[ P ] Poisonous

Running
against the wind

”Isn’t it incredible how time, memories, and worries mean nothing?”

The night of passion had passed by now, and, unsurprisingly to Finch, he had not seen the mistress of the night nor the glimmer in her eyes since. Still, the experience remained with the young wolf, embedded in his consciousness. Her words would ruminate within his skull long after the stranger had left him behind as he had been following their wild encounter: satisfied, but confused.

Had it all been a dream – or a strange nightmare?

He shuddered as he thought of the enchantress; it was a thrilling rush that returned to him along with a simmering heat, but tinged still with another sensation: regret. He regretted that their time together had been so brief, though he didn’t miss her in particular. He pondered over the sham of what love was meant to be. Finch knew nothing of this concept – his only experience observing romantic love had been the tumultuous, loveless partnership of his parents. But that night had been different than he had expected.

Tonight, he would drift off to sleep with the same thoughts gnawing at his unconscious mind… How many more had fallen prey to her charms? Why had he been so easily taken – and was it a bad thing, despite how good it felt in the moment? What a horror it would be for that wolfess to have children of her own.

As he slept, he saw a strange vision that would leave him shaken when he awoke. Before him, there was a deep darkness that seemed to beckon him with glimmers of light, like faraway stars. It was at once enticing and terrifying to behold, but Finch felt compelled to draw closer. As he did, a shadow even darker than the night emerged. He could see its eyes glowing, but where there should be color, there was nothing – utter nothingness that stared back at him with a haunting glare. The dream would become a nightly repeat within his unconscious mind. It was the ghost of his deeds, and the uncertainty of his role in perpetuating a new generation of wickedness.