The Twisting Den

She remembered her brother's death a bit too vividly for comfort. His dark leg, sliced perfectly through the ankle in a deep gash. Blood seeping out of the corroded hole in fingers of red, streaks of shiny, horrible red. His breaths were short but urgent as he told her to forget about him and to leave the forest before she was carried away. That there was a pack ahead that she needed to stay out of the business of. Jennezia's own foolish curiosity had overpowered her and she'd wandered that way, involving herself with the lonely forests and becoming... a loner. The title came with a feeling of dread on it's own but the feeling of responsibility was not nearly as subtle. She could never relax because she always felt like someone needed her. Like she was always desired somewhere and if she didn't make it, she'd be stripped of herself. The only notable thing she'd ever received.

She let out a twisted sigh, gazing into the complexity waiting before her in the dense woodland. A gentle breeze overwhelmed her nose, tangling briefly in its wet web. The ground was prickly, she realized. Not cushioned and lush, like a forest was expected to be. Not silk-laden or lined with beautiful flowers. In fact, the only flower she saw was a single weed, the color of her brother's blood. It was, of course, morbid, to think of it that way, but it was all Jennezia could see in the dully red, glistening petals. They folded over something in the center of the flower, and that was the extent of what was supposed to be pretty about it. Beneath it fell a stem of green and brown. It looked incredibly thorny and, all in all, dangerous. The needles stuck out randomly, eager to penetrate through the very flesh of anything that foolishly came its way. Why did flowers get publicity as beautiful? To Jennezia, it just looked threatening and, if anything more, average. It was not appealing in any way other than as the only thing living besides grass in the meadow. Sideways, she glanced down to the latticework of prickly weeds and continued walking. The uncomfortable ground would have to pass for now.

The days of wandering and thinking led her to many new discoveries. What it was like to camp out beside a tree trunk and have to eat dead rats that she knew were probably infested with disease, but was too hungry to really give a care either way. To have to go to sleep in pain, scratches on her malnourished hide that she couldn't take to the doctor to get fixed but hope that her weak knowledge in medicine would keep them uninfected. The ache of constant backstabbing of those she had, simply because there was no other way. Learning the sick truth of existence; there's only so much freedom a male or female could get in this hell called life, and to some it was only an illusion. And shaking off the eyes that gawked at the scars on her arms and legs wasn't easy for Jen. Keeping them off was even harder when every time she tried to be herself, it backfired on her. Which lead to more self-loathing, and then more scars.

It was the recurring image of her brother's death, though, that scarred her eyes with brilliant yet dulling contrast. When she saw everyday things -- the colour red, the prey that he'd liked to hunt -- she was bombarded with the same series of memory. The image of him as he was curled up in a pile of his own bodily fluid, his ankles cut and spurting blood and his fur glazed in pinkish paste. Jennezia had searched for words as she watched him, but nothing came. So she just kept staring, listening to his obnoxious, bloodcurdling screeches. In fact, she didn't say anything at all until he turned his head towards her, acknowledging her, and then telling her that there were more wolves nearby. Jen didn't bother to ask what had given him such clean but effective wounds -- she nodded and sprinted off in a general direction, trying to rid her mind of what she'd just witnessed. Her own brother's death. She hadn't even tried to assist him. So, in conclusion, she'd have given her place for her brother. Died so that she could be invisible; forever a sad an incomplete spirit roaming the forest. It would be better than the position she was in right now. Jennezia could barely speak straight in front of other wolves, much less kill one, she realized. But she might as well have, watching as her own kin struggled in a nameless trap on the floor of the forest, decorating the already ornamental leaves with the true colours of his suffering. She had watched as he shrieked with the magnitude of a thousand deaths but in one. Someone once asked her 'if a tree fell in the forest with no one around to hear it, would it make a sound?' The answer was yes, but under circumstances of selective hearing. Jennezia had chosen not the hear the uttermost skin-crawling of his series of screams.

She felt a chill move through her body, a visible tremble from her nose to her tail, as she was pulled back into a state of surprise when, in a blink of an eye, commotion erupted. The mere sight of a youthful female leaping into sight, a rather jovial mumble fleeing quietly from her maw. That was how she had entered the clearing and seen her brother. She wouldn't have first expected such a miserable sound from a little canine like her, but perhaps her ears were so familiarized with the quiet of her own self and her stressing mind that she had forgotten what happiness was like to the ear drum. She felt the surprise, utter shock as it took chunks from her usually natural tranquility and grace. It was difficult to shake off even with her most focused attempts to take the situation lightly. Her heart felt as though it had been injected with the iciness that filled her veins. Jennezia had hardly ever achieved that level of happiness in only too long. Days were filled with questionable exhaustion. She'd go to sleep and wake up as if she'd never gotten a wink of rest. But she smiled anyway, a small laugh, almost whispered laugh escaping her maw. At least she was able to experience the wonders of childhood while it lasted. The precious innocence that with time would soon wither away like every good thing that decided to make it's presence in this earth. But she supposed that was simply life making room for new wonders.

She trembled, half from anxiety, and the other from the soft, cool air of the sunless meadow. The faint, warm scent of canine touched her quivering snout at one point of her peaceful exploration on the outskirts of the dense woodland. But the girl hadn't turned around just yet. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, sending her into the depths of a situation, a scene that could end up where she took her last breath. The air also scented of vegetation and decomposing carcasses of animals that had gotten their strings unfortunately cut, the earthy redolence that clung to the stirring air, accompanying the one fragrance that struck panic inside the canine. She felt another soft breeze lap at her body as her gaze pried the area of any sign of the much awaited guest.

Jennezia parted her slender jaws to release three Brittle-brush stems from a gentle, careful grasp. The small blossoms were a vivid canary yellow and the leaves had serrated edges and were broader at the base than the tip of the weed. The face of the leaves were covered with a thick mat of short hairs, making it fuzzy to the touch and giving it a pale gray-green appearance. The herb was used for pain relieving if sprinkled on sores or injuries in a paste. The plant was very abundant over these parts of the meadow, however, regardless, it was important that Jennezia gather as much as he could before they were all wiped away from the nearing winter. She wasn't the pack healer anymore, but with only herself to care for in the first place, she had sort of found herself handling ever one of the jobs. As she nudged the herbs next to a bunch of Creosote leaves, she felt a shiver run down her spine. Winter was coming soon.

With its snow and disease, winter brought some good things. Jennezia enjoyed watching the animals that came with winter and the plants, too. The swirling pink camellias that mocked roses only in different, more opaque shades. She also loved holly, the solid red but prickly berries. They were inedible and otherwise useless, but she enjoyed observing them. And the mistletoe. This was not exactly a seasonal weed, but she did enjoy it in the winter. It was a bush, also round and prickly, that formed in the gaps of trees. Or anywhere. Mistletoe was not picky about where it formed. Some believed that it could be used for medicinal purposes, but as a former healer, Jennezia thought otherwise. She knew otherwise. It was poisonous. Mistletoe contained hazardous chemicals that could cause a variety of reactions, such as a slowed heartbeat or nausea. Nothing Jennezia wanted popping up in and killing off those around her (albeit: nobody). Grimly, she shuffled her paws in the grass and let out a sigh. Superstitions had to be that resulted in the most injuries. Seasonally, wolves tested theories without forethought and ended up getting themselves sick somehow; partly a reason of why she'd fled in the first place.

She felt like she was just out there, alone. Ten miles from town. Ten miles from anything. Ten miles from her happiness. Not that ten miles was that far, but that walking that far would require physical exertion and the energy or inspiration that Jennezia didn't have. So she was out there, alone, being encouraged to keep on going but holding her ground, regardless. Why was she like this, in a hopeless, lifeless stage of development? Her brother's death. It had been incredibly long since he had gone at this point, but she was still scarred and shaken. Responsibility was difficult for Jen because she was such an empty, boring frame of a wolf. She never understood why anyone would designate her with such an unfortunate fate as this one. She was nothing, her and her mind, but it was normal to judge oneself terribly hard. That's what she told herself, over and over again. But over and over again, she failed miserably and fell into a writhing pool of self pity, desire. She could write a list of things she wanted and needed but draw a blank to things she was enjoying in her life, but that was normal, too. She'd yet to learn to appreciate life as it was. What bothered her was the fact that she was an adult stuck in this corner of depression. A full grown wolf in need of a life who couldn't point out one good ting about herself.

Although pain still coursed through her veins like lead, poisoning her mind and holding her down to the Earth like an anvil, Jennezia saw the commotion around her in quick flashes like a camera, slides put together to eventually equal something. She saw pictures of her brother, in his magnificent array of colour. She'd close her eyes to try and picture him after she'd seen him, to hold on to the image. She'd yearned to have him at her side with her, encouraging her and running through the woods in gleeful bliss like they once had, forever ago. It was foolish, as there were more important things on the table. Things like life and death being gambled for no reason by this monster who stalked them from behind, eyes on having someone or another dead. It was sadistic. Incredibly sadistic.

Always, Jennezia had been terrified of the maze of darkness, vines, and regret that was called the woodland -- the forest. Smack dab across the middle of the basic territory map was a giant slab of this bubbling woodland. There was something mysterious about that wood, Jen knew, even despite her lack of investigation there. Some untold tale, some tangy story that needed to be told but couldn't be. If that made sense. The world was full of grown children that would never learn to share or care about anyone but themselves, but why did that even matter anymore? There was an untold enmity in this land. A pseudo-civilization, mocking the collapsed failure of humanity. Carelessly, they'd used up their resources and made choices that ended up to be unrecoverable. They fell back, but have nobody to rope them back up. Anyway, everything that Jennezia had she counted as loss. Everything, a distraction. She was a full grown female, and where was she now? Roaming throughout the woods without a pinpointed destination, tripping in brambles, roots, and other things she didn't even question. Everything inside of her surrendered to the acute patterns that the forest had woven for her pleasure. Pleasure. As a good citizen, she was supposed to make others happy, when happiness wasn't anything but a concept. To help make herself stronger, she'd taught herself that emotions were weakness and none of them even existed; that feeling happiness, love, sadness, truth, and other similar stances of submission were all just mundane concepts to make wolves feel better about their actually pointless traumas.

How did she choose what to remember? There were emergencies, struggles, and she remembered those things detail for detail, but what about the thousands of simple, everyday occurrences that could be equally impacting and important? The thousands of reminders that every wolf accumulates? The food that you catch for breakfast. The words your friend uses to greet you in the morning. What you respond with. Your best friend's last name. These are the things she had no need for. Over time, her mind had rewired itself so that all this information fell away as soon as the next morning came.

Before she went off on a rant about responsibility, she caught herself. It was not a bad thing to be a part of such a quiet, fabulous empy life. All of her memories were here at the flick of a paw. There were all kinds of landscapes here, too. But what she really wanted was time with herself, alone. She'd worded it incorrectly, she knew, but she wanted time where she wasn't bogged down with work to do. Her own struggling soul wouldn't understand such a vacation, though. Or she wouldn't. Jennezia was Jennezia's responsibility. She winced, suddenly. The word kept echoing in her mind, torchering her, penetrating through her mental barrier. If she drove herself insane with this pointless stress, she'd be amused. But amusement was not what she needed. That variable was still unidentified. Jen paused, her mahogany fur bristling as she picked up a flower of lavender. It was supposed to calm her but, if anything, it put her more on edge. Over anything, Jennezia's greatest fear was losing her mind under any circumstances. She wanted her thoughts to be her's and she wanted to remember what was happening now sanely in the future. Lavender was one of the plants that intimidated her, as somehow it's sweet scents were supposed to evaporate through her nostrils and calm her. She couldn't help but wonder what the plant was actually hacking into withing her mind, what it was ruining, what it was stealing. That's why she spent so much alone time, though. Not because of the plant, of course. She exercised her mind, imagined things, though about things. Anything. She just wanted to keep herself.

She was filled with a huge, ironic sense of dread, then. Her head pounded and her limbs began to feel loose. She couldn't see straight anymore. Jennezia had to halt, stop and try to focus her vision forwards. It was strange. The last time she felt this foggy was right before her brother disappeared. Bile caught in the petite she-wolf's throat as she looked around quickly. She couldn't speak. Something was here, something was alarming her, putting her on edge. That was a logical conclusion, now. She kept looking around, trying to find this monster. Bear. Dread-monger. Whatever it was called. Whoever it was, she needed to find it before it found her.

She'd  never been a fan of being alone in the woods for as long as she could remember, Jennezia thought, passing over a moss-covered stump and a few specimens of fungus. Parents told their children to keep away from the dark forest to protect them from the monsters that lurked, while Jennezia currently had her life on the lines from one of those "monsters". She could've listened. She should've never run away from home with her brother and her father. She'd put two lives on the line and in the trash can; her own and her brother's. But what would any of them think when she was dead?  She didn't care if it would hurt or if she'd suffer or what she'd have to do. Death was in the delivery. But her family, they'd be ruined, if they weren't already. Scarred. Maybe. They were a perfectly sociable couple. They'd probably had new children in a snap of the fingers. Her legs trembled partially because of the thought and partially because of the bullets of dread, taking a fall with allegiance to the crashing in her mind. Death was necessary. Appropriate.

The rustling ahead increased and Jennezia came to a complete stop. Her heart ran in circles, crazed, and her mind spun just as effectively. What if she was attacked? Mauled over? She had nothing to live for, but all the same. She was terrified, petrified. What would she say to save herself, protect her privacy? She heard words, barely audible.

Hello there, I go by Hurricane. may I ask your name?

In a half second, she thought it over and replied without hesitation. "Jennezia," she spoke quietly, a smirk creeping across the pinches, hollow places decorating her jaw.

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