Mercy
#2 of Pity, Mercy, Anger and Pride
"My tattered ears hear not your weeping, Black Demon. Get thee from this place, begone! I cast you out!" The Witch shouted at the sky, for she was an enemy of the Angel, and therefore the Black Demon. The Angel bore her fangs in defense of the Black Demon, but before he could move, she was cut down by razor claws, and her gurgling scream pierced the night. She too vomited blood upon her coat, her children cowering in the dark. And they looked upon the face of the Black Demon, and he said to them "You, I shall let live, for you know my true name, and are thereby innocent." So the Angel turned to them, and she also said "You, I shall let live", and they knew mercy that day. But they also knew the name of the White One, the Fallen Wolf, the Killer and Ripper of Throats. For it was Pride, and he stalked the Black Demon.
- * * The morning sun was hot on my face as I woke up, naked and alone again. It's one of those things that I've grown used to, like catching rabbits with holes, or cleaning my leg off. It still hurts, and the dull ache tells me that it was a cold night last night. All I need is another sickness. I heaved myself onto my chest, and then my knees, brushing some of the grass off my fur and looking around. The fire died, and the food was gone. I had slept too long, because I had eaten too much. Rabbit always did make me feel a little sleepy. The smoke rose up in plumes toward the sky, waving over the treetops. That image sent a little shiver down my spine. I didn't like fire, as necessary as it was to have it around. It filled me with dread, particularly smoke. Once, in my childhood, I think I was burnt. But that didn't really make sense, because I was unscarred, after all, and my fur was... well, growing naturally. I sometimes wondered what made me so sure I had spent my life physically unharmed. In those carefree days, I thought I might once have been a god, reigning over the forest. That seemed likely to me, somehow. After all, I was the only one here. Who could say I wasn't the keeper of this holy place? Did I stray from heaven into this forbidden land, where none spoke my tongue? The idea of power does things to me. I imagined myself being rutted by a mighty stag, for instance, bent to his cervine will and insane lust. I could see myself lifting my tail for prey, letting it have it's carnal revenge on my body while my shuddering paws struggled to touch myself, squeeze my knot... And I found that I was mausterbating again, my wolfen meat filling my hand in a warm, throbbing mass. Pre soaked the fur on my paw. Another fantasy had run away with me. I grasped my cock and played with it for a little while, fighting back tears. What made me like this? Who was I? Why did I imagine myself being ravaged by prey? Part of me thought it might be a method for atonement. After all, I did rip their throats and bite their bellies. They died screaming because of me, and not only that, but I got a sense of sexual satisfaction out of it. Was I so guilty, these visions were manifesting themselves as a way to keep my godly form humble? And still another part of me knew that the notion of guilt was absurd. I had committed one mortal sin, just one, I knew. But it was a deed so terrible, I was cast out of heaven for it. I knew this for a fact for a few moments, and I was so self assurred... Which is when the orgasm hit, and I shot heavy ropes of white wolf cum onto the sand, near the pond's edge. None of it on my fur this time, which made me happy. I couldn't be bothered to clean myself with a leaf this time, and as the excess seed dribbled warmly over my knot, I began to wonder if I might ever be able to explain these thoughts and feelings to anyone. Anyone would do. Anyone. Anyone at all, anyone out there. I opened my mouth in a silent howl. I could have sworn the entire forest shook with it's force. But no sound came out. And for a few minutes, I felt even more lonely. I decided I needed a little change of scenery. That would cheer me up. Ah, but that day, as I hobbled over to the other side of the pond, I had finally accepted that, if I were alone, I was king. It wasn't the same thing as coming to terms with my solitude, but it was... a nice feeling. It made me happy, in some small part. I watched some birds out on a tree limb, singing to each other, and I fancied that they were offering me prayers. Prayers of gratitude, prayers of worship... prayers for forgiveness. I barked at them, and they flew away, off into the sky like my smoke. Ungrateful creation! So I drank in silence for a little while, counting rocks and trying to keep the water in my paws for as long as I could. It wasn't a fun game. And so I decided I would make some more followers, and they would keep me company. "... over this way." "... ... sure?" "...eah... I can't be..." "Someone.... here has to be crazy." "Crazy? You don't know that. Maybe it's one of those... hermits, you know?" "Loners? Even loners know not to come in here." "What if he's young?" "What if he's stupid?" "Don't give me that, Nikolai. I just heard a voice, alright?" "That doesn't change the fact we're walking on.... well, YOU know where we are!" "Shh... it was just up ahead, alright? Keep it down for a second." I could hear them in the distance, but my ears refused to cooperate. I hadn't heard voices in so long, the sounds were foreign. They were far away, at first. And muffled, too, but it didn't keep me from getting up and listening as hard as I could. They sounded so fearful-- were they coming to pay homage to their god? No, that was foolish. I wasn't some benevolent forest creator. A cub's fantasy, utter delusion. I was just a lonely wolf, that was all. And someone had come to visit me! Two someones. I brushed some of the grass and sand out of my coat and looked around the campsite. It was a mess. Covered with blood and smelling like my seed. It wouldn't do to have them stay there. I decided at once to be a wanderer. My ears cocked. I could hear the voices again. They were close. "Good God, look at him." "He's huge." Two figures stepped out from behind a tree, crouched low and cautious. They were wolves as well, grey ones, with white wooden masks over their muzzles, red paint smeared around their eyes. They looked frightening, and my ears flattened a little bit. "No wonder he can live alone." One whispered to his friend. "Nikolai! He's looking right at us! Say something!" The wolf on the left.... his mask had mock fangs around the muzzle. It made him look quite frightening. Nikolai, they said his name was? He spoke to me. "Uhh... Hello." He made a small bowing motion with his body. I nodded my head, unsure of what to do. "You speak our language?" That was a difficult question. My muzzle opened, but my brain was unsure of the answer, the proper term. I had been dulled like a blunt claw, and my words were slow. "Yes..." I pointed at myself. "I'm.... Sashev." Nikolai looked to his friend, and his shoulders shrugged. "Sashev?" "God damn, he's right out of one of my nightmares." "You dream about this guy?" Nikolai started to pull off his mask, but his friend stopped him. "I used to." "Scary." Both of them turned back to me, and I held up my paws. "It doesn't look like he means us any harm." "I guess not..." Nikolai's friend slunk forward, unusually graceful for one of our kind. "Sashev... I know you don't know us, but how long have you been alone?" I shrugged my shoulders. The words 'too long' came to mind, but I didn't say them. Nikolai turned and looked at his friend, and they whispered something, but I couldn't hear. It was too fast, and too low. It was like learning to speak all over again, and I felt very embarrassed. Sitting down on the grass, my paw gently rubbed the fur over my wounded leg. Nikolai turned his head, and knelt next to me. "What did this to you? I'm surprised you didn't bleed out.... Sashev, right?" I nodded in agreement. "... Yes." I said. "You've been alone for a while, haven't you? Would you like to come back with us?" Again, I nodded. "... Please." Nikolai helped me to my feet, but he had a little trouble. "Our pack isn't doing so well. The Alpha died a few weeks ago, and we've been living on scraps. We could use a guy like you to help us with the hunting, you know? Besides, you'll never get that leg healed properly if you're living out on your own. We have a healer in our pack, she learned from the foxes in the east." It was hard to tell, but I thought he might be grinning as he tapped his mask with one claw. His friend seemed a little miffed, but I thought it best to ignore him for now. "It's where we got these." * * * The Black Demon walked among them, and they knew him not, for he was clouded by ignorance and wrapped in foreign fur. They spoke among themselves, for he had come from the forbidden land, and was not holy. He brought the specters of fear, clutching his shoulders like hawks in their roost, and it made their blood freeze when he passed. And he was presented to each of them in order: He was presented to the Sinner, who said "I do not know him, but no wrong has he done me, and so he can keep his company in my house." He was presented, too, to the Witch, who said "I do not know him, but no good has he done me, and so he must keep his company in the wilderness. He was presented, too, to the Angel, who said "I do not know him, but much good can he do me. I will take him into my house, and he shall feast upon the pleasures of the flesh. I will offer him my food, and I will offer him my body, and he will know me in every way." So it came to pass that the Black Demon was taken by the Angel, who gave him food, so that his belly was full. And in the night, under the shining brilliance of the full moon, the Angel put on her mask and tempted him. Once, she said to him "Lay with me", and she lay down, spreading her legs to the night air. Her scent filled the Black Demon with powerful lust, and he was erect. For two days, and two nights, the Black Demon knew the body of the Angel, and in her wild howling, he knew her heart as well, and their union was whole and good. On the break of the third day, exhausted, they slept. The seed of the Black Demon had graced her. But the Angel was holy. And would not bear a burden. In the dark of the third night, the White One howled for blood.