Jeffrey Dean
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Haken: A Capacity for Violence Part 7
🕑 Added 2025-02-28 23:00:04 +0000 UTCThis story features forge master Haken and takes place between the events of 'Werewolves: Haven Rising' and 'Werewolves 3: Evolution's End.'
[If you haven't read part 6, click on the Collections tab and select 'Werewolves' to find the previous chapter of this story.]
A delicious aroma infiltrated Haken's dreams and his perception was flooded with visions of dancing steaks and haunches of venison. He reached out for them as if in a trance and they disappeared into a swirling black smoke that fled between his fingers. He leaned in, slobbering and suddenly overcome with an animal hunger that radiated from the core of his being. Gods…it was almost like he could taste it!
He woke up in a heap, face down on the cold tile floor, pain radiating down his spine. His legs were twisted up in the bedsheets and he'd fallen mid-dream as he reached for the elusive floating feast. He hadn't dreamed of food like this since he was a pup out west in Wyoming so many decades ago. That had been a hard winter, and everyone in his old pack had to pretend that their bellies weren't growling day-in day-out. Even then, those were by far better times than these.
He groaned and managed to sit up straight. That pack was dead, wiped out during the war. Best not to think of those times too much. Nostalgia killed more Haven wolves in the early years of their incarceration than anything else. You can't miss something if you don't dwell on it. Best to keep his vision centered on the here and now.
He sniffed the air and hope filled his spirit back up to the brim as he brushed aside the distant memories and latched on to the bounty left for him on the desk. He shucked off the bedsheet and stumbled over, setting himself down gingerly in the plastic chair to face off with a paper plate heaped with generous portions of beef, ham, and what he guessed was turkey.
"Thank you for this bounty," he whispered, sparing a glance toward the ceiling. He may not be able to see the sky or the moon, but he knew in which direction his prayers should be sent. Gods…the food was still warm!
For several minutes, Haken's cell was a symphony of gnawing, tearing, chewing, and ragged breathing as the nearly starving werewolf attacked his meal. He knew that he was probably being observed, but he was beyond caring what they thought of his eating habits. The humans knew what they were doing when they put a feast like this in front of a wolf so their judgment did not shame him. For the moment, he reveled in it.
He sat back when he was finished and closed his eyes as he rubbed a hand over his stomach. Gods, that was delicious. He could almost forgive Alice for her rudeness if she was the one who had put a kind word in with the prison's cook. Haven had never provided a meal like this, not even on the state-sanctioned holidays where the military gave out extra rations. Maybe Alice was right–could this place really be that different from so many other government facilities?
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Haken immediately felt disgusted with himself. He wouldn't be bought so cheaply. A meal like this was a rare treat for him, but he knew from experience that humans ate like this all the time. If they thought they could win him over with a plateful of scraps from their table, they'd be sorely mistaken. Still, though… he felt relatively content for the first time in months.
He looked over at the shining metal wall, half expecting the door to pop open again, revealing yet another scientist intent on bothering him with their questions or tests. When none were forthcoming, he looked down at his plate and fiddled with the left over bones for several minutes.
He wasn't sure what to do with himself. He'd desperately wished to be left alone, but now that he had what he wanted, he had no idea how to spend the time.
"A wolf wasn't meant to be caged," he said to himself as he stood up and stretched his legs. He felt powerful again, the mountains of protein having flipped a switch inside that allowed him to breathe properly. He'd eaten enough to comfortably transform. That was good to know, but he doubted it was by accident on their part. The scientists wanted to see what he'd do if they gave him the opportunity to unleash his beast. Well…he wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
The mattress creaked beneath his weight as Haken sat down. His human form was puny compared to his wolf, but as humans went, he was considered quite the specimen. He leaned backward on his hands and arched his back, feeling tight muscles pop and align with satisfying snaps. Being forced into wolf form while he was drugged had left his body out of sorts–unconsciously transforming back afterward had left his ligaments and tendons in a jumble. It took over ten minutes of stretches and massaging for him to feel like himself again, but once he was content with the results he finally let himself relax.
I won't let myself languish here, he thought. I won't be Haken, the caged rat.
Well, there was one way to be free of his confines, if only for a little while. He folded his arms and lay them in his lap, tucking his legs tight into a cross-legged position. He let out a long breath as he closed his eyes, head tilted ever-so-slightly upward toward the heavens.
Great Spirit, he implored. Take me from this place.
He allowed his consciousness to drift, taking flight out of his body on pale gossamer wings. He passed through the ceiling of his prison and out into the sky, bursting forth and rolling on a warm summer wind. He ducked into a tight dive, ethereal paws stretched forth as he flew at a dizzying pace between a maze of trees and mountains, each outlined in a corona of emerald foxfire.
The land spoke to him in tongues, an ancient language that untrained ears could never hear or hope to appreciate–for this was the land and he was one with its spirit.
An imposing mountain arose like a spire from the verdant land and he adjusted his flight accordingly, paws scampering through the air with the wonder of a newborn pup as he ascended into the heavens. He burst through a blanket of white cloud cover and hovered for a moment, getting his bearings before zeroing on on the mountain's peak where he came to a stop, buffeted about by crosswinds that all-but pinned him in place.
This was where he was meant to be.
The clouds in front of him parted ways, revealing a stag of blazing white walking toward him with deliberate purpose, each hoof-fall sending ripples of gold outward like small waves on the wind's currents. It stopped several feet away from him and lowered its head, displaying an exquisite array of antlers that seemed to be forged entirely of light. They nearly blinded him with their brilliance, but Haken felt no pain–only awe. In all his years of worship, he'd never beheld such an apparition during his meditations.
"This one is not worthy of your presence," he muttered as he fell to his knees, eyes cast down. He could see rolling plains hundreds of feet below as he hovered beside the mountain peak. If he were to fall…no…he would keep the faith. He looked up again. The old ways had largely been forgotten even when he was a pup, but he still knew that aspects of the Gods were to be respected, not groveled to. He remained in a kneeling position, but no longer averted his eyes from the spirit. He wanted to drink in its radiance and become one with the universe that it encompassed.
The stag took several steps forward until it was mere inches away. Haken could feel its warmth on his skin and his spiritual center bathed in its essence.
Do not despair, the stag said. Its lips did not move as it spoke, but he understood its words all the same. They resonated in his mind. In his heart. Your kin shall survive these trials, as will you.
Tears welled up in Haken's eyes.
"How?" he asked. Pleaded. He knew he shouldn't question a being of such magnificence, but he just couldn't understand. "Everything has been swallowed by the humans' darkness!"
The stag's luminescence grew brighter, and this time Haken was compelled to look down for fear of losing his sight entirely. The message seemed clear. No mortal forces could drown out this power. As long as the spirit flowed through him, he would be a light in dark places, piercing through the humans' evil as a lance of righteousness.
Do not hate them blindly, the stag said. There are some who yet hear my song.
Haken tried to swallow a lump of anger, but it was logged in his throat, intractable. "I will not hate," he said. "But I can never forgive."
That will do, the stag replied. It leaned down and pressed its antlers against the bony ridge of Haken's lupine skull. You are strong, it said. Pass your strength of spirit on to the next generation.
"I…I will try…" Haken whispered. Tears were rolling down his cheeks now, but he barely noticed them. Surely it was no crime to weep before the face of a God.
Do not give in to despair, the stag said. For we are with you.
The light faded, and when Haken next looked up, the stag was gone. He experienced a brief moment of vertigo when he realized that he was back in his cell, sitting on the bed.
He breathed in an out, feeling his rapid heartbeat slow over time until he got himself together and was able to actively devote the spirit's words to his memory–etch them on the inner walls of his heart.
"I am strong," he said. And he felt that strength in his bones, ancient as the earth that bore him.
"I will not give in to despair."
