Werewolf story
A/N: I apologize for hopping from story to story, but this one has interested me. I have ideas planned for poor Paul here, so this might continue later. >:}
CWs: minor whumpee, (starts below read more) animal attack, gore/blood/injury, religion mention (historical setting), mention of eye injury, gunshot wound, he/it pronouns for transformed nonhuman whumper-ee.
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With every minute, the dusk approached, and Paul grew wearier.
Even if he hadn’t meticulously kept track of the days, he could feel it in his bones: tonight was a full moon.
It would be fine, he was sure. He was deep in the forest, so he’d hunt a deer or one of the rabbits in the field. His monstrous form wouldn’t feel the need to run the risk of attacking cattle or, god forbid, a human.
Through the trees, the warm light of sunset pulled long, blue shadows over the ground. It would almost be beautiful, if it didn’t herald his transformation.
Paul sighed. At least the routine was familiar by now. He hid his pack under some bushes, marking the nearest tree using his small knife. Once, he’d misplaced and lost his gear for a whole week. Let’s hope his other self didn’t wander too far, this time.
He’d save undressing till the last minute, as the air was chilly. It seemed the weather got colder each year, and his bad leg ached from it. Some mornings, he’d wake to find frost in his beard, even though it was already April. Not a good time to be a vagrant, but well, what choice did he have.
He was about to sit down and eat some of his jerky to prepare for a long night, when his nose picked up the smell of something warm and alive. It smelled human.
“Uhm, excuse me?”
Paul spun around, blood turned to icy slurry in his veins. But sure enough, there it was, the worst possible thing to see so close to a full moon: a child. He was a slender boy, barely three handfuls, looking up at him with tear-tracked ruddy cheeks and watery brown eyes.
“Oh, God no...” Paul muttered in horror. He looked at the child with a concern that bordered on fury.
“What in all the seven hells are you doing in the woods at this hour, child!”
The boy backed away, his brows lowering to a petulant scowl.
“There’s no need to scold me, mister, my parents will do so plenty. I just wanted to ask if you knew the way out.”
The boy didn’t even recognize the danger it was in. He’d be lucky if he lived to get a scolding. Paul felt tears of fear spring to his eyes.
He was such easy prey, and there was no way he could get far enough before the wolf within Paul came out and tracked his scent.
He looked at the setting sun. So little time...!
“Christ on a stick, you stupid child,” he cursed.“You’ve got a weapon on you, at least?”
The boy shook his head, his face growing pale, and Paul unsheathed and tossed him his own blade. It landed in the leaves with a small thud. It was barely bigger than his hand, so at least the kid would be able to wield it.
Though the child was foolish, he seemed to understand the urgency of it all, and picked up the blade.
Paul grabbed his rope from his pack and tied it around a sturdy tree, then made a loop partway down the excess length.
“Listen to me very carefully, boy. Things are about to get... strange. Whatever you do, do not run! Back away slowly, and-and flap your arms about, try to scare it off.”
“Scare what off?” The boy’s voice raised in pitch, the crack of prepubescence not fully gone yet.
Paul closed his eyes and prayed to God, the Devil, the beast within, or whoever else would listen. Not a child. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt a child. When Paul spoke again, his voice trembled.
“I don't have time to explain. If scaring it off doesn’t work-” he pointed at the blade. “Aim for the eyes and gut. Understand?”
The boy had some bravery in him, since he gripped the knife tight. His eyes darted around, and he actually foolishly stepped closer to Paul.
“I don’t understand-”
Paul put the loop of rope around his neck, and used the last end of it to hurriedly tie his hands together, best he could. They were shaking. He pulled the knot tight with his teeth.
“I don’t have time!” he yelled through gritted teeth. “Just, repeat what I said: whatever you do, do not...?”
“Run?” the boy answered. At least he was listening.
“And if scaring it doesn’t work..?”
“E-eyes and gut, sir.”
“Attaboy.” Paul took a shaky breath. Before he had time to reassure the little boy or explain further, the sun dipped under the horizon.
As always, it started with his bones. There was an audible crack, followed by a pained grunt by Paul. The snap was followed by more, growing in speed as his transformation picked up the pace.
He always tried to keep his screams in, even more so now that there was a child present. Said child looked at him with the eyes of scared prey, gripping his tiny blade with both hands. He took a step back, and Paul glared at him with eyes that he was sure had turned yellow by now.
“N-nno running..” he warned, but it came out as a growl. His tongue felt unruly against his sharp teeth, and his jaw was beginning to expand into a muzzle.
Instead of heading his warning, the boy seemed to startle out of his shock, and turned on his heels.
Paul cursed, but before he could call after the boy, his affliction took hold. He howled, as everything shifted and grew and snapped into place. Before long, he didn’t even have the mind to worry or hope the ropes would hold. Paul was gone. The wolf was left.
It panted, as always when it awoke. The aftershocks of becoming were never pleasant. This particular awakening was even rougher than usual. There was a course rope around his neck, connecting to his front legs, and the tree behind him. It whined in confusion and annoyance.
His ears picked up a sound: something was running away from him. Prey! Juicy, warm prey, judging from the smell of it. Its muzzle watered, and he started to struggle in earnest.
His teeth made quick work of the restraints around his paws, and his sharp claws cut the rope tied to the tree. He shook off the shreds of fabric clinging to him, and sniffed for the scent.
There. He could even still see the prey, clumsily trying to outrun it. It wouldn’t.
Before long, he’d caught up with the frightened human. It didn’t even turn to face him, it just ran and cried. The wolf snapped, and closed its powerful jaws around the stubby, juicy leg. Warm, delicious blood flooded its maw, and the human fell with a cry. The wolf let go of the leg and stepped forward to finish the job, lowering its snout to the prey’s throat.
A bright pain scratched over his face, and he yelped. The prey had a small weapon, which it had swiped like a claw. It had nicked the tissue above its eye and the side of its snout. Luckily, it had missed the actual eye, but the blood made it half blind anyway. It trickled down to mix with the human blood on its maw.
Then, the wolf’s ears twitched: something was approaching. Something big. No, three of them. He’d have to stash his prize away.
He set his teeth back in the prey’s leg and tried to drag it off. The screaming this spurred in the child was nearly loud enough to drown out the gunshot.
The wolf howled in pain, as something shot through his front paw, spraying blood over his fur. Three screaming adult humans were running towards him, and he knew an encounter would hurt too much to risk. The creature might not get killed, but it still wouldn't be worth it.
Tail tucked down, the wolf ran as best he could with three legs. It was still faster than humans, but not by much. The one who’d hurt him stayed with the prey, while two others began their pursuit for him.
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NONA SPOILERS: How do you recon, is there anything parallel with Paul and John both being apostle names? Intertextual reference-style, reflecting their roles /functions/something? Pardon me for banging on your door, I have no biblical knowledge at all (wrong religion), so I'm just wondering aloud in the presence of as many possibly interested and knowledgable tumblr personage as I find.
Oh, I don't mind at all! I love the idea of someone to talk to!
As for the apostle parallels/contrasts...I'll be honest, I'm not sure I can make anything out of it; somehow, my education on Christianity kind of didn't really dwell on some of the apostles, which is the flaw of most of it being my choice of topics. But, I was raised Catholic-ish and went to a Jesuit university (it had a good writing program; anyway, about a third of my religious studies requirements were about religious art in India), so let's see what I can do.
My quest here is also probably not helped by the sheer number of contradictory or confused attributions in regards to John specifically; Is the John of the Gospel of John the Apostle? Traditionally, yes, but scholarship these days says "Probably not." Are the Three Epistles of John from John the Apostle? Traditionally, yes, but again, probably not -- though folks do think the three letters were written at least be the same person. Not the same one as wrote the Gospel, but it's at least *A* person. What about the Book of Revelations -- which might be fun to look at to compare, as tales of an apocalypse and all? That's a different guy, who probably was named John, at least, but definitely not the same guy as the others. There's a further John, John the Presbyter, who appears in some fragments and has been traditionally identified with both and/or all of these Johns, as all of these Johns have been with each-other, but we just do not know.
Paul isn't completely free of attribution muddles, but there's a bit more of a solid base to work from with him. We can say with solid confidence that he wrote some things we still have copies of, though.
So, it's much harder to say anything about John from an apostle take, because which guy(s) are we counting?
Of course, I think there might be something relevant to be said, if I step away from authorship and look at narrative. John the Apostle is often identified with and referred to as "The Beloved Disciple," the "Disciple Jesus Loved." Which does, to me, evoke the whole "For the world so loved John" bit. John is Traditionally the last apostle to have died, and the only one to have died of natural causes -- in some cases, he's specifically charged with being the one to observe and remember what happened. In a way, I can kind of make a very thin concept of John as a "failed" John the apostle, a Beloved Chosen One gone wrong, the one Charged With Remembering who holds on too tightly. Wouldn't call it a slam dunk of a referential concept, but it's an idea one can play around with, and at least adds just a little spice to the name -- not a lot, the "This is a very generic name" factor still feels the most relevant, but John can have a little multi-interpretation of his name, as a treat for us.
If we're then doing a compare and contrast, we've got the notion of Paul as having come to his position through rebirth -- he is blinded by a vision, is healed, and changes his name from "Saul" to "Paul" -- and having come to it later, after Jesus' death: most of his work in the Early Church, at least that which we know of aside from the biography in the book of Acts, is recorded through letters he wrote himself, or were attributed to him (which is a fun little parallel for the heir of the characters most associated with letter-writing, too). Which, if I were making a list of Apostles, would mean I would leave him off of the list. I did not, however, make the list. I'd probably bet, without looking it up, that Paul made the list, or at least extensively influenced it, because his hands are pretty much all over the Early Christian Church. I spent a while trying to wrestle with furnishing this answer with a more thorough looking-over of Paul's writings, writings that are attributed to him, and the influence of both of these on the Church, since there's a good bit of disliking to do there; it mostly is not nearly as good as 1 Corinthians Chapter 13, sadly. But then, between the various constructions and counter-constructions, interpretations and re-interpretations, and then the confusion of attribution in some places, I decided I was in way over my head. Generally not a fan of the Apostle Paul, so in that vein, if we imagine John as a sort of Apostle John, Subverted, I'd hope for a similar subversiveness, but in the opposite direction, out of Our Paul.
Which they're already doing, honestly: writing traditionally attributed (but disputed, scholastically) to Paul tends to be the most anti-woman in the New Testament, and his more firmly attributable bits are some favorites for homophobes looking for a bludgeon -- and I don't have to explain why an absolute blender-gender who thinks Mustache Rides Should Be Free subverts that pretty clearly, directly, and decisively by existing. I'm not the only one to point it out, and they're right and they should say it.
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