..."The Fire Inside Still Burns"...
Hunter's Wood
“I’m not the only one facing the ghosts”
-Breathe Again, Sara Bareilles
Summary: There is a legend, told in the mountains, about a wolf and its hunter. It says that the generations of one kind hunted the generations of the other until their bloodfeud washed out villages. The hunters ended the bloodline of the wolf long ago, Gabriella’s grandma always told her, but when the black mark appears on her wrist, Gabriella begins to doubt the accuracy of her family’s lore. And then Troy Bolton comes to town, chased by rumors of tragedy. Gabriella is drawn to him and the way he watches those around him with guarded looks. The way he moves calls to her, and the way he watches her makes her wary. If the legends are true, Troy and Gabriella need to find a way to end a thousand year old family war.
And then people start showing up dead.
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There is a legend told in the mountains of a wolf and its Hunter. it says that the generations of one kind hunted the generations of the other until their blood washed out villages. Its in the wolves' blood to taste flesh and its in the Hunters' souls to destroy their evil and deceit. For the wolf hides itself among its prey, and only reveals itself when it wills, except to the Hunter. The Hunter always knows, always sees, always watches. Or watched. The legend tells of the last Hunter who slew the last wolf. The villagers found the bodies in the snow, outside the den, and raised the Hunter's daughter to maturity. They watched and waited, but the marque never appeared. They breathed, and continued. The wolf had been the last.
The marque was a warning. A sign. A calling. it appears on the eldest child of the youngest generation when they reach adulthood and remains until their death. No mark means no wolf. A wolf means the marque. The stark black lines have only been seen in the books for the past 250 years. The moon for weakness. The curve for time. The dagger. The blood. All of it on the inside of the forearm. Her forearm. After 250 years and eleven generations, the legend had left the pages of her grandmother's books.
It meant only one thing, she had been told that all her life. She had also been told it would never happen to her. So, somewhere along the lines of history and blood, someone had fucked up.
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Gabriella listened absently as the mathematics teacher explained the answers to their homework. Seated at her desk, with her feet propped up on the back of Chad’s chair, she let her mind wander as her pen moved in vague, abstract loops and swirls across a blank page of her notebook. Her grandmother’s comments at dinner the night before had bothered Gabriella more than she’d like to admit. Sleep had been hard to come by last night and when it came, the dreams had made it less than restful.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Gabriella tapped her foot and scratched her arm. She should have worn something under her wool sweater dress, it was bound to drive her crazy with its itchy material by the end of the day. Returning her hand to the page she had decorated with blue ink, Gabriella brought her mind back to the present and bit back a gasp. The page was littered with interlocked circles, each containing intricately sketched out scenes of gore and terror. One showed houses on fire. Another a crossbow lodged in the neck of a child. Bile rose in Gabriella’s throat as she stared at what she had done. She glanced about, ensuring that no one had noticed before quietly pulling the page from her notebook and folding it into tiny squares.
When it was tucked away in the desk where no one could link it to her, Gabriella turned her attention to the board and the teacher at the front of the room. She spent the rest of the period carefully copying every note made on the board and pushing the images from her mind. The only break her fingers took was to scratch her arm again.
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Gabriella spun the combination on her locker and ripped the door open when it clicked. Her fingers fumbled to pull books from inside, anxiety and nerves making her clumsy. Closing her eyes, she took a breath through her nose and let it out. The noise around her from students changing classes receded for a moment as she sought to find her center, a moment of steadiness and calm. She couldn’t shake the feeling of something wrong. Like the moments before receiving a test back when she knew she had done horribly. Like when her grandmother didn’t answer right away when she arrived home and called her name. Her stomach felt like a rock, her muscles clenched relentlessly. Finally she managed to pile her stuff in one hand and close her locker with the other.
“Gabi!” Taylor’s voice rose above those around her and Gabriella turned her head. Plastering a smile on her face, she waited as her best friend wove her way through the throngs of students in the hall, Chad following in her wake.
“Hey,” Gabriella answered when they reached her.
“You ready to get this presentation over with?” Taylor asked, “You have the cue cards, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” she replied, shifting her notebook and textbook to show Taylor the stack of cards held tightly in her hand. “Right here. Let’s go.”
Gabriella was already steps ahead of Taylor when she felt the overwhelming sense of falling. She paused mid-stride, and felt the books fall from her fingers. The sense of dread intensified while silence settled around her. Blood pounded in her ears and suddenly everything seemed louder, brighter and clearer. The people around her slowed and Gabriella looked around as if seeing everything for the first time. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, and then another, and then another. When they opened, he was there.
The hall was still crowded and he was at the end of it, paused in slow motion by the door to the administration offices. His back was to her, but she knew inexplicably. Her gut knew and her heart knew. Gabriella traced every inch of him with her eyes. The way his hair brushed the color of his polo, the way his jeans sagged slightly too much for her liking. When her eyes went back to his face, only seconds had ticked by, but he was watching her. Something inside told her she had known he would. His eyes were blue, she thought, before something clicked and everything returned to normal. People were yelling and laughing, hurrying away as the bell sounded the warning. Taylor was calling to her and the boy at the end of the hall had turned away. Gabriella gathered her books just as Taylor reached her.
“What happened? Are you okay?” she looked concerned, as she searched Gabriella for signs of something out of place. There weren’t any. “Is it your arm? You really should have someone look at that.”
“No, it’s fine,” she replied, making sure the sleeve of her sweater covered the red and inflamed skin of her forearm. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been scratching at it. “Just a rash. Must be that new body butter I bought at the mall.” She shrugged. “Someone just banged into me, knocked me off balance. It’s fine.” Gabriella flashed the cue cards once before tucking them away. “Let’s go before we’re late. I want to get this over with. My nerves are shot just thinking about it.”
She led the way once again, Taylor and Chad following her to the fourth door up the hall on the left.
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Gabriella stood in her room, the rain pounding against the glass of her balcony doors. Water ran down her neck, soaking into the collar of her already wet jacket. Slowly, she peeled it off and tossed it over the back of her desk chair where it lay limp and heavy. Next she removed her jeans, adding it to the chair. The air was cooler and she shivered slightly. Turning around, she faced the floor length antique mirror. With only the bedside lamp burning, Gabriella was merely a faint smudge among the shadows of the room. She could still feel his breath on her neck. His hands on her cheek, her hips, her arms. She looked down and held out her right arm, forearm facing up. The white long sleeved t-shirt covered her to her wrists but she could still feel his touch as though it had been laid against her bare flesh.
In the mirror, her cheeks burned and her eyes were bright. Nothing had changed and yet she knew everything had. Did he? Had he known all along? Or was it a guess? An instinct that there was something more to her than hormones and quick wit? Sucking in a breath, Gabriella placed both hands on the hem of her shirt and in one swift motion yanked it over her head. In nothing but her underwear and bra, the black lines on her arm were precise and fresh. It was no longer red and splotchy. She couldn’t deny what it was any longer by blaming an overactive imagination or an allergic reaction. It started at her wrist and travelled a hand’s width up her arm. It was sinister and unnatural and damning.
Gabriella looked at herself in the mirror again and no longer saw herself. She saw her father and her grandmother, and her great grandmother and the hundreds of generations before her stretching back in a line. All of them looked young. All of them looked strong.
All of them had blood on their hands.
She thought of Troy.
She looked at the balcony. If he hadn’t known before, he knew now.
Lightening flashed and she heard him on the wind.
Now they both knew.
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This post will be updated.