Born From Ash (Book I of The Flame Trilogy)

The night air is cold as it caresses my skin, the small hairs on my arms standing on end as I continue to run. The scents of the forest awake my senses, raw and fresh from the afternoon rain. It almost feels like coming alive.

The trees loom over me threateningly, touching the star encrusted sky. I can just make out the glow of the moon through the leafless branches. There’s a saying in Wolf culture: ‘The Moon Goddess smiles on her children.’

Like hell.

The Moon Goddess? I could scoff at the notion. Fuck that, there’s no such thing.

I can’t remember where I heard it, but because of my ardent disagreement I’d never forgotten it.

A tree branch grazes my neck as I push on, my calves beginning to burn. No matter how tired I get, I have to keep running.

I would never stop running from them. Those bastards would never succeed.

Another gust of wind blows but I barely feel it, my focus only is on keeping my limbs moving. I feel the earth under my boot clad feet, the raw bark of the fallen tree biting my hand as I climb over its hazardous branches.

The small crunching sounds of leaves fills the night air as I slow down. I won’t be able to keep up this pace for much longer, even if I am different. I’ve already been running for almost four hours without a break, and I refuse to shift.

If it’s a realistic possibility, I would never shift again.

The temperature would begin to drop as the night drew on; if I don’t build a fire soon, I will definitely freeze. I survey my surroundings, there is an old log nearby surrounded by a patch of dry soil- it looks like a decent place to make camp for a few hours.

Kneeling next to the log, I pull out a small knife from my boot stripping the bark to create a tinder bundle before scavenging for anything else I can use. It doesn’t take me long to start a small fire. I had learnt the art of survival a long time ago.

I take off the fingerless gloves, putting them aside whilst I warm my numb fingers over the pleasant heat. The only sound that breaks the silence is the crackling of the fire as the flames dance. I sit transfixed by nature’s element, a seemingly contradictory thing. Both vital for survival, but also a bringer of complete and utter destruction.

Something flickers behind my eyelids, memories long forgotten and blocked from my access. I need to know who I am, where I come from.

What is my name?

So many things from my past I need to find out, to understand, but I had nowhere to start.

Purpose.

I rest my head against the log using it as a pillow, it isn’t very comfortable, but it will do. I don’t particularly want to sleep, night is the time when you are most vulnerable. Being in no-man’s land doesn’t help either, there are all sorts running around in the uncharted forests and I don’t want to waste any energy dealing with any dumbass creatures.

But I need to get a few hours of sleep if I want to cover a large amount of distance; I know that no matter how far I go it’d never be enough. They’ll find me eventually.

When I wake up, the sun is nearing the middle of the sky. I overslept. I’ve already lost half of the day, I can’t afford to linger any longer. I’m not too hungry, so I can afford to keep going before stopping to hunt.

I keep running, my lungs burning. If I don’t keep counting in my head I would lose track of time.

58, 59, 60.

Military precision, like was beaten into me.

After another half an hour my stomach’s protests are too much to ignore. There is the scent of something in the air; probably something I can eat. Scurrying around on the forest floor is some sort of creature, it sort of resembles a large possum. I don’t know what it’s called but I know I can eat it.

I crouch beside a tree, out of view of the unsuspecting creature. My weight on the balls of my feet, my hand ready, waiting to pull out the concealed weapon hiding in my boot. My hand twitches with the need to end this.

One quick swipe of my hand, one slash with the cool steel and it would be over.

The thing scurries about unaware of the threat that waits behind it. I almost feel sorry for it. Almost. My hunger wins me over in the end; I need to survive.

As soon as it’s close enough, I lunge. With a swift and controlled movement, the dagger easily slices through the skin and muscle of the little thing. One cut to the throat.

The warm sticky blood coats the steel of the knife which I simply wipe in the grass. I don’t really want to eat it raw, but I don’t have a choice, if I want to keep my current pace I can’t stop.

Pain shoots through my gums as animalistic canines rip through them. No matter how many times that I’m forced to change, it never gets easier.

The meat on the rat-like being is putrid but I can’t afford to turn down food. Anything is better than starving, and if I have to stomach a few disgusting delicacies to stay alive then so be it.

The sound of a branch snapping nearby has me dropping my food, turning to the trees alert and ready for the threat. I can’t see anything, but I know it’s there. I can smell it, sense it. Being what I am, the ability comes naturally to me.

I turn back to my meal, whatever it is just lurks there. It probably won’t attack, although I know that’s wishful thinking.

It jumps out from behind the trees with full and extended claws. It’s canines on full display as it snarls at me threateningly.

It was a fairly large lynx. It’s surprising to see one since they are mostly remote. I’ve only ever encountered one, though that one is only partly animal. I give it my own snarl, my bloody teeth on show. The dumb animal is challenging me for my kill.

It growls, charging forward, clawing and snapping at me. It gnashes at my arm with its teeth, piercing the skin, leaving a large wound.

I growl in warning, something sinister leaking into my voice. It could tell that there’s something unnatural; it could sense her, but nevertheless he still continues the fight.

If I hadn’t been starving, I may have walked away but I am both hungry and impatient.

Its paw swipes at my face breaking some of the skin. I feel the blood running down my cheek from the claw marks. Without further thought I tackle and pin it down, my teeth diving into its furry neck.

I feel the way it goes through the skin and muscle, revelling in the feeling of overpowering my attacker. The warm blood fills my mouth with a coppery taste, but I don’t let go, feeling every moment of the life slowly fading from the creature.

I save the rest of the meat for later, I don’t know how long I would be running for. I don’t even know where I’m going yet. All I do know is that as long as it’s away from where I started, I would be able to survive.

Roughly seven sunsets have passed, and the eighth day is just beginning.

The meat lasted until day four. Since then I’ve been starving, and tired. The further I went the colder it got, I would be hitting mountainous regions soon. Either way, prey had gotten scarcer and the cold began to bite. The cuts I had sustained were added to, with several patches of blood and dirt covering my barely salvageable clothing. I could tell a particular gash in my thigh wasn’t healing right- my guess is that it had been infected- but I couldn’t do anything about it.

It had rained for the past two nights which only seemed to increase my frustration. Darkness brought new predators and just to stay alive during the night I had taken to climbing trees. I also had to get rid of my jacket after a scrap with a rogue had left it nearly in pieces and my boots had worn down considerably from all the running.

In my current state, I won’t last much longer. It’s as if life itself is against me, though from where I came from and the gaps in my memory, I guess the vendetta has been going on for a while.

I feel wetness seep into my shoe as I run through a puddle on the ground and I resist the urge to curse out loud.

Cold, wet feet. Fucking fantastic.

Through the trees I can just about make out the small peaks of mountains, I might be able to find some kind of refuge there. Or then again maybe not. My ears prick up with the distant sound of male conversation. It seems to be muffled which leads me to believe that it’s maybe, eighty miles north-easterly.

I can only hear a couple voices so I’m assuming that it’s only a small camp, it doesn’t sound like a pack to me. Then again, I’d never seen another pack before. Where I come from is a brutish place; if all packs are like that, then we are all better off dead.

It’s quite annoying to have enhanced, hypersensitive hearing. In fact, all my senses are nearly four times more trained than that of a regular Werewolf.

If I hadn’t grown up this way, becoming used to it, then I may have been overwhelmed by it all. We weren’t taught how, just that we were and more importantly why. I didn’t know why but something always felt off about the whole thing.

I shake my head of those thoughts, I need to focus. If I run at full speed, I’ll make it to the camp before the day ends, at least that’s what I hope because I won’t last another night out here like this.

It’s another eight or nine hours until I get close to the camp. It looks well guarded and quite large, it’s perimeter ran on for miles of the forest line. The sun is high in the sky, having passed noon by now and I can see movement beyond the trees. I can smell them too. They have a distinct smell of raw earth and sweat- Epsilon. I can even smell their brute strength, but it isn’t enough to suggest there are any high ranks among them.

I wait for hours until it gets darker. From my observations, it seems to be a well prepared and large camp site, I’m actually starting to think that it could be a pack. It’s probably much bigger and has more security measures than just a simple camp. Whatever the case, I have to get new stuff- the risk is necessary.

My plan is simple, snatch anything I can find then run like hell.

It looks like the guards are changing shifts, so whilst they’re distracted, I decide to take a chance. I sprint forward, past the borderline easily. It’ll only take them a few moments to realise they have an intruder. I have to get out in two minutes.

After a few moments I come to a house, I grab some of the clothes off the washing line. They’re large and damp but it’ll do, I decide as I continue on my path. I don’t want to break into any homes because I know that will definitely draw attention. I see a few stalls with food laid out with no one about, so I decide to take some too.

60 seconds.

Suddenly I hear a commotion behind me.

Shit, I mistimed them.

A group of five burly wolves charge towards me, their angry eyes locked on their target.

I’m not afraid. I simply begin to run hoping that I can outrun them, the wound in my thigh throbs painfully as I force myself to move. I’m in no condition to fight. Unfortunately, since life definitely hates me, I’m cornered in a small communal square of some sort.

They growl at me threateningly and I growl back, not once backing down. I can see a few people looking through windows or coming into the square to see the commotion.

Since I’m not shifted, I’m slightly surprised when one decides to lunge at me. With all the stolen things in my hands my reaction is delayed, I’m sent tumbling backwards. I hear the sickening crack when my head hits the concrete, I feel the sticky blood mixing with my hair.

A feeling of dizziness overcomes me, and black spots decorate my vision. Then, everything goes black.