Chapter 2 Ask My Mother and Father
The night was quiet again.Too quiet.The wooden house sat at the edge of the forest, its porch light flickering like a dying heartbeat. The two hunters remained outside, unaware that death had already crossed the tree line. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, thicker, as if the forest was closing in around them.Blake stood among the shadows.His massive form blended with the darkness, black fur absorbing what little moonlight filtered through the trees. Every breath he took was slow, controlled. He could smell them—sweat, metal, gun oil, arrogance. Their laughter still echoed faintly in his ears.Beasts, they had said.His claws flexed.The bald hunter leaned against the porch railing, still grinning. "Told you," he said to the gray-haired man. "Those things don't scare me anymore. Big teeth, loud growls. That's it."The other man nodded, adjusting the strap on his rifle. "Still," he muttered, "keep your guard up. Forest's been strange lately."Blake stepped forward.A branch snapped under his foot.Both men froze."You hear that?" the bald one asked.Another step.Closer."Probably a deer," the bald hunter scoffed, raising his gun anyway. "Or one of those mutts got brave."The forest answered them.Blake emerged from the shadows in a single, smooth motion, towering over them like a nightmare given form. His height alone stole the breath from their lungs. His eyes glowed faintly, locked onto them with cold precision.The bald hunter stumbled back. "What the hell—"Blake moved faster than thought.In one blur of motion, he slammed the bald man into the side of the house. Wood cracked. The man screamed as the breath was ripped from his lungs, his rifle clattering uselessly to the ground.The gray-haired hunter fired.The bullet struck Blake's chest and flattened against his fur, falling harmlessly at his feet.Blake looked down at it.Then back up.The hunter's face drained of color.Blake crossed the distance in a heartbeat, grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him off the ground with one hand. The hunter kicked and struggled, gasping, clawing at Blake's wrist."P–Please!" he choked. "Wait—wait!"Blake's grip tightened, but he did not kill him.Not yet.Behind him, the bald hunter groaned, trying to crawl away, leaving a smear of blood across the porch. Blake turned his head slightly, his ears twitching, listening to the man's weak attempts to escape."You shouldn't have come here," Blake said.His voice rolled through the clearing like distant thunder, deep and heavy, vibrating in the hunters' bones.The gray-haired man coughed violently. "Why?" he rasped. "Why are you doing this? We were just—"Blake's eyes narrowed."Just hunting?" he finished for him.The hunter nodded desperately. "We didn't know—"Blake slammed him against the ground.The earth cracked beneath the impact. The hunter screamed as pain exploded through his body, ribs snapping like dry twigs. Blake loomed over him, massive and unyielding, his shadow swallowing the man whole."Do you know," Blake said slowly, "how many of you have said that?"He stepped closer, his claws digging into the soil. Memories stirred—cold nights, hunger, blood on his hands not yet hardened by hate.The bald hunter cried out. "You're a monster!"Blake turned.In an instant, he was there.One hand closed around the man's head, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The hunter's legs dangled uselessly as terror flooded his eyes."A monster?" Blake repeated.His grip tightened just enough for the man to feel the strength behind it."You made me this."The bald hunter sobbed. "We didn't even know you existed!"Blake laughed once.It was short. Hollow."You all exist the same way," he said. "With fear. With fire. With blades meant for children hiding in the dark."The gray-haired hunter dragged himself backward, leaving a trail of blood. "Please," he begged. "If you have any mercy—"Blake turned back to him.For a moment—just a moment—his grip loosened.The hunter saw it.Hope."Why?" the man asked again, his voice breaking. "Why us?"Blake straightened.The forest seemed to tremble as he drew in a breath. His chest rose, his shoulders squared, and when he spoke, the sound was no longer just a voice—it was a force."Don't ask me," Blake roared, his voice crashing like thunder through the trees, shaking the house, splitting the night apart."Ask my mother.""Ask my father."The words echoed endlessly.The hunters froze, their fear turning into something deeper—confusion, guilt, horror."They left me," Blake continued, his voice lower now but no less powerful. "In the woods. Alone. A child they were too afraid to love."Images flashed through his mind—small hands bleeding from thorns, a tiny body curled against the cold, wolves watching from the darkness as a boy cried himself to sleep."I screamed," he said. "I waited. I believed."His claws dug into his own palm."No one came."The bald hunter whimpered. "We… we didn't know…"Blake's eyes burned."Exactly."In a blur of motion, he ended it.The bald hunter never felt pain—only pressure, then nothing. Blake dropped the lifeless body to the ground and turned toward the last man.The gray-haired hunter was sobbing openly now. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."Blake stood over him.For a long moment, he said nothing.Then, quietly, "So was I."The forest swallowed the sound that followed.When it was over, Blake stood alone once more. Blood stained the earth. The house stood broken and silent.He looked up at the sky.For a fleeting second, something human flickered in his eyes—regret, maybe. Or grief.Then it vanished.Blake turned and walked back into the forest, where the wolves waited.Where family was chosen.And where the world would continue to blame him—just as he blamed it.