The Only Good Werewolf is a Dead Werewolf

Domaré bit down on the bone, crunching straight to the marrow and sucking it out. Druid flinched at the cracking noises, but if the carnivorous behavior bothered her she didn’t say anything.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” She said, her voice cutting through the night air. 

“What? The young colt's ears perked up. “But we just got here?”

Druid's ears flicked dismissively as she studied the darkening horizon. “Never stay in one place for long, Domaré. It makes it easier for the demons to find you.” She turned her green eyes back on him. “This was never our destination.” 

The wolfish-looking horse stood up from his bones and shook himself off, prancing next to Druid. “Will you tell me where we’re going, at least? It’s been days since we started traveling.” He flopped on his side, nuzzling into Druid's flank like a dog. 

She watched him for a moment, quietly deciding something. “What happened before we started traveling, Domaré?”

He rolled away from her, like a spark had lit on his coat. “I don’t know! I told you I don’t remember!” He looked back at her, a little hurt in his eyes. “If you told me, I would remember probably, but you won’t say anything.”

Druid watched him, a little bit of pity welling up in her. He still didn’t remember what he did. Her gaze wandered over the cracked open bones, remembering the cracked open bones littering the ground when she found him. The bodies. The blood. A whole family, from young to elderly, slaughtered on the ground with a small dazed colt in the center of it. He had barely been conscious then, covered in blood. The fur on his body had also been less than half of what it was now.

Druid studied the coat of the pouting child next to her. She hadn’t been as sure then, but the growing fur on his body, the appetite for bones, and the sclera of his eyes turning black all pointed to one thing. Lycanthropy. Who knows if he had been in complete control of himself when the disease took over that night? He didn’t seem like an evil child. In the three days she had been traveling with him she had come to know him as a trusting, naive, distractable, and loving child. He was sweet. It would have been hard enough for her to deliver him to the orphanage if he was a normal child, she had grown so attached to him. The affliction made living among normal people impossible. Still… She watched him as he distractedly chewed on an unbroken bone, already forgetting his offense to her words. It would be dangerous to raise a werewolf. A greater danger still, if she let him roam freely. So there were only two options…

“Domaré.” His ears perked up. She paused. “I’m taking you to a very important place… It’s somewhere my mentor took me when I was learning magic.”

“Am I going to learn magic?!” He jumped up excitedly. 

Druid flicked her ears at him, a chiding motion to calm down that he either didn’t notice or didn’t listen to. Knowing him, it was probably the former. “I only take on apprentices that have an aptitude for magic. We will see if you have any talent.” His bouncing motions and happy chatter only got more intense, and Druid sighed. It didn’t matter what she said, it went in one ear and out the other. “Calm yourself and go to sleep,” she snapped, a little anger sliding into her tone. “I won’t wait for you if you’re too tired to walk tomorrow.” She turned her head away from the ecstatic colt, desperately trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her head, speaking over the voice in her heart.

The only good werewolf is a dead werewolf.

Domaré looked at her expectantly, all his patience lost like the excitable child he was. “What does it mean? Am I magical yet?”

The dismay was sinking in as Druid stared at the scattered runes on the ground, not a single one of which had lit up. Not even once. The water had stayed still, but the only reflection that looked back at them had been the wolf. A full wolf, not even the half-wolf half-horse amalgamation Domaré seemed to be. She wasn’t even sure if he had seen it, since his reflection didn’t seem to bother him. Could he not see that the water didn’t reflect the sky?

“Druid?” The colt head-butted her shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

Druid snapped back, shaking her coat briskly. “I’m fine.”

“…But you look sad.”

That froze her. She stared at him, fully taking in the small colt that was standing next to her. His overgrown fur, the pointed oversized ears, the slight tips of pointed canines sticking out… The concern in his eyes. The only good werewolf is a dead werewolf.

“We’re leaving. Keep up.” Druid briskly turned around and started walking off from the pool, forcing down the emotions bubbling up in her chest. 

“What? Druid wait-wait!” She could hear him frantically scramble to keep up as his voice cracked a little. “You didn’t tell me what it meant-am I not magical?” His voice dropped a little. “Does that mean I can’t stay with you?” She didn’t respond and his voice became pleading. “Druid? Did I do something wrong?” 

Her heart cracked a little. “What’s your favorite food, Domare?” 

“What?” A pause came from the little horse, some confusion in his voice. “I guess I never really thought about that before. I guess I like bones? They’re real crunchy and they make my teeth stop itching.” 

The only good werewolf is a dead werewolf. “We’re going to find some bones, then,” she forced a smile and slowed her pace enough for him to catch up. “And then we can find a lake to play in. How does that sound?”

The young horse’s ears perked up and the bounce in his step returned as he excitedly nodded. “I love playing in the lake! Sometimes you can see little sparkly things in the lake and you can jump on them, it feels really slimy when you land on it. Sometimes I slip and then I get all wet.” The happy chatter kept going, all worries dropped from his voice. Druid listened to it, watching him jump and bounce around as they walked through the underbrush. He could at least have one last good day.

“Did you have a nice day, Domare?” The moon had just peeked over the treeline, and Domare was resting with his body leaning on Druid’s side, the young foal tired out. 

“I had the best day ever! Can we do that again tomorrow?” He looked at Druid expectantly and she nodded. 

“We’ll do it for as many days as you want.” She nuzzled his face gently, forcing down the screaming voice in her heart telling her to stop. “Rest now. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Domare said, relaxing his body against hers and uncharacteristically becoming still. Druid kept her head up, not able to look at him anymore. She’d let him fall asleep. It was the kindest thing she could do for him.

“Druid?” Her ears flicked, unsure how much longer she could put on a face for him. 

“Yes?”

“Why won’t you tell me what happened at the pool?”

Druid’s body tensed up. 

The young foal looked up at her. “I know you don’t want to tell me because you think I’ll be hurt. But I promise I won’t be mad. I don’t care if I’m magical or not, as long as I get to stay with you.”

Druid stayed still as death.

A few moments passed before Domare spoke again, caution in his voice. “Will you not tell me… Because I don’t remember? What… What happened before we started traveling?” Druid still didn’t answer him, and she felt his body tense up next to hers. He stood up and backed a step up from her, the wirey hair on his neck starting to bristle. “Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

Druid stood up, compassion welling up in her chest. “Domare… It’s alright, it doesn’t matter. Lots of people forget things. Come lay down, we have a big day tomorrow.”

“No! No… That’s a lie.” Domare’s fur stood on end and a hint of a growl entered his voice. “You’ve been lying to me all day. You think I don’t notice you act different, but I do. You’ve been sad all day, barely able to look at me.” The anger building up on his face gave way to fear. “Why can’t you tell me? What… What did I do?”

“Domare, calm down-”

“NO!” Domare’s fur flared out and Druid could see his pointed teeth as he snapped. They had grown longer. “Tell me!” 

Druid took a steadying breath in and relaxed her stance, realizing she had squared herself up to fight. The small foal was slipping deeper into wolfish features. “I found you in early morning. You were dazed and barely aware, covered in blood and surrounded by bodies of an entire herd.”

Domare’s fur flattened out as his eyes went wide, transfixed on Druid.

“Your family was slaughtered by… Wolves.”

“Another LIE!” Domare’s voice turned angry in a flash, his fur raising the same way a wolf’s hackle raised. “I told you to tell me what happened!” The anger in his voice was wavering, giving in to fear. There was a spark of horror behind his eyes. He already knew. 

Druid looked at him, pleading him silently to calm down. “It’s not important, Domare. Come on, we can still go to sleep-”

“NO! Say it!” His voice raised into the barking growl of a wolf, his face flashing to something more canine ever so briefly. The fear in his voice had overwhelmed the anger.

Druid stared at him. “You killed them, Domare. You can’t remember because you have lycanthropy. It’s a disease-an incurable disease. Werewolfism.”

Domare stared at her, the horror fully taking over his face. “No-I don’t… You’re my only family. I don’t… I didn’t have… I couldn’t have…” His legs wobbled and gave out and he fell to the ground, shaking. “I didn’t… Kill people.”

Druid knelt down and softly touched his head with her muzzle, comforting the young foal. “I know. I know you didn’t.”

Domare looked up at her, overwhelming pain and anguish plastered over a face too young to know that kind of horror. His voice barely reached a whisper. “Will I hurt you too?”

Something within Druid broke, and the magic flowed through her body to touch his cheek. “OBLIVISCI.” She spoke, the reverberation of her voice shuddering through his body. She watched the pain and anguish dissipate from his eyes as they turned milky white, his body no longer tense and shaking. She laid down next to him, gently moving him so he was leaning against her like he would when he slept. She had made her choice. “You could never hurt me, Domare.” 

The milky white faded, the young foal’s eyes turning back to their regular, dark colors. His attention sharpened back to her, the aloof and happy nature returned to his face, with concern as he studied her. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

Druid tsked, quickly shrugging off her emotions as she flicked her tail around him. “Sad? More like dreading the years to come. An apprentice is no small task to deal with.”

Domare’s eyes widened and he jumped up in excitement. “Apprentice?” He screeched happily, enthusiastically dancing around. 

Druid watched him, halfheartedly telling him to calm down and rest for the morning. She didn’t mean it. She would rather watch him be happy. The voice inside her head persisted, chiding her with: the only good werewolf is a dead werewolf. But the voice in her heart was louder. 

I love you.