What do you think you are?

Something held him down, keeping him on the floor. A weight, small and dense, sitting in his chest. It pained him so much that getting up seemed like a futile effort. It wouldn’t let him go, neither would it let him rest. The wolf cub was awake to feel the evening sun beat down his back with much discomfort. He couldn’t tell which wind brought warmth or hostility. He couldn’t move his limbs. He didn’t know if his body had abandoned ship to leave his mind to rot, or that his mind didn’t dare to move. All he could see were vague, fading shapes and colours filtered through smudged lenses. Everything was a blur. Everything was a haze. He tried to close his eyes, but the lights would still seep through. He did the most he could and squinted his eyes. They only seemed to pull his snout, aching the torn skin beneath. The tastes in his mouth and scents in his nose had dulled to a flat, dry grey. Every breath he took parched his lips and itched his throat. All he could see were vague, fading shapes and colours filtered through smudged lenses. Everything was a blur. Everything was a haze. He tried to close his eyes, but the lights would still seep through.

It wasn’t until night when the wolf cub raised his head.

Fatigue managed to take control of the wolf cub. He was rendered in such a groggy state that he forgot what kept him down in the first place. All he wanted then was rest, and that was the priority. He couldn’t get rest where he laid, so he laid still for a little while longer, gathering strength for when the time was ripe.

The wolf cub dragged his head from the floor. He felt dried flakes pulling the fur from one side of his snout to another. He felt them falling into his mouth and dissolving into the taste of rusted metal. His neck screamed in protest as his stiffened tendons were pulled into submission. He tried licking his lips. Of what little moisture he had left in his tongue, they were no match to the condition of his dried mouth. One weak swipe was enough to send audible cracks whipping in his head. He felt the miniature stings of a million open wounds from his mouth. That was enough to flick a switch in his mind and snap the rest of his body awake.

Next came his arms. He could only take hold of the bare essentials. He couldn’t bend his elbows or curl his fingers. He could feel the creaks of his hardened joints and the crusted clots infesting his palms. They shook his nerves into activity. The wolf cub felt them scream in perfect synchronicity, crying out in agony with the force of newborn cubs. He shut his mind from their voices and drew them above his head. His shoulders trembled as he pushed against the ground, locking his elbows straight. threatening to give way from the slightest of breezes.

The wolf cub tried to move his feet. An onslaught of pins and needles came stabbing onto every square inch of flesh beneath his jeans. He trudged on regardless. He was too tired to feel them; too tired to care.

He tried getting up on one foot.

He couldn’t bring his knees off the ground before barreling to the side, crashing his head against a wall. The wolf cub couldn’t sense nor hear the impact. His senses were still blinded. All he could feel was the aftermath. The sharp, distinct aches. The fresh, pulsing bruise growing A burst of tears singed his snout as they flowed to his lips. One thing he didn’t lose was his taste. The salt from the tears managed to invigorate everything like a power button to a computer.

It took time, but his eyes were the first to return.

Everything was and wasn’t at the same time.

The wolf cub stood from a floor that wasn’t there, raising his head to see a corridor that led towards nowhere. The sky was empty. There was neither darkness nor light. Only an infinite, open cavern, holding no walls or a ceiling. There was just one down, and up forever.

Next came his sense of smell.

Blocking the ridges of his nose were dried crumbs of blood. He leaned his shoulder on the wall for support and drew his finger towards his nostrils and dug them out. Each speck peeled off pulled with it some of his hair, sending sharp pangs of pain to his skin.

All the while, the wolf cub stared at the spot where he arose from.

It was small, dim, and unreflective, but he could see it.

His old, dried pool of blood, spreading over the spot where his nose crashed onto the concrete.

What do you think you are?

He remembered he had somewhere to go. Four walls, a ceiling, and a floor. A place where he could lay down. A place of rest. A sanctuary from the unending sky. A shelter from exposure, where the winds don’t blow and the air can’t touch.

He trudged on forward.

The rest of his senses have yet to return. His ears still rang. His flesh still felt numb.

Regardless, he kept on moving.

His legs spasmed from prolonged dormancy. His feet were next to useless, serving as no more than a reminder of the open wounds he had beneath it and a pair of solid masses to plant on the ground for stability. The brunt of the work was carried by his arms. They dragged the wolf cub across the wall, scraping his shoulders against the crumbling concrete as he moved. The wall tugged his skin, pulling every square inch of his deadened nerves back to involuntary life. They yelled in protest, pleading for the torment to stop so they could go back to sleep.

The wolf cub steeled his mind, convincing himself that everything could go to sleep soon, so long as he reached someplace enclosed. Someplace with four walls, a ceiling, and a floor.

A room of sorts.

He trudged on.

After an hour’s worth of a minute, he reached the room.

The walls seemed closer than ever, cramping the space and the air denser than before. Now the stench has solidified. Every breath the wolf cub drew contained a sphere’s worth of filth and dried mud. It didn’t take long for the wolf cub to reach the middle where his legs gave way and crashed onto the ground, tossing dust and dirt into the air in a blanketing cloud.

The ceiling took advantage of his blight. As soon as his eyes left its presence it pulled itself closer to the floor. The wolf cub dragged his head up, only to find the ceiling now a bare inch away from his snout, shorting his already waning supply of fresh air. All he could breathe in was the suffocating stench of the room, dragging his psyche between the insufferable ridge of tolerance and malaise.

The wolf cub, however, wasn’t in a position to be a chooser.

He turned himself over to his side, shifting a sore arm beneath his head as a pillow. In an unfortunate circumstance, the wolf cub laid the bruise on his head right next to the clotted cut on his palm. It stung him with much pain, but it wasn’t enough to compel a change of posture. He was comfortable enough, and didn’t wish to risk losing said comfort in search of better.

He stayed still for a moment, settling himself into his position. Soon, he found relief.

He left his eyes open for a while.

He closed them.

What do you think you are?

The weight returned.

The weight from before had hung onto his chest all the while. His priorities had been sorted. He found four walls, a ceiling, and a floor. The weight managed to climb back up the ranks of his mind and returned to the forefront of the wolf cub’s consciousness in its full glory.

The wolf cub cried.

Tears began welling his eyes. A sludge of mucus started to build from his throat.

He cried.

He curled himself into a messed ball of tattered fur. Cold. Frigid. Crept up to his spin with chills.

He cried.

“…orry,” he choked out.

Soft whimpers rode out in a deep yet cracked voice. His dense tone wavered across the few syllables he uttered, muffled beneath the layers of emotions bursting from within.

Like a pressure valve spinning loose, the wolf cub cried harder.

“Sorry,” he whispered under his steaming breath, “Sorry.”

He apologized to everyone he could think of. Any name he could recall in his head, he spurted out.

“Sorry Ryadov, sorry Nevaz, sorry Uncle Balev- ”

He dug his snout a bit deeper into his chest.

“Sorry Vysok, sorry. I’m sorry.”

He grabbed onto his tail, tucked between his legs, pulling it close with his dear life.

“Don’t know. Don’t know what I am. What I did. Don’t know. I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t see in front of him anymore.

“Sorry, Tein. I don’t know. Didn’t know. Scared. Wanted you to protect.”

His tears began to sting the wounds in his mouth, washing over the bloodstains with their saltine properties.

“Sorry, Gloymi. You’re hurt. I’m sorry. Got you hurt.”

His voice had devolved, turning his sentences into wordless sniffles and snivels. He could, however, eke out a few sentences before they became incomprehensible drivels.,

“Sorry, Pa.”

He made a violent cough, spurting out saliva and mucus and phlegm from his throat and into his mouth and onto the floor.

“I never asked for this.”

He coughed out some more.

“I never asked for this.”

He began to lose his breath. His sight was engulfed by wet shadows.

“I never asked for this.”

What do you think you are?

“I don’t know.”

What do you think you are?

“I don’t want it. Never wanted it. Never asked for it.”

What do you think you are?

“I don’t want to be.”

What do you think you are?

“I’m sorry. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

What do you think you are?

“I’m sorry.”

What do you think you are?

“I’m sorry.”

What do you think you are?

“I’m sorry.”

The wolf cub was awoken by the break of dawn. The natural light poured in from the small cracks and fissures on the wall. Of what little warmth they brought, it managed to wake him up.

In a tired torpor, the wolf cub rose from the floor. His eyes were crusted from the dried tears. His mouth held a distinct taste of bitter dirt and sour dust. They rolled around his mouth in little annoying, miniature particles. He tried to swallow it down his throat, but couldn’t produce the saliva to do so. He gave up. His limbs were numb from sleeping in the same position for who knew how long. He wasn’t sure if he’d turned deaf or that the room had always been this quiet without company. He didn’t bother to think any further. His mind was clear and empty, whether by intent or not. All that occupied his mind was the present that left no room for the past or the future. From there he stood, and let his feet carry him wherever.

He walked past the corridor, stepping over the dark, ruby splatter on the floor that had assimilated into the ground, growing well to be part of its texture. He made his way down the stairwell. Whenever he felt he’d reached the ground he still had more to go. He pressed on, going down the same angular, concrete spiral. Just as it seemed as if the descent would never end, he finally reached the bottom.

Like a toy on a string he was led along desolate roads and past blocks of uninhabited, concrete complexes, once serving purposes, now abandoned to rot once the opportunities were siphoned to oblivion. Said opportunities sat in the backdrops as brutal silhouettes of rough-edged buildings and reaching chimneys. They laid there in perpetual dormancy, stuck inside their fraying, wired cages. Their sizes were comparable to that of a canopy tree and a growing bud; in one fell swoop, they could trump over their woeful presences. Yet, the buildings remained static, inert, motionless.

He looked up for a brief second.

The sky drowned in dark orange. The sun pulled itself above the horizon, inch by inch, dousing the atmosphere in a light so thick it seemed to serve as a solid blanket blocking the sky from view. Small torn clouds whiffed past like lost children missing their homes. The stale air seemed static, but the wolf cub wasn’t sure. If the wind did blow, he couldn’t tell. His ears struggled to differentiate between the ambience and any possible hallucinations. His nerves were deadened to the point where any stimuli seemed like an insignificant chip off a mountain.

What the wolf cub did feel, however, was suffocation. The empty roads and fields were choking him in a pocket of pressure. He could breathe, but it never felt enough. He kept walking, but he couldn’t sense the distance covered. The buildings in the background seemed to be the ones moving away from him instead.

The wolf cub kept going regardless, walking towards a featureless horizon.

It wasn’t until the sun broke free of its distant confines when he reached civilization.

Guard rails sprouted out from the ground, providing safety for the feasible population living within its vicinity, along with street lights and road signs. Buildings and structures began to present themselves with possible hospitality as the wolf cub passed them. He found shop lots with the shutters already rolled up, squeezing as many opening hours as they could. After passing the first junction, the wolf cub saw his first car for the day. It was a white delivery van, speeding past a red light to make its destination in due time.

It was a place he recognized. A town he lived in. A familiar location he could traverse with his eyes closed.

Then he saw the pedestrians.

Some were on an aimless wander, while others marched on to their destinations. As the morning transitioned into an afternoon, more began to appear. Some walked in groups, while the ones that walked alone mostly came clutching onto suitcases and bags, making a beeline towards wherever. Everyone kept to themselves, giving not an ounce of attention to a business that wasn’t theirs, much to the wolf cub’s interest.

Being a part of the local populace, there was a handful the wolf cub recognized among the pedestrians. He caught sight of distinct faces he could point out but had no names he could attach to them; people whose extent of the wolf cub’s familiarity with them was that he could spot them from a crowd.

For a split second, the wolf cub considered if he was one of those people to others.

What do you think you are?

He needed to get out of there.

He needed to be someplace that wasn’t this town.

He needed to be alone.

He pushed himself towards the side of the road, keeping himself as close to the wall as possible. Whenever a passerby walked past he kept his face hidden, looking down to his feet as he proceeded. Anytime he spotted a gang of kids his age, he’d stop and turn to the other way. He wouldn’t dare to turn back until he lost all sense of their presence.

He kept on with his feet. He didn’t know where he was heading, nor did the wolf cub himself realize that. He made more glances to his back than he focused on his front, and it cost him. As he walked past an apartment complex something snagged onto the cuff of his jeans and tripped his ankles over. The wolf cub managed to break his fall with his palms. He turned behind him in a panicked state, dragging his feet back to him.

It was a ceramic pot holding a dead, dried budding tree. One of the branches managed to grab the wolf cub’s clothes and catch him off guard. The wolf cub stood back up, brushed himself off and propped the pot back up before going on his way.

He had only gotten three blocks down the road when he made the realization.

A ceramic pot holding a dead, dried budding tree.

A dead, dried budding tree.

A tree.

The forest trail.

For the first time that morning, the wolf cub had a destination. He broke into a sprint, cutting short the time he remained open and exposed to the world.

The forest trail hid the wolf cub well.

All four corners were nothing but imposing brown trunks and various shades of green as far as the wolf cub’s eye could see. The sky was but a streak of pale blue peeking amongst the canopies. The dirt path, wet from the morning dew, was elevated to prevent the roots from stretching onto the road. Still, nature found a way to interfere. Various collections of detritus littered the way, along with small rocks and other sharp natural trinkets peppered in for good measures. The surrounding forestry took hold of the air, filling it with the sounds of rustling leaves, along with scents of wet, rotting wood and decay. Dried twigs and pebbles would sometimes snag onto the wolf cub’s bare feet and jab at his toes and soles, never allowing a brief moment’s worth of tranquillity.

It was a sanctuary for him.

The trees were his walls, shielding him from the outside world. The wolf cub couldn’t see the sky above as much as it could see him, which spoke through many degrees of relief to him. He found solace within the sounds and smells, pulling his mind towards its properties and qualities and away from himself. It was a rare occurrence where he could breathe with a doubtless head and a lightened chest. He let his feet sink into the moisture, making slow, heavy stomps with every step he took.

He grew accustomed to the ambience as they phased into the quietude of the background. They brought solace to his ears, and by extension, his emotions. His breaths were relaxed. The drum of his heartbeat began matching the rhythm of his steps as they grew uniform and constant.

It was like a trance, one he was aware of and that fared all the better. He couldn’t remember the last time he caught temporary consolation whilst staying conscious of such relief. He wished to savour the moment so much that he slowed his walk down to a light stroll.

He was in silence and solitude.

It was more than he could ask for.

With every bend the forest trail makes, they only seemed to reveal more down the road. It was as if the trail would never end.

He wished it would stay so.

As the wolf cub continued down the way, the forest trail made a sharp curve to the side, one that obscured the path ahead. The wolf cub went ahead and made a turn.

It was like a divine comedy that could only be written by higher powers.

From where he stood, the wolf cub saw the end of the forest trail sat at the far end of a straight stretch, where the path opened up the side of an empty road.

Blocking the exit were Vysok the lynx and Ryadov the white wolf, changed into new clothes since the wolf cub last saw them. The two squatted down on each side, facing one another. Strewn around their feet were an assortment of empty plastic bottles and food wrappings. Their eyes were focused towards the forest trail where the sharp curve was made.

They stared right at the wolf cub just as the wolf cub stared back at them.

None made a reaction; one that didn’t involve their expressions, at least. The lynx and the white wolf seemed as if they’d caught both the dream and the nightmare of their lives.

The wolf cub, for one, felt like giggling. He managed to suppress it with ease, but the underlying feeling beneath his poker face was there. He wanted to burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. He would’ve too if it weren’t for the sore and bitter taste in his snout.

The lynx and the white wolf slowly rose to their feet, standing up straight. Both had their eyes widened and transfixed on the wolf cub, silent for a few moments.

Vysok then turned towards Ryadov, who still had his eyes fixed on the wolf cub, “Told you he’d come.”

Ryadov didn’t respond; to Vysok at least. He reached into the back of his pants and pulled something out.

The wolf cub recognized it as soon as he caught sight.

The white wolf drew the thing close to his chest and flicked his wrist outwards.

The blade came out like a flick of a switch.

He made his first step towards the wolf cub.

“Hold on.”

None of the three had spoken. The wolf cub was struck with sudden confusion. He didn’t catch either of the two before him moving their mouths. As far as he was concerned that voice came out of nowhere. The lynx and the white wolf had caught it too, but they didn’t seem as surprised at the wolf cub. They turned towards the source of the voice.

From behind the two, where the path ended, out stepped another white wolf. He came from the side where the forestry blocked the bulk of the view beyond the trail. His face was almost identical to Ryadov’s, with more defined features and longer fur. He stood half a head taller than him. Aside from his face, the rest of his body was hidden beneath various sorts of clothing; he was dressed in a thick, long-sleeved turtleneck, accompanied by a pair of tight jeans and dark boots. Even his hands were covered in a pair of white, disposable rubber gloves.

He walked up between Ryadov and Vysok and turned towards the latter.

“This guy?”

Vysok nodded.

The white wolf then turned towards the former.

“Him?”

Ryadov didn’t answer.

“So it’s him.”

Ryadov remained silent.

The white wolf turned towards the wolf cub.

“Yasnyy, is it?”

Contrary to his personal expectations, the wolf cub was calm. His body was loose. His mind, clear. If anything, he was more shaken by his groundless composure than the situation before him. His reflexes contradicted his rationality. Of all the reactions he could’ve taken, he did nothing. His heart danced to a slow, constant beat. In front of his eyes stood a threat that put his well being in peril.

All he felt towards it was nothing.

The white wolf began walking towards him.

“Heard you knew someone I’m looking for.”

The wolf cub stayed quiet.

Suddenly, Ryadov snapped at the white wolf from behind, “Let me at him, Nevaz.”

Nevaz the white wolf stopped in his tracks and turned to his back.

“And bail you out again?”

Ryadov shut his mouth.

“You couldn’t even keep your prints off your damn knife.”

Ryadov drew the blade in his hands back, lowering it down to his legs.

Nevaz turned back towards the wolf cub.

“You know who I’m talking about?”

The wolf cub couldn’t be bothered to think. He’d gone past worrying about circumstances. Whatever that was happening, he couldn’t bring himself to care less.

“Tein,” he uttered the name with no hesitation, “Is it?”

Nevaz stopped for a second time. His expression had turned to one of relative surprise. He glanced towards Vysok.

“I thought you said he’s a quiet one.”

The lynx was just as amazed as the white wolf.

He pointed towards the wolf cub, his lips fluttering in panic, “H-He is. I-”

“Don’t know where they live,” the wolf cub kept a straight face throughout, “They all hang out in one place. That I know. Can take you there.”

Nevaz stared at the wolf cub for a moment.

His snout then split into a full grin.

He continued his steps towards the wolf cub.

“I can get there myself,” the white wolf stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled out a phone, “You can read maps, right?”

The wolf cub shrugged, “Don’t know.”

Nevaz closed in onto the wolf cub as he pried his screen open with both hands in caution. He stood nearly an ear taller over the wolf cub, with only a phone’s worth of distance between them.

“I heard you say ‘they’”, the white wolf thumbed through the applications on his small screen, “What’d you mean by that?”

“Bear and lizard,” the wolf cub kept his eyes on Nevaz’s face, “Friends with Tein. Maybe.”

“You have their names?”

The wolf cub shrugged again.

“Whatever,” the white wolf flipped his phone upside down in his hands, “I can deal with that later.”

Nevaz brought his phone’s screen over the wolf cub’s eyes. It was a top-down, graphic map of a town the wolf cub recognized almost immediately.

“You know these streets?”

“Go down.”

The white wolf turned his phone back to him and pressed down the arrow keys several times. He turned it back towards the wolf cub.

“Keep going down.”

Nevaz repeated his actions with more presses. He showed the wolf cub his phone again.

“Too far.”

“You do it,” the white wolf shoved the phone onto the wolf cub’s chest, “What you don’t know, ask.”

The wolf cub grabbed onto the phone. He hadn’t seen this kind of model before. The screen and keypad could slide into one another into a sleek, steel brick. It was futuristic, almost fictional; yet again, the wolf cub wasn’t exactly a purveyor of such products. With as little forefront knowledge regarding the device in his hands, he tried fiddling with it. He thumbed onto the arrow keys, and the map on the screen moved. He experimented with the buttons a couple more times.

By sheer luck, the wolf cub managed to grasp the basic controls in under half a minute. He zoomed out of the map and thumbed through the arrow keys with rapid precision. He breezed through the roads shown on the screen whilst painting mental images in his head.

Another half a minute later, the wolf cub showed the phone back to Nevaz.

The white wolf grabbed it, stared at it for a moment, glanced at the wolf cub, glanced at the phone again before looking back towards the wolf cub again.

“Here?”

The wolf cub nodded.

“In this shithole?”

The wolf cub nodded again.

“You’re not pulling my leg?”

The wolf cub shook his head.

“If I go there, where can I find them?”

“Go to the top. Empty room somewhere.”

“You sure?”

The wolf cub nodded once more.

“What should I do if I find out you lied to me?”

The wolf cub was unresponsive for a second.

“Don’t know.”

A momentary shared silence hung between the two wolves.

“Alright,” the white wolf pressed a few buttons on his phone, “I trust you.”

“Can I go?”

Nevaz didn’t answer. He shut off his phone, sliding the screen behind the keypad and tucking it back into his pants. From there, he switched his sight back towards the wolf cub.

“Say,” the white wolf pulled his gloves over his wrists, tugging them tighter around his hands, “You’ve met Ryadov before, right?”

“Yea.”

“Yesterday, was it?”

“Yea.”

“So you do remember.”

“Yea.”

“Good.”

Nevaz threw a punch right across the wolf cub’s snout.

The wolf cub’s head rocked back from the impact, his neck cranking to the back like a spring. His body remained in place, almost as if nothing had happened. The collision bounced from tree to tree, echoing the sound of hard-hitting flesh.

The wolf cub felt his old wounds open up.

The white wolf kept his fist held mid-air as he watched the wolf cub with much fascination.

He turned to his back, “You’re right. He doesn’t even flinch.”

Nevaz lowered his fist, his breaths starting to become frenzied as excitement rose from within himself.

The wolf cub kept his head to the side where the punch sent it.

The white wolf snickered, “You even feel anything?”

The wolf cub didn’t respond.

But he had an answer.

What do you think you are?

The wolf cub, for the first time that morning, felt wide awake.

Nevaz threw another punch with his other arm.

The wolf cub ducked, grabbing the white wolf’s arm as it flew across the air.

He rammed a hard jab into his snout with his other hand.

Red spewed out like a popped balloon as the wolf cub’s knuckles pounded onto Nevaz’s nose. The wolf cub felt the rest of the impact crash through the white wolf’s skin, smashing against his teeth.

Nevaz let out a scream of pain and surprise as he lurched backwards. The wolf cub chased after him as if he was on the hunt.

The wolf cub didn’t let up. He wound up his fist behind his neck and threw his second punch. The white wolf recoiled out of instinct, pulling up his free arm to shield himself. The impact crashed through Nevaz’s arm and slammed against his snout, pummeling his head to the side.

The wolf cub jacked his arm back for another punch, winding it past his elbows. The white wolf tried to pull his arm back. He only dragged the wolf cub closer.

It wasn’t a punch anymore. The wolf cub simply crashed his knuckles against the white wolf’s head. It connected, cranking Nevaz’s neck. The force bent his head down to the side, where the wolf cub’s fist grazed over and across.

The wolf cub threw his arm back to him and launched another strike.

The white wolf swivelled his head back, his bloodshot eyes meeting the wolf cub. He threw his free arm and caught the oncoming strike.

Out of reflex, the wolf cub tightened his grip on the white wolf’s other arm, much to his detriment.

Nevaz charged his head back and slammed a headbutt onto the wolf cub’s snout.

The two heads were thrown back from the impact. The two wolves staggered away from one another, their feet struggling to catch ground.

The wolf cub managed to catch his footing. He planted his feet firm to the ground as he stood, knees facing inwards. He slumped his head over his shoulders, his snout facing the sky, heaving uneven metallic wheezes of air for a few seconds. He slowly brought his head back. A stream of red ran down from above his forehead, flowing down to his eyes and nose, joining his snout’s reopened wounds.

He felt a sharp sting pulsing from his crown.

With shaking hands, the wolf cub reached above his head, feeling his fingers across his wet fur and scalp.

He found a bulge sticking out from just between his ears. Small, hard, and wet. He brushed his fingers around it. It wasn’t a bruise, nor was it clotted blood. It was lodged through his skin, possibly touching his skull. It wasn't something that belonged to him, much less being there.

He picked the object with the tip of his claws and felt some bulging rims from the side. He pinched his fingers around it and began pulling. He had to shake it a couple of times, sending waves of pain across his head. He felt something bubble from within, spurting to the sides and spilling down to his face, blinding one eye of his. It tainted his dark fur, painting it with an uneven, glossy sheen as minor streams dripped down his chin. He kept tugging regardless, giving it a few good rubs before it came off. He gripped it tight between his fingers, bringing it down to see with his good eye.

It was a tooth, lodged into the top of his head.

The wolf cub managed to duck his head fast enough that Nevaz’s headbutt connected someplace else.

In return, the white wolf’s snout smashed against the wolf cub's forehead instead.

The wolf cub thought he must've had his mouth open at the time.

He stared at the tooth between his fingers. A dull chip off a full set of teeth, wet and dripping in crimson belonging from different sources, top and bottom.

The wolf cub could feel a slight, chilling breeze blowing against the vacated space atop his head.

The culmination of the last two days finally caught up to the wolf cub.

He threw up on the spot. He hadn't had anything since yesterday morning. Pale, hazy bile came pouring out of his mouth as he hurled his empty stomach onto the forest floor, splashing it across his feet. The blood from his snout and head joined the torrent, blotting the vomit with striking, bleached spots of red.

He let his head hang from his shoulders, drips of bile and blood slipping from the edges of his snout.

He glanced towards Nevaz.

The white wolf stood hunched, his head facing down, spilling the contents of his mouth onto the ground.

“Fuck,” he clutched onto his snout with dear life, staining his gloves into a tainted, crimson mess, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Behind him, Ryadov and Vysok took expressions the wolf cub hadn't seen before, especially the lynx. The look he gave resembled one a stranger would receive. The white wolf’s face, on the other hand, hadn’t changed much. Though the wolf cub noticed his grip on his pocket knife was tighter than before.

Then Nevaz drew his eyes back up, hands still clutching his snout.

The white wolf’s expression had changed; one that the wolf cub had seen all too many times. They once belonged to the two standing behind him, now adopted by Nevaz himself.

What do you think you are?

The wolf cub tossed the tooth across the forest floor. He stepped over his vomit and broke into a full sprint.

Nevaz barely had time to react. He released his hands from his snout, throwing them to the front.

The wolf cub smashed into the white wolf’s abdomen, crashing his stomach with his head. He heard a nasal voice erupt from above. A warm splash came over his shirt on his back. The impact rocked the two backwards by a distance.

The two managed to stay on their feet. The wolf cub began pushing away from Nevaz.

He couldn’t move.

The wolf cub glanced to the side. A red, wet hand grasped onto his shirt’s sleeve, claws clutching into his shoulders.

The wolf cub pulled himself harder to no avail. His arms were locked within that distance, unable to move.

An elbow slammed against his back, rattling his spine and innards.

The wolf cub felt another heave coming up from his stomach.

All the wolf cub could see was the forest floor and Nevaz’s boots. Those began to blur in his eyes. He closed them, cashing all his focus into his strength.

He felt his arms slipping from the hold.

Another elbow came crashing down on the same spot, doubling the damage.

The back of the wolf cub’s ears stung in extreme pain, ringing his senses into static oblivion. The strength in his legs began to wane. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing anymore. He ignored everything, making one last-ditch effort to push.

Another hand came grabbing the wolf cub’s other arm.

From below, Nevaz threw his knee and crashed it straight through the wolf cub’s chest.

In that split second, the wolf cub felt his feet lift off from the ground. The impact drained any substance, solid or air, out of his chest. Pins and needles struck all across his body. His eyes went blind. His tongue could taste nothing but metal. All he could smell was something burning. He wasn’t sure if it was silence or deafness he heard. He confirmed that soon after.

Before the wolf cub could touch the floor again, Nevaz screamed. The white wolf’s voice pierced ears, conveying nothing but pure, unadulterated anger. It shook each of the wolf cub’s senses awake to his situation. The wolf cub broke into a struggle, wrestling himself out of the white wolf’s grip.

The wolf cub then floated for a split second. He felt his weight lunging upwards from his shoulders, tilting his whole body to the side.

In one burst of strength, the white wolf threw the wolf cub off the forest trail. The wolf cub’s sight blurred, catching glimpses of the dirt and the trees and the sky in quick succession. The fluids in his body churned in his organs, splashing all over the place.

The wolf cub landed twice, crashing his shoulders against a tree trunk before smashing face-first onto the soft, dry blanket of dead leaves. Every single sense he possessed screeched in unison. His eyes teared from the excess pain his body couldn’t bear. The passageways behind his nostrils were set ablaze. His ears rang like an alarm emporium. His tongue sored from getting bitten during the fall. Something else now filled his mouth. The wolf cub wasn’t sure if it was saliva or blood. He couldn’t taste it. His body fought to recover, only to be met with excruciating agony with every attempt.

With a fading gaze, the wolf cub glanced to the side, his neck aching in terrible anguish as he turned his head.

Nevaz stood over the elevated path, blood spurting out from his nose and teeth under his unfurled snout as if he had a head-on collision with a sac. There was more red than white to be seen on his face. He struggled to catch breaths, dropping miniature, red splatters onto the forest floor each time he tried to gasp for air. His turtleneck was dirtied and wet, along with his gloves and jeans. Substances that didn’t belong to the forest tainted his boots.

He wasn’t in a good place in any way whatsoever.

The only part of him that had any sort of integrity left were his eyes.

They burnt like tomorrow wouldn’t come.

What do you think you are?

Nevaz started walking off the forest trail and into the forest, pulling up the sleeves of his turtleneck as he descended.

The wolf cub tried to stand. He could only shift his right leg. He couldn’t find any response from his left foot.

Every step the white wolf took seemed to further break him down. He shambled from his footing tossing his weight around as he proceeded as if every joint of his were hung by loose screws one turn away from dislodging themselves.

The wolf cub dragged himself through the dirt and leaves, his fur biting through the debris, dragging across his skin beneath. Every inch the wolf cub gained, Nevaz seemed to take three steps closer.

The white wolf reached the wolf cub, standing to his left.

The wolf cub could only make a furtive glance up.

He caught the look in Nevaz’s eyes as they glared down at him.

What do you think you are?

They conveyed as much as the wolf cub needed to know.

Expending all his strength, the wolf cub raised his left arm. Noises erupted from his joints, sounding off like a cacophony of cracked knuckles. He planted his palm against the forest floor in a vain attempt to push himself up. All he could manage to do was expose his elbow to an uncomfortable angle as it shivered from enervation.

Nevaz took a good, long look at the wolf cub’s elbow as the wolf cub stared back at him.

The white wolf then raised his right foot. Inch by inch, he lifted his boot off the ground. The wolf cub could see the grime-covered leaves and dried mud and dirt beneath the soles as they reared above his head. The white wolf hoisted his knee to a perfect right angle and hovered his boot over the wolf cub’s elbow.

The wolf cub spotted a glint of perversion as Nevaz’s split a grin on his snout.

The white wolf stomped his foot down.

The wolf cub threw his left arm across his body. The weight twisted his torso, flipping the wolf cub to the side. The wolf cub pumped his right heel and slammed it straight at Nevaz’s left ankle, kicking his foot off the ground.

The weight of the white wolf’s stomp tore his whole body downwards as he lost his footing. For a split second, the white wolf was suspended in mid-air. His arms floated from his shoulders, along with his legs.

Then gravity grabbed Nevaz by the back of his head and crushed his snout right to the ground. Whatever noise the white wolf could’ve made in the impact was deafened by the collection of snaps cracking the air as his body followed his head, crashing down without so much as a bent arm for support.

The wolf cub laid to the side, keeping a keen watch on Nevaz for a moment.

It was as if the white wolf’s body had turned to stone, face-down on a carpet of leaves. The wolf cub could neither spot a twitch from his finger nor a heave of air from his back.

The wolf cub waited for a little while longer.

Nevaz remained still and silent; his figure inert; silhouette intact and unbroken.

The wolf cub stood up.

Every part of his body was in a place it shouldn’t be. It was like forcing a stone to be used as a sponge. His legs were on the verge of collapsing under his body’s weight. His arms were sick, ridden with fatigue and soreness and arching and above all, pain. Each move the wolf cub made once, his body would protest against as a collective. He felt his feet convulse as he raised his shoulders. He sensed the agonizing sting from his neck as he planted his foot down.

The wolf cub shut the voices off and pressed on, making his way back on the forest trail.

His left heel screamed as his right foot stepped over the white wolf’s body.

A hand grabbed onto the wolf cub’s ankle, clutching a tight grasp around it.

The wolf cub kept his eyes to the front.

“Let go,” his voice was coarse and grizzly as if his throat was stuffed full with rocks and sand and pebbles.

The hand kept an adamant grip on the wolf cub’s ankle.

“Let go-”

The hand tugged hard, pulling the wolf cub's entire weight towards the ground.

A muffled thud rang across his ears as the wolf cub’s chest collapsed onto a thick, dirtied torso. It wrung the wolf cub dry, draining him of the air in his chest and the strength in his arms.

The wolf cub drew his eyes to the side.

Nevaz wasn’t done.

He managed to flip his whole body around, his snout facing the sky.

The wolf cub felt the flesh off his lips falling apart, his words muddled by the blood coagulating around the rims of his mouth, “Let go.”

The white wolf tightened his grip on the wolf cub’s leg. The wolf cub struggled, but he couldn’t get up; neither could Nevaz, not with the wolf cub laying on his chest. All the white wolf could manage was to raise his head from his shoulders. Fresh blood was covering the old stains, now dried and caked across his snout and face and cheeks.

All the red was beginning to take a toll on his body. The wolf cub could tell. He could barely feel the presence of air in Nevaz’s lungs as his body was pressed atop the white wolf’s chest.

His glare, however, remained as strong as ever.

The white wolf spoke out. He had no voice left in his throat. All he could do was spit out a silent, saliva-filled, “Fuck you.”

Nevaz raised his free arm, balling his gloved hand into a weak, shaking fist.

The wolf cub watched as it flailed down, thumping him on his back. It was enough to send the wolf cub into a coughing fit, setting fire to his lungs.

The white wolf drew his fist back, dragging it off the wolf cub as it slithered away to the floor. He raised it into the air and once again, flung it down onto the wolf cub.

The wolf cub threw his arm up and pounced, gripping Nevaz’s wrist just as they were flung mid-air. He slammed the white wolf’s arm to the other side of his body, choking his neck with his own elbow.

With his free arm, the wolf cub climbed over Nevaz's body, joining his other hand as they pressed down against the white wolf’s fist with all his strength.

“Let go.”

The white wolf tightened his grip on the wolf cub’s leg.

“Fuck you.”

The wolf cub pulled the white wolf’s hand further to the side, choking him deeper than before.

“Let go.”

The white wolf only responded in kind.

“Fuck you.”

As Nevaz spoke, the wolf cub was given a full view of the white wolf’s eyes.

The wolf cub knew the white wolf wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

The wolf cub could see himself from Nevaz’s eyes. He could see the silhouette the white wolf saw the wolf cub as.

Sadism.

Rage.

Grudges.

That was all the wolf cub amounted to for Nevaz. He could tell that Nevaz didn’t see a wolf. All he had in his eyes was a target. Something he can come to, tear down, and go back anytime he wants. The extra flair was that it didn’t go the way he intended, but the wolf cub didn’t need a clue to tell it wasn’t enough for Nevaz to let it go.

What do you think you are?

It won’t end.

What do you think you are?

It won’t ever end.

What do you think you are?

Unless.

The wolf cub glanced towards the white wolf’s fist, sitting underneath his palms.

Unless.

“Okay.”

The wolf cub turned Nevaz’s arm in a way where his elbow faced upwards. The white wolf tried to fight back, but he was one arm against two. The wolf cub then raised his free leg. He drew it over Nevaz, straddling him over his chest, sandwiching the elbow between the wolf cub’s knee and the white wolf’s own torso.

Nevaz’s expression introduced a new element of cautious interest.

The wolf cub switched his grasp on Nevaz’s hand. He slipped both palms beneath the white wolf’s fist and gripped tight.

The white wolf then came to the realization. His glare morphed away, taking an entirely different shape.

Nevaz began to dig his claws into the wolf cub’s ankle.

The wolf cub felt blood drawn from the deep, incisive cuts around his ankles.

“I dare you,” the white wolf tried to bark out, barely managing to get foam bursting from the side of his mouth, “I fucking dare you.”

The wolf cub didn’t care.

The wolf cub arched his back and pulled Nevaz’s fist, bending it against his elbow.

Nevaz tore his lungs apart, shouting into the sky, his screams muffled and gargled beneath a concoction of blood and fluids. The white wolf gripped the wolf cub’s ankles in a frenzied attempt of a defence. His claws bit through the fur and skin, digging deep into his flesh. Jets of blood spewed out in quick, pressurized blasts before subsiding into slow, constant flows down to his bare feet.

The wolf cub kept a straight face, wringing every last ounce of energy from his body into his limbs. He straightened his arms, cranking it like a stubborn lever that wouldn’t go. Veins began to ride the ridges of his arms and knuckles as they boiled through his vessels.

The white wolf’s forearm creaked against his elbow, rising against his nerves and tissues and muscles. His skin began to contort; a physical bubble rose from beneath, pushing out against his fur, reaching out towards the open air. It seemed a mere pinch away from exploding out of sheer stress.

Nevaz tried to pull his arm back, only serving to his detriment the more he struggled. He lost control of his voice, pain now taking the control of his systems. Like a Feral animal, he tried to buck the wolf cub off his body. He merely succeeded in flailing his legs with futility., crashing his soiled boots against the ground.

The wolf cub kept pulling.

What do you think you are?

“You wanna know who I am?”

Nevaz wasn’t listening. He thrashed his head around, throwing saliva and foam and blood around, splattering them on his shirt and the forest ground and the wolf cub, infusing a reeking stench of rot and metal with the surrounding air.

“You wanna know who I am?”

The white wolf let out a chilling howl into the air. He lunged his head towards the wolf cub, throwing his unfurled teeth towards the wolf cub. All he did was bite the air with harsh snaps from his jaws, splashing more fluids onto his arm and the wolf cub’s shirt.

What do you think you are?

“My name is Yasnyy.”

The wolf cub pulled harder.

“My name is Yasnyy.”

Nevaz had lost all notion of self-preservation. He expended the last of his strength holding the pain from overwhelming his senses. He slammed the back of his head against the forest floor in a desperate attempt at fighting fire with fire.

“My name is Yasnyy.”

The wolf cub pulled harder.

“My name is Yasnyy.”

The wolf cub pulled harder.

“My name is Yasnyy.”

The wolf cub pulled harder.

“My fucking name is Yasnyy.”

Yasnyy pulled the arm a notch further. Navez’s arm broke from its joint. A muffled snap bit the soundscape, sending sharp signals into anyone’s ear within audible range. His muscles bent inwards, pushing wrinkles on patches of skins that didn’t belong. The shape of his bones showed from the tip of his elbows. Bulges burst in places where they shouldn’t be present.

Nevaz let go of the wolf cub’s ankle.

The white wolf let out a scream that superseded conscious efforts. It was a sound that could only be dragged out of the deepest, primal, instinctual layer of a person. It was a sound developed over aeons’ worth of evolution as a last-ditch effort’s cry of defeat to be seared into the opposition for means of carrying its legacy. It was a sound that only reared its head at one’s lowest moment, where survival was a lost cause, and salvation was the only thing left to be sought after.

Yasnyy relinquished his grip from Navez’s arm. It bounced back down to the forest floor like a spring, crashing against the leaves in a grotesque lifeless flop of bruised flesh and twisted nerves. Its fingers twitched as if it was a set of premature rigor mortis, jolting from its palm.

The wolf cub kept himself on the white wolf for a moment. His head turned to the side, drawing small, light breaths from his crushed snout. His eyes were simple. They hold nothing more than the images that were reflected in his irises.

Yasnyy waited a few seconds longer.

Navez didn’t move a single muscle.

Yasnyy got up.

He felt his jaw swing from its hinges as he crossed over the white wolf’s body. There was conscious effort to be made to have it stay closed. He took in the stale air from his clogged nose, accentuating the metallic taste of his mouth as it circulated into his cavities. His neck ached from even the smallest movements. His shoulders sagged from the bruises accumulated from the past few minutes. Some burnt on his skin like scalding marks, while others had already long lost their sense of touch.

He drew his arm over his head, brushing off the blood from his forehead off his eyes and face. He could feel his empty stomach heave with every step he took. Still, he kept his eyes open and focused. He didn’t know what would happen if he closed them.

The wounds in his ankle screamed out a reminder of their existence as he made his return up the forest trail. He held his foot there for a moment, taking a sharp breath between his teeth before climbing back to the trail with a big step.

Ryadov and Vysok were there to meet him.

They stood on the other side of the trail, opposite where Yasnyy got out.

They too, held different expressions than before.

Vysok stood at the back Ryadov, peeking at him from behind his shoulders.

Ryadov’s pocket knife still, remained in his hand where Yasnyy last saw it.

His grip on it, however, had become flimsy.

They stared at each other for a while. Yasnyy used that time to catch his breath whilst growing accustomed to his new conditions. Ryadov remained in place. Vysok took another step back away from the wolf cub.

Yasnyy then extended his hand towards the two. Ryadov shuddered from where he stood. Vysok stopped breathing for a second.

“Give me fifty.”

The white wolf and the lynx were unresponsive, merely giving gazes at the wolf cub’s open hand.

“Give me fifty.”

The two looked back up towards Yasnyy. None moved for a while.

Then Ryadov raised his arm.

The white wolf stuck his hands into his pockets and dragged out a wallet; an inconspicuous, faux-leather bound flap. It was fraying on the side, indicating some degrees of age and use.

Rooted to the spot, Ryadov tossed the wallet towards the other side of the forest trail, right at Yasnyy’s feet.

The wolf cub glanced down, retracted his hand, and picked up the wallet. With a single hand, he flipped it open.

Within the compartments were bills, all double-figured and smooth as if they’d just been spit out by a bank machine. They lined up against one another in one thick, neat stack. Emptying the compartment was as easy as pinching everything out in a single pile.

Yasnyy flipped the wallet around and found the coin pouch. He undid the zipper, fished out two small coins and closed the zipper. He stuffed the two coins into his pocket and began walking up towards Ryadov, hobbling over his bleeding foot as he made his way towards the white wolf.

The wolf cub stirred the white wolf’s attention as he tightened his grip on his pocket knife. The lynx behind him had already balled his palms into fists before the wolf cub even got halfway towards them.

Yasnyy stopped right at arm’s length from Ryadov. Carrying the wallet, he reached towards the white wolf with an open palm.

“I meant coins.”

The white wolf stood there for a moment, motionless. He glanced towards Yasnyy, then the wallet in his hands, then at the wolf cub once more.

For a split second, Ryadov’s eyes took a furtive peep at the wolf cub’s wrist. They were close, vulnerable, and ripe for the picking. The white wolf’s fingers fiddled with the pocket knife in his hand, tapping his claws on the handle.

Then the white wolf glanced back up, meeting the wolf cub’s eyes.

Ryadov swallowed and took back his wallet with shaking hands.

Yasnyy nodded towards him, “Thanks.”

He turned to the side and walked away, leaving trails of droplets from his legs as they still carried him.

“Hello, Chief… -ere… ho-… help you?”

The line was terrible, but it was a given. The nearest payphone Yasnyy could find that worked was vandalized down to its wires. He wasn’t certain if he could find another in a better condition, much less close by. The wolf cub had to cup the wires and raise them at a certain angle to get it working. He had to manually shift positions every time he heard static, and pray that he didn’t miss any crucial information whenever he did so. He was on a financial time limit of one coin. He had another spare coin as backup, but he’d rather it be done without it.

“H-Hi, l-looking for an Officer.”

“Okay… wha-… the… of the… -atch… to the… “

The wolf cub lowered the wires down by a notch to see if it’ll fare better.

“Hello… up… -ear… is… ca-… trouble…”

It didn’t help. Yasnyy immediately raised the wires.

“Hello? You’re in trouble… is some joke.”

It helped a hell of a lot more. It wasn’t perfect, but Yasnyy wasn’t a chooser.

“S-Sorry, looking f-for an O-Officer.”

“I heard you… the first… now state your business. Why… calling in here?”

“I-I’m looking for my dad, S-Sir.”

“Dad?”

“Y-Yea.”

“What’s his name?”

Yasnyy told the voice on the phone a name.

Almost immediately, the tone shifted.

“Wai-… boy… aren’t you? Mixed black? The one… cat… right? … leave… for yo-… take care… Wha-… name again?”

The static returned in bulk. The wolf cub lowered the wires by an inch, unwilling to tempt any further risks.

“Ya-Yasnyy, Sir.”

“Yasnyy, that’s the name. Alright, son, I’ll page you in. Go talk… -o your father.”

“Thanks, S-Sir.”

Yasnyy caught a muffled click, followed by a series of beeps. The wolf cub took the opportunity to adjust the wires a little. It was barely three seconds when the line was picked up once more, prompting the wolf cub’s immediate attention.

“H-Hello?”

The voice from the other line came crystal clear.

“Yasnyy?”

The wolf cub took a deep breath, holding onto the wires with steeled precision.

“Pa.”

A grizzled voice, wrapped in a husky, deep tone that seemed to sound off straight from one’s bowels, came with a question.

“You didn’t… home last night.”

A lingering silence hung between the two for a moment.

The voice came again, ”Are you okay?”

Yasnyy held off from answering for a second.

“I’m okay, Pa.”

It was soft and brief, but the wolf cub caught a sigh from the other line.

“… -ant to talk about it?”

The wolf cub stayed silent for a moment.

The voice from the other line picked up the pace of the conversation, “How abo-… this? I’ll take us out for dinner tonight. We’ll… abou-… there.”

Yasnyy kept his silence.

“Or you want… -ack home? I’ll cook this time. You can… a break.”

The wolf cub responded, “No.”

There was no response from either recipient for a while.

Then the voice came again, “… not… home tonight?”

“I am, Pa,” Yasnyy raised the wire by an inch, “But not now.”

The voice responded, “Is it okay… ask when… -oming back home?”

“Today, Pa,” the wolf cub decided to keep the wires level to his ears, “Just not now.”

The voice responded, calming in its diction, “Where… you… now? I can wai-… -ere until… -eady, pick you up… drive us home. We can even go for dinner outsi-… way back-”

“The construction site, Pa” Yasnyy interjected.

The silence returned once again, this time staying for a few seconds longer than the wolf cub would’ve preferred it. It also didn’t help how heavy it felt to his ears too.

The voice returned.

“The con-… site?”

Yasnyy swallowed a heavy gulp.

“Yea.”

The wolf cub could hear sounds of tapping from the other end of the line, reminiscent of claws tapping against wooden tables.

The voice returned to ask, “Where are… now?”

The wolf cub told the voice where he was.

“Go up the street, take a… then a left,” it was at the time when the payphone decided to misbehave, “You’ll find a store that… -nary. Smells like chea- … -eer and oil… -on’t miss it. Tell the guy on the counter my name. Tell them tha- … -y son. They’ll se- … -ayment to insurance bill.”

Yasnyy decided to take his chances and run with it.

“O-Okay, Pa,” the wolf cub lowered the wires again, “See you. At construc-”

“No,” the voice cut him off.

Yasnyy was taken aback for a second, “N-No?”

“Do you kno- … -the restaurant around the Mar- … -uare,” the voice inquired, “The one next to … -lian stall?”

Yasnyy further adjusted the wires, “What’s the name?”

From amongst the static, the wolf cub could only catch peeps of the name from the voice. Under normal circumstances, this would prompt a request for a repeat. However, the name given by the voice was so unique and specific that the wolf cub caught it on the first utterance, even in its muffled and shattered state.

“Yes,” the wolf cub tried raising the wires again, “I know it.”

“… -ood,” the voice responded, “We’ll meet there.”

Yasnyy chimed in for a correction, “But I thought-”

“We… get… -orn, but… won’t… jam,” the voice was completely drowned by the static.

Yasnyy panicked as he flailed the wires around, hoping to catch a glimpse of clarity from the receiver. As a last ditch effort, the wolf cub tried tugging onto the wire to see if it’ll work.

By some miracle it worked, with the receiver managing to catch the voice’s words with absolute precision.

“…that. It’s gonna be a rush after the working hours. I can’t drive anywhere but there,” the voice returned, “So no, we’ll go for dinner first.”

The situation went against Yasnyy’s hopes, but he wasn’t risking another muffled conversation to straighten it back.

“Okay, Pa,” the wolf cub resigned.

“Plus,” it said, “You’re gonna need it.”

Yasnyy kept quiet for a moment, his hands clutching onto the wires of the payphone.

“I know,” he responded.

“Good, I’ll see you-”

The line was suddenly cut off. Yasnyy lowered the receiver in surprise. He checked the wires to see if anything’s off. It was still attached to the machine. He put his ear back in the receiver again, but all that came was a beep that rang long and continuous.

Then he made the realization.

He sighed and placed the receiver back on the holder. He turned on his heel, which he regretted immediately as the dry blood beneath his floor scraped across the sidewalk, pulling along with it his skin and fur. With the voice’s instructions still fresh in his mind, the wolf cub began his walk down the street.

As he did, he looked upwards.

The sky was still a grey, glass ceiling. Rays stabbed through a punctured hole above, descending bright laughter and holy mockery to those living under it. The clouds were nothing more than a taunt from powers beyond, teasing those below with the prospects of autonomy and freedom. The former were nothing but dirty clothes laid on the ground to dry in shame for their entertainment to the latter. The air was poison disguised in liberating breezes. Every gust would feed the recipient a lovely lie. Anyone gullible enough to believe it would begin traversing a tunnel of hope where no light ever appears at the other end. They’ll keep walking until their palms scar and their tail falls and their talons break and their ankles snap and their soles wear and continue on their elbows and knees, driven by the sole belief that with persistence, results eventually will show, even if it’s by the price of their mortality.

The horizon was a lie. The glass ceiling came lower and lower each day. Everyone knew, and they submitted to it.

Yasnyy knew it too. He knew of the lies in the air he breathed in every day. He knew of the endless tunnel. He knew of the impending glass ceiling. He knew that out wasn't an option.

He also knew that he'd be damned if he's to breathe his last here.