Always

Tired, ragged, breathless, and beaten, Naomi stumbles through the woods. She had heard before being trafficked to hell, while roaming the world alone, whispers of a pack’s location somewhere upon the coast. A small pack family, who are slow to trust and slower still in staying their killing blows, remnants of Lupine societal structure. Her kind had been hunted, as Eve asserted, to practical extinction long before the bills and laws were put into place to forbid such a thing.

The energy required to hold the beast quickly left her and both decided it was time for him to sleep. As she stumbled forward, bones shifted, joints changed, and teeth shortened. Before long a naked Naomi catches herself on a tree. Now outside, alone and bare without her fur, she realizes the frigid wind saps what little heat and energy remains.

She hesitates to rest against the rough bark of the tree but finds herself powerless to resist. Her vision hazes from exposure and tiredness. She wavers momentarily between passing out and remaining awake. Suddenly, a twig snaps, forcing Naomi alert and awake.

But she’s too slow, too wary, to avoid the net casted at her. She screams what little she can, and stumbles, crashing headfirst into the tree she was using as support. The blow is enough to disperse what little energy she had left, causing her to collapse like a listless marionette whose strings have been cut.

The jovial sound of laughs and cheers awakens Naomi. Her first instinct is to enter defense mode, afraid to be back in hell. But no quicker than she sits up and throws the covers off herself, does the chastising voice of an old woman scold her.

“Settle down young one.” This woman says, directing it toward Naomi.

The beast within releases a howl, and Naomi bares her fangs. Lightning quick, the woman extends a wooden stave and bops her on the head. Confused at the subtle pain, Naomi whimpers and rubs her fingers across her crown.

“Don’t bare your fangs at me, pup,” the woman again scolds.

“Do you have a name? You have a name don’t you? Of course you do, out with it.”

“Where am I?” Naomi asks.

“Stupid question child. You came to find us yes? We followed you for miles to acquiesce your intent. We are who you seeked. We are the children of Fenrisúlfr.”

“You all do exist? I had assumed it rumors at this point.” Naomi says puzzling over the revelation.

“You ventured far and wide for nothing but rumors child? But yes, we are real. And yes, as far as we know, we are the last tribe of Lupins, for we are the purest of them all. We are the children of Fenrir-..." sigh, "saying his other name is too much work,” the old one chuckles at the end.

“I’m bewildered.”

“No you are not. Who are you really?” The old woman states matter-of-factly.

“I’m Naomi. I ran with all my strength and all my power to find you all.”

“Naomi… an old name. A rare name. We’ve heard rumors of you as well. The lone pup who settles down with none. We thought if they contained any truth behind them, that you would be long dead.”

“But I am alive, but barely.”

Naomi takes a moment to look around the room. It’s a small shack, but with a cozy, homey feeling. A fireplace runs at the opposite end, providing much warmth. The front door is cracked, letting in the light from outside. The happy sounds from before occasionally leak in through it.

“Well I-” the woman begins to get up before having to strain herself to stand. Without thinking, Naomi rushes to her side to assist her.

“I am not so feeble, Pup.” She scolds Naomi again, yet this time it carries very little sting.

“As I was saying, I am Ailen. And this-” she moves to the door and opens it, “Is home.”

Beyond the door is a world so much unlike the one Naomi came from. The bright atmosphere is hard to look at as Naomi’s soul is stained black. She’s glad, ecstatic even, to have found this place. But the sacrifices… were they worth it?