Scarecrow-like in his stillness, Wulfstan stayed planted in the field all night, watching the moon sink below the horizon and the sun rising to replace it. Birds twittered and squawked around him, and he could hear, in the distance, humans waking up and getting busy. Their ruckus was so deafening that Wulfstan wished he could stop hearing anything at all.
Leofric had not come to find Wulfstan in the night. He had not even come out to the fields by the time the sun was almost high enough in the sky for Wulfstan to know it was noon. By that time of the day, it was easy to see him silhouetted against the cold, blue expanse, even with the normal vision that a living person had.
Alone, he was left abandoned.
It seemed that Leofric had not meant it when he had said that nothing Wulfstan could say would make him anything but his 'beloved kin'. Arguably, it should not have been a surprise that that would happen but, surprise or not, nothing could stop it from aching. The tightening tether around his heart remained a constant reminder of the feelings he had within him that could never be reciprocated. How cruel circumstance was to make the only thing he could truly feel be something so taxing on the psyche, so unfair – a constant reminder of the man that wouldn't desire him in any way.
Wulfstan knew now that any hint he had gotten of Leofric feeling something similar towards him was only a delusion he had imagined to keep himself sane. Just like how he had imagined himself to be human for five years despite all the evidence to the contrary. No matter what he did, Wulfstan would always find himself on the outside, looking in at an unreachable fantasy. Much like the elusive sleep that dreams were supposed to dwell in that he couldn't reach.
If he only could be human. If he only could love a woman and live a normal life. If only he'd never met Leofric or Donngall or Ita at all. If only, if only, if only.
Exhausted, but not really, not ever, Wulfstan dropped his head and fixed his gaze on the ground. "Lord, if You're actually there, if You really do exist, why did You make me like this?" He looked back up at the sky as if he could stare hard enough to actually see wherever it was that the supposed God was residing in Heaven above them all. Raising his voice, not caring if someone did hear him and think him mad, if he did provoke God and was smote for it, Wulfstan screamed at the heavens. He'd never raised his voice like that in his life, his words cracking at the seams from the exertion. "What great crime did I commit for You to force me to endure this? What kind of benevolent God are You if something like me is even allowed to exist? Just kill me! Kill me!" Dropping to his knees, Wulfstan dug his fingers into the hardened dirt of the ground, carving deep trenches there. Whispering now, he begged, "Please. Let me die and do away with my pain."
Nothing happened. No great retribution, no sign from the heavens nor God. Forsaken, the unforgiving world did not respond. Wulfstan was abandoned in the dirt by whatever cruel creator dumped him there so many years ago that history had forgotten that time had even existed.
Waiting for a moment, hoping that something would maybe happen if he stayed in place, Wulfstan finally pulled himself up from the ground. "Ignore me then. Ignore me."
Dusting off his clothes and wiping off as much dirt from under his nails as he could, he decided it was time for him to go back to the village and, like the evil thing he was, show his face in front of Leofric despite what he had said.
The time was coming for him to bear the consequences. If Leofric wanted him out of his house, Wulfstan would leave. If Leofric wanted him dead, Wulfstan would do everything in his power to find a way to beat whatever healed his body in moments and die before him. No matter what the man wanted, Wulfstan would do it.
Heading back to the village, he found it peculiar how he had not seen a single person in any of the adjacent fields nor anyone in the back gardens of the homes next to his. Unless it was the day of a church service, which it was not, there were always people doing something in the fields even in the dead of winter – someone always had crops that needed planting and tending to in the cold. Wulfstan couldn't even hear the sounds of people in the houses.
He could, however, hear a thunderous rumble of sounds in the distance on the opposite side of the village, perhaps where the market and tavern were. It was unusual to hear such ruckus so early in the day – or ever, really – and, when he saw that Leofric was nowhere to be found in the house, he became increasingly concerned.
The cart and the remaining goods they were hoping to sell at the market during the day were gone. Wulfstan knew for sure where Leofric was and, as he headed out, the din became more obvious. Even though he was still on the other side of the village, he knew the clamour was certainly from thedirection of the market.
Not thinking any further, he began running. While he had always had to walk at an incredibly slow pace, from his perspective, because Leofric was by his side, Wulfstan didn't care now that he wasn't. Any prying eyes that could have been hidden in the houses around him would barely see anything that strange anyway – he would have been standing there one moment and gone the next, a blur of movement too fast for the human eyes to even actually see him move. Any witness would simply think they had imagined him or thought that he had gone down one of the many winding alleys when they had blinked.
Despite being so far away from the market, Wulfstan got there in a few moments, no more than a handful of human heartbeats having time to pass. However, though he could hear the overlapping sounds of a large crowd shouting and talking about something he couldn't quite make out, the people of the village had not yet come into view. It was unsettling for such noise to be bombarding his ears but the source to be out of sight.
However, now he was on the outskirts of the market, it would become easier to pinpoint their location. Walking at a more human speed now, his brows furrowed as he saw all the abandoned stalls, produce left to turn in the noon sun, becoming increasingly panicked by the peculiarity. As he went on, he finally got to the place where he and Leofric would normally set up their stall and found that, like every other stall, it was devoid of people.
Except, unlike how every other stall was left orderly and neat, Leofric's stall was half-collapsed, the produce strewn across the ground and deep trenches in the ground that seemed indicative of something – or someone – being dragged away by force. Many footprints crowded along the lines in the ground, following behind the turned soil.
There seemed to be the traces of tracks left by clawing fingers dug into the dirt alongside those deep canyons.
His heart sank into his stomach and immediately followed the footprints and drag marks towards the sound of what seemed to be half the village rowdily crowded together. Louder and louder they became until he saw the mob pressed together in the square before the town hall.
Now he was there, he could hear what the people were saying, but Wulfstan didn't care to digest their words. He was too absorbed by a sensation both familiar and intensely foreign.
The thread around his heart tightened, tugging, but it wasn't an ache or discomfort that he was experiencing – it felt like some indescribable agony was being projected upon him from the other side of the tether. While he could feel the sensation without it hurting, he knew that pressure and the impact across his body would be unbearable for a human.
And there was only one human to whom he was connected.
"Leofric! Leofric, where are you?" Wulfstan screamed across the crowd, shoving people out of his way, sending them flying. He didn't care at all if anyone was injured, if anyone died; they were watching whatever was happening, they weren't helping and they weren't Leofric. There was no reason for him to care for their health. Voice cracking from exertion, unused to nor designed for the volume Wulfstan was shouting at again; "Get the fuck out of my way!"
Pressing forward, the throng of people finally thinned as they realised that Wulfstan was not more bark than bite. The soft-spoken, gentle giant was nowhere in sight – a beast had taken his place. As he threw someone else to the ground, a thunderous thud that seemed to shake the surroundings echoing out from where their body landed, he got to the front of the horde. Finally, he saw what they had been gathering around.
A clearing appeared before him, most of the townsfolk circling it, like bloodhounds, and a handful of people stood within it. They seemed to be the draw, the entertainment that had drained the market dry and brought everyone away from their work in the middle of the day. A metallic tinge permeated the air, sharp in Wulfstan's nose. The pit in his stomach growled in excitement. While he could not see anyone's face, their backs to him, preoccupied, Wulfstan could guess who it was from their vile silhouettes alone.
Vicious, blinding rage surged through him. Seething, Wulfstan felt that rumbling in his chest again and the pit in his stomach opening as it craved for the aftermath of what he was holding himself back from doing. Even though he could not see the face of who was on the floor, he could feel the terror, his agony, and hear his hitching breaths as he desperately tried not to scream out in pain. It took no genius to know who it was.
One of the Fisher boys, Wulfstan didn't care which it was, it didn't matter, brought his foot down on Leofric's curled-up form and the disgusting sound of a bone snapping within his body pierced through the air.
A snarl in his words, Wulfstan bellowed again. "Get the fuck away from him!" Every syllable he uttered rumbled in his chest. He stepped into the clearing, animalistic madness in his eyes. Feral aggression that had not reared its head for many years unfurled itself. "Who do you think you are?"
The attackers turned around now, startled by the wrath in the voice of a man that they had never heard speak so loudly before. In front of him were the faces of the Fisher triplets. The unwelcoming, aggressive sneers across their faces catapulted him back to the woods on the night he'd killed a man. Wulfstan realised why he'd always felt a strange familiarity towards them and why the smart one had always stared at his face, eyes unblinking – seemed he had been trying to determine if he had been right, that Wulfstan was the monster from those years ago.
That explained why they had waited for the one day that Leofric had not been under Wulfstan's constantly watchful eye to finally become violent. They knew what he was capable of. Seven years of waiting and they'd finally gotten their revenge.
A few steps back from them with a smug, vindictive smirk upon his lips, was Godwin Ward himself, with his own forgettable, daft lackeys – there was no vengeance to be had for him, he simply despised outsiders and jumped on the opportunity to kill one of them. The concerted effort of the village to starve them or run them off for years had clearly been fruitless for far too long.
As they all stumbled back slightly at the sight of the wild beast that was moments from leaping at them, Leofric's body was revealed completely to Wulfstan's sight.