Once upon a time . . .
Was that how all the stories used to start? After all this time, all this loneliness and solitude he wasn’t sure what he remembered anymore . . . what was real?
Well, once upon a time he had been a man. He remembered that much at least.
Not just a man, but a knight.
Remember that, wretched creature. Hold to that.
A knight you were. The cherished knight of the king himself. The most loved knight in all the land, some said. Respected . . . renowned . . . a darling of the royal court . . . a paragon of virtue . . . a hero . . . And now . . .
Now he was reduced to naught but a beast, trapped forever as a rangy wolf, with only the boundaries of his forest as a buffer from the human world that had cast him off. The forest was now a sanctuary from the wickedness that had imprisoned him in this God-forsaken shape.
All that was good . . . all that was noble, all that was knightly in you is gone.
Still, there are consolations. You can detect the scent of a rabbit from a hundred yards . . . though you cannot wield a sword, your fangs are formidable weapons in their own right . . . and do not discount that other ability . . . that very special ability . . .
He curled up on the forest floor, extended his long, wolfen tongue, and proceeded to bathe his own balls with his hot saliva for the next seven hours.
Yes, there are consolations indeed.
Opening: E.D. Walker.....Continuation: Lightsmith