Of Wolf

There is a knocking sound. At first it is infrequent and calm but as time goes on it becomes more insistent and urgent. Then a dull muffled voice begins to accompany it as the knocking becomes a persistent banging.

It is at this point that Hans begins to stir. He is aware of the noise, both in terms of the voice and the knocking. He can’t make the voice out at first and so simply tries to ignore it. It is just a dream, he tells himself as he brings the sheet up almost over his head as though it is some form of shield.

He is sure it will go away soon, if he just focuses on something else. That is usually how it goes with dreams and he is certain that that is what this is. Then his hearing begins to become more acute which leads to the words shifting out of being a muffled rumble and into actual words. That is when Hans realises it is his name being yelled at the top of a man’s lungs. That confuses him but is he aware that he is awake now. The sound of his voice being called has pulled him from his slumber. That annoys him but he still refuses to open his eyes as he can’t be sure this isn’t some twisted dream meant to trick him and rob him of his rest.

He can’t remember how long it’s been since he was last on his feet, but doesn’t much care. Though, seeing as the voice and knocking are clearly not about to end anytime soon Hans concludes an angry shout should dispose of its presence. So he cries, “Ssssut ttt wlll ooooooo.”

Immediately Hans realises that his words have come out completely wrong and nowhere near as loud as he intended them. They’re unintelligible and he doesn’t know why. His instinctive reaction is to touch his face, but as soon as he does his eyes shoot open in alarm. His face is different, very different. In fact, he doesn’t really understand what he is touching and if he didn’t know better he would swear that it isn’t his face. But it has to be. He lives alone in his cabin. No family, no pets, nothing.

In response to his face feeling wrong he throws his sheet off of him only for his eyes to go wide again when he finds that his left arm is hairy. Not in the conventional sense but in a way that can only be described as animalistic.

Hans gulps loudly and his jaw begins to chatter, except it fails as the protruding section of his face, where his noise usually is, misses his lower teeth entirely.

Hans doesn’t understand what is going on but knows that he has to move. He’s forgotten about the knocking and calling of his name, which has become nothing more than background noise.

He has more important things to worry about and so he rolls out of bed, expecting his legs to work, but they don’t. So instead Hans rolls right onto the floor. The impact is painful but means little to him. Though, he is relieved that he has somehow managed to land on all fours. If he hadn’t he isn’t sure he would have been able to bring himself up to his knees. But he doesn’t have to think about that now as fortune favoured him this time.

Still, the sight of his left arm covered in thick dark hair being permanently in his line of sight fills him with panic. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t remember. Why can’t I remember? He asks himself. He doesn’t dare yet try and speak aloud again. Not after the last time.

Maybe it’s a dream, he suddenly thinks. But he knows that it isn’t. He would have awoken by now if it had been.

Suddenly, the shouts of his name become somehow louder. Hans would have thought it impossible but still that is what has happened as what had become little more than a backing track to his horror is returned to the forefront of his mind. Hans curses, mentally. He will have to speak again, he knows. He doesn’t want to and has no clue if it will come out correct, but he has to. Whoever is almost punching his door and screaming his name won’t stop unless he does. But what if they hear my unintelligible dross and break the door down only to see me like this? Hans asks himself. He doesn’t expect a reply, which is just as well as he doesn’t get one.

So with nothing to stop him, other than perhaps his inability to sound coherent, Hans tries to stop the relentless din. “Oooooo, th-s ough. I’m comiiiiii. Gie me a minute.”

Hans shakes his head in frustration. The later part of what he was trying to say was better but still gibberish. That is why, with the cries still coming, Hans crawls towards his solid wooden cabin door.

It seems whoever is the other side of the door hasn’t heard him and Hans can’t say whether that is a good thing or not.

He wishes his legs would work. They don’t and continue to allow him only to stay on all fours and crawl. It’s rage inducing but Hans decides anger will get him nowhere as he finally reaches the door of his cabin. He tries to push himself back so he is on his knees but the act is a real struggle that takes him a couple minutes to achieve. As soon as he does he can see how violently the wood of his door is bowing under the hammering that is being delivered unto it.

You have to speak again, if you have any hope of stopping someone from seeing you like this. The voice in his head, which he assumes is his subconscious, announces. Hans agrees and tries one last time to speak. He is sure it will be about as unintelligible as his previous two attempts but it’s the only option he has. At least it is in his mind as he says, “I’m up. Just give me a second.”

Hans blinks in shock to have heard his own voice in his ears. But at least it has the desired effect as the knocking and shouting ends immediately. Not that the lack of a background track of irritating noise does anything to stop the confusion he feels as he dares to touch his face again.

This time when Hans feels his face he finds that it’s normal. He breathes a silent sigh of relief and then looks down at his left arm to find it too is as it should be. That is when he tries to will his legs to conform. Much to his surprise they do, and he scrambles awkwardly to his feet. It feels like he hasn’t stood on them in weeks, though he knows that is impossible.

At this point it becomes apparent to Hans that he is still fully clothed. However, the clothes are shredded. Hans marks that as off as he never crawls into bed fully clothed and has no idea how his clothes now resemble little more than rags. Yet, these discoveries are some of the least confusing of those that have become apparent to him since he has awakened. Then he remembers that someone is on the other side of his door. He doesn’t know how he had forgotten that but now that it is back in the forefront of his mind he unbolts and then cautiously opens his door.

At first all that comes through the narrow crack is bright shining light and then as Hans eases it open further he finds a face he immediately recognises looking back at him. That face is of Hans’ oldest friend, Patrice. A worried look is carved into his face as his blond hair is rustled by the gentle breeze and his brown eyes study Hans with genuine concern, which surprises Hans. He has no idea why Patrice looks so worried and so goes to ask the reason for his expression, except he never gets the chance as Patrice speaks first.“Are you okay Hans? No one’s seen you in two days!”

Patrice’s eyes continue to study Hans’ face but for what he cannot say. He looks fine, except curiously he is adorned in ragged clothes. The blond haired man marks that as very un-Hans, but sees nothing else to give him concern.

Hans meanwhile, has to suppress his surprise to learn that he has lost two days. And as he can’t remember what might have happened to them he simply offers, “I’m fine Patrice. I was just doing work around the cabin, is all. No need to worry.”

As soon as he’s said it Hans notices the tension in Patrice’s shoulders ease. That means his friend has bought his lie, which brings Hans some relief. If Patrice hadn’t believed him he isn’t sure what he would have done. That however, isn’t an issue he is going to have to face now.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just people got talking and there have been some strange sounds coming from the forest. I-I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions…but you left so late a couple days ago I feared the worst.” Patrice blurts sounding far guiltier than Hans believes his friend should.

“It’s ok Patrice. I would have been the same.” Hans says trying to placate his friend who immediately smiles in thanks and then asks, “Will you be coming to market today?”

“I’ll be along later.” Hans says before he even gives himself a chance to mull over an answer.

Had he given himself time and not answered on impulse he would have to admit that he is in no mood and had no intention of going to market. He didn’t even know it was today, but even if he did it would not have changed anything.

Habit, Hans assumes, is why he delivered such a response. But now that’s he’s said it he knows he will have to at least make an appearance, and that irritates him. Yet, he knows it is entirely his own fault.

“Wonderful. Everyone will be so happy to see you. They were all worried. But I’ve taken up enough of your time Hans. Enjoy market and I’m sorry again for my overreaction.” Patrice says with a beaming smile.

That look is how Hans always pictures his friend, forever smiling and happy. Seeing him with a worried or concerned look carved into his lightly tanned skin isn’t normal. That is why Hans is pleased those looks are now gone.

He smiles back and nods to his friend, who is already down the three steps that connect the small cabin porch area to the moss covered ground that it sits on, waving frantically as he goes.

Hans watches his friend leave. Once he is out of sight however, Hans slams his cabin door shut before pressing his back against it. Sweat begins to pour off his body as panic sets in again. Hans doesn’t understand why. Though, he doesn’t have to wait long for an answer as flashes of massive white teeth fill his vision. In response, he panic he had been feeling turns into a mixture of fear and primal rage, neither of which he understands.