He couldn't breathe. His lungs ached with each pull of frigid air, protesting as water found its way down deep. His back pressed against a tree, bark pulling at matted and wet fur while he slid down into himself. The mask laid at his feet; a reminder of what had just transpired. It was over -- it was over and Stalk Kid was left as the remainder.
Rain pelted his skin as he recoiled further, ears flattening against the cacophony of sounds. He hadn't thought he'd live to see this night. He wasn't supposed to. His sacrifice was set for tonight, and yet here he sat. The whirlwind of events repeated in his brain, beating against his head in a sickening and agonizing drum.
Today had started as promised. He woke to his pack wearing blank leaf masks. He had been cleansed in the Lake of Purity and at night brought to the sacred sacrificial grounds. The mask -- the very one before him -- was placed on his face supposedly for the last time. There he stood, his executioner, and he had closed his eyes as his heart fought against the fear.
The blow never came; only the screaming.
The mentor he had come to love as a child might a parent ripped his mask off and lunged towards him, tossing the boy and the mask to the side. The struggle, bloody and horrific, masked the small wolf who reached out to Stalk Kid.
"He wanted to protect you. Come, before it's too late," she had urged, dragging with her a boy who had never thought of a life. Minutes he hadn't imagined would be his dragged into hours as she urgently led him into the Redwoods. "They won't find you here, but I can't help you any further. They'll...." she trailed off, but he knew what her words meant. They'd kill her for her treason.
He couldn't bear it. It was supposed to be him, and he had accepted it. He was the boy marked for death. Not her, nor his mentor. Their death was unneeded, yet she slipped free from his grasp as the surrealism of it all blinded him.
He was alive. He was alive and it was wrong. He needed to die -- needed to die the correct way to protect the world. That was true, wasn't it? It was all he had lived to believe. He was a parasite that plagued the world; he needed to die. Where was home? How did he get back? Should he go back? Surely, for if he didn't what would come of the world?
Yet, he saw the creeping of sunlight around the edges of the horizon. That -- that wasn't supposed to be possible. He had been told his entire life his eyes doomed the world. Their color and marks indicated he was a Child of Ruin; someone who needed to die on the day of their first birthday wearing the Mask of Ruin before the sun rose. If the sacrifice wasn't completed.... the world would end.
But he was there. He was cold, scared, alone, and there. He pulled into himself further, dragging the mask to his face for comfort. It didn't make sense -- he had been told! He was raised for this very reason, and yet there he sat as the sun rose. The world continued on, and it didn't make sense.
Had he been lied to this entire time? No... no they wouldn't. His pack would never lie to him, and yet. His brain screamed in agony, fighting the turmoil as he played back the night. None of it made sense.
'Maybe they were wrong,' the familiar voice echoed in his head. His grip on the mask tightened. 'Or maybe they were right, in some way. What good could a boy like you do? I'm here, aren't I? Stupid boy; you'll find another way to bring us to ruin.'
And that, was that real? The mask and the words it spoke, was it all in his head? Had it all been a lie down to the own absurdities in his head? No one had ever spoken of the mask talking. Had he gone mad from the stress of it all?
None of it made sense!
A whimper tore through his throat as he crashed his head into the trunk. Was everything a lie? Was he just a crazy wolf with no home to return to? No future he was meant for? All of it was a lie?
"Hey," a feminine voice cut through the fog. Stalk Kid jolted upright, eyes peeking through the holes of the mask to spot the glowing light before him. No -- that wasn't right; it was something bright but more. "You alright kid? I've been watchin' you for a minute."
The orb fluttered around his head, drifting side to side as if to indicate curiosity. Stalk Kid's brows furrowed, although masked from the things sight. His brain ached still, but the sudden arrival of whatever-that-was had halted the thoughts. For the moment.
'You're going mad, boy.'
Maybe he was. Maybe he had always been.
"I'm not supposed to be here," he croaked, voice cracking under the pressure. The orb tinkled, fluttering wings he hadn't noted before.
"Honestly, me either," it sighed, swirling around his head. "But I am, and you are, so maybe what's supposed to be is something bigger than our puny brains can comprehend. Err, your brain.... you know, whole Wisp thing -- anyway. Are you okay?"
Was he okay? He leaned back, hiccuping a soft sob in his throat. No -- no he wasn't. He had discovered his life was a lie (or was it?), he wasn't sure he had been sane all along, and now a talking orb with wings was before him. He shook his head, sob hitching and releasing into a sharp cry, unable to be held back anymore.
"No," he wept, collapsing into himself. The Wisp flew closer to his face, illuminating the darkness under the mask.
"Hey! I'm sorry!" It cried, brushing against his cheek. It was a weird feeling, Stalk Kid would later remember, but a comforting one. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong? I have all day."
The sobs caught in his throat as he, again, pulled back to observe the Wisp. Another hiccup, another hitched breath. The creature fluttered nervously, waiting for the boy to speak. He didn't know where to start -- didn't even know fully what it was that was wrong. The words spilled from his mouth; more words than he had spoken all together in his entire life. Someone was listening -- someone actually wanted to hear what he would say and didn't have perceived notions about him.
For once, he wasn't the doomed boy.
And the Wisp listened, intently bouncing into a faux nod when he paused. Nixxie, as the Wisp would later explained ("And she. Don't call me an it -- it's weird. I don't care what the other Wisps say" ). She listened, and Stalk Kid felt the world around him slow just a little against the rain.
It poured from his lips and the little Wisp absorbed every word. At the end she huffed a loud sigh, wings buzzing in frustration.
"That's awful! That's.... kid, you were part of a cult! We gotta get you out of here before they find you! I know the short way out of these woods. Just follow me."
She floated from him, eagerly twirling around a tree before returning to the frozen boys side. "Hey! Come on!"
"Why?" The sobbing had long paused during his story, replaced by a tired and strained voice unaccustomed to being used. "You don't know me... I don't know if it's good to be around me..."
"I don't care about whatever curse you're supposed to be under. I don't believe it, honestly. Look, listen, bad wolves exist all the time and they do bad things. They lied to you, and I don't expect you to get that right away, kid, but I also can't just leave you here to get snatched up again. It'd be bad on my conscious, y'know? And... I don't have anything to lose. I just want to help. You can sit here and hope they don't find you, or maybe that's what you want, or you can come with me and try out something new in life. Something where you aren't waiting to be sacrificed like some shitty story told to pups before bed."
Frustration held in her voice, but she waited. Patiently. There she floated even as he stared at her for what felt like minutes. His paws slowly pulled himself up and followed her, unsure of their path and purpose now that he had been offered a chance at life. He was good at obeying, at least, and found it easy to follow the small Wisp wordlessly.
That's what he was good at, anyway. Listening to what he was told. He didn't mind following her, though, as she darted through the woods. It felt right, as if... no, he had been destined to die today. It couldn't be fate to have met the small creature, right? He didn't know anymore. His life had been a neatly tied lie fed to him for whatever crazed satisfied his pack had needed, or maybe they had believed what they told him. All he knew in that moment was that following the pink and black Wisp felt right.
Maybe that was fate.
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