Glimpse

A quick introduction to one of our characters who will undoubtably reappear sometime soon. Don't judge him. Just listen. Everyone has a past.

Silence pulled the trigger for a final time, watching with a blank satisfaction as the last body fell to the soggy ground with a thump. The heavy rain plastered his white hair to his pale face, the thin black streak down the side contrasting with his red eyes, as he brought the newly procured weapon to his chest. Letting the unused cartridges fall to the ground, he threw the .45 ACP semi-auto pistol to his left; it was a basic rule of any Chevalier: destroy all evidence of your presence. Of course, Silence wasn’t truly completing this law, but he didn’t have the time for petty regulations.

He had acquired the requisite information from the group – it had been easy enough. He had turned up, appearing from nowhere with a loaded gun in his pale hand. They had acted like any other mislead, power-hungering men: once he had promised to spare their insignificant lives, they had let the information go without any protest. He knew the information was pure, reliable facts, and had thanked them greatly.

Of course, a bullet through the head had sealed the deal.

Silence watched without interest as the stream of blood running from the perfectly spherical penetration in their foreheads, mixed with the liquid mud that was thickening in the rain. He turned away from the sight, though not from disgust or nausea, but from the lack of time he now possessed.

He pushed through the thick growth with an intimidating determination, ignoring the sharp sparks of pain the thorns and branches threw at him. Letting the thick black night be the light that guided him – a standard skill of any Chevalier – he expertly made his way through the deceiving labyrinth of trees and woodland.

A shiver ran up his spine, but not from the –3 temperature of the deadened night around him. His muscles were tight, his body clenched in natural anticipation for the fight that did not occur. As he stepped over roots and dodged branches, the shivers became more frequent, causing him to hesitate briefly. Because of the deficiency of battle, the excess of adrenaline, and the solidness of his strained muscles, his mind was being deceived into thinking his body needed to resort to more drastic and habitual measures.

Silence subtly sped up his pace, moving faster than the eye could follow. His nerves were unwillingly high, as his senses expanded unnecessarily to a wider radius. The shivers converted into violent spasms, shaking his entire body. He subconsciously clenched and unclenched his fists by his sides; eyes squinted in the effort of attempting to keep control.

Just as he was to step over a gnarled root, his body convulsed, causing him to falter in his journey. His eyes were screwed shut, his hands shaking, a thin sheen of sweat across his brow as he battled the rising enemy that was half of his conscious and being.

Once more, his body racked with some unknown force within, causing him to drop to the damp ground on his knees, hands sprawled out in front of him in the mud. His breathing was laboured, observing as the whiteness of his hands seemed to protrude of his toughening skin, his long and slender fingers shortening and thickening. He groaned as his bones cracked and distorted to form something else. His arms shortened, moving him closer to the ground; his body grew smaller but wider; his four limbs melding themselves to new positions and gaining new movements. His breathing hitched as something strange grew out of his behind, giving him a foreign sense of balance. His nails became sharper; his nose less protruding, but his face grew a new, long and narrow shape. Warmth enveloped him as newly attained thick white fur spread from his hands to the rest of his body, sprouting from his thickened skin. His surroundings darkened, but did not seem as enclosed as his black and white sight picked up the smallest of details. History opened up its pages as the scent of everything that had passed by this area swirled around his black, wet nose. Ears twitched and twirled, hearing, but not listening to the many noises that now broke past the previous silence.

But the most consequential effect of his change was the icy fire that replaced his blood, scorching his entire insides, burning him alive. This experience was not something he was unfamiliar with, but every time was fresh. His newly attained body trembled with the pain, desperately trying to overcome the raw agony.

Within minutes, the fire died down, bringing relief and salvation to Silence. He stood tall, investigating the area with his newly gained senses, his tail held high and unmoving. Hesitation was obvious as Silence mulled over this hindering situation.

He was not supposed to be in his wolf form, but it had happened beyond his control. Nevertheless, he needed to get out of these woods as soon as possible, as well as watch out for any of the enemies he knew were lurking in this huge, haunted grave. His enhanced speed, agility and heightened senses allowed him to easily achieve this.

However, being in his counterpart’s form meant two things – things, he really needed to do. He would not be able to understand what anyone said, or even evaluate their body language. Having a wolf’s body consequently meant having a wolf’s mind – he would have to rely on his furry friend’s ability to sense human emotions by fluctuations in their pulse, breathing and perspiration.

Also, he would not be allowed to change back to his other self in front humans or communicate with any; wolves can’t speak in the human tongue, and it’s against the laws of an Chevalier to morph back in front of humans… not like it was a good idea anyway as it would cause a mass panic and certainly get him kicked out of the Chevaliers, as well as being forced out of his Colonie.

Technically, he can understand what humans are saying, he can recognise things he has seen/heard in his human form, but it would take ages and would definitely give him a major migraine when he converted back.

But, for now, he will go with what nature provided him, and face the consequences.

With a determined snarl to the moonless sky, he reared back on his hind legs, and leapt forwards in a full momentum sprint, rapidly reaching his top speed of 45 miles per hour.

He needed to kill those kids.

His life depended on it.