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Chilled
November winds hurriedly blew through the autumn leaves, stirring them up
from their night's slumber. An owl perched upon a tree's thick branch turned
its head as it lazily relaxed. The forest in which the tree's leaves had
mostly begun to decay into the moist ground were silent. Only the wind,
blowing a melancholy melody was heard. Even other owls and night creatures
remained ever silent in these cruel hours of darkness. Even the clouds that
guarded the moon seemed to remain still.
Golden eyes, belonging to the owl, however, had easily spotted the terrified
creature in which was running through the tree's many paths--the only
creature putting an end to the silence, now. Terrified being an
understatement.
The fear was written all over his face and actions--his clear, blue eyes held
the most signs of his fear. Clumsily, he continued to run, breathing quick
and roughly, tripping over his own feet more than once, and then scrambling
to get up. His light blonde hair was messy with tangles, leaves, and dirt.
His clothing was tattered and torn--ruined, and his hands had blood, still
fresh, smeared upon them. The once fine leather boots he'd worn were now no
more, leaving his feet bare and cold.
'What had happened?' Ambrose asked himself inwardly. It was night, yes, and
he knew there would be a full moon... Yet...he was not anywhere near where
the moonlight could touch him; where it could work its harsh magic on him. He
had been safely inside the cabin, back at the camp he was staying at with the
other Musketeers.
The others. 'What happened to them? Could I have hurt them?' Horrible
thoughts rushed into Ambrose's mind. He wondered what destruction he had created
whilst in his other form. It was those thoughts that made him decide to run
and get as far away from the campsite as possible, while the moon was still
hidden.
He felt so tired, so worn out. Yet Ambrose pushed himself and kept running,
kept picking himself up after tripping, and kept feeling his heart beat
strong against his chest. Such powerful thumbs his heart was making; it
appeared as though it would pump its way right out of his chest. He had just
wondered something. 'Is it the blood of a werewolf going through my veins
now? Is it the blood of a werewolf that makes my heart beat so? Is my heart
itself that of a werewolf's?'
While he continued running, he inattentively came into a clearing of the
forest. The clearing's ground was barren and had very few leaves upon it. It
was there he stopped. His eyes looked up at the glow behind the clouds. As he
realized the clouds were moving quickly, and saw how they were becoming
thin...fear struck him.
At that moment, it happened. He changed.
~*~*~*~*~
Birds chirped, having finished their morning meals, and had brought positive
vibes and the signs of life on this new day. The young Musketeers of the camp
were already awake and doing the usual chores required in order to live out
in the forest. Most of the men had already eaten and were ready for the day.
"Angelina, how is he fairing?" Wondered a young man, one of the
Musketeers, who had peeked in the cabin.
Angelina just gave a small smile as she gazed at the sleeping, blonde man.
"I think he is fairing just fine. There's no need for worries."
The young Musketeer gave a nod, "I am glad." He glanced behind him.
"You'll have to excuse me now."
As the Musketeer left, Angelina gave a little sigh. She had tended to
Ambrose's wounds and watched over him ever since she had found him. It had
not been a pretty sight... Wounded, looking pale, and collapsed upon the
corpse of a horse.
She could only imagine what had happened on his night stroll. Her hand
touched his face, and she soon found herself stroking his loose blonde hair
away from his face. As most people did when they slept, Ambrose looked
peaceful. Innocent. It was enough to make one think he could not possibly be
a werewolf.
Angelina was struck by surprise when Ambrose had placed his hand upon hers. The
lids of his eyes slowly opened, revealing his clear blue irises. He looked
sleepy, and apparently needed more sleep, judging by the black rings around
his eyes. Still, the young man managed a sluggish smile.
"Did I wake you?" Angelina inquired, hoping it was not her fault,
but feeling that it was.
Ambrose shook his head. "No worries, I awoke on my own." That said,
he sat himself up and gave a quiet yawn.
"Ambrose, you have only gotten five hours of sleep. I think you should
get some more rest." The blue-eyed girl spoke softly.
"That would only be wasting daylight, and I cannot afford that." He
protested, his tone not exactly happy.
Angelina placed her soft hand upon Ambrose's rough hand. In that moment, time
seemed to stop. Ambrose looked at Angelina and Angelina looked at him. Their
gaze remained still and sincere. A warm sensation passed through them,
through their hearts.
"I love you, Ambrose." Angelina smiled at him warmly as she spoke.
"You love a ruthless...hideous...and insignificant...werewolf!"
Ambrose gave a disgusted snort, as he looked away from her.
Angelina's face softened. She knew it was hard for Ambrose...hard to face
what he was. She put her hands on his cheeks and forced him to face her.
After seeing her sincere smile, Ambrose calmed himself and exhaled deeply.
"I love you, werewolf or no. You will never be insignificant to me.
Never, Ambrose." Angelina planted a kiss upon his forehead.
Ambrose held a sad look. "But I will always be insignificant to my
father..." No matter what he tried, he would always be no more than a
shadow in his brother's path.
Angelina tilted her head, some of her brown hair falling over her shoulder.
"Does your father really matter? Ambrose, I think you should forget
trying to impress him. You are already such a great person and more than I
could ever ask for." She pleaded. "So, please...just cheer up. For
me."
The window near Ambrose's bed shown light unto him and he glanced outside.
The Musketeers he worked side-by-side with, were all busy as they usually
were. As he had known them to be. Did his father really matter? The
Musketeers were more of a family than what he had been used to. And...he had
Angelina now, too. His lips curved into a small smile.
"Alright. I will cheer up. For you." He turned his head and slowly
laid a kiss upon her lips. "I love you, Angelina."
Angelina smiled and returned the kiss. "I love you, Ambrose."
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