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It was a perfect night.
The sort of night when nothing could go wrong.
There, amidst the perfection and embraced in the serenity of the
moment, two lovers—finding themselves in a clearing in the woods
neighboring a very special stream—found themselves. Tied in both body
and mind, their lips and skin collided; making their undying emotions to
one another known as intimately as they knew how; their masculine
bodies entwined much like the surrounding foliage. As their pleasured
moans and breathy grunts shared between them echoed between the
lumbering oaks and willows and pines, a symphony of melodic chirps and
coos of nature accompanied them, and, with the natural music of their
forest—their home—urging them deeper and deeper into each other’s
warmth, the two sang as only true lovers could.
With the stars shining through the canopy of trees with an exuberance
trumped only by the lovers’ burning passion, a soft breeze kicked up
and brought with it the sweet scent of flowers and dew-soaked earth. All
around them early autumn leaves and wind-lifted flower petals swirled
whimsically in the gentle wind and caressed the pair’s naked skin before
continuing on their wayward travels into anywhere.
It had been nearly four years—four human years—and while
Venir hated to follow any theory fabricated by the ugly species, he
couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in what those four years meant
with Ujop. Before escaping the humans’ society and finding the happiness
in Ujop’s embrace, he had lived as Vincent Baiser—a name that had felt
as forced and weighted as his phony human form. However, the aching of
the truths of what he was dwelled like a caged animal beneath the
surface soon grew too unbearable to ignore, and as traces of his secrets
began to seep through the cracks, his peers began to take notice.
Then the day came—the wonderful-yet-wretched day—that Vincent’s
classmates caught him peeking too intently in the locker room and he’d
found himself bound to a tree with painfully abrasive bungee straps with
nothing but his torn boxers to protect him from the harsh winter
elements. With no way to protect his body or his heart, he’d hung his
head in bitter shame, sweat and snow drenched chestnut hair swaying over
his puffy, bloodshot green eyes.
Broken from the inside, he’d had nothing left in his soul to defend
himself as he was forced to endure the brutal curses and relentless
After nearly two hours of lashings and taunts of “faggot” and
“ass-reamer”, Vincent’s attackers had grown tired and dispersed, taking
back their bungees—explaining they were “too expensive to waste on a
queer”—and leaving him nearly naked in the blood stained snow. Though it
was hard to believe in hindsight, the rocks and sticks that had left
him bruised and broken had done far less damage than their words.
Though his body had survived the onslaught of abuse, his heart had been broken and he’d prayed for death.
But Death refused him.
His parents, a pair of “reformed” therions—what the humans, ever the
narrow-minded race, called “werewolves”—that had chosen to deny their
nature so that they could live in the “real” world, had forbid him to
transform. To them, what proudly lurked inside them was something
shameful and ugly; something that kept them from being like every other
human and made them stick out like a vulgar growth on an otherwise
pristine face. Their dream of becoming invisible was, day by tortured
day, pushed on Vincent as the only option, and they’d explained to him
each and every day that to let himself succumb to his urges was a sign
of disobedience and, moreover, a sin.
A wicked and disgraceful act.
An act that made his mother sob and his father scowl.
An act that forced them to admit that, no matter what they did—no
matter what story they wove for the humans—they couldn’t lie to
An act that would condemn him to solitude.
Despite his parents’ wishes—despite knowing that it would earn him
only more hate and harassment—Vincent, feeling that his life could
either end beside that tree or begin somewhere beyond it, finally
ignored all of the warnings and threats. He’d made the decision to
change his fate, and as the sun set on that faithful day, his heart
pumped violently, sending a fiery rage through his veins and forcing his
true form to surface and he ran.
He ran from his peers.
He ran from the lies.
He ran from the hate.
For nearly two straight days he ran, crossing mile after mile of
forest floor and only stopping for rest when his body dropped and
refused to follow his commands to rise. He was certain that his journey
into the depths of the woods and the depths of his true self would be
his final act, and the fantasy of dying in a fleeting moment of freedom
sounded better than living out his days as a slave to the humans and
their societies. Finally, nearing the end of the second day, he found
himself at a partially frozen stream where he knelt to quench his
thirst, and as the frigid teeth of the icy waters gnawed at his numbing
flesh and insides he was distantly aware that he was no longer alone…