all. You want to kill me, do you?”
“Yes,” said Ahanu. “I don’t just want to kill you. I will kill you.”
The blackness became a soft, billowing grey. There was a hint of light, enough to see just an arm’s length ahead. In a thick, cool mist, Coreen stood in her stolen, wine-colored, whore’s dress. Sounds of a waterfall boomed in the background. She walked on silt, looking for the source of the water, desperately parched, like she hadn’t had a real drink in years. It’s all she could think of to reach that sanctity—water. If she could find the waterfall, she would be saved, as water is life.
Continuing through the mist, it was if she was just circling in some grey oblivion, but she continued to saunter. There was will in her still. The will to keep going, to keep fighting for something, for a memory. She tried to think, tried to reason about the unknown choices that lay ahead of her—water. It was the key to it all. It must be found.
Ages passed in mere seconds. The search led to nothing, even though the sound was mounting in intensity. She called out, but she had no voice. Then came a deafening silence, as if she’d lost her hearing for good, as if invisible hands cupped her ears. She shook her head to try to rid herself of the horrible ringing, losing her sense of direction, becoming lost in a sense of vertigo. She blankly cried out again for help. She needed help.
It was then a single sound resonated around her—that familiar, deep howl.
AHHHHHHOOOOOO.
“Help me, please?” Coreen fell to her knees, arms out before her, open for all to see. “Let me go. Set me free.”
The mist lifted to reveal a single waterfall. Coreen sat back at the very top of the falls. The current was bright, as if the sun flowed through it, from within. She held up an arm to protect her eyes; it was almost blinding her. Standing now at the edge, she knew what she had to do. Across the other side, she saw the wolf on its hind legs and it smirked at her. She jumped into the light, into the warm water, and rode the torrent rapids over the falls.
Startled by her vicious onslaught of coughing, Ahanu stopped his circling to aid Coreen, helped her sit up, and hopped up on the table so she could lean back against him and wake to some comfort. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here now.” He swept her hair back off her face, so she could see, noticing her weakness—hands trembling, sucking air in hard and fast, as if she was drowning.
“Sit me forward,” she said in amongst the coughing. “I can’t breathe.”
“You’re okay. You’re fine. You’re here with me.”
A wicked laugh mixed in amongst their panicky chatter.
“Don’t you come near us. You back away wherever you are,” said Ahanu, holding up the knife to the nothingness before them.
There was a hiss next.
“What is that?” asked Coreen in her fluster.
“Don’t worry about it. You just rest on me. That’s all you need to worry about right now. Come on now.” He pulled her back onto him.
Whatever approached, whatever crept out from the dark, Ahanu was never going to let her go, wrapping an arm around her frail frame and holding firm his only weapon in the other hand. He kept his eye on the room, darting back from the fire to each corner and to the only apparent exit out. He saw nothing, even though it felt as if there was a presence in the room with them. Closing his eyes for just a second, he tried to use some other sense to get a grasp on the situation.
It was difficult to dig deep with the imminent threat, but Ahanu focused, listened to his own pulse far out in his limbs bringing his thoughts back up to his chest, to his heart then back up to his mind’s eye, sensing an energy welling there. It was clean and pure: it was him, but it was wolf too. He could feel it, could smell it, touch it. He threw this energy out into the room only to have it thrown back at him. It slammed him off the table. He hit the ground hard, holding Coreen tight as she went down with him. The Shaman was in another form, surrounding them on all sides, everywhere. His laugh echoed about. It was awful. It was evil.
Awkwardly shifting her over