Also written by neox52492
The jet-black sky above split with a bolt of lightning,
spreading over the horizon like a web. Real Spyder webs clung to the trees,
catching in Balthazar's fur as he ran. A huge clap of thunder sounded from the
storm clouds. The young Lupe darted behind a large boulder, whimpering in fear;
heavy raindrops began to fall as he cowered there. Lightning lit up the Haunted
Forest again accompanied by a large roll of thunder. The rain soaked the Lupe's
dark coat thoroughly as he curled into a small ball of matted fur.
How could his mother do that? He felt sick to
his stomach to think that his mother, his wonderful, loving mother, didn't want
him. Did he say something? He thought about anything he could have done to make
her mad, but he couldn't. All he knew was that it must have been his fault.
Why else would she desert him?
It started this morning. His mom told him she
was going to see the witch, Edna, but he couldn't come with her. Balthazar thought
that was strange at the time and had been a little hurt. After all, his mom
and him were inseparable. They went everywhere together. Why would she not want
him to come this time? So, Balthazar's mother dropped him off at the edge of
the Woods, where he would be safe from the dangers inside, at least until his
mother returned. But she never came. Balthazar was left waiting until nightfall.
The tears streamed down his nose now. It seemed
his heart had been torn in two with one fatal swoop. Everything was hopeless
now. Nothing mattered any longer. Not a shred of hope shone through those scraggly
groping branches above his head nor in his wounded heart. His mother - the closest
person in the world - had left him. The remnants of his world crumbled around
him as the thought clouded his mind. Didn't want... didn't love... a burden
and despicable thing in the eyes of his mother... How could he have ever led
himself to believe it was love? Unwanted. Unloved. Forever more it would be
The chill of the rain, coming in heavy sheets
now, seeped to his bones or perhaps from his heart. Whatever the source the
young Lupe found himself shaking violently with cold. The colder it got the
worse the memories came. He let his mind believe she had said it almost coolly,
"You can't come this time..." A dagger so sharp and deadly into his very soul
that could never heal. Taking one shuddering breath the Lupe uncurled himself
from the tiny ball of fur he had formed. He had to find warmth. He had to get
to a shelter somehow. The rock was little refuge and even he knew the penalty
for ignoring the cold and gnawing hunger roaring up inside him unable to deafen
the sorrow. He was as good as dead in the morning if he didn't do something.
So Balthazar rose to his feet shakily and begin
to make his way around the rock where the wind blew towards him ruthlessly.
The branches of tall proud trees thrashed furiously, the smaller trees threatening
to bend right to the ground. Then he saw it... flickering uncertainly in the
distance. A soft purple glow. Something about that glow, the back of
his mind whispered. It was cold instead of warmth. But the shivering
Lupe's numb mind pushed this thought away and out of all reaches. He concentrated
on making it to the light; nothing else mattered anymore. The light - twenty
paces away... now fifteen... Slowly the distance shrank and numbers jumbled
up in his mind throwing off all logical thought. The light. The light.
All that mattered. All he needed.
Balthazar crawled just a bit further. The light
had begun to sing. Its voice was beautiful, and he knew it was all for him.
The voice called to him. "Balthazar...come to me..." it sang, voice clear and
vibrant. He wanted to find the voice more than anything.
He entered the clearing where the light shone.
He looked around, dazed, and found the source of the wonderful voice. A Dark
Faerie was sitting on a stump, mouth open. The faerie was so ugly it startled
Balthazar a bit. How could something so beautiful come out of something so horrifying?
"Welcome, Balthazar..." she sang.
"Who are you?" he asked. The shock of seeing
the Faerie had snapped him out of his trance. He was wary, and angry with himself
for falling for the trick. He looked around, and noticed a few other Faeries
surrounding the clearing. Each one was as ugly as the next.
"We are the Faeries of the Forest, of course,"
the singing one told him. "We heard you crying and we wanted to cheer you up,
little one," she smirked.
The one leaning against a gnarled and menacing
looking tree let out an alarming cackle at this. "Come now, Chlora, cut the
talk. This forest is boring enough without your droning." She broke off a thin
branch from the tree she had been leaning on and approached Balthazar, branch
outstretched as if she were offering a tantalizing morsel of food to a very
large, wild creature.
Balthazar backed away from the faerie warily.
His paw landed on something sharp. A few moments later he could feel something
warm and sticky flowing between his claws but he didn't care any longer. The
faerie was approaching with her stick and she looked positively malignant. He
was very sure she would eat him if she could. But he was so cold... If he ran
he would surely not make it far. His legs quivered beneath him even now. The
light, which had been so inviting moments earlier with the promise of warmth
and comfort, seemed to gleam as a colder source of evil than the elements storming
around him. Although the cover the faeries were camped under kept the rain off
his back, the young Lupe's fur was soaked enough to keep him wet for days to
The Lupe frantically looked for a way out. There
were faeries blocking all of the openings between the gnarled trees, and the
faerie was coming ever closer. There was nothing for him to do. He was doomed.
He slumped slightly, his eyes meeting the malevolent ones of the Dark Faerie.
And that's when it clicked. Something inside
him changed, he felt it in his heart, his soul, his brain. A new feeling coursed
through him; instead of fear he felt anger. Although he couldn't tell, the small
Lupe named Balthazar had reverted back to his primal instincts.
And his instincts told him to fight back. "Fight
back with both your mind and your claws," it told him. "Do it now!" Balthazar
lunged towards the faerie, his claws outstretched. The faerie screeched as the
Lupe met her skin. The other faeries rushed to help, but he growled ferociously,
and they held their distance. He stopped abruptly, glancing at each of the faeries
surrounding him, and the faerie right in front of him.
Unexpectedly, Balthazar leapt backwards and raced
away from the clearing. Something inside him was fighting his instincts. Balthazar's
feelings had now shifted, and he was feeling like a young cub again. He couldn't
help it; it was all too confusing. He slowed to a stop.
"What's wrong with me?" he asked himself. "First
I attack her, then I run away? What's happening to me?" More tears formed in
his eyes. He searched for a dry place. Sitting in a small hollow in a tree,
he began to think this through logically.
And that's when he saw them. There, across a
clearing, was a small, clear bag chock full of glass bottles shaped like teardrops.
Curious, Balthazar cautiously left his tree hollow and went to investigate.
They looked a bit like they could be used for potion making. He picked them
Suddenly, he heard voices behind them. The faeries
had recuperated and wanted to strike back at Balthazar. He turned to face them,
his feelings mixed between the will to fight and the fear of what they could
do to him now that they were really angry.
"Well, look who it is, girls!" the faerie he
had attacked said maliciously. The others sneered and stared at him angrily.
Balthazar silently prepared himself for a fight. His first thought was he could
throw the bottles to drive them back. He pulled one out of the bag behind his
back and threw it, not wanting to wait for them to make the first move. He expected
it to land on the ground in front of them, shattering into pieces, but instead
it did something astounding.
The bottle had stopped in midair, close to the
faerie in front. The cap silently shot off the top, and a gust of wind suddenly
rushed through the air from all directions, seeming to flow into the magical
But the thing Balthazar was watching was the
faerie. She seemed to become distorted, stretching and shrinking. When she realized
this, she screeched, and tried to stop it with her magic, flicking her finger
this way and that. The faerie was now half the size she was before, and she
relentlessly tried to escape the prison that was the glass bottle.
Another moment, and she was completely inside
the bottle. The cork darted towards the top, and sealed itself tightly. The
other faeries watched, horrified, while Balthazar stood there, shocked. After
it wore off a second later, though, he grabbed another bottle and hurled it
towards the remaining faeries. He tossed each and every bottle in the bag towards
the group, and each one found a faerie and sucked it in. Soon, he had a pile
of Faeries on the hard, cold ground. He gathered them into the sack, deciding
he could sell them as a novelty item. He was still shocked that he had defeated
He swore to himself that he would capture every
faerie he ever came across. He must get back at them for the abuse he had suffered.
"It's the only way to do it," he thought to himself. "Every faerie will pay."
And with that, he left the Haunted Woods.