Agne des Tenebres, Harro-Gwyneth Shirowan [free ebook reader for pc TXT] 📗

"I see you have stumbled upon this....den, if one can call it that. Who am I, you ask? Ha, that is for me to decide and for others to find out. But if it helps you, I shall tell you what they call me around here. L'agne des tenebres, l'agne de la mort....they both mean basically the same thing. Le Loup Demon, though-- ah, I see you grasp the concept of that one.
Yes, I used to do the devil's work back then, but she.....she has lost her drive. As one wise wolf once said, 'One who overindulges will soon grow contempt for the thing he indulged upon: the scent will last in his nose, the taste will last on his mouth, and the sound in his ears: be wary then, and do not indulge.'
I was never one for old wolves and their advice, but this one is true. I can still feel it....the warm blood in my mouth......leaving, you say? You would be a fool to do so. The pack around here would gut you if you took one step out of here. Why? Leaving le Pressage de Malheur's den in the dark of night does not exactly brand you as a trustworthy wolf.
So sit back, my dear, and listen....."

A gentle shower fell upon the forest, awaking many different animals from their hibernation. In the days that followed, many animals were born. Fawns followed their mothers, timidly approaching the river. Pheasant chicks ran along the meadow, following their mother. Deep in the forest, in the midst of a wolf pack, a healthy litter of pups was born. The mother gently licked each one. She looked at her three pups. Two Faes. One Brute. One of the Faes was light brown. Her features were petite and was the biggest of the three. The other fae was abnormally small; she was the runt. Her pelt was the blackest she had ever seen: darker then the night, it seemed. The brute was a dark grey, and he was of average size. The mother sighed with content. She sat up and smiled. "They will make beautiful additions to the pack," she said to her mate. Her mate merely nodded. But neither of them noticed how the forest was eerily silent on the occasion of the black whelp's birth.

The months passed rather quickly, and soon enough the pups were nearly five months old: when they would receive their pack name, in according to tradition. The light brown Fae, who was nicknamed Beau, had the clearest blue eyes. The black Fae, who had grown at a slow pace, was still the smallest and was nicknamed Tetard. The most startling thing about her though, were her large red eyes. The brute had grown to be the largest of the three, and his eyes were a deep green. He was nicknamed Foret. Tetard was despised by many of her packmates: not out of hate, but out of fear. In the dark of night, she would often sneak into the fighter and hunter's dens. The only thing that they could see would be her blood-curdling red eyes. This lead to Tetard hating everyone merely because they hated her. Eventually, it got so bad that she ran out of camp and sat under a soft, young willow tree. "Why must it be me! Couldn't it be my sister?!" She wailed. Then her face changed. Her eyes narrowed and glinted. She turned to the tree. She unsheathed her claws and dug them into the tree, snarling. She cut through the tree easily, and it was soon about to fall over. A scream pierced the air. The tree fell over and a sickening crack was heard. Tetard looked under the felled tree and their lay Foret, blood making his fur stand on end.
"Tetard....please, help me...." He whimpered. Tetard's eyes glinted.
"No." She said. "Did you ever help me when I was shunned, hated, laughed at? No. So why should I help you?" Tetard stalked off. A few minuted later sobbing was heard.
"My son, my son...." The hunter's sobs could have been heard from the distant mountains. Tetard was the only wolf not mourning. Her eyes were nearly laughing: her heart had turned to stone. She walked up to the pup's corpse and chuckled. She whispered in a light voice she thought no one could hear:
"You help me, I help you. You helped me suffer, I helped you die." Her mother was standing behind her.
"You did what

, Tetard?"
"Nothing, mother, I merely helped him to the afterlife." Tetard smiled.
"You! You killed him!" She nearly tore Tetard apart. "You...you...." She then returned the smile. "On the occasion of your fifth moon, I shall give you your name. Your name is Haine au dela d'etre Offense par."
Haine merely smirked. She knew what the name meant. Hatred Beyond Resentment. It fit her quite well. She laughed.

The moons flew past. Her mother and father had died, in mysterious ways. Her remaining sister Paix was lead healer and she herself, Haine, was next in line to be Lead Fighter. If only she could reach that spot.
Haine paced back and forth. Death had become commonplace for her, she had often planned wolf's deaths. She had never slayed anyone before, just arranged things so that they died. But this wolf....she was too old to be fooled by deathberries, and yet too young to be killed by natural causes. Haine knew that to reach the position she yearned for, she must kill her. The fight for the position was in two sunrises. She knew she could best Venin, but she must get rid of her.....she smiled. The Hunt had begun.

The day of the fight. Paix and her assistant stood quick at hand, as wolves easily got injured at this fight. Venin smirked at Haine. Haine barred her fangs in a smiling like way. The Alpha let out a long, low howl and the fight started. Venin jumped immediately. Haine, knowing Venin's impatient ways, stepped to the side. Venin stuck her paws out and landed, snarling. Haine smiled at her in a sickly sweet way. Venin unsheathed her claws, as did Haine. They both moved forward at the same time and tussled with each other, clawing each other's faces. Haine landed one on Venin's nose, and Venin clawed and tore her ear. Blood poured into Haine's eyes. She blinked rapidly and managed to see -- just barely -- through the blood. She tore at Venin's muzzle and landed several scrapes. Venin raced to Haine's side and ripped her claw's along Haine's shoulder and tore it to her tail stump. Haine whirled around in fury -- not pain -- and pinned Venin on the ground. Venin struggled, but adrenaline coursed through Haine's veins and made her that much stronger. Haine bent down and whispered in Venin's ear, "Try harder next time."
She bit Venin's neck and ended a fourth wolf's life.

Publication Date: 11-13-2012

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