary contemplation allowed Preston to consider her words, all with that smile. "Are you hungry? I think we can make something halfway decent here."

"As long as it doesn't resemble pig slop, that's fine."

With this, Preston snickered and slowly rose from his chair. "I'll go send word to make you something that looks like the cooks of Dalaran made it themselves." Finally, with a nod, the man turned back to leave the room to fulfill this promise.

[zgtiger]

In the 3 months since he had initially seen the body of the mauled woman, Preston would now find himself in her quarters, sitting at a chair next to her bedside. She had since healed from the ordeal, but the man could tell that she would have severe scarring to last a lifetime. The creature that attacked her must have been a bear, a wolf, or something to that effect. She was asleep, her eyes lidded, and her dainty lips puckered as though waiting for her true love's kiss to awaken her from the coma. Preston watched and waited this morning, seeing if she would stir or awaken to the sound of his anxious fumbling with medical equipment. He always waited for her to awaken, hoping she would see him, the face of the man who saved her life.

Yet, she never awoke, and the man was left to wonder what she sounded like and how she spoke to people. What was she like? Who did she know? Did she have family in Redridge? What was her story? What happened?

Preston scoots forward in his chair, places a stethoscope in his ears, and presses the chest piece against the patient's heart to listen for vital signs. He heard the steady beat of the woman's heart, the metronome of life, the blood coursing through her veins, and the steady breath from her lungs.

"You've been lucky," Preston told the open air, hoping she could hear in her subconscious. "You should have died." The man pulls the stethoscope from his ears and sets the device on the table next to the woman's bed.

Without saying anything further, the doctor slowly rises, taking one last look at the woman before spinning on his heel to depart from the room. He will return later to check her vitals and see if she wakes up.

The door is gently closed behind him, the lights dimmed so her sleep can be restful, and he makes his way back to his office on the opposite side of the facility. There was still much to do.

[zgtiger]

Preston was settled at his desk, reviewing some patient files from behind clear spectacles. His fingers gently caressed his jawline, bedecked with dark locks as hair sprouted in a beard across the contours of his face. The man hummed quietly, enjoying the solitude of his office. His neck was stiff from a lack of movement and the hour-long strain from staring down at his desktop. He had to move, even if slightly, fingers gathering up the folds of the paperwork strewn across the surface. Slowly, he rises, with papers in hand, and turns around. The office was bereft of any other soul apart from himself, but he could still hear the hustle and bustle from the nurses and other doctors outside that door. He longed for a smoke but he decided to smother his cravings for now. Just as he was about to exit the office, the door suddenly burst open, and in would appear one of the newer nurses, the one he had just met recently, her face twisted in horror. "Doc! We got another one; she's..." The young woman swallows a lump in her throat, unable to go on. Preston raises a brow, setting aside his patient files to see the matter for himself. It couldn't be any worse than what he had seen in his lifetime, so he stepped out of the office in confidence and gently shut the door behind him. He follows the nurse across the lobby in silence, the young woman clearly in distress from having seen something terrible. He, on the other hand, remained calm and collected. Whatever it was, he was certain he could handle it. But as he was led into one of the rooms in the back of the clinic, he already saw traces of blood along the outer walls and the exterior side of the door. He could already tell that this was going to be bad, and so he braced himself for entry, expecting the worst. As soon as he does, nothing could prepare him for exactly what he was going to see. Although a sight he has seen before, this one was still alive, by that he could tell with the heaving chest, the labored breaths drawn. A miracle. His grey and green gaze landed on the young woman laying in the bed, other nurses and doctors surrounding her, trying their hardest to revive and stabilize her. When Preston entered, nobody noticed, but he didn't waste anymore time in his approach. He nudges aside some of the nurses who were driven mostly by panic, and Preston sets to work after equipping a pair of skin-tight gloves. Another one mauled.

[zgtiger]

Another night of relaxation, Preston was mostly aloof within his Redridge manor. Taking heed of the silence, he felt a wave of peace wash over him as the cigarette burned away in his mouth. Wisps of smoke resonated from its blazing end, his mind elsewhere, drawn to a different reality. Life from years ago, a past he yearns to relive, when everyone he cared about was still around. He reminisced about when he first learned how to read: a priestly man named Lemen, clad in white robes, his hood forever drawn to cover a head of wavy hair. Why did he remember this? Hell, if only Preston himself could know. The arbitrary thought somehow drifted back to the front of his mind: the connections made from past conversations, the people who had shown him some form of affection, be it minimal or not. From the surface of his table, the man ashes his cigarette, discards it, and then nudges the tray away from himself. Upon doing so, he gathers his anatomy book, lying face down on the table before him. With its pages flipped open, he peruses the piece of literature. Freed from the front of his shirt, where a pair of round spectacles snugly hung over, he unfolds them and places them over his eyes for better viewing.

Most important was the moment, the here and now; he tried to tell himself that the ink of the past had long dried. Everyone he had known back then was gone, and he took comfort in knowing he may not see some of those people again. Namely, those who had used or abused him in some capacity. For now, he focused with intent on what mattered most. He had a patient to treat later today; his mind couldn't be elsewhere if he wanted to be successful.

[zgtiger]

The clinic today was slow, and the work was as grueling as it could ever be. Preston settled at his desk with some paperwork to flip through. The man held a blazing cigarette in his teeth, lips parted, and lowly mumbling unheard verses. His bespectacled gaze was upon the countless patient files before him.

Preston dropped the files on the desktop when the door to his office burst open, upon which he spared a glance. One of the nurses had wandered in, and immediately, he pulled the burning vice from his lips to speak. "You know, you really should knock before you enter," he told her calmly before setting back to work reading those files.

"I thought you were going to stop smoking, Doc," she said as she approached the desk to drop another stack of files for Preston to read through.

Interrupted, Preston would glance her way, inquisitive. "I thought so, too." He idly lays his burning cigarette into an adjacent ashtray. "I suppose you weren't the only person I lied to." There was some jest in his tone, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

The nurse doubled back, making her slow departure. But when she reached the door, she said, " By the way, we have a new nurse. She will be starting tomorrow morning. I thought you would like to meet her."

With this, Preston idly waves a hand, dismissing the woman. "I'll see to it tomorrow morning," was his promise, and then it was back to work. When the door audibly shuts, he briefly scans the space around him. Then, his free hand grasps the burning vice in its tray, and he settles it back in his lips for a deep and satisfying inhale.

[zgtiger]

[zgtiger]

[zgtiger]

The house was as still as death. Preston exited the two-story estate by his lonesome and locked the door behind him. He pulled a fresh cigarette from a pocket and laid it between his teeth. He glanced briefly at the surrounding farmland and the distant treeline, the lake peaking just from behind a few trees and foliage. It has been quiet since he rehomed his beloved wolves, but the mayor of Lakeshire seemed pleased enough. He could not stop some murders or other animal attacks on the roads, but Preston would not be held liable for them anymore. But in exchange, he's felt far more lonely than ever. Kuva sometimes visited him, but he had his own family to come home to. What did Preston have these days? He and his fat cat are the only two residents in the house. Some animals were living in the barn, but none of which he felt as intimate with.

There were times, as the days became night, where Preston would sit in the living space in front of the blazing fire and think about what his life could be like if only he found someone to love and start a family with. A feat he had never expected he would come across in his youth, but now he was fantasizing heavily about raising a child of his own. It all seemed rather ironic for him to consider, given all that he was forced to go through as a child. But a vow he recited to himself, "I will never leave them and I will never hurt them." A sort of prayer before he went to bed at night, hopes and dreams gnawing at his mind. As he stood outside of his estate, he created scenarios about the direction of his life if things were to go differently in the future. Things have been looking up since he found more of a viable place for his animals, but the people of Lakeshire were still apprehensive of the man. Each visit to the clinic had been met with fear and uncertainty thanks to the responsibility placed upon Preston due to his wolves. But perhaps they were his misunderstood children. They were the ones who needed guidance and love. It was easy to brush something away and ostracize them if they were too problematic, but Preston understood this very well. He could not simply let them win.

[zgtiger]

Concealed within the enigmatic embrace of night, an additional assault descended upon the sanctuary of Lakeshire. The untamed expanse served as a somber veil for the ill-fated citizens, while the ravenous wolves savagely rent flesh and sinew. The insatiable hunger surged unabated, escalating with each passing day, spiraling further into an uncontrollable abyss.

[zgtiger]

The Shape of Preston’s Heart: 𝕭𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓, 𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕻𝖎𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖘 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖂𝖊𝖗𝖊

Your heart has been torn before, chipped and maybe even shattered. Some pieces will never be recovered, and you are shaped by the loss. But it can still be shaped into something tangible, something good, even with its flaws and imperfections. You don't have to do all the work of rebuilding by yourself. Allow other hands to leave their fingerprints on the new heart you create from the remnants. 

Shape of the Heart ♢ Cellicity A. Molten Lava and Charred Flesh

Your heart burned so fiercely that it burnt itself out, leaving horrible scars in its wake; scars inside your chest and on the hands of those who touched you, the hearts of anyone who got close enough to connect to yours. The person you are now is no longer recognizable, burnt up by your own anger and passion and love. The injuries can never be fully erased, but they can be soothed with time and trust and forgiveness.

Tagged by: @longveil, thank you so much! Tagging: @ruvenar , @damien-ward , @saidelia-draconis , @mediocre-bladeleaf , @fair-fae , @martyrette , & anyone else interested!

Quiz Here

[zgtiger]

The eve transpired in tearful seclusion, sequestered within the sanctum of the solitary manor.

[zgtiger]

The mangled corpses of men and women lined the cobbled streets of Lakeshire. Preston stood before them all with an unlit cigarette in his teeth and a pair of round spectacles over his eyes, allowing him to see the damages of the deceased clear as day.  “THIS is what happens.” The mayor’s voice was booming, an explosion of words addled with rage and aggression. Preston half expected him to start throwing fists. “You allow those BEASTS to plague MY town and you excuse their actions?!” The mayor pressed close enough to the 23-year-old that Preston could smell the mint on his breath. “I TOLD you to relocate them.” Preston, unspeaking, would approach the first of the fallen. A man that must have been in his 40s, laying with open gashes in his flesh, bite marks the size of Kuva’s teeth marring limbs, and clothing torn and bloody. Two of his fingers press against cold flesh of open neck and he waits for a heartbeat, which was absent. “I didn’t think--” The mayor cuts him off.  “You didn’t THINK. That’s a big problem, my lord. You cared more for the wellbeing of BEASTS that have been savaging my people. You’re a DOCTOR, are you not?” Preston removes a match from a pocket and swipes it against his thigh, then sets the flame to the cigarette in his lip. After which, he takes a deep inhale, enough that he set his very lungs on fire, and the smoke billowed out with a series of wheezing coughs.  He knew the rest of these people were dead. No one was stirring, nor were they asleep. The lack of movement suggested as much, but the gravity of all this weighed upon Preston heavily, and now he was in no position to fix it. He felt himself choke up, but the mayor temporarily dismissed what ill feelings overwhelmed him then.  “Take the rest of those damned beasts OUT. I am going to be sending out a hunting party, I don’t care if they kill every damned one of them, Preston. They will be gone, or they will be dispatched.” Upon saying this, the mayor turns on a heel and marches off in a huff. 

[zgtiger]

The wedding went about as expected, the 23-year-old watched the reception and left after mingling for an hour with the rich and higher class, even some famous individuals showed up, like musicians, book writers, even some battlefield hero who Preston idolized in secret. However, the man didn’t seem to have been fulfilled as a result of the happenings from the previous day. The loss of Snow was fresh on his mind, and he wondered to himself who that hunter was, why they were hunting within those woods when the entire town of Lakeshire knew of his wolves.  As he returned home that evening, the man switches on the lights to the estate and undoes the buttons of his suit. Upon removing his jacket, he sets it upon the back of a chair and approaches the empty fireplace to kneel and set the wood alight with two matches.  When he heard the knock on the front door, the man instantly stood up and looked towards it, finding the silhouette of the heavy man behind it. He already knew it was the mayor, and so he approaches to open the door for him, welcoming the man with a smile.  “Mayor.” Preston greeted with a half-hearted attempt at joviality. The heavy man marched in and Preston closes the door behind him.  “Take a seat,” the man said as he himself settled in one of the chairs. “How was the wedding?”  “About as expected.” Obeying the man, Preston takes a seat opposite the man and interlocks his hands pensively. “Is there something you needed exactly?”  The mayor sighs and rubs his face in his palm. “I think you know what this is about, Preston. Why would I come visit you so late in the eve?”  He felt his heartrate increase and the man froze, staring blinkless into the mayor’s. “My wolves.” It was more of a statement than it was a question, the man always had the wolves on his mind, and he was sure the mayor thought about them as much as he had. “It is.” The man, for the first time, would take out a cigarette from his pocket and places it between his teeth. Then without thinking about it, the mayor lights his cigarette in Preston’s house. The man opposite him was confused but expected the worse news as a result of this, and so he waited patiently. “We’ve had to dispatch another. There has been another mauling.”  Already, the anger within Preston sprouted. He expected this news but hearing it was a whole different story. “Which one.” As much as he tried to calm himself, the reality that Preston was forced to endure then was too much to bear. He hoped it wasn’t Kuva or Koda that was killed. “The grey and brown one. It was during the wedding that the body of a woman was found and the grey one was running off. My hunters shot it dead-- he didn’t feel a thing.” The final reassurance was meant to calm Preston down, but it did quite the opposite. “I hate having to do this, my lord. You think I take pleasure in this? My people are dying to these beasts, Preston. The last thing I want is to kill your wolves, but you know the people will continue stirring until action is done. I’m in a tough position, you know. And by keeping these wolves here, they, along with my people, are in jeopardy. As is your very reputation.” The man pauses to inhale his cigarette, only stopping to breathe an exhale. “We’ll deposit the body tomorrow so you could properly grieve, but I want you to know that this will not end unless you relocate them.” The hefty man stands up from the table, taking his cigarette with him.  “Do you think I give a damn about my reputation?!” For the first time in a while, Preston lashed out in anger. He could no longer settle the rage within, which he has not felt it since he was a teenager. He shoves out of his chair, physically confronting the heavy man before he could leave. “Your bastard lot are killing my wolves for fun, damn you! They don’t do anything besides hunt and fend for themselves! How in the fuck can you suspect they did anything? Or are you simply going off of hearsay? Of what these fuckwit hunters have to say?!” The man pauses, taking a calming breath. “Tell them to keep off my lands and no one will get hurt.” The mayor huffs. “They care not for your land borders, my lord. They travel wherever they please. Mind the language, would you?”  “Your hunter was on my land at the time I found his body. Where did today’s event happen?”  “She was found outside of Lakeshire, only a few paces north.” This revelation quieted Preston, for the anger and stress from this newfound loss was hard on him. “I understand the anger, my lord. However, you need to better the attitude and put those feelings aside. If you act out in rage, then you will only get regretful results. Hasn’t your father ever taught you that?” The mayor scoffs, pausing briefly. “Think about it, will you? If they mean so much to you, you would do everything you can to protect them.” Then the man turns and hobbles for the exit.  All Preston could think of were the faces of his companions, now with traces of blood on their fur. Lifeless silver eyes staring back into his. The mournful howls of the remaining wolves. Then the anger that blistered and boiled to the surface, the fluctuation of shadow magic within stirred, and the light of the fireplace went out. 

[zgtiger]

The speed at which the man traveled exceeded what was expected by human standards. Passing him up were the blurred shapes of wilderness, blackened by the shadows that converged on him by the use of dark magic, which fluctuated within. Traces of crimson speckled the forest floor, allowing Preston to track his wolves, amongst the mournful howls that permeated the woods. The brush of fur caught his vision, the white standing out amongst green foliage, amidst red. As he neared one of the fallen beasts, the howling quieted, and the rest of the pack stared on at the man through the darkness that slowly dissipated as Preston's magic lifted. The white one, Snow, was lying on her side in the midst of the group. There was a hole in her side and she was unmoving, eyes popped open in death. The biggest of them all, black as night, near blending into the darkness, Kuva stood over her. A towering mass of jet fur ruffled and seeping blood from an earlier scrap, pooled beneath. "Kuva?" Preston called out, baffled at the mere sight. The beast bared sharp and chipped teeth, which too were spilling crimson from the maw. The giant direwolf crept forward on paws that were cut and bleeding. When he stopped, it was inches from Preston's face and the green eyes reflected the man's. "What...?" Preston was too in shock to ask, but when the wolf turned his head to face east, the man too would look in such direction. Lying slumped forward over a shotgun, a man. He was clearly deceased, mauled apart by a multitude of teeth and claws, which left his body almost unidentifiable.

[zgtiger]

The lake to Preston's back was still and silent, only stirring with a minor break as the fish breached the surface for a kiss. The 23-year-old was settled contemplative, hands folded over one another and green and grey eye cast to the foliage beneath. Splotches of blood speckled the green in contrast, and Preston immediately identified it as being blood. It was no coincidence that he found a seat here, however, he knew of these traces well before he arrived. The wolves need to go. He heard his subconscious reach to the front of his mind. Then followed was the mayor's, Get puppies. A pack of them. But why should he? In the distance came the choir of wolves, howling a mournful tune like they could sense the man's plight from the distance gathered between man and beast. This was Preston's time to stand up and make his way from the lakeside to follow along to the voices of those creatures he considered family. Already he can sense the danger as he progressed forward.