Always alone.
I have to be to protect those I love and the innocents in this world. Each day, it gets harder to suppress the animal side of me, the feral wolf who wants to hunt and kill. When I stopped seeing humans and instead saw prey, I retreated here. That was so many years ago, I can’t even remember now. The days, weeks, and months blur, some hard to remember as I walk this world as my wolf.
I am the wolf now.
I catch something’s scent, my nose lifting as I sniff. With a howl, I break into a sprint, hunting down the deer. It tries to flee, but I’m too fast, and within moments, I have my paws around the animal and I’m snapping its neck.
Sitting back with blood dripping from my muzzle, I howl to the moon in gratitude for the meat, and then I start to drag it back to my den.
Another night. Another hunt.
Will this be my life forever?
A sudden burst of animalistic anger surges through me as I turn, my hair standing on end at the encroacher. It’s a small wild wolf, and one look at me has him dropping to his belly. Growling louder, unable to control my actions, I step closer, lowering my head. The wolf whines and turns over, exposing its belly and making itself vulnerable.
With a huff, I turn away and start dragging the deer again. Slowly, I come back to myself, my human thinking invading the feral mind.
I’m losing myself with each passing day, I can feel it, and there is nothing I can do.
When I finally get the deer back, I begin stripping the meat, eating what I need and storing the other parts for later. Winter will be here soon, making it hard to hunt.
I have survived many years out here, and from each, I have learned how to make it easier… I don’t know if I would even know how to be a man anymore.
I can’t remember what I look like, or what walking on two legs feels like. I can’t remember anything but this anger and primal hunger all the time.
This was never supposed to happen, not to me, and even the scientist who did this to me didn’t know this is what I would become.
But there is no point dwelling on it, since all it does is stir up longing for things I will never have again, so I voluntarily withdraw to the dark place in my mind where nothing exists.
Letting the animal take over.
Alejandra
The kingdom spreads out before me.
From high in the court, I can see it all. The houses stretch out and gradually shift to the shacks and dwellings of the lower fae, halflings, brownies, and changelings. The streets, while made of gold up here, are dirt down there, where farms and food production are rife. As is the poverty.
Up here, everything glitters.
Down there, the only thing that does is their happiness, even in the face of such suffering.
Past the dwellings are the trees, which are as black as the rot within our court, reaching into the sky so high, no human would ever find us.
The Forbidden Forest.
It’s filled with magical creatures and monsters to trap us and keep us safe. Our queen unleashed the most heinous of our magic into that forest a millennium ago to stop humans from finding us after so many of our kind were hunted and killed—and to stop us from ever leaving, not that anyone else sees it that way.
Shaking my head free of my morbid and borderline traitorous thoughts, I pull the hood of my cape up to conceal my face and silver hair, not wanting any nobles, or soldiers, to see me sneaking past them. I am too important to them to risk me venturing to what they call the slums.
But down there is where I feel most comfortable. It’s where I can help. When I was younger, Cailean and I used to spend days down there, handing out food and stolen gems. He used to help them build their homes and tend their crops while I healed them.
Then he died and left me alone.
The one person I trusted…the one person I loved.
Now, I continue to visit down there, to see the friends I have made and to help as much as I can before I’m locked away and made to act the perfect lady. I have to help them as much as I can, it is my duty, I was given these powers for a reason.
To save lives.
Why should it be kept to the higher fae? Why should we treat anyone different based on their heritage, skin colour, or power strength? Everyone deserves the same rights.
It’s what my mother deems a foolish notion, but I know the truth. Our world is rotting from the inside out, the poor die and the rich get richer. Our bloodlines are stronger, never straying from those who could create powerful and noble children. Eventually, we will interbreed to keep the shining court so shiny.
I don’t duck my head or hasten my steps, both would draw attention to me. No, the best way is to blend in. My chin is stuck in the air, and I meet no one’s eyes because they are below me. My strides are measured and slow, the perfect walk to show off my station and power. No one can touch me, no one is above me. That is how I was taught to walk, it’s been drilled into me since I was a child. I do it now, and the soldiers in their glittering gold armour pay me no mind as they patrol the shiny streets. Like any crimes would happen here right under the queen’s nose. The only crimes are the ones committed behind closed doors—adultery, stealing, and murder. The glitz hides such darkness.
The street under my feet eventually changes to dirt, and now I do duck my head to hide the gleaming silver jewellery I wear. I don’t think anyone would take it, I’m known down here, but I can never be too careful. They hate us nobles, and for good reason. They are desperate. If I thought Mother wouldn’t notice the missing jewellery, I would gladly give them away.
Turning down a familiar side street, I duck under a doorway as I count backwards, waiting for the patrol. The soldiers come down here less often, but still once an hour. As they pass, I debate tripping them with my magic, but I decide it’s not worth the pettiness. Once they are gone, I step back out and hurry down the streets to the fields at the very edge of our court.
It’s midday, so they will be working. Their powers have mainly to do with growing, soil, and nature. They’re not strong enough to elevate their status, but enough to be useful.
Those without power, they are tossed into the Forbidden Forest, considered useless for our people, and left to die. To be eaten, consumed by those monsters that lurk within. The monsters deemed too strong, too vile to be kept in such a court.
A disgusting, archaic practice.
When the sun shines down on me and the streets widen to the fields, I pull back my hood and relax my shoulders. They are already working the fields with sweat covering their brows, many without shirts. The females are in tiny skirts and tops as they work alongside their men.
I watch them for a moment until some of the children catch a glimpse of me. They don’t go to school down here, instead, they are urged to get a job, even at a young age. Some as messengers, field workers, or helpers in kitchens, shops, or any other way they can. But those who are too young are left to run wild until their magic is tested and they are assigned.
Like now, they run wild towards me, laughing and yelling to get my attention. I grin as I kneel down, uncaring about my gown dragging against the dirt. If I could rip it away and be more comfortable, I would, but it would be improper.
They almost tackle me to the ground, at least six of them hugging me and climbing on me as I laugh with them. Some of the adults stop, shielding their eyes as they smile and wave at me. I wave back before standing, and both of my hands are instantly filled with tiny ones.