She was fury, she was wrath, she was vengeance
There was an ache in her chest. There was an aching emptiness that caused her to physically touch her breast, forced her fingers to probe for the hole that must be there. It was not, and that realization made the pain worse somehow. The knowledge that it was her heart that ached, and not her body, overwhelmed her. She could not be here if Fennick was not. And yet her eyes stayed dry. Inside she was screaming, but outside she was hard, a glittering piece of stone. A stone forged of revenge and pain, and loss.
Eona starred back at the door behind her, the door she had just flung herself through. It was closed. She jiggled the handle. It was locked. There would be no going back.
Disappointment hit her like a physical blow. She hadn’t realized, until that very moment, that she had intended to throw herself back through the door. She wanted to face the horde. She was going to slice and tear and ruin until she could no longer lift her arm. Then she would use her teeth. She would kick and thrash and bite until, finally, it all went black. She wanted to go down swinging, her dead father at her feet and her dog at her side. But no, her death would not be swift and brutal. Her life wouldn’t end in snarling teeth and unbridled rage, rage so raw it felt like delight. She wanted murder so primal urge that it ripped from her chest in a savage roar. She wanted to slit throats and spill blood. But no, none of that was intended for her.
At least, not yet.
Not a single tear fell, but Eona ground her teeth until they ached. When her jaw slackened, unable to maintain the force of her bite, she screamed. It was the roar she had been waiting for. It was a roar that burned up her pain. It was inhumane and feral, it reverberated in her bones. The small part of her soul, the part that was still gentle and kind, the little part of her that was nothing but a young girl, went skittering away. That part feared the rage she felt, and went to hide in the dark, forgotten places of her her soul.
Bertha answered Eona’s roar as she would answer the pack’s call. The dog trust her head back and howled. Their voices mingled together, and seemed to bounce off the moon, shattering the quiet dark and splintering the midnight sky.
When they quieted it was because their throats were raw. Eona ran a hand down her neck, and let the world go eerily quiet around her.
She allowed herself a full two minutes of silent pain, two minutes of pity and remorse. For a full 120 seconds Eona didn’t look around, didn’t make a sound. She and Bertha simply stood, and mourned their beloved dead. When those two minutes were up, Eona willed her heart to start beating. She forced herself to take a breath. Like an old forgotten clock finally wound, she began to tick again.
The fatherless girl wiped her blades on her pants. She shoved the knife through her belt, and looked around. There were tall hedges, so tall they seemed to scrape the sky, and narrow passages that turned left and right. Eona bit back a moan. She and Bertha were in a maze. They were totally indefensible. They would be walking blindly into a trap, into god only knew what. Eona looked up to the inky black sky. She didn’t stop to wonder where the noonday sun had done. It didn’t seem odd that less than two hours before the sun, high in its apex, had heated her arms. All Eona felt was brief, singing, soaring gratitude for the moon, for the round glowing orb that lit the dark.
Wetness spilled down Eona’s chin and onto her neck. Startled, she wiped at it. What she had originally thought was a tear was drool. She looked at the wet gob a second longer and tried to ignore the shudder that swept through her.
They needed to get out of here.
With her feet moving, Eona’s pain seemed to lessen. Her grief made her foggy, but her body seemed to sing. Each of Bertha’s steps seemed heavy, each snapping twig seemed loud, like bone breaking. But, she heard all of it, and reacted with a speed that seemed to outpace her lagging mind.
When they reached the first corner Eona had to force herself to slow, she had to force herself to peer around the hedge wall in search of enemies. She didn’t want to look, she wanted to charge in. She wanted to feel the ring of battle, she wanted to rip and tear and chew.
Eona shook her head to clear it. She looked down, only to see Bertha looking up at her with intent yellow eyes. The dog seemed oddly focused, and when she caught Eona’s eye the dog’s lip twitched, ever so slightly.
Eona slammed to a stop, and the rage that boiled up through her gut thought have surprised her if she could only clear her head. Bertha’s own lips peeled back to show her teeth and the girl felt her nose wrinkle.
“It that a threat, Bertha?” The dog responded with a low rumbling growl, and Eona’s jaw parted, her eyes narrowed, and suddenly she snapped out of it. The girl clapped her hands to the side of her head. What was wrong with her? Her fingers tangled in her hair and she began to tug, like she would pull the curly dark mass right from her head.
A wet tongue brought her back. Bertha licked her knee through a tear in her jeans. The dog pushed her head against Eona’s legs, as if she was telling her to keep going. Eona obeyed, and tried to ignore the hammering in her chest. They rounded two more corners, and Eona felt the fogginess grow, even as her senses sharpened, her thoughts dulled. Her limbs too, felt unwieldily and strange. Eona groaned, but already she felt numb to fear, numb to anything but rage and hunger. A little voice in her head said that something was wrong. Eona groaned again.
Had an undead bitten her? Had she somehow not noticed?
No, she would have noticed. She looked down at her hands. Her skin was bright, almost flushed. Her brow scrunched. Her father had gone pale and clammy. Eona felt hot like she was running a fever. With a strength she didn’t recognize, Eona ripped her tank top from her chest. She didn’t need it. She needed the moon on her skin, she needed the grass beneath her feet. Eona groaned, and this time it was in pleasure, this time it was in ecstasy and release.
This time Bertha nipped at her.
Eona jumped and snarled down at the dog. Bertha’s eyes were very bright, and in them, a fever that matched Eona’s own. Something about the dog’s eyes caused Eona to smile, though it was tinged with panic.
“Bertha,” Eona whined, like a young, whimpering puppy.
“What big eyes you have.” Eona became lost in Bertha’s eyes. She was drifting in a sea of gold. A calming sea that clung to her, that surround her. Once again she was in her mother’s womb, safe and secure. The next sound Eona made was a soft snuffling, a sound of a puppy curling up in its bed, of a young dog cuddled beneath the head of an old one.
Then the smell hit her like a bus.
It was sweet, and tangy. It was metallic and thrumming, a high-pitched, soaring note on her nose. Eona sniffed the air. She felt the smell make its way from her nose to the back of her throat. It tasted delicious. She staggered forward, one, two, three steps around the corner.
The smell was a baby, a little human boy.
The boy could stand, unsteady on his fat, wobbly little legs. He wore overalls, and little boat shoes. The part of Eona’s mind that was still human paused. Where was his boat? The girl laughed, delighted and happy, and ran to him, her arms out stretched. Bertha snapped at her pant leg, but the material ripped, and Eona pulled away.
When Eona reached him, her laughter was shrill, keening and delighted. She scooped him up in her arms and swung him around. The boy, startled at first, began to laugh, and Eona’s laughter rose higher, becoming a near shriek. She loved this little boy. She wanted him. He was hers.
She squeezed him tighter in her arms, and the boy began to cry. Eona froze. She looked at him again and gripped him tightly.
“Stop crying.” She tried to say. It came out in a garbled growl.
“STOP CRYING!” She tried to scream, but it came out as a garbled roar. That’s when Bertha bit her leg, hard. Eona roared again as the dog’s fangs sunk deep into her calf. The girl dropped to her knees, sending the boy tumbling from her arms. Eona had one, brief, shinning moment of clarity before the change ripped through her.
She screamed, this time in pain and fear. The boy, dazed, toddled into the shrubs and cowered. Eona lost track of him, her thoughts focusing on her popping limbs and the searing pain that swept through her. But the pain, it was brief. Brutal and unimaginable, but brief. What followed the wave of blistering agony was relief. The pain from Bertha’s bite was gone, and in its place was a singing strength Eona had never dreamed of.
Eona stood shakily on four legs. She shook herself and snarled. Again, her eyes fixed on the boy, and the girl turned wolf felt big gobs of drool fall from her lips and plop onto the grass. She neared the boy, dropping low on her haunches, preparing for the bite that would snap the boy’s neck.
Again, Bertha interceded. This time, however, it was no love bite on her leg. The dog launched herself at the much bigger wolf, grabbing onto the ruff of Eona’s neck, and shaking hard. Eona roared and bucked, trying to dislodge her dog. They went down together, a tumbling ball of fur and flashing teeth.
Eona was much bigger than Bertha, but Bertha was a fighter, and a trained fighter. She wasn’t intimated, and the cool calculated look in her eyes only spurred Eona to rage. The wolf’s teeth snapped viciously towards the dog’s neck, but before the killing blow could be made, Bertha was up and running, tearing down the corridor of hedge maze.
Eona roared and chased after her, quickly becoming used to the power in her legs and the savagery in her bite. As a human, Eona had kept track of each turn. in the maze She’d crept slowly around the corners, checking for enemies as she did. Now, wolf and dog did none of that. They ran at breakneck speed, leaves singing and snapping free of branches as they breezed by.
The ungainliness of Eona’s new body had given Bertha an upper hand. That advantage was quickly disappearing. As they rounded a final corner, and a meadow yawned before them, Eona could taste the dog’s blood. She could already feel it running down her throat. But, as Eona burst into the clearing, expecting to strike the killing blow, Bertha was gone. Eona slammed to a stop, teeth bared. But, Bertha had been waiting for her. The dog was crouched up against the side of the hedge wall, just out of sight. Bertha leapt, and her jaws clamped down hard on Eona’s throat. Eona yowled in pain as blood soaked her fur.
Panic overwhelmed Eona, and she staggered as Bertha dragged her towards the center of the clearing. Eona kicked an fought, but when she did Bertha bit deeper, and soon Eona was whimpering.
They stopped by a perfectly round, clear pool. Then, and only then, did Bertha let go. She jumped back from Eona, her belly nearly to the ground, tail tucked between her legs. The dog raised her lips in submission, and Eona staggered. Blood loss and confusion made her dizzy and mean. Eona snapped, snarled and lunged, but her movement slow and sluggish. Bertha had time to skitter into the pool before Eona was on her.
The pair splashed into the water, and as Eona’s head sunk beneath the surface, she grabbed at the dog with her fangs. In one vicious bite, Eona tore out her friend’s throat. Water rushed into Eona’s mouth, nose and lungs, but she didn’t care. The blood that mingled in it was sweet, and tasted of victory.
When Eona came around, her head was on the grassy bank, her body still in the pool. Next to her was Bertha’s destroyed corpse. Their combined blood had turned the pool red, and grass slick. Finally, Eona began to cry, the big hiccuping sobs of a girl who should of stay with her mother.
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