Short Change Hero

**THIS THREAD IS RATED MATURE FOR A REASON. CONTINUE READING AT YOUR OWN RISK.
TRIGGER WARNINGS INCLUDE: FOUL LANGUAGE, GORE, EMONTIAL TRAUMA, THOUGHTS OF SELF HARM, AND VIVID DESCRIPTIONS OF DISMEMBERMENT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**



Fern had felt a growing sense of unease as the days passed. The sun never seemed to rise above the horizon causing an almost constant twilight to paint the sky and darken the world. It left the gray one unsettled and her nervous tendencies had grown more pronounced with each passing day. She had decided to lock herself away in her room guest room at the Hallows since every time she had ventured outside the room, she was met by staring eyes and mummering voices. Fern had known they all hated her and the drain she put on the pack’s resources but she tries to stay around for Rudy. Not wanting to disappoint the first wolf that has been kind to her in a long time, the gray girl opted to lock herself away from the judging gazes and sneering words.

However, the door did not stop them. She could still see those accusing eyes behind her own closed eyelids and hear the booming laughter of those mocking her through the solid wood of the door. When a thick, unnatural fog rolled in to cover the castle and all its lands in a shroud of dense gray, Fern decides it is time for her to leave the Hallows. For good. She packs no food and takes nothing of the Hallows with her as her gray form slips out into the twilight bathed world. There was no plan and she had no idea where she was but the overwhelming urge to get as far away from the Hallows as possible drives her onward.

Glowing eyes peer through the fog at her as she runs and twisted, gaping mouths cackle their delight at her as she passes. Adrenaline courses through her veins, causing her thoughts to become more unpredictable with each passing moment. When her paws finally stop their hectic stride, Fern casts her eyes about trying to make sense of where she is. The grass under her paws feels brittle and snaps when she walks across it. Looking down in confusion, the gray one notices that each green stalk has been caked with dried blood and gore. Letting out a surprised yelp, Fern tries to retreat but only ends up slamming her butt into a stone pillar.

Snapping around hastily to see what she has hit, Fern feels her stomach roll at the sight of the dried blood and intestines that coat the stone’s face. Smeared bloody paw prints mar the normally gray stone standing out in vivid detail as the intestines sway lightly in the breeze. Someone had carefully hung the loops of bowel along the top ridges of the stone, allowing the loose ends to swing freely with gust of wind. Eyes trail down the macabre decorations to find at the base of the stone pillar the body of what once was a wolf. Lifeless stare accusingly at her, as the dead wolf’s body rests with its back against the pillar, open chest cavity gleaming at her.

It has been dissected by a long, jagged cut that splits it open from the underside of its neck to the underside of the base of its tail. The muscles and ribs have been carefully back to allow the insides to spill out onto the once green grass. Fern can’t stop her eyes from inspecting every inch and detail of the body. The throat is exposed, showing each ligament and tendon in the once strong neck. Each calculated swipe severing arteries and tearing away muscle. Further down, she see the tips of white ribs glistening in what light there is. From underneath the ribs, Fern can see the once pink tissues of the lungs poking out but death has caused the healthy tissues to decay and turn gray. Its stomach lays on the ground near the open wound but the bowels are absent and Fern knows that they hang above her.

The scene has a strange familiarity about it that tugs at her mind as Fern lurches to the side to get away from the body. Eyes slam shut as her stomach spasms causing her to lose what little food she had. Frame shakes as she continues to heave, feeling heavy, thick tears start to leak down her face. Blinking open her eyes, Fern stares down at the slick of vomit and is caught of guard by the bright glowing fluid that is puddled there. The feeling of viscous fluid running from her ears, eyes, nose, and mouth startles the already terrified wolf. Shaky paw reaches toward her face only to pull away covered with sticky, bright ooze. What the fuck is going on?

Thoughts become even more muddled when she looks back at the stone pillar to find no trace of the dead wolf. Instead, the stone is clean with no gore hanging from it. No blood paints it face or the ground around it. The dead body has disappeared and with it, any trace of the horrible mutilation she had seen moments ago. Body quakes from fear as her jaw can’t seem to close and the horrible fluid continues to flow from her. Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, Fern hears a voice calling to her. Head turns to see the incorporeal form of her dead mother staring at her.