Wolfblood, .Chapter.Seven.

by dragonwriter (S.E. Roberts) in Wolf's mind, making him wonder who Eclipse is, and in Zarlac's mind, making him wonder who Wolf is

SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!!! oh, this chapter is really confusing unless you read chapter 6. So yeah, you might want to catch up if you forgot what happened in chapter 5 and 6. :)

Website: www.wolfbloodbook.yolasite.com

Chapter 6: www.kidpub.com/story/wolfblood-chaptersix-super-short-33983573

Chapter 5: www.kidpub.com/story/wolfblood-chapterfour-33983369

Chapter 4: www.kidpub.com/story/wolfblood-chapterfour-33983369

Chapter 3: www.kidpub.com/story/wolfblood-chapterthree-33982090

Chapter 2: www.kidpub.com/story/wolfblood-chaptertwo-33981290

Chapter 1: www.kidpub.com/story/wolblood-chapterone-33981158

Prologue: www.kidpub.com/story/wolfblood-prologue-wolfblood-book-i-previewed-cover...

Author's Note: www.kidpub.com/story/wolfblood-authorsnote-33980973

My website: www.seroberts.weebly.com

Wolfblood Fan site: www.wolfbloodfanclub.webs.com

.Chapter.Seven.

Abby sighed impatiently. Come on Jenny, leave me alone....

They were in P.E., all patiently lined up on the floor. Abby fidgeted uncomfortably on the gym floor, her hand tapping, annoyed, on the waxed wood.

“Abby, I don’t know what was going through your head when you dumped Drake. There’s like nothing at all wrong with him! In fact, he’s like the best thing that’s ever happened to me! Wow. You have serious lack of taste in men.”

Yeah. Well, I thought so too, until he turned into an abusive druggy.

No... he’s not like that. He’s not a jerk like that-- after all, he did let me go, he didn’t do anything horrible to me like I though he was going to. He’s just not... I don’t know. Not right for me.

“Oh my gosh. Drake is wonderful. You really do need a lesson in men.”

Men... wow. They aren’t even men yet. They’re like... half-grown gorillas. You know, cute and cuddly but abusive and not what they appear. That’s what Drake is. A gorilla.

Although... Wolf isn’t exactly a gorilla, like they all are. He’s more... grown up, I guess. He gets things more then other people do. He just sort of has this... understanding, I guess. I don’t know. He’s different then all the other boys. Wolf isn’t a gorilla, he’s a... a wolf. Wolf is a wolf. Drake is a gorilla.

No wonder I like Wolf better.

Abby sighed inwardly. Her mind was attracted to the idea of Wolf. So naturally she thought about him a lot. And the more she thought about him... the more consumed she became of him. She could feel obsession taking over.

Uuhhg, just take your mind off of the goth freak for one second, please.

Well... he isn’t a freak. He could be if he was someone else. But he really isn’t a freak.

Okay. He’s not a freak. But stop thinking about him.

Just as Abby was about to cut her Wolfish thoughts off, the P.E. teacher’s voice interrupted her.

“K guys... we’ll be playing Racketball for this semester. You will all be divided into 4 teams. I have sorted your names by initials, so when you hear your initials, then go where I tell you.” Mrs. Jen explained.

“Team 1 is over her.” Mrs. Jen pointed to a spot on the floor. Then she began reading out the list of names. “AKG.”

Abby Kiara Goldwood. Oh look, I’m the first one. Because my name’s the only one that starts with an A.

Abby stood and walked over to the ‘team 1’ spot on the gym floor. She sat down and listened to Mrs. Jen read off the other names.

The next initial’s owner was to go to Team 2. Then, the next student who’s initials were read went to the Team 3 spot, and the student after him went to Team 4. Then it started over: the fifth student went to Team 1, with Abby. It was repeated after every student who went to Team 4.

Mrs. Jen read the names in alphabetical order. Then it came to the M’s.

“LSZ.” Mrs. Jen had just finished reading the L’s.

‘LSZ’ got up and went to Team 4.

“...hmm. Do we have a MAB here? I don’t recall having any student with those initials.”

MAB... MAB... who did have those initials?

Abby’s eyebrows raised when Wolf stood and walked to Team 1, her team.

But then her eyebrows went back down when she remembered: Maxwell Black.

MB- Maxwell Black.

A?

A... what middle name started with the letter A? What was his middle name?

Abby realized that she really was becoming obsessed: why else would she be so curious about something as unimportant as a middle name?

Abby’s eyes narrowed to slits in thought.

She glanced at Wolf. Then, carefully, she slid over to him and whispered, “What’s your middle name?”

She was surprised to find Wolf suddenly jerk away... jerk away as soon as he realized how close Abby was to him.

Once he was a good two feet away from her, he relaxed enough to glance silently at her with an unreadable message in his green eyes.

Silently. She should have known Wolf wouldn’t answer her.

But Abby’s mind wasn’t, at the moment, on that fact... it was on a sudden realization.

Wolf always was extremely uncomfortable when someone got nearer then two feet to him. He didn’t just get ‘extremely uncomfortable’... he basically freaked out--- Clenched hands, really really stiff... all that, and one could just sense that he was suddenly very very... well, something was suddenly very very wrong. It was being close to him that did that to him. Made him shudder. Made him get all stiff. Made him suddenly act strangely.

That in itself was strange-- him flinching when he got close to someone.

Wolf was strange. Everything about him. Not strange as in weird.. strange as in mysterious. Supernatural. Different.

Abby squinted even harder. She was now determined to figure this out.

Finding an easy solution to the problem, she slid next to Mrs. Jen and asked, “Do you know the names for each letter in MAB?” The teacher gave her a strange look, but nodded. Then, walking into her office and sorting through a stack of papers that lay on the desk she informed, “Maxwell Abraxas Black.”

Abraxas. What a strange middle name.

Maxwell Abraxes Black. Maxwell Abraxes Black.

Those three names were now planted on the surface of Abby’s mind so deeply that she could never forget them.

The night was cold. Awfully cold, with a frozen wind that felt like it bit into one’s flesh.

The silhouettes of the broken, old trees that always came in November were dark and eerie against the white-silver moonlight. Not one leaf dotted their barren branches; they were old, withered hands shivering in the wind.

They swayed with the wind, giving the horrible illusion that they were alive--- living creatures with ugly, twisted black bodies that were made entirely up of a hard black material.

But, as we all know, they weren’t alive, even if they appeared to be. They were dead trees, nothing more. Dead things, swaying in the wind.... suddenly, something else that was very much alive was spotted, it’s movements wild and unpredictable so that it matched up with the swaying trees very well. This dark shape spoke of wild, unknown things that were of the unexplored parts of natured. Just by being there, just by sliding through the shadows in one direction, it was very clear that this creature was a wild thing. A wild creature. A wolf. No... not a wolf. Very, very similar in to a wolf... but very clear that it wasn’t, in fact, a wolf, but a human. A very very wolflike human. It was Wolf.

Wolf shivered in the cold.

He couldn’t sleep that night. Not that he every really could in that dark mansion of a house that was supposed to be his home, but tonight... tonight was different. Now, instead of that sort of terror that was always there, that feeling that there was something unseen in the shadows, lurking around, it was something more. Now, instead of just that terror, there was a mental notion, too. Something in Wolf’s mind that was bothering him, keeping him stirred up and unable to sleep.

It was the words. The notion that there were words in that school, dying. Suffering, dying... it was horrible. And, having the notion that he could set them free, Wolf couldn’t stand it.

He was headed towards the school. He wasn’t really in his right mind-- he was just sort of being driven by that horrible guilt in him.. and by the terror that was always in him.

That terror. Always in Wolf. It was a cluster of horrible memories collected in the back of his mind in such a way that he couldn’t quite remember them, but he knew they were there. He knew there was a reason for everything about himself--- he had a history, a dark history. Wolf couldn’t quite remember the exact memories, but there was always that horrible terror, that terror that always came when his mind started wandering back into the memories. The horrible memories, that could turn him into a monster

The terror was growing. Gradually, even more, every day. Starting to take over Wolf, starting to banish his real mind and replace it with memories of pure terror. The terror was taking over him, provoked by the situations he found himself in so often.

Like now.

He was walking. Walking toward the school. He was blindly following the will of his unconscious mind, his instinct. In fact, he wasn’t even really sure what he was following, what he was living for.

He felt dizzy with the clashing things inside him--- his instinct disagreed with his mind, his heart disagreed with his head. He couldn’t think, his mind was lost in a flurry of confusion. He could no longer really think for himself-- that’s what starts to happen to someone who gets so deep in thought as Wolf does. They start to lose control of themselves mentally... they lose so much control of their minds that their body isn’t as coordinated as usual.

That’s how Wolf was now-- in a state of deterioration, staggering as his mind was melting away into confusion.

Wolf wasn’t sure what part of himself he was following-- all he knew was that he had a very strong urge to save the words. Save the words. Get rid of this guilt deep inside of him.

So he stumbled through the forest, avoiding the roads, until, quite before he realized it, he was at the school.

For a moment, Wolf stood at the front of the building, breathing hard.

What is wrong with me? I’m going crazy. Why else would I be going on a wild escape to save little two dimensional creatures that are probably just a fragment of my imagination?

But the words weren't’ just a fragment of Wolf’s imagination, he knew. They were really there. They were real, just as real as Abby was.

Abby.

The word in itself seemed to revive Wolf slightly.

Wolf sighed softly.

Walking silently up to the great doors to the inside of the school, Wolf tried the handle. He wasn’t surprised when he discovered that it was tightly locked.

He looked at the handle for a moment, then, reaching up to bush his black bangs back down over his brilliant emerald eyes, he made his way around the school, searching for a way in. It wasn’t hard to find another entrance; a window, accidently left wide open by a distracted teacher, sat invitingly ajar, waiting for someone to climb through. Wolf did just that-- slipped easily and silently through the window into the dark, abandon school.

If Wolf was someone else, then he would be quite literally scared out of his mind right now; a dark, lonely school that spoke of millions of deaths would have terrorized anyone... anyone besides Wolf. Wolf was so accustom to this kind of life. In fact, this kind of life was all he knew-- he never really had experienced joy before. So this, this was nothing to him.

As he slid through the open window, he discovered that he was in a small classroom dotted with desks. After school tutoring, for those who got horrible grades.

Wolf almost growled. That’s what he felt like doing, anyway. Snarling. This was the place where he was forced to imprison words. Wolf quickly exited the class into the empty hallway with marble floors. His feet made no noise on the ground as he silently searched the hallways for Language Arts, the main collection of words in the school.

It wasn’t hard to find the bright blue door with the Language Arts symbol above it.

Wolf took a deep, silent breath before entering.

The defining clash of screaming harmonics smashed into Wolf like a tidal wave.

He staggered for a moment, his balance lost in the horrible sound. Frantically, he clapped his hands over his ears--- his ears, which were much, much more sharp then any other eighth grader’s ears--- and winced.

“Stop!” He cried out softly. The words did nothing. Either they didn’t hear him over their own miserable screams, or they weren’t going to stop screaming for anything.

“Stop-- please! I can free you! Just stop!”

At this, the words faltered a little bit. They went from a frantic wailing to a soft murmuring.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Wolf allowed his hands to retreat to their normal position.

He closed his eyes for a moment, but then opened them. There was a job to be done.

Carefully, he approached the first book, that was laying open, forgotten by some student of their desk.

The words in this one were very much alive. They were seething and churning with life so much that Wolf couldn’t even read each message they transformed into before they turned into a different one.

They were alive, but dying. They needed freedom.

Wolf’s heart was pounding. He wasn’t quite sure why, but it definitely was pounding.

Maybe it was because he knew he could see something no one else could.

But he had known that all his life, so... so that wouldn’t make sense as to why his heart was pounding.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do or not-- freeing the words. He hadn’t doubted it at first, but now... now it just didn’t quite make sense. He was destroying something that some human had worked very hard to do; by freeing the words, he was erasing someone’s hard work. He was wiping the words off of a page--- so that they could never be captured again. All mankind’s history relied on words- it relied on paper, and words, and ink. Without those three things, humans would have no record whatsoever of any of their history. So, by freeing the words, Wolf was destroying that ability to record mankind’s history.

Then the thought occurred to him: humans were murdering words just to keep track of their history. It was much better to free the words then to keep track of history.

Wolf pushed his thoughts away-- they were getting in the way of everything. He was thinking about things to much recently, thinking about them so much that he ended up convincing himself otherwise of the real thing.

Was it a good thing to put every action he made into question like Wolf was doing?

Wolf shook his head suddenly. There he was again-- thinking to hard about things.

He glanced down to see a glint of silver peeking out of his pocket. His knife.

Slowly, Wolf reached down and unsheathed the knife. It glittered in the dim light of the classroom. It was so beautiful. Why was this knife so beautiful? Maybe because it was about to help Wolf do something great- save millions of lives. Lived that belong to words.

Wolf tightened his grip on the handle of the knife.

What is the best place to cut myself so that I will bleed faster? The thought was instantly lead to another: wrists. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Wolf knew that the insides of his wrists when slitted could kill him-- he could bleed to death if he cut his wrists to access his blood.

So Wolf aimed higher on his arm as he pressed the knife into his flesh.

He gasped.

The pain shot up his arm, stabbing through his veins and crushing his nerves all the way up to his mind, where it boiled and seethed.

Suddenly, Wolf realized why his heart had been pounding so hard a few moments ago--- it was because his body knew that extreme pain was about to come, even if his mind didn’t quite realize how badly this really would hurt.

But Wolf didn’t allow himself to pull the knife away from his arm.

Shakily, he positioned his arm over the page. Slightly sick from the surge of pain gushing up his arm, Wolf watched the first drop of blood land on the page. Gradually, the small, weak drops of blood splattering onto the page began to increase into a steady dribble of crimson plasma, cascading on the the page.

Wolf’s jaw clenched in agony. The pain crashed through his entire body, screaming for him to stop.

But this had to be done-- had had to free the words. Trying to distract his horrified mind from the agonizing pain, he watched the blood begin to puddle on the page. But as it collected, it began to disappear, and rising up out of the page were millions of words, rejoicing in their newfound freedom.

They had stopped screaming, now that they knew Wolf was freeing them. The wonderful notion that he was freeing the words nearly made Wolf forget about the horrible pain in his arm.

There was more blood on the page then was needed to free that amount of words that had clustered on it, so Wolf withdrew the knife from his arm. There was a long, snaking cut on his arm where the knife had cut into his flesh.

Carefully, Wolf lifted the blood-covered book, and tipped it sideways over another book. Just before the blood dripped onto the page, Wolf read the words that were on the page.

Thank you, Wolf. We are forever in your debt.

Then the blood splattered onto the page, and the words vanished along with his blood.

They were free now.

Wolf moved onto the next book.

He jumped as a giant crash sounded by his foot, and he felt a sharp pain in his heel. He realized that he had accidently kicked the side of the desk, and a few books had fallen off. Wolf froze as he heard a soft exclamation in the hall---- the janitor. Suddenly, Wolf realized that it was morning.

Very early morning-- the janitor always came in early to clean the school.

Without another thought, Wolf dropped the blood covered book and leapt out the window just as the janitor entered the room to find what the crash was that he heard.

Wolf had escaped narrowly-- too narrowly. What would people think if they caught him cutting himself open and bleeding onto books, who’s word’s suddenly vanished at the blood hit them?

Wolf began to run, sprint, away from the school. He had to make it look like he was coming to school like normal----- and hadn’t just been there. But still, as the silent loping silhouette of Wolf disappeared into the forest, the memory of the words finally freed stuck in his head, never leaving him. He finally felt right. He felt right, helping the words.