Part 1) The Truth Behind Dante The Wolf
Dante Rize ... Or more importantly, who is Dante Rize? Few beings know the answer to this question past what is visibly apparent. The following is what has been compiled so far about his life:
From his creation to his fourteenth year of life, normalcy was something known all too well to Dante Rize. He lived the life of a basic, care-free, young wolf cub as so many of his kind had done before him. Dante knew not much of this world beyond the stories his parents had told him from birth about the world and it's wonders. You could even say that he still believed these stories considering he had seen very little evil or malice from others as of late. His home was set smack-dab, at the end of a rarely traveled forest, the forest being behind the house, with grassy plains covering all the other unoccupied land, aside from a small lake. Even the cliff, which could surely spell death for any of those emotional enough to jump from it, was given a natural luster...it was a dream...and all dreams end.
His mother, Trisha Rize and his father, Constantine Raith were and always had been a happy couple since as far back as young Dante could recall. No trials of domestic violence, no divorce, perhaps the worst thing he had ever seen out of them was the occasional verbal disagreement.
Dante was walking home one afternoon after another day of relaxation in the splendor of the grassy plains with the small rodent wildlife in his own 'secret' spot amongst it all. "Damn," He thought to himself with a smile and a gentle snicker. "What a day."
He approached his home, a paw reaching out to turn the familiar bronze door knob belonging to the front entrance of his domicile. "Hello Dante," His mother's voice drifted at him from down the hallway and around the corner of the entrance to the kitchen. "Have fun at your little hang-out spot?"
"Yeah Mom, I always do." The teen-aged cub said with an accomplished grin to meet his mother's own, never failing cheerfulness. Continuing on the path to his bedroom he peered into the living area only to find his father scoping through one of his dream interpretation books. Again Dante's thoughts spoke in his mind, "Heh, that's dad for ya."
Upon completing his journey he grasped the doorknob to his room, turning it slowly for dramatic effect as if he had an audience watching him. Then he darted in, leaping about a foot into the air and landing face down into the cotton cushions of his bed. He rolled over onto his back to allow his right arm to hang loosely off of the side of his bed, eagerly searching for the 'on' button to the moderately sized radio on his bedroom floor.
Taking a deep breath he began to flip through the tracks of his recently acquired Demon Days album made famous by the Gorillaz, until stopping on track seven entitled 'El Mañana'. He drifted off into his thoughts speaking aloud to himself, "Definitely a song to thing about.." And allowing some time for a little more character development.
Dante had always been an intelligent wolf, just a little lacking in the common sense department, especially since reaching his awaited 'teenager' status. He had accepted a few academic and social awards since starting the educational period of his life. He took enjoyment in playing almost every mainstream sport, recreationally though.
Holding favor towards Soccer, Basketball, and just running, be it laps or what have you. Despite his outgoing personality he never conformed to any social 'click' remaining a wolf all his own. Even so, he had friends out of every click, Preps, Goths, Losers, Humans, and anything else creative someone's son or daughter could come up with to label someone different from them.
Though he had not seen much evil from others lately, he had beheld much throughout his life. The first death he experienced, was that of his elder brother, Brandon, who was an acute asthmatic and died from one of the attacks associated with the respiratory problem. The mere thought of his brother or speaking of his name in Dante's home was enough to evoke tears.
Dante, still laying on his bed and barely acknowledging his the sound of his music sat there amazed as he had narrated a bit of his life in his mind. A solitary tear ran down his cheek as he was still conflicted by his brother's death even though it had occurred when he was a pup around the age of two.
This young wolf held a very convincing façade to hide the sea of warring emotions inside his heart, mind, and soul from outside onlookers. He even went as far as wishing to savagely beat or kill someone betraying him or causing him any pain.
"What the fuck!!?" The teenaged wolf blurted out this statement as he heard several awe inspiring crashes taking place in the kitchen. His father's deep yell could be heard resounding through the walls of the house, "Who the hell are you?!! Get the fuck out of my house!! Stay away from my wife!!"
Dante broke for the door of his room, inadvertently maximizing the volume on his radio in the process. After opening the door of his room he began to cautiously creep down the second hallway of his home, -[Sorry to interrupt, but this is not the hallway behind the front entrance of the house, but the secondary one containing the entrances to the bedrooms and bathroom.]- as he neared the kitchen he beheld the aftermath of the struggle that had taken place.
Chairs laid smashed to rubble aside from the lone chair which hung swinging out of the broken window of the kitchen. Strewn all across the floor utensil drawers and utensils could be seen. The viewing pane of the oven had been broken and held host to blood drops and strands of silver fur, a fur color common in his family. As if a head had been bashed into it.
Unknowingly young Dante's cheek fur was stained dark gray from all the tears he had been letting a hold of upon taking witness to the morbid scene of violence the kitchen of his home had been redecorated to. He collapsed into a kneeling position with glossy eyes slowly surveying the area in traumatic disbelief. "....no...p-please...n..n-no." He cried out until his eyes fell prey to the most disturbing sight he had seen since arriving on the scene.
The dining room table sat there undisturbed. One would believe it to be sort of commonplace until beholding the 'stainless' steel knife, painted down to the very handle with blood. At that moment, all hope, and happiness left Dante. The war between his emotions had been neutralized and only hatred had been found victorious. The last words of the seventh track on his Gorillaz album could be heard. "Only in time...."
...Eight Years Later...
Now Dante had reached twenty-two years of age with the memory of that god forsaken night when he lost his parents still burning vividly in his mind. His hatred had nulled a bit, but his emptiness had yet to be filled. He spent night and day searching for the answer justifying the events that had taken place back then, on that night.
Since then he only returned once to his childhood home, taking a moment and reliving the evil of that fateful night. His home had become debilitated, dusty, and a home to a few smaller wilderness creatures. Dante shooed them out, walked into the garage and coming back into the kitchen holding several bright red jugs with long, yellow tubes protruding from them.
That time he revisited his home, he burned it to the ground. He surrounded the house with a few light boulders and other rocks to prevent the fire from spreading to the surrounding area. In the last moments before he left his burning home, he raised his outstretched index paw digit and his middle paw digit to his lips. Dante pressed them to his lips blowing a kiss at the burning home and quickly performing the Catholic cross gesture from top of his sternum to the bottom, then from his left shoulder to his right shoulder.
No one attempted to stop the fire consuming his home that night, and he turned with another tear in his eye, leaving it to burn in peace. He adopted the title 'Truth Wolf', for reasons he held in his heart. He vowed even to elude death until the time he found the truth to the assumed deaths of his parents.
Dante realized one thing from all this, no matter how good something is, it can always be taken.