2. The Dream

Zenith woke up a few hours later, his chest throbbing very badly. He looked down. His leather tunic was stained badly with blood, and more was dripping out. The wound gave a bad twinge and he yelled in pain. But he lifted his head, and realized that the birds were singing again, and he could hear the first people coming out of their houses. He clutched at his chest and hobbled inside his slightly demolished house. He saw his father lying up against the wall, apparently unconscious. Zenith’s broken arm hung limply at his side, and every now and then it throbbed with unthinkable pain, but none more painful than his bite wound. Zenith propped himself up against his father and closed his eyes.

It was a getting to be dusk, and Zenith was in a forest, sitting up against a tree with his eyes covered by his hat. He was dozing, although he knew he shouldn’t be, but he was weary. He was waiting for Grith to come back with firewood to cook any last food that they had. Since he was dozing, he didn’t realize that his father had been gone for over an hour and a half. A sudden yell jerked him back to his senses. He looked around, and though it was getting to be night, he, somehow, could see clearly. He got up, tossed his hat aside, and ran through the forest, his ears pricking up as the yell echoed through the forest again. He skidded to a halt somewhere in the middle of the forest, and saw a point of light down at the end of a small, scrubby path. He knew that the yell had come from his father, because his ears had become very sensitive ever since the day with the werewolf. He ran down the path and into the clearing. He saw his father slumped against a tree, his arms and legs bleeding badly, a large gash on his chest. Suddenly Zenith felt a searing pain inside him, and he howled at the moon. His arms suddenly bulged, and his shirt ripped open, he looked down at himself and saw that his body was covered in dark brown hair. He looked at his arms and saw that they were no longer skinny and muscle-less, but long and brawny, and also covered in the thick brown hair. He looked up at the moon. It was full, and was shining right down into the clearing. He felt another blast of pain in his legs as they elongated and stretched to make him much taller, his toes turned into sharp claws, and he felt his legs bend into the crouching wolf position. Then he felt another painful jerk in his head, and he screamed as his face stretched into a wolf’s snout, and his scream turned into a howl. His sensitive ears pricked up at the sound of a rustling behind him, and he looked around to see a man wearing a black, spiked full plate armor, and a black helmet that had horns protruding from it.

“Well,” the man said, taking off his helmet, revealing a heavily scarred face, “my plan worked.”

Zenith snarled at the man, showing large fangs dripping with saliva.

“Don’t bother with that. You cannot defeat me,” said the man. “I am Varkoff, the Lord of the Land of the Dead. I have need for a werewolf.”

Zenith snarled again and stepped in front of his father. He opened his mouth and snapped it shut as the man took a step forward.

“Oh, I have no need for your father. He was just bait to lure you out into this clearing. He put up quite a struggle, and didn’t yell until I…persuaded him,” Varkoff said, showing Zenith his armored arm, which had bloody spikes on it.

Zenith snarled and took a few steps toward Varkoff.

“I told you, you cannot defeat me. Even if you tried, there would be certain…prices to pay,” he gestured toward Grith, and showed Zenith the spikes again, and the hilt of a large sword coming from a sheath on his back.

Then, without warning, Zenith roared and jumped at Varkoff, sinking his claws into his revealed neck and tearing the flesh. Varkoff fell to the ground, bleeding badly, and Zenith picked him up by the legs and threw him at the nearest tree. But even as he threw him, Zenith saw the deep wounds on Varkoff’s neck begin to heal and close, and his eyes flew open, and just as he was about to hit the tree, he slammed his feet down and he came to a halt.

“:I warned you, foolish wolf,” said Varkoff, and instead of running at Zenith, he swished his hand and a ball of flame appeared in his hand. Then he raised his arm and blasted the fireball at Grith, who was still lying against the tree. Zenith growled and jumped in front of the fireball. It hit him right in the stomach, and he was blasted back. He hit the tree and became dazed. If it were not for his wolf body, he would have been killed, but he got back up and ran at Varkoff, who unsheathed his sword and ran, not at Zenith, but at Grith again. He grabbed Grith by the neck and held the sword there.

“Come with me, or your father dies,” said Varkoff.

Zenith snarled. The sword tightened against Grith’s neck, and Zenith saw some blood trickle down. He growled and lowered his arms. He dropped his head, and growled again.

“Good,” said Varkoff.

“NO!!!!” shouted Zenith, sitting bolt upright. He felt a blast of pain in his broken arm, and looked around. His father was still lying next to him, but his eyes were open and he was staring at Zenith.

“What is it, son?” asked Grith, sitting up against the wall.

“Oh…just a bad dream,” Zenith said. But was it a dream? It had seemed real. But he had been asleep. Hadn’t he? Or was his mind showing him things yet to come. Preposterous. Or was it?

“C’mon, boy, we gotta get that arm into a cast, and I gotta get to work fixing the wall,” said Grith.

“But…” started Zenith.

“Oh, I’m not hurt, Zenith. That wolf just knocked me unconscious is all,” answered Grith. He looked at Zenith, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Why…what’s that?” Grith gestured at the bloody patch on Zenith’s shirt.

“Oh…a bite,” said Zenith.

“Oh my god!! By the powers of Xar!! You’ve been bitten by a werewolf!! Don’t you know what that means?”

“No,” answered Zenith truthfully.

“It means that every full moon, you’ll turn into a werewolf!” shouted Grith.

“By the powers of Xar!” Zenith shouted. He was panicked. “What do I do?” he asked.

“There isn’t anything you can do unless you can find a Wolfbane,” said Grith.

“A Wolfbane?” asked Zenith.

“A Wolfbane is a witch or wizard that can heal people of lycanthropy. They are very rare, and there definitely isn’t one around here, unless you wanna travel on a more than five-month journey,” Grith explained.

“Well, we have to take that journey. I don’t want to be a crazy killer every full moon!” said Zenith.

“Are you sure you would be up for a five-month journey?” asked Grith.

“Yes,” said Zenith. “I want to be cured.”

“Alright then,” said Grith. “We leave tomorrow at the break of dawn. I’ll teach you how to fight on the way.”

So they set to work rebuilding the house and getting packed for the long adventure ahead.

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