Blood was soaking into the churned dirt of the ground, a dark, viscous puddle
spreading out from Leofric's form. His face was turned from him, but Wulfstan
could see the bruising and the wounds spreading into his scalp, down his neck.
Whatever clothing Leofric had been wearing was torn ragged until more skin than cloth was visible. His right arm, unintentionally flung out in the direction of Wulfstan, was bent and contorted in ways that were entirely unnatural. Leofric
seemed to be, fortunately, unconscious.
His heartbeat was so faint that Wulfstan could hardly hear it. All his sensations were overwhelmed by the crushing pressure, a simulation of Leofric's pain.
"You've crossed the fucking line! What goddamn right do you think you have to lay a hand on him?" Wulfstan could hardly form words, coming out more as animalistic grunts than language. The frenzy in his gaze fixed upon the men, pinning them in place. "What goddamn fucking right? If you despise me so, hurt me! If you want me dead, try to kill me. Fucking cowards!"
They knew that Leofric wouldn't fight back – he couldn't fight even though he had the strength to. He hated to hurt any living thing, couldn't even bear to raise a hand to hit a dog that was biting him, racked with guilt at the prospect of inflicting suffering. He was soft, gentle, couldn't even hunt for food.
An easy target.
The people of the crowd nearest him quickly receded, terrified to be caught in the crossfire of whatever was to come. The clearing grew yet the onlookers stayed curious, dumbly staring out, waiting for fists to be thrown. Mindless sheep chomping at the bit for bloodshed, not caring about the very real life, the very real feelings and the very real pain of the man beaten into the ground before them.
Who was the real monster here, between the parties in play? As blood continued to stain the floor, the answer remained elusive and unuttered.
Wulfstan didn't wait for any of the men to speak – he didn't care for their reasoning, for their stupidity, for their hatred. He knew why they'd attacked Leofric like this, he knew that he couldn't talk them out of their opinions, regardless of what Wulfstan had done in the woods those years ago. This would have happened eventually even if he hadn't killed a man when he was twenty years old. There would have always been some transgression that had Wulfstan committed that would condemn Leofric to this brutality. All he could do was get Leofric away from them now and pray, to whatever powers that be, that he would survive. There was no life if Leofric died.
That thin tether of humanity within him, the last thing hold him together, severed. That façade he had been masquerading about with fell away and he felt like the monster he'd been in the woods that day again.
Taking a step forward, everything blurred around him, and he was face-to-face with the triplets, the main brunt of the attack. Several metres covered in a split second, his enemies' faces not even having a chance to crease in fear. If they had the time to react in the slightest, he was sure they would scream or try to flee, but he had his hands on the throats of the boil-faced one and the one with the malformed nose before they could blink. Everything moved in slow motion, the sounds of their thundering hearts and the desperate heaves of their breathing, fighting against the crushing force around their
throats.
It was surprisingly easy to be indifferent to the lives he literally held in his hands. He felt nothing as he looked into their eyes, seeing nothing but the fearful gaze of a prey animal that had been skewered fatally, waiting for the killing blow.
Squeezing his fingers, he felt them go limp in his grasp. Perhaps something crumbled beneath his hands, something collapsed, but it was so inconsequential that Wulfstan couldn't even tell. Their lives meant nothing before a creature like him. Quickly turning his attention to the third triplet, his hands released the limp – unconscious or dead, he didn't care to check – bodies of his siblings before lunging for him.
That wicked intelligence in his eyes would do him no good. Brains may defeat brawns in the long run, but, much like a cornered mouse, it'smeagre intelligence could do nothing against the strength of the cat bearing down on it.
An arc of blood gleamed in the noon sun, spraying Wulfstan with the thick, sticky fluid, as he wrenched the final sibling's head free from his neck. There was something intimate about the feeling of flesh tearing apart in one's hands, something that very few people could ever experience. Making the human body malleable and pathetic, pulling it to shreds as if it was simple parchment – it felt right. Wulfstan didn't bother to wipe the gore from his face as he heard the screeching of the crowd, the pounding of fleeing feet on the ground surging in to fill the vacuum of sound that had been there before.
Ironic as it was that the crowd only fled when people other than Leofric were put in danger, Wulfstan was in no fit state to realise the truth of the filthy hypocrites. All of his book smarts had drained from his mind, leaving nothing but bloodlust and deep-seated instinct, pushing his predatory nature to the forefront.
Throwing the head grasped in his hand aside, he fixed his vision on, the shocked-still Godwin, grey pupils shrinking to the size of a needlepoint. His lackeys had long since deserting him to the wrath of the beast before him. Wulfstan didn't give the man a moment to even blink before he was upon him, slamming him into the ground. A thunderous crack resounded in the empty town square, the crumpling of the man's spine making any escape even more impossible than it already would have been.
Planting his knees on either side of Godwin's torso, Wulfstan snarled, the rumble in his chest coming out as a violent growl. A rabid dog once more with no mercy in its gaze.
He could see Godwin opening his mouth to yell, the world grinding to a stand-still around him, and Wulfstan took but a moment of pause. To put an end to any more useless, painful screaming, he lunged forward and bit into Godwin's neck before wrenching back. Teeth clenched together, he ripped out that useless throat, blood gushing down his face, plastering his clothes in even more viscera. Godwin didn't have a moment to realise he was going to die before the light left his eyes. Blood bubbled at the corners of his lips. That sneer he always held was gone, his face slack.
Dropping the tube of cartilage from his mouth, Wulfstan's nose was attacked by the thick scent of blood around him, his rage satiated; his growling stomach now took command. Salivating, spittle joined the gore slipping down his chin, driving Wulfstan mad. Ravenous hunger gnawed at his belly, so he leaned down and lapped up the viscous, rich blood spurting from the gaping hole that was once Godwin's neck.
Engrossed in the intoxicating taste, he drank and drank until the craving within him was sated and his body felt bloated but satisfied. That seething, piercing hunger that had become background noise to him was finally gone and, in its place, peace blanketed his body.
Never had he felt so contented.
Coughing to his side yanked him out of his stupor. Tearing himself from Godwin's body, Wulfstan scrambled across the blood-soaked ground to Leofric's side. The man's eyes were barely open, the skin around them swollen, purple and bloody from the abuse inflicted, but it was clear he was somewhat lucid and vaguely searching for Wulfstan. Beaming down, uncharacteristically warm and bright for this time of year, sunlight reflected in that thin sliver of Leofric's golden eye. It brought some life to his dim, paling face.
His neck was ringed with red, rendering Leofric unable to do much else but cough and wheeze. As soon as Wulfstan got to his side, he was at a loss for what to do. Leofric's body was broken and contorted in a way Wulfstan couldn't understand or know how to fix. Even though what he could see was an incomprehensible amount of injury, Wulfstan could hardly imagine the state of what was hidden beneath his flesh.
Humans couldn't just stitch themselves back together. Even simple scrape could get infected with miasma, bad humours, and they'd be deadin days. Months, if they were stubborn, like Donngall had been.
Something like this…
Terrified to hurt him but desperate to comfort Leofric, Wulfstan scooped the man up as gently as he could, laying him across his lap, head cupped in his hand. Finally, Leofric's hazy vision seemed to clear, and he fixed his gaze on Wulfstan, recognition and relief pushing past the agony. Weakly fluttering, Leofric fought to keep his eyelids from sliding shut.
It seemed he wanted to speak, his mouth moving as if words were coming out but only the sound of wheezing greeted Wulfstan's ears. A rattling in Leofric's chest with each inhale, a horrible noise, was painfully reminiscent of what Donngall had sounded like in the days before he passed away.
It seemed there needn't be an infection this time.
"Sh, sh, you're hurt. Don't talk." Wulfstan was panicked in a way he had never been before. His hand cupped the side of Leofric's face, thumb gently caressing the skin below his eye. "I- I'll fix you. I'll figure out what to do. We always figure it out."
"W…Wulfs—" A hacking cough wracked Leofric's body, a thick globule of blood flying from his mouth and dripping down his lips. It was a stark contrast against the ashen colour rapidly taking over his skin. "I''s…ss alrigh…"
Wulfstan shook his head. "No, it's not. It's not." Desperately, he wanted to lie, to tell Leofric that he'd be fine, that this would pass and he'd be back in good health as soon as Wulfstan could make it happen. No matter how unversed in medicine and the human body he was, though, Wulfstan knew it would not be possible. He rocked back and forth slightly, homing in on the sound of Leofric's heartbeat. It was swiftly fading. "Please, you can't die. Don't go. Leofric, please."
With great effort, Leofric brought up his less injured arm and placed it upon the tacky, bloody skin of Wulfstan's cheek. Unconsciously, Wulfstan turned into that palm, his nose pressing against Leofric's skin. A wheezing intake of breath and Leofric tried to speak again. "Y- You lefff…t before I…" Leofric lost energy and stared listlessly at Wulfstan for a second. In a flash of hazy confusion, his brows knitted before coming back to his senses. It seemed enough of his energy had rallied that he managed to get out his next words without trailing off. "You didn't give me a chance to say anything last night."
"What do you mean, Leofric?" Wulfstan's voice was hoarse, desperate, hurried. He knew if he did nothing Leofric would die. He couldn't lie to himself. Curling them closer together, his face was as near to Leofric as he could get, desperate to hear whatever the man wanted to say. All of this was Wulfstan's fault; at the very least, he would do everything he could to listen and remember Leofric's final words, no matter what they may be. "Tell me. Whatever hatred you want to lavish upon me; I will take it. I understand. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." His voice was nary above a whisper, his pupils dilating larger and larger, the colours of his eyes obscured by that deep black. Still, Leofric kept his gaze trained on Wulfstan's face, not even wincing against the blinding light of the sun. "I… I wanted to say..." Trailing off, he let out a weak cough again. Leofric's breathing was steadily becoming shallower.
"Please, what is it? Don't leave me, keep talking.Please."
Seemingly infuriated by his waning energy, sapping away his ability to speak clearly, Leofric's hand on Wulfstan's face turned harder. With a stronger grip upon his jaw, Leofric tugged Wulfstan down closer to him, as close as people could get.
Leaning his neck up, Leofric pressed his lips firmly to Wulfstan's for a handful of seconds that felt like an eternity before pulling away and, in English that had been unused for two years, muttered, "There we are." A smile, so slight that it was almost obscured by the swelling of his face, danced across his ashen, blueish lips. That last expression stayed on his face, even after that last breath escaped his lungs.
The light left his gaze and the hand on Wulfstan's face dropped free, colliding against the floor with a thump. Leofric's head lolled, falling to the side, tears streaming down his cheeks. That golden eye, no longer glinting in the sun, faded in lustre until it became a stormy blue, matching the right eye that he had gotten from his father. His round face, just like his mother's once was, now gaunt and bloodless, the rosiness of his cheeks mocked by the blood and bruises painting them. A macabre mask of life.
Wulfstan tightened his grip on the limp body in his arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please. I'm sorry." His words were a manic haze, sounds overlapping as he rocked back and forth, his fingers caught in the gore-slicked hair fanning out from Leofric's face. As he shook,Wulfstan began to brush the viscera from the man's face. "Please, I'm sorry. Wake up… wake up." He shook Leofric, the man's head lolling limply back and forth, eyes emptily staring at the sky, blown-out pupils reflecting the overly bright sun. It wouldn't work, words falling on deaf ears, begging useless and shaking nonsensical. "Wake up! Please, goddamn it, just wake up!"
Leofric was gone.
Wulfstan felt the world go dark. There was no sensation around his heart anymore. There was no gnawing in his stomach. A black cloud engulfed him.
He was alone. He was a monster. The question within him had been answered – it didn't matter that the villagers had watched and done nothing, that Godwin and his rabble had attacked an innocent, whether it was revenge or unjustified hatred: Wulfstan was the monster. He knew, from those ancient writings he had found in that cave, that Leofric would be back in another form, in another life, but he didn't deserve to have another chance with the soul that had gone.
Nothing short of a beast was what he was; feasting on blood and ripping humans limb from limb was unforgivable. If he had done this in his previous life, Wulfstan could understand now, if there was a God, why it was punishing him. Even if there was no God, it didn't matter – he was deservedly punished by something. Repentance, purgatory, Hell, even, was all this was, unfairly dragging in innocent souls into his punishment along with him.
Tearing away his beloved, his soulmate, making him human and their relationships impermanent, was a cruelty that Wulfstan understood but could not accept. Leofric was a faultless bystander who just so happened to have been tethered to an abomination. He did not deserve it, the reincarnating, immortal soul within him did not deserve the eternity of unrest thrust upon it.
Wulfstan refused to play this game. He would not find his soul's other half when it came back next time; Wulfstan didn't deserve love, didn't deserve to be around people and whoever Leofric would be in a century did not deserve such a vile savage as a soulmate.
Getting up from the ground, leaving Leofric's lifeless body in place, feeling number than he ever had before, Wulfstan's feet moved without his input. The sun set and the moon rose as he walked. The hills grew and fell, and, eventually, trees sprouted up around him as he continued without pause. Finally, the dark maw of that cave filled his vision.
Here he would stay until he rotted. Wulfstan refused to bathe in the light of day again.
He did not deserve it.