Archive of Our Own

5 times a Wolf was revealed under circumstance…

Circumstance - noun

1. a fact or condition connected with or relevant to an event or action.
1. an event or fact that causes or helps to cause something to happen, typically something undesirable.
2. one's state of financial or material welfare.

Synonyms include:

• condition
• occurrences
• happenings

1 - Yuu

“I think we can trust them.”

“I think so too.”

There was a lot of things that were new to Yuu when they were brought ( kidnappedstolentaken ) to Twisted Wonderland. 

They didn’t know anything about the Great Seven, being from another world does that to a person. Coming from Earth, they had no idea what the magic system was like. Back home, the closest reality could ever get was a theme park or getting their hands on a headset and escaping reality for a couple hours. 

Seeing the little faeries throughout the school, the ghosts of Ramshackle, and the elements flying around like leaves in the wind. 

The magic wasn’t even the worst part about this new world, it was the arrogance and complete lack of empathy. Everyone was at each other's throat and waiting to fight at the drop of a hat.

They hoped lending a hand with Ace and Deuce’s excursion would help to defrost the icy exterior the boys had.

( it would )

( but they did not know the school would not welcome them )

( the school would hurt them in more ways than they could imagine )

However, there was a sloosh of liquid, the sound of metal dragging against the ground, a terrifying roar, and—

a scream that sounded more like a howl—

and—

—a rush of tan fur next to them.

Yuu watched as the largest wolf they’ve ever seen, with familiar blue eyes, bite at the hand of the monster; a second wolf with russet red fur following suit.

Their eyes were familiar; familiar in the color, familiar in the reflection.

Yuu and Grim watched the ink from the monster’s glass head bounce off the fur of the wolves and erode the ground around them. Yuu also saw blood spatter at the corner of both wolves’ mouths and a piece of tooth from when the monster swung the pickaxe.

In the bag by its side, they saw a magestone; shiny, calling their name.

“Ace! Deuce! Keep it distracted!! Run after me when I tell you too!”

There was a bark of approval and another, they could only define as, of “ sass ”.

“Grim, join them in distracting the monster. Keep its arms away from its side.”

“Aye aye!”

There was blue fire, snarling, and the occasional thoughts that kept the monster occupied and vulnerable. When it brought the pickaxe down in the ground and, originally aiming for the wolfed-Ace and failing to hit, lodged itself deep in the stone of the mine—

—allowing for Yuu to sneak around and snag the Magestone.

When they started to run, they ran.

“I GOT IT! FOLLOW ME! We’re getting out here!”

They grabbed Grim up the scruff and started running, only for the wolfy-Deuce to grab them by the shirt, with his mouth,  and throw them onto his back. 

When they nearly reached the exit, the wolves transformed back into their human counterparts, grabbed their pens, and—

and—

“Use your magic to collapse the entrance! NOW!! Before it’s too—”

The monster’s pickaxe emerged from the shadows and Yuu felt their fear choke up their throat.

“—late.”

Even with black sludge dripping from the many, many lacerations, bite marks, and burns on its body, and a huge crack along the bottom of its glass head, it didn’t give up. It swung its pickaxe and dragged its limp body across the ground; the smell of burning foliage and sulfur heavy in the air.

All of them were too tired and shocked to move and their end seemed inevitable and—

as—

—flames burst around its body, its head exploding open and the contents staining the grassy fields.

“Why is a monster like this giving you so much trouble?”

Riddle Rosehearts, the dorm head of Heartslaybul, was the one to save them from the specter of death that tried killing them.

But it wasn’t for a just cause, as Yuu watched his new friends be dragged by savage collars back to Night Raven.

There was a plea that came from, so very vibrant, and reflective, eyes. It was a terrifyingly desperate look that came from the card soldiers; not even when facing the monster did they look like that. 

Even though Yuu was new to this world, new to everything that is currently happening, they understood what was being asked of them.

They knew not the history, nor the significance or hardships, of what it meant to be a Wolf. But they knew how to keep secrets, and the desperation of wanting to keep them hidden after accidentally revealing it.

“I won’t tell, I promise.”

They mouthed to the card soldiers, and they saw the pure relief, and bittersweet happiness, that came with the light returning to both their eyes. That very same happiness reflected back at them in their pupils and unshed tears.

Even after giving Crowley the Magestone, surviving and fighting against many Overblots, their pack of wolves growing in size and strength, Yuu did not tell a soul about the identities of the wolves—

—and they never intended to.

After everything, the Overblots, the nightmares, and the deep-seated distrust in others, Ramshackle became their Safe Haven. It became a place where they could shed off any inhibitions, or heavy burdens on their shoulders, and simply be . Ramshackle was a place where skin was rare, instead replaced by large, overly-affectionate snouts and thick, soft fur piled together when they accidentally fell asleep in naps with each other. 

Eventually, Yuu did more than just protect their friends—

—they protected their pack .

( familykinpack )

2 - Leona

“The dorm is going to skin me alive for what I did.”

“They’ll have to get through us then. You’re not alone in the school anymore.”

There are very few things in life that can scare Leona.

Of course he has his weaknesses and primal fears. Any conscious being without some kind of deeply intimate fear of something would either be extremely stupid or extremely brave. 

But, outside of those primal, closeted parts of himself, he wasn’t afraid of much; if at all.

However while on the cusp of an Overblot, and surrounded by his own sand, he felt afraid.

He felt afraid, for he was staring down Death itself on the Spell Drive field. Death, “death”, came in the form of gnashing teeth longer than his hands and eyes that reflected his flaws back at him. Yellow from the sand, orange from the savanna, and red from Ruggie’s blood and the danger he’s in.

and—

— there was more than one . 

Amidst the sand, there were more than one mouth of gnashing teeth and thick saliva; more than one pair of eyes reflecting death back at him. 

( he counted three )

Their eyes are familiar…

The mere idea of continuing to cast magic was one that made his skin cry. It wasn’t like these Creatures of Death were going to let him cast anymore any way; him simply twitching his fingers in the direction of his staff had the red one’s claws inch closer to his wrist. 

“Guys, we stopped the Overblot, but the sand is dissipating. We have to go, NOW!!”

The herbivore, Yuu, stood in front of Leona. They faced Death in the face and told it to—

“You guys are angry, and that’s okay. You HAVE to calm down or else the entire world will know you’re Wolves.”

—calm down.

wolves?

Why is the herbivore saying that, like it’s important?

He got his answer when…

By the Seven.

Those Creatures of Death weren’t the end to Leona’s life, no, they were Wolves .

The Untamed . 

And those eyes were familiar, because he saw those reflective, gold eyes look at him with fear two weeks ago in his own bedroom—

—and those other eyes burned angry at him back in the botanical garden.

“Jack, Ace, you carry Leona. He’s going to be exhausted from almost Overblotting. Deuce and I are going to figure out how to get Riddle off our backs. Grim, you have to be quiet about it.”

“I always am Yuu!!”

“That’s right! You are. Keep it up, my friend.”

On the way to the infirmary, he felt like he was floating. He was experiencing things outside of his body and he wasn’t going to tethered back into it any time soon.

It wasn’t until Crowley started to interrogate him, after Cheka left, did the gravity of his situation dawn on him. He Overblotted, he almost Overblotted.

And when Crowley asked him, “How did you avoid consumption?”

He would have been consumed if—

Leona glanced at his hands, then the freshmen in the corner, before swallowing his fear down, and answering in the only way he could:

( he would have been consumed if it wasn’t for the— )

“I don’t know.”

Because there was no way he was going to rat out the people that saved his life with nothing but pure strength and determination. 

It wasn't until after the Spell Drive, after his recovery, after he found out Jack was avoiding him, did he realize…

there was no way they showed me their pelts on purpose.

( he would have been consumed, if it wasn’t for the freshmen )

He didn’t say a word to anyone.

3 - Rook

“HELP! PLEASE HELP HE’S—He’s—”

“By the Seven. Stay awake pup. Don’t fall asleep, you can’t fall asleep. Stay awake.”

While Rook had already planned to participate in such an event, getting explicit permission from Headmaster Dire Crowley to hunt down and capture the stray wolf pack on campus was a dream.

He didn’t specify on whether or not he wanted the wolves killed or just temporarily incapacitated, but Rook’s skills lie in efficiency and not harmlessness. Regardless, he was excited about his assignment. It was a pet project and he spent a lot of time using his knowledge of the woods to place his traps.

Wherever the most paw prints were, he placed rope snares. Where there was the most fur, he placed his nets. Around open areas, where the wolves were most likely to run, he placed his claw traps. Some of these traps had fresh bait placed on them, others were expertly hidden amongst the forest trash of leaves and discarded clovers. 

He did his best, considering the deadline he was given. There was a sense of giddiness that was rabid and alive under his skin. The adrenaline of a, hopefully eventful, hunt. 

Even as the night crept into the world, and his heartbeat slowed, he refused to drink anything caffeinated. He believed the caffeine would mess with his concentration and any animal with baseline survival skills would smell the toxic drink on his breath from miles away. 

From his position in his tree, he sat and waited for one of his traps to catch something. He’s never been one to use cameras, relying on his magic to provide a more accurate alarm of when and where his prey was caught. And, for all his muscles, he didn’t find a point in carrying around heavy machinery and technological equipment when the biggest joys of hunting was being out in nature. 

He was about to fish out one of his light snacks, when one of his traps was activated—

and then another—

and then another—

And then a horrible, horrible scream.

Rook had heard a lot of animals cry out in shock and-or fear from getting snagged in his traps, but there was something profoundly different about this one. The others were silent pleas and whimpers. Deers and rabbits were usually the notable exceptions because of their glass-shattering cries. 

However, there was something different about this one that didn’t sit right with Rook. He wouldn’t consider himself an anxious person, far behind him were the days of chronic sunburns and matted hair, but this one set off the sirens in his head and reactivated a part of himself he thought had gone away once he transferred dorms.

This scream, whatever it came from, sounded almost human in its pain.

He dropped from his branch, twigs snapping beneath his feet, and ran towards where his catch ensnared itself.

He was expecting a small scurry of squirrels, maybe a stray husky from the town, things that could scream, but weren’t—

things that weren’t —

—

—

In Rook’s many years of hunting, never had he seen something of this size. 

It was no scurry or stray dog he’d caught, no no no, he almost wishes it was one of those. He would be prepared to deal with woodland creatures; he was not prepared for this.

Because the thing he’d caught was no woodland creature.

What he had caught was a Beast. 

Not a beastman, a Beast . A fairytale creature of a wolf; the height of its shoulder would have met his own. A coat of cascading silver and eyes golder than gold, reflecting the light of the moon in its eyes. A creature of pure, untamed muscle that could easily overpower him and any other animal that roamed around these woods. 

At least, if it wasn’t caught in two separate traps and almost got caught in a third. 

Its right hind leg got caught in a rope snare. Which, by the looks of it, yanked so hard on the leg it dislocated and caused it to trip and get its head caught in a bear trap. The only reason its head wasn’t severed was because it was too big for the size of the bear trap laid out. In front of it, a second snare clipped its claws and, accidentally, yanked some out; blood painting the fur of its paw.

Despite everything, its size did not save it from the sharp teeth digging into its fur and flesh, nor did its size save it from the growing rope burn on its hind leg. Both spots he could see growing redder, its gorgeous silver-gray fur becoming increasingly stained with crimson.

Even with his heart beating in his ears, he couldn’t get the sound of the beast’s panicked and labored breathing out of his head. Nor could he get the sound of the, almost human sounding, sobbing coming from its companion; a smaller, but still beast-like, wolf with an almost perfectly white coat of curly fur. Its shoulder coming to, about, his waist.

( the average gray wolf only ever grew to his thigh )

( these weren’t normal wolves there was no way )

If he himself wasn’t so frozen in shock, he’d almost wonder why an arctic wolf would be so far from the icy tundra and snow climate of the mountains. 

In his shock, however, he made a rookie mistake while stepping forward to free the beast: he rustled the leaves of the bush he was hiding in.

Immediately, the white one, the arctic one, turned to him; teeth pulled back, fur on end, protective, and eyes, oh-so, afraid—

but also, hauntingly, familiar —

too familiar.

I know those eyes I know those eyes I know—

those—

eyes—

He saw a scar over the wolf’s lips, the crooked teeth, and the eyes ( the eyes the eyes unique and special ) and came to a horrible conclusion.

A horrible, horrible conclusion.

“ Epel? ”

Even though the name came out in hushed whispers, the flinch the creature exhibited was telling enough that he was correct. This wolf, this beautiful white wolf, is his Monsieur Crabapple: Epel.

Which meant—

( a talked-about, childhood friend, amber-gold eyes, silver-gray hair, face consumed by freckles )

the wolf ensnared in his traps—

( a proven packmate, amber-gold eyes, silver-gray fur, a snout and face speckled )

—was Jack Howl.

He has trapped and injured, not just a fellow classmate, but his beloved’s childhood friend and his Monsieur Crabapple’s packmate.

There was no way he'd let him get anywhere close to the very person he injured.

So, as much as it pained Rook to do so, he turned and walked away from the ensnared, Wolf duo. He spent the rest of his night gathering up the rest of his equipment and remaining traps scattered and placed around the woods.

He didn’t think about the panicked, human cries Epel made while trying to free his friend.

He didn’t think about the pure terror in Jack’s eyes when Rook emerged out of the bushes.

He didn’t think about the trail of blood Jack left behind as the two of them sought out help within a dorm that wasn’t his own.

And when Jack was seen, the next day, sporting a limp and covered in bandages, he didn’t say anything. 

And when Epel flinched every time Rook tried talking to him, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything when any of the freshmen looked at him with fear and hostility. 

In fact: he didn’t say anything, at all.

He didn’t say anything, to anyone, about the pack of Wolves that ran in the back woods and laughed carelessly while in the walls of Ramshackle. He didn’t say anything about the Untamed that ran farther into the woods to avoid people. He didn’t say anything about how the unusual group of freshmen only ever pulled away.

So when he went to Crowley, he stated he could no longer complete the task that was assigned to him. His style of hunting is meant to kill, not for relocation.

Afterward, he didn’t say anything about the pack of freshmen being Wolves. He kept their secret because, if they wanted anyone to know, they would have said something by now.

So he kept their secret. 

It was the least he could do, after almost killing a member of their pack and the childhood friend of his Most Beautiful Vil.

4 - Crewel

“We aren’t alone.”

“We’re not going to be alone anymore.”

Crewel knew something was very wrong when Jack, star distance runner, strong morals, and top-notch student, was neglecting himself in class.

Not only was he neglecting himself in class, but he was also, very visibly, leaning on Epel for support the entire time. Forgo was the assigned seating system when Jack sat himself down directly next to Epel. 

Crewel was going to, maybe, call out the talking going on between the two of them, until he saw Jack was actually pointing out missing information in Pomefiore student’s notes. By the looks of it, Jack couldn’t write due to the cast around his (dominant) hand, he was helping out Epel who, in turn, wrote down notes for Jack.

It was heartwarming to see, if not a little worrying. Because what, in all of Twisted Wonderland, would cause multiple injuries on a student that’s as tough as Jack Howl?

He approached the two first years, about to congratulate them on their teamwork, before he—

( antiseptic, white, sterile )

( blinding pain in his knee, the smell of his own blood thick in the air )

—smelled the ever familiar scent of Untamed blood.

Judging by the small amounts of red seeping through Jack’s bandages, he could only draw one conclusion.

Just to make sure, he had to check for—

“Howl, Felmier. Might I ask for you to stay a while after class? I’d like to speak with the two of you personally.”

A flinch at the sound of his voice—

“Are we in trouble?”

the light from windows bounding off the glass beakers at just the right angle—

“No my pups, you're not in trouble. There are just some things I’d like to clarify with you, without making it a spectacle.”

only to have light reflect back at him through the freshmen’s eyes.

Tapetum Lucidum

(Location: in the choroid region of the eye between the lens and the retina

A large number of animals have the tapetum lucidum, including deer, dogs, cats, cattle, horses and ferrets. Humans do not have a tapetum)

Ah .

The coat on his shoulders felt heavy; along with the idea that he, maybe, washed it a little too well in the coming years.

But, with the amount of Fae in this school, maybe it was better for him to have washed away the scent of wet sticks and dirty paws.

The remainder of class was calm and quiet, except for the occasional puff of smoke. The lesson was, oddly, quiet without the loud presence of one Epel Felmier.

By the end of the class, Jack looked like he was ready to take a nap and Epel was holding onto his jacket sleeve. 

“What did you want to talk to us about, Professor Crewel?”

“Howl, I want you to drink this.”

Crewel fished out a potion he would, usually, use on himself when his injuries got too bad. The liquid came in a special batch of bottles, so that way he wouldn’t get it confused for something else.

“Professor what is—?”

“It’s a healing potion. Don’t worry about any side effects. I’ve specifically brewed a healing potion like this to accommodate for the levels of magical immunity of a Wolf.”

Epel’s reaction was equal parts expected and heartbreakingly familiar. 

As Jack shrunk in on himself and drank it down, while Epel, protectively, held his arm in front of his friend.

It reminded Crewel of—

( white halogen lights, pain, fear, his dad hovering over him, his mom screaming )

(“ how could you do that to my child?! ”)

—harder days.

“I’m not going to harm you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Epel’s fingers curled and his hands transformed into fists. He started to shake and—

“Why are you—?”

“Epel breathe.”

Jack used his other arm, the bandaged one, to bring Epel close in an embrace. It was tender and soft in a way that was unlike the average Night Raven student.

Crewel sat in front of the two wolves, so obviously pack-bonded together, and folded his hands. 

“Felmier, copy my breathing, and then I’ll explain.”

It took a minute but, with all the time in the world, Crewel and Jack prevented Epel from spiraling into a panic attack. He was willing to wait a bit before the questions started and the inevitable fear that came with someone finding out your identity.

“How did you know? Not even Crowley—I think—”

“It’s Crowley. Crowley is unreliable and doesn’t look past the surface level of a problem.

But, to answer your question Felmier, I smelled the lycanthropy in Jack’s blood. Speaking of that…”

Crewel summoned a roll of gauze and wound cleanser, and placed them in front of them.

“Don’t forget to change Howl’s injuries twice a day. I know Wolves heal at a much faster rate compared to humans or fae but, considering Howl is still struggling with his injuries, you’re going to have to treat this seriously.

And I’m guessing you are avoiding the infirmary as well?”

The silence and the wide-eyed gazes told him everything he needed to know.

“I thought so.”

He summoned more of his custom, brewed potions into a discreet bag.

“There’s about 10 in this bag. If Howl’s injuries don’t start to improve, give him another potion. And if the potency needs to be increased, contact me.”

“Professor Crewel, we’re flattered but why—why are you—why?”

“Why are you taking this so casually? When other people have…”

“Hurt you? For being a Wolf? an Untamed? For not understanding just because you have a higher pain tolerance compared to humans, doesn’t mean you can’t feel it at all?”

Both his students looked at him with confused, wide eyes. There was a vulnerability and amount of trust in there Crewel was almost unfamiliar with.

Out of the two of them, it was Jack that spoke up first.

“Professor Crewel, I don’t mean to sound like I’m prying but it sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

( he was in that operating room every other day, for eleven days )

“Because I too know what it’s like to go to extreme measures in order to hide your Wolf traits—”

( he soaked his bandages in scent suppressors and washed his closes with pungent detergent to mask everything )

“—and I know what it’s like to be hurt from another’s ignorance.”

( the only reason his parents didn’t find out about his torture, is because he was too drugged to speak )

“I’m guessing your other freshmen friends are Wolves as well?”

From Epel’s face flushing red, and Jack’s exacerbated sigh, he could only assume—

“Yeah. They are.”

“Can I assume your Prefect friends are aware as well?”

“We would say they’re more than just aware of our Wolf–ish status…”

After that day, the freshmen group found themselves extremely fond of the Potionology professor. It was obvious they had a large amount of both respect and genuine care for one Divus Crewel.

And if anyone noticed they spent a little more time in his classroom compared to the average student, just like most other things, they paid it no mind and shrugged it off.

5 - Malleus

“Are you—?”

“It doesn’t matter. I was already an outsider, might as well save others if I’m going to reveal myself against my will.”

He sent the entire island into an eternally slumber. 

It was to protect them, to save them, to keep them from leaving.

( it was to stop the grief, to stop the hurting, to control with kindness )

Their dreams were designed to be pleasant, to be a heaven on earth, but there was something that wasn’t quite right in the dreams of his—

( servant, knight, retainer )

—kin.

( he’d call them (him) everything but brothers )

Actually, there was a small group that was an interesting lot to check in on; the ones Sebek called his friends.

Unlike the others, they almost had something he dared to say was a collective dream. Having been around for longer than a human lifespan, but not quite old enough to warrant the “ancient” status Lilia—father—and Baul held, he could say it was unusual.

As interesting as their collective dream was, it didn’t pose a threat, nor did it personally peak his interest; not when the very people he did all this for were starting to stir. They were becoming conscious, aware of their situation, and waking up.

That couldn’t happen. 

Before he intervened, something strange began to unfold; a series of events outside of his control, something that made him angry to levels unforetold.

Sebek and the Child of Man woke up, then Silver, then Lilia played chase with him. 

They jumped dreams ( again, again, again, then sheltered ), still within the realm ( but a place where he could not follow ).

then—

( a cry, a howl, a song, a call )

then—

( a sound of longing, a plea to hear, a beg to follow )

gone.

Like a flame snuffed out, they were gone.

The shock was akin to a total submersion into arctic water, but not enough to Wake him Up.

He still had control.

But then, he heard a cry of his own.

No, to call it a “cry” would imply such a noise was made from sorrow or anguish. This wasn’t that.

It was a vociferation ; a roar of indignation, howl of protective fury.

( of worry, of fear, of companionship, something almost foreign to him )

He was Awoken and was met with the stone ceiling of the Diasmonia Lounge. His spell was still in the works, he felt it; the cotton candy clouds of Silver, the tarnished soil of Lilia, the technological empire of the Ignihydians, and the miscellaneous, sugary dreamscapes of his kingdom of thorns. 

But Sebek, and the collective, were gone; in their place? An outcry for war.

And he, the great Malleus Draconia, felt fear. In his great fortress of one, he felt afraid for his—

(people, security, life )

—kingdom.

The doors to Diasmonia shook and rattled, as concrete and stone dust fell from the frame. The sound of raking nails, barking and rumbling thunder on the other side; an electrical storm was incoming.

And it was only a matter of time before the lightning finally struck.

And strike it did; in the form of a contorting, rabid pack of wolves. Wolves far, far larger and colorful ( and terrifying ) than the wolves he’s seen Silver communicate with when he was a child.

He prepared his magic to defend himself from the rabid animals, but the lightning from the storm outside has finally struck. He looked away for a second, but a second was long enough.

( a lighting flash travels at the speed of light )

( but the strike travels at 434,500 kilometers per hour )

He saw teeth, heard the vociferation in his ears, and felt the flecks of saliva on his face.

Malleus Draconia, before he was defeated, saw himself reflected in the eyes and scales ( since when do wolves have scales ) of the creatures that attacked him. Those eyes, seconds before his defeat, regained their pupils and he was met with a familiar reflection of light.

Oh it’s them.

The ones that stole (welcomedcomfortedloved) Sebek away from us.

Those students with their collective dream, a tightly knit tapestry of compassion and loyalty, stood here in Diasmonia. The collective dream, the one he paid no mind to, was here. 

The great Malleus Draconia, Prince of Briar Valley, heir to the Dragon Fae lineage, and one of the greatest mages in the world, defeated by the very thing Lilia warned him about.

And it was from his own ( servantknightretainer ) kin too.

Maybe Lilia was right about those Wolves.

So when the great Malleus Draconia was left a mound of torn fabric and bloodied, burnt skin, on the stone tiles of Diasmonia, he said nothing. 

Sebek, and his friends, hid this part of themselves for a reason. 

If an Untamed was able to take down the Malleus Draconia, surely they would be hunted.

But also, quite possibly, they’d seek retribution for what he’s done to their pack ( to Sebek ). 

It was unfamiliar to feel this emotion. It was foreign and uncomfortable for someone of Draconia’s status to feel this way about a group of young ( mangydirtytraitorous ) freshmen; of budding mages ( wolvesdogsmongrels ).

It made Draconia’s skin crawl with genuine terror, when he thought about the pack of contorting teeth, fur, and flesh that walked the very same hallways as him. When he walked down the halls, ( and thought ) heard the familiar click-clacking of claws, he simply walked away.

( and silenced it )

( with any means necessary. )

…and 1 time it was done with purpose.

Purposeful - adjective

1. having or showing determination or resolve
2. having a useful purpose
3. intentional

Synonyms include:

• steadfast
• committed
• persistent

+1 - Night Raven College

“You shouldn't have done that. I’m just the runt of the pack. I’m too sick and too weak, you shouldn’t—”

“Hey hey hey, don’t cry. As long as you’re okay, we’re going to get out of this. We’re going to—ACK!”

“STOP STOP STOP STOP! DON’T HURT HIM!!”

Since luring out those Night Raven mages to Playful Land, Fellow has had the wonderful idea of including a specific type of fur in his business. 

The tales, the few surviving tales from that time, had stated any kind of magic flung at the skin of a Wolf would slide right off their fur, similar to water and duck feathers. The books he read, about said subject, theorized the pelts of the Untamed rebelled magic because there was a special, very thick oil the skin produced that coated the individual hair. This, theorized, coating, because it was so densely packed together, is what made the Untamed be seen as near invincible to magic.

It was a good theory. 

However, in Fellow’s experience, this wasn’t true.

Much like the water of the ocean, and the dirt beneath his feet, the Untamed, the Hungry, and the Veiled were simply innate. The Untamed, called “Wolves”, ( with a capital “w”, a title) , and their blood, are something incredibly ancient and will not be dying as long as the abstract concept of Magic exists to balance it out.

So when he learned of this information, and remembered a very reliable source of fur, it was almost child’s play to catch them. 

No. That wasn’t it.

To call this operation “child’s play” would insult the intelligence of Gidel. Gidel was no fool and far smarter than any skilled mage.

He was the reason why this operation stayed afloat for as long as it has. It’s why he was doing all of this in the first place.

And, if he was being honest, Gidel’s head wasn’t, entirely, screwed on correctly either. Whether they were always like that, or it was a byproduct of their situation, Fellow will never know. But, regardless, the young cat’s head wasn’t quite stable and this was most evident in the way he sat upon the trapped and transformed Ace Trappola; cross-legged with a hammer in hand, and his signature, lazy smile.

“It was such a good idea to use the blue one as bait, dearest Gidel. ‘When in doubt, go back to the basics’, as the wise ones say and all that.”

“Mhm!”

He clacked his cane against the cage used to contain the littlest wolf, the runt. Ortho? He’s called? Ace and Jack called him such when they managed to pull the three of them away from their company. 

It was before Gidel and his puppets had to quiet the Wolves. Their incessant howling would give their location away once they were pawned off as a group. Fellow almost felt bad for what he was going to do. Almost, but not enough.

Even now, Fellow can see the faint, healed over lines from the mussels they had to put on their faces. He would never admit, aloud, that hearing Young Trappola scream and look at him with such betrayal was a little heart wrenching, but business as usual. And, if Trappola didn’t want to join Fellow and Gidel’s conquest, then he’d have to join his friends in the ring. 

Such a pity too, Fellow did have a fondness for animals who shared his ginger coloring.

They didn’t have the proper muzzles on them this time, so that had to make do with leather straps and rope. There was no time to be clean in an operation as sticky as this one. Night Raven was far more prestigious and tight knit about students going missing, being on an isolated island will do that to any school. Noble Bell didn’t have as many layers of security as the Sage Islands, but he still managed to steal away their scrappy twig of an Untamed with quite a bit of difficulty.

He didn’t account for the creature’s Unique Magic being one of destructive, parasitic flames. That certainly threw a wrench in his plans, especially with its escape. 

Business was not booming that week.

And, by the looks of it, it was not going to be booming any time soon.

Not when Ortho howled in such a way it felt like his ears were going to shatter.

Not when he had to pull Gidel off of Trappola to avoid being torn to shreds by an overprotective mob.

Not when many, many pairs of reflective eyes, and snapping mouths, came out of the trees and ripped the cage, and his wooden puppets, apart like paper.

Not when their hard work and planning had been cleaved through like it was nothing.

Business was not going to boom anytime soon. 

Especially not when the goods they hunted and sought out were leaving trails of thick, red blood along the forest floor.

No.

There would be no business to boom this week.

Not at all.

“By the Seven.”

“It’s just a scratch. As long as our runt is okay, I’m—”

“SHUT UP! Don’t say that about yourself! You almost died and I don’t know what I would've done if you did…”

Vil, despite being born and raised in a city area, truly did like camping. 

Jack made him grow fond of the wilderness when they were children. The cold from the snow, the lights in the sky, and the smell of pine only brought upon fond memories of his first and very best friend. 

Despite the monsters in the woods, he did feel safe in them. Jack and the Howl family were there and, as long as he didn’t go past the metal fence of their family cabin, he would be fine.

“The fences are lined with Wolfsbane and Mint,” Jack said one time. His parents were out for the night and he replaced the dried herbs and flowers.

“As long as you don’t go past the fence, you’ll be safe in these woods.”

Six years later, Vil finally understood the dangers of the woods and chose to go past the fence. 

“We’re dead. We’re so fucking dead. We shouldn’t have revealed ourselves, that was a mistake, a BIG mistake. We’re going to be hunted for sport like last time.”

“Then let's not go back. We know how to heal, Crewel taught us. If we push far enough, we can make it to Pyroxene and live off the grid.”

Beanfest, just like other years, started off as a friendly competition. It always takes place two weeks after midterms; it was a way to give the students a means of unwinding and blowing off steam. Vil had participated in many of these already and was happy to go against such powerful foes on equal and stable terms.

He was, also, excited to see just how far his friend and protege would fare against him in combat. 

Unlike the years before, however, this competition lasted until right before sunset. The battles in the woods were long and grueling, but so very rewarding. Everyone did so well.

He didn’t want anything less, since this was going to be his final year participating in the event.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, ready to congratulate the opposing freshmen for their job well done, before he heard it: 

The Howls .

The Howls , he once heard them coming from the forest behind Jack’s wire fence and felt afraid. Now? They were here, on the island, during Beanfest; a moment in time that was supposed to be fun, quickly turned into a nightmare.

All the housewardens, and supervisors, ran to evacuate the students off the premises; get them as far away from the woods and the howling as possible, most already started to run away. 

Luckily, many of them already headed back the moment it started to get dark…

Vil pulled out his pen and prepared a spell on the tip of his tongue…

“Jack, Epel, start running it’s not—”

“ACE!!”

“ORTHO!”

The two threw off their jackets and hats, and Vil saw their eyes flash with something primal.

“No. Get back and return to the school.”

“VIL.”

Epel turned to Vil, angry and desperate, and flashed his teeth—

they were never that sharp—

“This is a problem…”

his eyes were never that reflective—

“not meant for human intervention…”

—fur burst from his skin, and Epel, and Jack, ran into the forest.

That was five minutes before sunset, and sunset was five hours ago .

That’s five hours of them being on their own in the woods, five hours of being by themselves, five hours of, possibly, being injured. Five hours, five hours, five hours.

It’s been five hours and Vil is absolutely terrified about the health of Epel and his friends.

“Vil, we’re running out of time. By now, unless they have secret medical knowledge we don’t know about, any serious injuries they might have could be infected by now…”

“I KNOW!”

Vil couldn’t help the shrill that came out of his mouth when he yelled at Rook. he didn’t mean to lose his cool, but he was worried about them all, Jack and Epel especially. Ace, Deuce, and Yuu were people he had grown closer to, because of the VDC, but they weren’t his students to worry about. Sebek and Ortho, he had no opinions about, but he did feel for them; fishes in birdcages, extroverts surrounded by introverts.

He was just very, extremely worried for all the freshmen. Although it was to varying degrees, he couldn’t help the worry and sick feeling that settled in his stomach.

The only reason he didn’t throw up was because he had to remain strong for the rest of his dorm, even if they were no longer in the woods and safe in the dorms back on the campus. Everyone else, a part of the search party, was either dorm heads, the vices, and those capable of defending themselves.

Both against the dangers of the night and—

and—

and the actual Wolves themselves, if the silver many of the people a part of the search party wore said anything…

Nope! No! Absolutely not. I’m not going to think about that.

Vil pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and tried to prevent himself from crying. 

They were running out of options and, even if he did not want to use this method, there was no other way they could find the freshmen.

He hated to admit it but, if the freshmen didn’t want something to be found, it wasn’t going to be and that included themselves. They’ve, sadly, gotten very good at that. He didn’t even know Jack had been injured, to the point of limping, awhile back until Epel slipped up and mentioned it while he was in the kitchen.

“Rook…”

“I understand.”

Rook stood tall and twirled his lacrosse stick—

Come…

a ball of light forming in the basket—

let’s see you try to outrun me…

—as he flung the magic to the sky, a trail of light followed as a pathway to find the target.

I See You.

By the looks of it…

They were heading to the docks, and fast .

“Are they running away?”

“It would appear so.”

“Rook look. You know how fast wolves are, how fast Wolves can be; our freshmen are far slower than they should be…”

“Do you think they’re injured?”

“To the point of limping? Maybe. But they’re Untamed and you pulled your hunting equipment from the forests. There’s no creature out there, in these woods, that could best them in physicality.”

“...But what if it wasn’t a beast that hunted them down?”

“What?”

Rook turned to Vil, brows slightly furrowed and lips parted.

“The Untamed aren’t hunted by animals, not in the normal way at least. The Untamed are apex predators that, sometimes, hunt alongside actual wolves and bears and the other mystical animals of the forests. The only things capable of injuring an Untamed in such a way can only be done by…”

By the Seven…

Vil had never run faster—

he didn’t stop even when his lungs slowly gave out—

He didn’t stop even when he twisted his ankle on a root—

He didn’t stop until Rook’s spell shone brighter than the North Stars in the sky, beaming down on him like a lighthouse spotlight, and he stood before a cave. 

They were maybe five kilometers away from the port, a forty-five minute walk away from the cave he stood before. Stood beside him was Leona, Malleus, and the rest of them, they all looked in the cave. He took the first step inside, and immediately it smelled like blood and blooming infection, heavy was the tension, and the sound of growling reverberated off the stone.

“Vil, LOOK OUT—"

Leona stood before him, staff in hand, and he placed himself in the line of a large mouth with long sharp teeth, silver-gray fur, and gold eyes. If it wasn’t for Leona’s fast action, there was a very real possibility Vil would have been snapped in half.

Snarling, yellow teeth and white drool tore at the staff in its mouth and claws attempted to rake at Leona’s skin. Even then, Leona’s strength and stance was barely, just barely, sturdy enough to prevent him from being thrashed around and thrown into the cave walls. If Vil looked longer at the ground, he would see the beastman’s boots scrap against the floor and leaving deep, deep grooves behind.

Vil almost got sick when he saw the muscles, and skin, beneath the Wolf’s skin rippled and he grew bigger. 

His teeth grew longer and sharper, bones elongated and snapped, and the light from Rook’s spell, and their pens, reflected so brightly in his eyes. From this angle, it almost looked like the Wolf’s eyes were a solid color.

However, the stench of budding infection and wet fur only grew stronger.

“Knock. It. OFF !”

Leona, using all his might and with the help of Ruggie (when did he get there) and Vargas (when did HE get here), threw Jack’s form off the staff and managed to trap him against the wall.

“We’re trying to help you, Howl.”

Leona placed the tip of his staff, oddly gray and shiny, against the underside of the Wolf’s—Jack’s—chin and he did not move.

That was the only moment of calm before two more stepped into the fray, because taking down Jack was both no easy feat and extremely loud.

A tawny brown wolf (?) with green scales and yellow eyes and a pitch black one with red eyes came snarling.

He could guess the scaled one was Sebek, from the scales, the eyes, and the way he became more volatile and inhuman when Malleus and Lilis grabbed their stones. Sebek’s blood slowly glowing and crackled with lightning and electricity the more they pushed him backwards.

He had no idea who the black wolf was, especially not when their fur and body only became more and more ghostly and smoke-like the more people gathered around to face them. They lashed out, teeth and claws swaying the attacking in every direction.

Sebek’s eyes and fur crinkled with static, as he started to spark and glow from the inside out. The black wolf’s body was starting to become a full apparition and more and more of his fellow mages and housewardens started to pour in, ready to fight back. They all knew what the Untamed were capable of and how magic slid off their skin like water on laminated paper, but were ready to use any means necessary to bring them home. Especially with how much blood painted the stone and how the smell of infection only grew the more time they wasted.

Vil himself steeled his will, gripped his pen, and—

—heard a whimper.

A whimper that struck a chord in his chest. He’s never heard it before, but it—

“—Epel?”

Sebek and the black wolf stopped immediately and turned to face another, one with curly fur in a specific color that was too familiar to be comfortable.

A fur color that was stained with red spatter and grime.

“Epel!?”

He pushed past everyone, managing to avoid the snapping teeth of Sebek, the Black One, and third wolf with vaguely blue fur, and placed himself in front of what the others were protecting:

A small, mostly dark wolf with patches of white, and a mound of ginger fur, more red from the blood from its wounds. The stench of infection was at its strongest and the arctic wolf with curly fur, with such a familiar presence, stood before the two of them. He was protective in the way his lips were curled back to show his fangs, protective in the way he was shielding them from the sight of the intruders, protective in the way his eyes shone with both fear and anger.

“Epel?”

Vil found himself on his knees, regardless of the danger behind him, and begging.

“Epel please, we’re not here to hurt you or your friends. We—”

“Vil don’t—”

Jamil pulled him away from the incoming teeth trying to, once again, crack him in half. The blue one was tackled and pulled away from Vil and the others by Riddle and Cater.

Jamil stayed put, only being there to protect Vil while trying to calm Epel down.

“Epel Felmier. I don’t want to be blunt, but this seems to be the only way I can get you to understand. If you do not let us get to Ace and Ortho, they will succumb to infection. You’re an animal, you can probably smell it.”

Epel’s face turned into one of shock and he shifted on his paws. He was so obviously thinking about the possibilities and options of which one was worse. It was obvious none of the hounds within the cave trusted the ones that entered, Vil could hear the thunder-crack of lightning and the sound of spells being flung at each other. 

Even the ghostly-black wolf wolf was dragged outside, Vil could hear its claws digging into the dirt and grass in order to come back inside. 

It was terrifying, really, to need multiple people and a dangerous metal in order to subdue such powerful creatures. 

Even then, Vil had to break the reality of it all in the most blunt way possible. These are the freshmen. There was no way Epel, and the others, were going to understand or cooperate unless they felt like they were going to be in genuine trouble. 

But, it seemed like they were always in trouble regardless.

“Epel Felmier—”

“Applebottom just…”

All of their attention snapped to the crumpled up form of Ace Trappola and—

Oh Seven his injuries looked so much worse as a human.

There were deep, deep lacerations across his arms and back. Bruises, deep bruises, decorated his skin. Alongside the various other injuries, there was a circular friction burn on his face and blood dyed his camo jacket magenta. 

At least, the parts that weren’t torn apart.

All in all, Ace Trappola looked raged —

“...just let them in, Epel. We didn’t make it out in time.”

—and he sounded so defeated .

Ace used a hand, the other one covered in welts, to cover his eyes and he laughed. It was so bitter and sad; his ‘smile’ faltering as he sounded like he was trying not to cry.

“We lost and we’re not going to get away any time soon…we might as well give up, like usual, and hope for the best.”

Epel, he was so expressive as a wolf, reverted into a human ( skin stretched and bones rippled a horrifying display or normalcy ) and cradled Ace’s body with such gentleness; a gentleness Vil had no idea he was ever capable of showing.

Ortho too, with his wide eyes and flickering blue hair, looked so distressed about Ace. Despite the injuries that decorated his own body, he was far more concerned about the wellbeing of their most injured friend. 

It was a facial expression that Epel was, probably, wearing himself.

“But what if—”

“Crewel will be there.”

Ace leaned his head against Epel’s stomach and whispered something he wasn’t capable of hearing. Whatever it was, it made Epel choke up and sob, the pitter patter of his tears louder than any yells from outside.

“Okay. If that’s what you want Ace, then we’ll go.”

“Just. Just don’t fall asleep.”

“For you, Ortho, I won’t.”

Jamil stepped forward and placed a hand atop Epel’s shoulders.

“Can I—?”

“Tell the others we’re going back to Night Raven. Jack would have heard everything, make sure to get him involved. Sebek and Deuce won’t back down unless they hear his input.”

“What about the shadow?”

Epel wiped some of the blood off Ace’s face.

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll stop.”

Jamil only nodded, before leaving.

Only Vil and the remaining wolves were in the cave.

“Epel.”

“Don’t hate me.”

Epel sobbed the statement out, as both Ortho and Ace remained silent.

“I know you’re always upset over my hair and my teeth and how I’m always covered with fur, but I can’t fix them. They’re permanent and I know you’ll be forever mad at me for being unkept. I wish I could be better at managing things but it’s so hard to keep track of all that while trying to live—”

“Epel.”

Vil seated himself next to his freshman. Up close like this, he could see Ace’s flushed face and the wet cloth on his forehead. It was an attempt at getting his obvious fever down, but that wasn’t going to help with all his wounds being improperly bandaged and not yet cleaned.

Ortho was staring at him, before looking away and trying to attend to Ace. After that, Ortho made no attempt to look at Vil in any way.

“Epel, I’m not mad.”

“But everything—”

“Clothes and materials can be replaced. You, and your friends’, health cannot.”

Epel, quite sharply, sucked in a breath.

“So, despite what you all think of us, please let us help you.”

Epel, after that, sobbed and leaned his head on Vil’s shoulder. He clutched Ace close to his body, trying to keep him as far off the dirty ground as possible, and cried. It was an ugly, distressing sound that made Vil’s heart weep. Seeing the young, innocent Ortho with eyes full of crystalline tears and the rambunctious Ace so quiet and docile were different kinds of unnerving. Not even when they were in their worst and darkest of moments did any of the freshmen look like this.

That must go to show just how scared they all were.

“Okay.”

…was all Epel managed to force out before he went completely mute for the rest of the day.

All the remaining leaders and vices, and their friends, walked all the freshmen to the infirmary. Everyone kept their eyes trained on the path ahead, but they still made sure the black wolf, with fur the texture of smoke. Too many of the freshmen, their Wolves, had injuries that were too brutal to be healed over with a field spell. Said injuries were also too brutal to have been from just the wildlife, so Rook’s theory about it being from malicious intent made so much more sense.

Not a word was said between any of the freshmen after they were taken out of the cave and walked back to Night Raven.

Not a word was said when the nurses patch up their many lacerations, welts, and bruises. There was not a single complaint about the sting of wound disinfectant that normally came from injured Night Raven students. Riddle so obviously wanted to hover over the barely conscious Ace, but did not get close. Deuce would look at him with piercingly angry eyes that, and Vil swears it happened, reflected back red.

It was like that the entire night. It was suspicious seeing and hearing the normally loud and energetic group of freshmen be so quiet and passive about everything. All of them refusing to let any one of their upperclassmen, dormmate or not, get too close. It was equally suspicious when the black hound from earlier followed them into the campus walls and sat beside Deuce, the card soldier placing a hand atop the Wolf’s head and, mindlessly, pet its fur.

Azul was the first to speak up about it, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. It would have been Floyd, or Jade, but both were too preoccupied trying to poke at Ace or another Wolf and failing. 

These damn kids…

“All of your wolf-y counterparts are attuned for and taken care of now that you’re all human again, but why is that still here? It’s obviously no normal wolf, but, as far as we’re aware, you guys are the only Wolves enrolled in this class.”

All of them looked anywhere but their superiors, Deuce especially worried his bottom lip and contemplated on how to respond.

“It’s—umm—they’re a friend of ours…”

“You don’t have any friends outside of Night Raven College. None that we’re aware of. Every of–campus trip we’ve been on has ended in absolute chaos and, with this part of you being a very cagey secret, you guys couldn’t have made friends that easily.”

“Jamil!”

Kalim pulled him aside, probably explaining how rude of a statement that was to make, but it didn’t last very long…

“They’re not—they’re not from outside the school.”

“Then who are they?”

Deuce flinches when Riddle asks him that, which means it’s someone they most definitely knew already.

“Don’t get mad when we tell you but it’s—”

“Pups!”

Just then, the doors of the infirmary burst open and Professor Crewel stumbles inside. They can hear Trein yelling after Crewel, holding a crutch and trying to force it into the Potionology teacher’s hand.

“Crewel, you—”

“Trein, I don't care. I need to know if they’re alright.”

“You can’t do that, if you can barely stand.”

Crewel’s crutch wobbled as he eventually stood tall and scanned the room.

“Are you all okay? How’s everyone, where’s Yuu?”

“Yuu is—”

“I’m alright, Professor.”

All attention snapped away from Crewel as the familiar voice of the Ramshackle prefect cut off Deuce’s statement. 

Instead of being greeted with the form of that huge, black, and ghostly Wolf from just seconds ago, they saw Yuu. Yuu, who was standing in the place of that Wolf, looking like nothing was wrong.

Even though everything was so, incredibly wrong .

“Yuu.”'

“Yes? Headmaster Crowley?”

“You are an Untamed now, correct?”

“Yes.”

“At the beginning of the year, you were a human. A human with no magic, from a world the Dark Mirror could not touch. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“And now you stand before us: an Untamed.”

“yes…”

With every question, the Prefect wilted under the gaze of Crowley. They looked so incredibly small. When Crowley huffed from annoyance, they flinched.

“Do you understand the gravity of performing such an operation on yourself? And I’m assuming your…friends… I guess you’re packmates now …are the ones that helped you out.”

“...yes…”

Crowley pinched the bridge of his mask and sighed.

“Not only is a spell like this permanent, and incredibly illegal, but you could have died if such a ritual went even the slightest bit wrong. What, in all of Twisted Wonderland, made you think something like this was a good idea?”

“I NEEDED PROTECTION CROWLEY!”

Yuu shrilled, causing the Headmaster to reel. The volume was unlike anything else Yuu had ever expressed.

“I needed protection because I’m magicless in a school of mages. I’ve been thrown into Overblot after Overblot without any means of defending myself against magic. Every day I wonder if I’m going to live or die because I can’t defend myself without Grim or my friends being there. I just can’t! I don’t want to die and this was the only way I could live.”

Once it was all out, Yuu slapped a hand over their mouth and looked wide-eyed into nothing. They started to shake as sweat built up on their temples.

The silence stretched out, the tension was thick and heavy and so uncomfortable. Vil’s throat felt dryer than sand and he felt disconnected from his body.

“Well. We have so much to talk about once everyone heals up!”

Nobody protested when Azul clobbered Floyd upside the head with his magic cane.

After some time, Crewel ushered all of them out of infirmary, minus Leona for some reason. He gave a shaky explanation that nobody believed, nor really listened to. However, they all had no choice but to obey it since Crowley also heeded to the demands of the Potionology Professor.

Why does that lazy lion get to stay with them?

Leona would have absolutely been one the last person he would trust to stay with the injured Untamed. The beastman’s attitude being less-savory than the kindest of them and his lackadaisical approach towards things making him unreliable at best and neglectful at worst. 

At least, that’s what he thought. 

Vil is a worrier and a nosey one at that. He waited until everyone had returned to their dorms in order to stay back and eavesdrop. Knowing his fellow dormheads, there were going to be more people joining him outside the doors soon. 

Leona had always been lazy and lackadaisical, unreliable at best and neglectful at worst. But, when Vil pressed his ear against the infirmary door, trying to gauge the reactions and health of Epel and his friends, he was given a different view of one Leona Kingscholar and was finally given a solid understanding of the relationship between the housewarden of Savanaclaw and all their freshmen.

“You kids were attacked and didn’t think to call me? I understand you were scared, but everyone in my dorm is your ally.”

“Ah, so that’s where they’re storing those potions I taught them?”

Crewel is involved? By how much? How and what does he know?

“Yeah. My room and Yuu’s dorm is where they’re storing them.”

“That makes sense.”

There was a creak, a rustle of fabric, and the sound of muffled sobbing. 

“Cry it out pup. It’s okay.”

“You’re all safe now. No one can hurt you.”

Vil became sick to his stomach and, upon returning to his dorm room in Pomefiore, threw up in his bathroom toilet. 

He was sick. Sick over the fact Leona, of all people, was the closest with his freshman, to all the freshmen. He was sick over the fact Leona was trusted more with their secret, for who knows how long, than their own dorm heads. He was sick over the fact they weren’t able to find the elusive and infamous freshmen group before some of their wounds stank from infection and fear. He was sick, sick, sick.

Most of all, he was sick over the fact he wasn’t trusted enough by Epel, or any of them really, to have been told their secret.

The worst part? He knew why, because everything clicked. Every decision he’s made, every comment and criticism of Epel’s appearance and behaviors, especially his more “animalistic” ones, were a direct insult to a core and unchanging part of himself. A part of himself that he could not change, despite Vil’s efforts.

How many times had he gone to bed hungry, because he didn’t get enough nutrients to sustain the appetite and metabolism of an Untamed? How many times had Epel beat himself up over the combs snapping because of hair too thick for plastic, because Untamed fur and hair weren’t supposed to be combed with products made for humans? How many times had Epel tried to cover up the scars over his lips because Vil called them “unsightly”, because it was something “too callous for his delicate features” but the Untamed aren’t delicate in any way? How many times had he called the rowdy freshmen “troublesome” and sneer and scoff in their direction during the VDC because they had finally eaten and exercised to the amount that was actually required? He remembers the look of resignation on their faces and Ace’s feeble attempt to keep his angry tears at bay for simply daring to eat something that he, Vil, said “ wasn’t allowed ”. How many times had he insulted Jack’s family by calling the Wolves in his backyard “ scary ” as a child, then and “ bestial ” as a near adult when they were alone?

In hindsight, it was so obvious he was damaging them with his way of living and his ideals. Their distrust in him rooted deep in their psyches far before his Overblot.

It made him sick to think about all the ways he contributed to their pain. As if the Untamed didn’t already have the entire world trying to hunt and kill them, in various ways. 

How many times have I made Epel and his friend hate themselves, without even realizing?

He lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t even remember falling asleep that morning, not until Rook woke him up around the middle of the day. The sun was beaming through his windows, did he realize he fell asleep to the overwhelming noise of his own thoughts. 

As he blinked away sleep, and the dried-away tears from his nightmares, he vowed to himself to fix his mistakes. He didn’t want their faces, especially Epel ( his beloved, wonderful Epel ), to be full of bitter anger and numb resignation. His hands shook from simply remembering the faces Epel and his friends made back in the cave.

He was—no—he is going to earn their trust back, by any means necessary. He will learn to be better and earn the trust of, not just his freshman, but all the freshmen. They deserve to rely on others and not just themselves.

He’s going to be better. 

He will be better.

( I WILL be better .)