Embrace the wild

Nightmares

It was dark. I could already sense the change within me. For most, this comes later. But I am among the few who transform before turning ten. I understand what is happening, yet I cannot help but fear the surge of rage coursing through me. I am not even sure 'rage' is the right word. I focus on the cold wind; its sting is almost refreshing as my body heats from within. The mountain snow makes nights long and cold. Tonight, I am grateful for it. We all know what happens during our first change. After tonight, my body will be different. I will no longer be weak or innocent. I will want to fight. To hurt. To seek blood. The boys my age have been warned about the bloodlust, but experiencing it brings a deeper understanding. This relentless urge to lash out and dominate feels ingrained. I am unsure how I will ever control it.

As I lie quietly, waiting for the pain I know is coming, I feel a deep sadness. After tonight, nothing will be the same. I know that the part of me that is happy and feels my mother's love will fade. I mourn the boy I was and resent how soon this change has come. The sensation begins as a burning in my chest. For a moment, I feel excitement, but it quickly becomes sharp pain, like knives stabbing me repeatedly. The pain is so widespread I cannot pinpoint its source. I turn to vomit onto the ground. The pain is overwhelming, and I know it will last for hours. The only way through is to surrender to the rage. I cannot breathe or move. As the pain intensifies, I hear the cries of others—cries of horror and pain. I refuse to let this break me or bring me down. The others must be changing too, though that should not be possible; we each change at our own time. I hear my friends screaming and recognize their pain. I cannot help them; that is my last thought before everything goes black.

The emptiness is a relief; the darkness absorbs the pain and rage. I feel peaceful and calm. I know that when I open my eyes, everything will have changed. Others will see me differently, and I will not be the same. The void feels appropriate—it marks the end of who I was.

Suddenly, I feel arms around me and recognize the scent—it is Durain, an elder who is like a father to me. He speaks, urging me to let go of the past and face my future. Yet something about him is different. He is usually calm and in control, but now I sense his fear. I open my eyes and sit up. The world appears changed; colors are muted where they were once vibrant. Durain falls to his knees behind me and places a hand on my shoulder. He tries to turn me toward him, but I tell him it is unnecessary. I already know. I can sense the death; I can smell it.

"Caith! Look at me!" he commands. His voice holds no argument. I would never have thought to not jump to his commands before tonight, but now my body does not respond to his dominant tone. My rage surges; he does not speak to me with demands! I take a deep breath and try to control myself before I turn to speak with him. He senses the struggle, and I feel him immediately back down. He knows who I am; I am the new leader. I am the alpha of the clan.

I turn to him, my rage evident. The knowledge of what has happened clouds everything. Sadness is muted. I know they are gone, but I cannot fully comprehend it.

"Tell me," I say; those are the only words I can manage. Then I feel it. What began as a small spark now grows into betrayal, hatred, and bloodlust. I hear bones cracking and popping, unaware they are my own. There is no pain, only numbness. My vision shifts, and the fog in my mind lifts. Suddenly, I hear everything: mourning cries, distant warriors shouting in rage. I sense the loss of my mother and baby sister, and the power, anger, and desperation of my father.

"Caith! Stay with me! Don't let it take over! Stay calm and listen to me," Durain says, though his mouth does not move. I look into his eyes. I notice gold flecks I had never seen before. His eyes are also dull, as if he is prepared to face whatever comes, with a calm I wish I possessed. I draw on his calmness and retreat into the void in my mind. I let the darkness suppress the rage and all other feelings. I do not sense the death or sorrow around me. Instead, I feel only the anticipation of vengeance and the urge to see blood. A smile forms. I feel a brief happiness at the pain I will cause.

Caith sits up straight out of bed and runs a hand up and down his face. He looks around to remind himself where he is. He tells himself it was just a dream. Sweat has soaked his sheets again; it doesn’t matter that the window is open and the cold wind blows through the room. It's always the same dream. You would think that the small flicker of happiness he feels before he wakes up would make the dream less daunting. Always the same dream and always the muted feelings besides rage. As he looks around and the anger from that night settles, he moves to get out of bed. No use trying to go back to sleep. Sleep will not come easily for him anytime soon. As he puts his feet on the floor, he tries to conjure the feelings of sadness for his mother and his sister. No sadness comes. Only anger. As he stands up, he hears his brothers awaken from their own nightmares. Something changed in them that night. They became linked. They became the closest thing to brothers as they can be. Not brothers by blood, brothers by anger. They all felt the rage that night; they still feel it now. Time has not diluted that one feeling.

He puts on sweatpants and heads to the kitchen, where he finds Connor already working at his computer.

"Anything new on the Hunters' location?" Caith asks Connor.

"I think I may have a lead on something. Give me a little while to get the full details, and I'll call a meeting," Connor replies.

"Okay, sounds good. I'll be in the gym," Caith says.

As Caith heads to the gym, he is struck by Connor's skill with computers. Caith struggles with technology, even after 150 years of watching it evolve. Fortunately, Connor excels at it—a necessary skill today. Nearly everything, including payment for their services, is handled online. Running a security firm requires both technological expertise and anonymity. Clients who need protection without involving law enforcement turn to them. Many wealthy individuals prefer to keep their secrets hidden. While we strive to be law-abiding, the reality is that we resolve problems—sometimes in ways that are not entirely legal.

Our home base is a ranch in remote Alaska, offering ideal privacy and a secure environment for keeping secrets. We each have apartments or safe houses worldwide, which we use for work or personal time. Each of us seeks different forms of enjoyment. Some prefer eliminating dangerous individuals, others pursue pleasure or thrills. Personally, I focus on removing those I deem a threat. After 150 years, casual encounters have lost their appeal; now, I only spend time with someone if it serves a purpose, such as gathering information. I used to be considerate, but now I keep interactions brief and transactional. Entering the gym, I see Liam already on the treadmill. He is the most even-tempered among us, perhaps because his rage is less intense or better controlled. While exercise helps us all manage restlessness, Liam is relentless. If he is not working, he is at the gym, often pushing himself to the point of exhaustion. He is always running, perhaps always running from something.

Durain warned them of this; they have no mates to anchor them. They will never know moments when the anger is quieted. They will never have the other half of them, the softer side of them. Men were told to beware of this: without mates to ground them, their anger would never subside. They would never experience the balance that comes from having a softer counterpart. Men embodied rage and blood, while women brought light to the darkness. Caith had long since stopped searching for others like their clan. They tried dating humans, but it never worked; humans seemed to sense the predator within and withdrew. Some women were initially drawn to it, but those who stayed shared the same bloodlust, which was never a good match for each other. We may be less than civil, but we are not without limits.