Whispers in the Wind

The boy shivered. He walked along the path slowly, the crunching of snow the only thing he could hear, aside from the occasional whistling of the winds through the trees. He took off one of his gloves and blew warm breath into the hand, before putting the glove back on with shaking hands. His thick, Kevlar-lined jacket was the only consolation to him from the harsh, cold winds, as the sun was setting in the distance, and it was already more than cold.

He was a soldier, well, a few hours ago, at least. The dog tags draped around his neck and the rifle slung near his abdomen were more than enough proof. But, soldier or no soldier, he was a frightened, freezing child in this forest. And the weapon he had may be able to kill the enemy, kill any beasts, but there were things it could not kill- His fear. That, and the cold. And, most of all- his paranoia. He heard things, out in the forest- bad things. Sometimes he'd mistake the harsh wind for a rocket scream. There would be whispers through the trees, maybe the enemy conspiring against him, but more likely than not, spirits, taunting him, just as the lightly-falling snow whirling around him were like little fairies, almost mocking him. He was so disoriented, he could barely remember how he got lost in the first place, which, when he tried to remember, he laughed nervously at how stupid he was, as if in the company of a friend, telling jokes. But there were no humans about, least of all his friends.

But there were things, out there, watching him. He knew it. Well, he was convinced that there were things out there. He shot glances around, looking for something, anything, holding up the weapon and flashing it around.

"Who's there?" He said, his voice cracking almost immediately, making him sound a lot like an eight year-old. Something in the forest shifted. Or, at least he thought something did. He saw the bushes move, the wind shrieking through them. "Come out… or I'll start shooting!!!" He said, the weapon shaking madly in his grip. Weapon or no weapon, he still was like an upset, frightened child. More importantly, he sounded like one too. Freaked out, he raised the weapon and let a shot break the silence of the twilight, and the bush moved again, and this time, he was almost certain that something whispered something from the bush, almost in a harsh tone.

The boy suddenly found himself sprinting like a mortified child, despite being weighed down by his armor and the weapon. He looked behind him, and He could swear he saw shadows zipping about. He was officially going nuts, but at the time, he didn't know that. He then, still running back, raised the weapon with one hand and let rounds upon rounds of ammunition rip from it with a deafening chorus of "PA-POW-POW-POW"s, in a desperate attempt to destroy these shadow creatures. Suddenly, He lost his footing and turned around, but it was already too late. He looked down, seeing the sharp, seventy-degree, downhill slope into the gorge, too late to stop. He tumbled down and down, screaming, and the weapon flew from his hands. His helmet flew off, bouncing and tumbling across the ice much like he was, before he came to a stop at the bottom of the gorge in a heap of armor-weighted flesh and broken bones. He groaned in pain, too dazed to feel the fractures spread along his body. He had also hit his head too hard, his view fuzzing and unable to focus on anything. He saw a figure advance down the slope in a quick trot. He tried to reach for his pistol, or maybe even his knife, but he was too disoriented to locate even them. He groaned out in pain as the figure came up next to him, falling to it's knees. The figure touched him, before it pulled two things from him, his pistol and his knife. He cringed, expecting cold steel to meet with his jugular in the next moment, to put him out of his misery; or, if it was the enemy standing over him, to put him out of action. But the hazy figure dropped the weapons to it's side, before looking over the soldier. It let out a concerned groan and a 'tsk', before sitting up, remaining silent and motionless for a second, before it leant over to the mumbling man's ear.

"Relax," it said, or more specifically, she. It had a feminine voice. "It'll be okay." She said, as if comforting a child about to get a flu shot or something of the sort, as kindly and as motherly as possible. She then lifted up his sprained and limp arm, pulling his sleeve back from his wrist, exposing his pale tan skin to the harsh cold of the tundra winds. And, he felt her touch- cold, leathery pads, with fur around the edges. Who was this? Hell, what was this? These weren't gloves, these were furry hands. "I'm sorry that I have to do this, it'll only hurt for a little while…" She said with a little sigh/nervous gasp. He really didn't have much to think about next, because he saw her put her mouth to his wrist- and then, she opened her mouth, gripping the appendage in her teeth.

"GAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!" He howled, flailing around in pain. She just bit harder, as his hand curled back in pain, blood gushing down his arm. Somehow, his vision cleared, maybe the pain, or maybe something else, and he finally got a good look at her- thick white and gray fur, perky ears, snout. This was no normal girl. She looked like a Siberian Husky and a human mashed into one being, with humanlike arms and torso, but she was covered with soft fur and had a canine-like scull, only with a rounder dome of a head like a human's, hair-like mane that fell past her shoulders, and extremely human-like, mocha brown eyes. But whatever she was, it was now attempting to devour him alive. But wait, he felt something, as if entering his veins- flowing about, like poison. But, for some reason… this "Poison" made him feel better. She released him, and she quickly tried to straighten out his limbs, whilst holding him to the ground.

"It's okay, it's okay," She said calmly, putting her hand on his forehead, almost stroking him. It was a nice feeling, and he felt a little bit comforted, as things shifted. He seemed to heal a little, his concussioned brain reapportioning itself and his fractures and broken bones numbing out, before his entire body went numb, as if in preparation for something. He looked up into her eyes, a look of awe mixed with shock and fear in his own face, seeing her calm, soft brown eyes looking at him with a look of kind affection, if not awe, both of them just staring into the other's eyes.

"Unhhh…" He groaned in a confused stupor.

"It's okay, it's okay," she kept saying. He tried to rise up, but she pushed him to the ground. "I really, really am sorry about this… I hope you'll forgive me for what's gonna happen next…" She said, to which he was getting a bit confused. About what? What was she sorry about? Suddenly, he felt his arm, his bitten arm- tingling, this crazy, epileptic feeling racing up and down his veins. He rose up his hands, seeing them shake like mad. Then, springing right out of the bite wound- a hair popped, long, soft and white. Soon another, and another. They began to spread like wildfire, and he could just look at them, muttering in fear and confusion. "Although, it will be nice to not be the only one like me in the forest…" She said, almost to herself, and his eyes blasted open more than they should have been able to. He saw his nails harden and become darker, to which he was overcome with so many emotions and thoughts; it was like his entire brain just went into panic mode.

"GGAAAH!!!!" He screamed, thrashing, breathing out heavily in disbelief. "You're turning me into… A- A WEREWOLF?!?!" He spouted, the mythical creature the first thing coming to mind, even though she didn't quite match the description of 'werewolf'. "W-Wh-"

"Calm down mister, just calm down, it'll be over s-"

"CALM DOWN?!?!" He screamed, the fur advancing to his chest, up his sleeves and spreading under his armor.

"Look, you're gonna be fine. Please, just-"

"I'M TURNING INTO A WEREWOLF!!!" he spouted, the fur crawling up his neck. "AND YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN?!?" He screamed, before he flipped over, onto his stomach, attempting to crawl away from her in a sort of crazed fear. "G-GGHAGH!!!" He growled out, before he clutched at his mouth, curling up in the fetal position. He thrashed and yelped in pain as his nose fused back into his scull and his jaws began to advance forward. He snarled and gnashed his teeth, his ears migrating further up his scull, cropping and becoming pointy. At the same time, he spazzed as his tailbone split and multiplied, the furry tail coming out of the rear of his pants, forcing it's way over his belt, forcing them down as it gained in volume, the tail swooshing about uncontrollably. He thrashed and flipped about, his legs beginning to modify themselves, his heels raising up and the balls of his feet getting more and more leathery, his shoes slipping off of him. He began to beat the ground for no apparent reason other than the stress was really getting to his brain, making him insane for a few seconds. He spazzed about uncontrollably, with newly-made and not yet acquainted-with nerves. He cried out in pain, before he went limp and laid there, on the ground, still. It was over. The newly-made combat-armor-donning wolf-man lay there, motionless, his eyelids fluttering, asleep from the stress. He began to whimper softly in his sleep, with frightening and disheartening dreams filling his mind.

She looked over him, biting her lip. She sat down slowly next to him, and rubbed him behind the ears comfortingly, like you would do to a sleeping dog, which eased his whimpering a little. "It'll be okay," she reiterated. "It had to be done. You would have died," She said, not exactly telling him, but more of saying it to vindicate herself. She then gathered up the pistol and the knife nearby, and then picked him up by the shoulders and began to drag him away, leaving an indented trail in the snow as she went.