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The air rushed past Wednesday as she stood atop the rocky overlook. It had been days at this altitude. The chill had long past run through her bones and now left a haunting vestige of its former self that warmed her all the same.
The sky grew an overcast gray as the clouds rolled in from the west. Rain could be seen in the distance as the wind whipped around her and Wednesday was certain that if she hadn’t been otherwise occupied with her current mission of locating one technicolored werewolf, she’d relish in the way the air bit at her ever more persistently.
But alas, her pleasure came secondary to her goals.
She and Fester had tracked Enid through most of southern Quebec and were tapping on the door of Ontario. It had been a fabulous hunt.
Enid was elusive, to say the least. Never resting in one place longer than a day, tracks consistently obscured by the fresh falling snow. If she had any memory of asking Wednesday to find her, she seemed to be making it a grueling task. Wednesday would have to thank her for that whenever she managed to best the beast.
Fester had to break away for a few days on account of enclosing Canadian authorities. Turns out, despite their stereotypical, and often sickening, kind-naturedness, Canadians too held grudges over robbed banks and burned maple syrup factories. Committed as he was to her cause, Wednesday understood that Fester enjoyed being the prey as much as the predator in a manhunt. Who was she to take such a whimsical pleasure away from her only uncle.
So she carried on in her pursuit alone. Often musing on how wonderful it’d be to be lost in this dense wilderness for a time. Tired, freezing, starving so severely that it ached to take even one more step. If she wasn’t careful, she could become distracted by the intrigue of it all. Freezing to death, while not on her list of acceptable ways to die, may be made more interesting through other means of exposure. Something to think about as she trudged on through the snow at least.
She was fairly certain that she was closing in on Enid. Track spotting was more frequent, clumps of pink and blue hair tufts still fluttered on tree branches, not yet having been ripped away by the nighttime winds. Best of all, the carcasses in the wake of her dear friend tripled in number as of the last few days. Oh what Wednesday would do to watch the beast tear through some meaningless doe in realtime. She’d been imagining what it’d be like based on the remnants and she could hardly contain herself.
Such reckless abandon had to be admired in her eyes. But that was all for naught if she couldn’t locate Enid.
Fester had provided her an electrified net as a parting gift should she locate the wolf. She found it to be one of the first times she didn’t relish in the idea of causing pain to another. Afterall, wolf or not, that was still Enid behind the razor sharp claws and gnarled teeth.
It was inevitable though. Whether Enid or the wolf liked it or not, she was coming back to Nevermore with Wednesday.
Wednesday had never considered the prospect of having a friend like Enid. Truthfully, she’d never considered having a friend at all, but Enid was certainly the farthest from any vision of comradery she could have envisioned. All glittery and colorful, bubble gum pop and social media addled, perky and peppy and chipper and bright. Sometimes it was blinding to even look in Enid’s direction. But Wednesday found herself looking all the same.
She admired in Enid what she had once thought to be weakness. A quiet strength in being herself, though with a desire to be liked that Wednesday still had trouble reckoning with. Enid was a masterpiece of a thousand trends that combined seemed to form her own version of individuality, and she had a stubborn streak that Wednesday was sure rivaled her own. To get those words to leave her lips though, would require more teeth than she had available to pull.
Wednesday was many things, forthcoming was not on that list.
All the same, she found Enid to be a focal piece of which her mind wrestled with often. Sometimes the need to protect, sometimes the need to avoid, always the need to appease.
That was something even stranger to consider. Wednesday had spent her whole life being devoted to her needs and interests. It was easier. She was usually right after all. Why indulge the moronic masses that buckled to every new whim that possessed them? She was principled in a way they could never be. A trait that she felt made her infinitely superior to their wanton if not entirely flippant progression through life.
But then there was Enid.
Often the most wanton and flippant of them all, and yet, Wednesday bent.
She arched in the direction of the girl. Quivered in the wake of her disapproval. No amount of ridiculous asks or unnecessary side quests could prevent Wednesday from falling in line at Enid’s behest. Some days, her inability to rip herself from Enid’s clutches twisted her stomach in nauseating knots. Those days often reminded her of why she so enjoyed Enid’s company.
Perhaps that’s why Wednesday found herself in this position at all. Despite her unnerving appearance and overall demeanor, Enid had clawed her way into Wednesday’s mind and sat absentmindedly in the carnage around her. She saw Wednesday, stared into the abyss of her blackened heart and didn’t so much as flinch.
Wednesday thought her a proper friend. All the best friends had the most delicious potential of being devastating rivals, at least in Wednesday’s mind. In kind, Wednesday thought no better a person to orchestrate her downfall than Enid, should she ever desire it.
If someone had told her having a friend meant opening the door to a most vindictive and malicious torture as being scorned, she may have acquired one sooner.
Thank goodness she was no longer barred from such an opportunity.
She continued to walk through the snow. Its depth now pushing up to her knees, each step a monstrous effort to maintain balance. She wasn’t sure of the time, the sun now completely obscured by a blanket of snow clouds, but she felt it was likely to be dark soon. She’d be best served finding somewhere to make shelter.
After about another hour of walking, the darkness Wednesday had predicted began to fall on the icy landscape. It enveloped the trees, mountains, and sky until Wednesday could just barely see a few 100 yards in front of her in the looming twilight. Thankfully, she noticed a crop of ground covered by an overhang similar to the one she’d looked out on earlier. The area had been much more protected from the day’s falling snow and as Wednesday entered it, she found that the snow sat pleasantly around her ankles, allotting her much more mobility than she’d had for the majority of the day.
Deciding that this would be a good enough place to camp, Wednesday made quick work of a tent and a fire, careful to shield the fledgling embers from the onslaught of wind still whipping in from all sides.
Once in place, she rolled a stump next to the glowing flames and sat, her muscles grateful for the rest while she was only thankful to have them silence their incessant pleas for repose. Despite how pathetic it made her feel, she wasn’t a monolith. Even she required sustenance and rest, albeit, with the belief that one could limit the need for such things through sheer grit.
The brief respite did give her the opportunity to gaze at the sky though. She noticed the full moon overhead, the clouds clearing for a moment to let its light gleam down at her for a moment before the darkness enveloped her once more and all that remained were the eerie shadows cast by the dancing flames before her.
Almost one month exactly since she’d started her pursuit of Enid. She wondered if Enid had any conception of time in her current form. Did her body intrinsically know when the moon reached its peak, but otherwise treat it as another meaningless stimuli as she raged through the woods? Or was it a more conscious understanding, one that left her aching for return to her original form. Wednesday hoped for the first, if only because the latter quantified her ongoing failure to fulfil her promise to the alpha. Failure was unfortunately something Wednesday was becoming readily familiar with. Failure to kill Tyler, failure to regain her psychic abilities, and ultimately, failure to prevent Enid from being stuck in this form to begin with.
While she normally adored the disapproval of others, these were not the actions she wished to be disapproved of for.
All the same, this is not an area in which she would continue to fail. She would find Enid and she would return her to her human form. She’d promised after all.
That’s when she heard it. A low guttural cry, turned upward at the cloudy sky. A howl both somber and chilling that left her wondering how close Enid truly was. The thought caused her adrenaline to spike as she kicked snow onto the fire.
Wednesday was good at working in the shadows. She did some of her best work in the dark after all. Years of playing Hide or Die with Pugsley had made her adept at tracking even the most miniscule movements made in the creeping dark around her without so much as a flicker of light to guide her vision.
Of course, this ability proved useless when a gleaming pair of icy blue eyes suddenly alerted Wednesday to the other creature's presence. Clearly lurking was only in one of their repertoires.
Wednesday had seen Enid in her werewolf form of course, but nothing like this. Even from the eyes alone, Wednesday could tell that what lay before her had become more beast than girl.
The creature began padding out of the woods. Instinctively, Wednesday clasped onto the net she’d been given as she took in Enid’s form.
Her wolf was hulking. It always had been to a certain extent, but where Enid might have once curled in on herself to hide her true stature, this wolf clearly lacked the presence of mind to consider its imposing self. Fur that had once looked freshly blow dried, died in similar style to Enid’s own platinum blonde locks, was now matted, blood and visceral sown in as though part of the coat itself. A similar look adorned its muzzle. All teeth and carnage, snapping every few seconds as though to telegraph its intent into Wednesday.
Wednesday was certain that Enid had never looked more stunning than in this moment.
The raw power emanating from her, pouring from her overgrown claws and steaming maw, left Wednesday grasping for what little effort she could muster. Her fingers growing numb around the netting she’d so quickly reached for only moments ago.
How could she think to cage this? How could she dare to stand in the way of the eldric horror before her. If Wednesday courted the favor of any major deities, she was sure any attempt to limit this breathtaking beauty’s power would be considered sacrilege.
As the wolf drew closer, even as it raised its looming arm to take a swing at her, Wednesday was consumed by this thought. She was able to deftly maneuver out of the way of the incoming swing, but the rush of wind it left behind only conflicted her further. Claw marks etched into the snow and soil where she once stood made her hair stand on edge. She hadn’t been so excited by the prospect of death since her father got her her first guillotine.
Her dodge seemed to upset the beast, now turned to look at her new place, sidestepped a few feet away from her original spot. She crouched down, finger tips singing slightly against the powdery snow beneath her, ready to roll out of the way of the wolf’s next move.
She hadn’t waited long for that incoming attack.
This time, two strong paws came rushing from both sides of her, claws out, ready to impale her between their sharpened tips. She just nearly managed to jump up as the paws clasped together. The sound of the claws passing each other bringing a beautiful cacophony not dissimilar to nails on a chalk board to Wednesday’s ears. Again, she had to ask, how could something so majestic be thwarted?
When she landed, now distanced slightly from the wolf, she noticed a sharp twinge of pain enveloping her senses. Looking down, crimson flowed steadily onto the white snow beneath her as two deep slashes adorned her left thigh. The part of her pants that had been clawed now flapped in the wind like skin clinging to its host.
What a talented pup, Wednesday thought to herself proudly.
The wolf only seemed to grow angrier as Wednesday eluded it. The fresh spill of blood on its claws provoking it to a higher degree of madness. Rage built up quickly behind its eyes as its already darkened pupils enveloped any remaining white.
Wednesday would need to make a decision quickly if she planned to live past this encounter.
The wolf began charging once more, this time, Wednesday knew she’d be unable to dodge, at least not completely with her ankle injured as it was. Looking at the way the wolf rushed toward her though, Wednesday realized something she’d missed in her original awe of the creature.
Deep slashes sat on the right hip of the wild animal. Not fresh, but not healed either. Similarly, what Wednesday had once that was all carnage, appeared to be somewhat made up of festering wounds. Clearly, something had also earned the wolf’s ire, or perhaps, the wolf had earned it.
Beautiful as it was, this wolf was more than just another feral beast with which Wednesday could toy with. This was no hyde, no deadly murder of crows, no version of her mother attempting to coordinate a “Mother Daughter Outing" at the recommendation of the Nevermore “Teen Woe, No More” parent support group.
This was Enid.
And Enid was hurting.
Wednesday grabbed the net on her hip with no further thought. It was neatly folded into a launcher that Fester had rigged specifically for quick release, of which Wednesday was extraordinarily thankful of at this moment.
Pointing the launcher in Enid’s oncoming direction, Wednesday pulled the trigger.
At once, a flurry of sparks and netting jettisoned into the air and fanned out to encompass the oncoming werewolf. Wednesday liked to think that her excellent sharpshooting abilities had a hand to play in the precise nature of the nets deployment, but she feared even Pugsley could have made a shot at point blank range.
As the net made contact with Enid, the sparks began to come off of it in full force. Specifically crafted nails drove their way into the surrounding soil on the edges of the nets reach and pinned Enid down as it proceeded to shock her repeatedly.
The wolf thrashed against the weight of the net, but found no give in its unrelenting assault.
That was, of course, until a deftly placed claw hooked its way between the netting and began tearing through it as one might with a seam ripper. That is to say with great and concerning ease.
Wednesday didn’t often find herself feeling fear. She’d deemed it a lesser emotion when she was four after a series of unprovable events led to a mall burning down in a neighboring town. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what everyone was so scared about.
She began to understand it, if ever so slightly, at this moment.
Enid was in front of her with a speed Wednesday had never seen. Growling and snapping, as though playing with her meal. Wednesday attempted to move, but found feeling to her left leg quickly fleeting, the pool of blood around her growing more by the second. She fell, legs splayed in front of her as she attempted to use her right leg to push herself backwards and away from the wolf.
How unbecoming of an Addams.
Despite her issues with her family, far be it from her to taint the Addams family name while knocking at death’s welcoming door. She refused to meet Death in such a state.
With this in mind, Wednesday laid back, snow enveloping her like a casket. Though not the one she’d reserved at the age of 10, one she’d welcome all the same. Looking up, she realized that she’d managed to make her way out from the overhang she’d been camping under. The once cloud filled sky now parted to give her an enviable view of the night sky. Moonlight streaming down on her skin in a way that she was certain must also look stunning against Enid’s coat.
What a shame to not witness her death omnisciently.
She felt the heat of the wolf begin to crawl up her body. It took its time, savoring the splendor of its next kill. Wednesday tilted her head up to watch the wolf’s full approach, breath catching in her throat as it licked tentatively at her open wound, then once more with renewed determination. This time, further up her thigh to taste her flesh along with the metallic tang of her blood. Wednesday tried to imagine what she must taste like, she shooed the thoughts that questioned if Enid liked the taste.
As the wolf continued to make its way up Wednesday’s frame, Wednesday couldn’t help but take it in again, this time from a much closer vantage. Despite the muck and the grime, rust stained fur and occasional smell of rot, Wednesday saw Enid in the face of her would-be doom bringer. Albeit, a twisted, contorted version of the girl, but Enid all the same.
Wednesday had thought it once already that night, but she could only further confirm it.
Wednesday was certain that Enid had never looked more stunning.
If she didn’t know any better, Wednesday would presume she was having a heart attack at the way her pulse quickened at the thought. What an incredibly ill-timed medical emergency. Didn’t her body know that she was about to be eaten by a werewolf? She wanted to scoff at the eagerness of Death. Even they seemed pedestrian in their impatience.
And don’t get her started on the feeling coiling in her stomach! As if heart attack wasn’t enough, some mysterious blockage of the bowel had come to prevent her inevitable mauling as well? Ridiculous. At least that one had the presence of mind to not be painful. That would allow her to relish in the way Enid’s teeth would sink into her skin, pierce through muscle, nerve, bone. Her stomach tightened further with this thought.
She meant the wolf of course, Enid would never do anything like that to her. She ignored the pang of hurt she felt ripple in her chest. This heart attack was ruining her fun.
The wolf was face to face with her now. Its teeth barred at her, a rumble emanating from somewhere deep in its chest. Wednesday met its gaze. All dark black and neon blue. Stunning.
It was in that moment that Wednesday mourned. Not herself of course, but Enid. In giving herself to the wolf, she would break her promise. She would have failed to free Enid from the curse of her alpha nature, and failed to prevent her from being alone. The thought made her feel sick.
Enid, all sunshine and rainbows with her neverending desire to reach out and touch and connect and love, all of that for naught if she remained as she was. Wednesday wished she had been stronger, wished she had been able to keep her promise, but her vision was beginning to fade to the blood loss and she would not steal a perfectly good meal from her monstrous adversary.
Relenting, she laid her head back into the snow and watched as the wolf’s head came back into view. Saliva dripped out of its mouth and onto her face, leaving trails of its evident hunger streaking down Wednesday’s cheeks. She had to imagine that this was the closest she ever came to crying. While not tears exactly, she did feel a certain kinship to the wet lines and their connection to the rising bile in her gut at her own inability.
She hated it, but she was out of moves.
“I can only hope to provide you with some sustenance. I’m sorry I could do no more than that.” Wednesday chastised herself to the wolf looming overhead. A shaky hand coming to rest under the jaw of the beast as its mouth began to open.
Wednesday stared on and in her haze could swear she saw flashes of Enid’s face superimposed on to the wolf’s. The expression slowly morphed into a smile instead of the incoming bite.
The image brought peace to Wednesday, happy to see Enid one last time if only as a figment of her fleeting mind. This time though, Wednesday didn’t have the ability to shake the feeling that accompanied the girl’s likeness. It was comforting, like a tomb. Her heart continued to rattle and her stomach refused to settle down. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume that this was…
She stopped in her tracks mid-thought. That was not something Wednesday Addams did, especially not on the verge of death.
No, she was dying, and if the dead had one privilege above all else, it was an escape from the death-rattle-tainted emotions of the living.
Even if there was merit to this…feeling…beyond what arises when one is facing their ultimate demise, to investigate it would mean a complete shattering of everything she’d built with Enid. It would mean an end to their friendship, her involvement all together with the girl.
It was a case that, even under the best of circumstances, Wednesday would not take.
It’d be simple enough to die with this thought in mind. Perhaps tragic in a way that would elate the gothic poets Wednesday expected to meet in the great beyond. That is, again, assuming that it was anything more than an unexpected reach from her soul towards the last slipping pieces of her humanity.
Her vision faded as she began to welcome the icy black of the great beyond. As she fell, she just barely managed to speak out, “Farewell, Enid.”
Wednesday awoke like a corpse reanimated. Eyes open, leaning up at a crisp 90 degree angle, arms crossed in her preferred resting pose. She scanned the room, surprised to see the same hospital dressings she’d seen months prior after awaking from her coma.
Had it all been one grand nightmare? Issac Night, Tyler and Francoise, Pugsley’s almost-death, and Enid’s transformation into a beast?
Odd, usually her nightmares contained more blood.
As if on queue, a pain jumped from her thigh, causing her to throw back the covers all at once. Medical gauze covered her upper thigh and she unravelled it in a feverish hurry. There, just as she remembered, lay two perfect scars, claw marks to be exact, stitched up to perfection. The thought reminded her of the part in her “nightmare” where a beastly Enid had licked across the twin marks. She chose to disregard the feeling that pooled in her stomach at this remembrance.
Noticing a curtain to her right, Wednesday wondered if she’d been placed in the same room as another. How unfortunate for the likes of her temporary roommate. Oh well, it didn’t matter she supposed. Given that she was alive and seemingly well, her promise was still in effect. Which meant that her hunt for Enid would need to resume with some urgency given that there was no telling how much ground she’d lost in between.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she put pressure on her feet and ignored the ache that shot up her left leg at the contact. This was the price to pay for her own stupidity as she saw it. She wouldn’t be so easy to dispatch in the future.
Grabbing her belongings off a shelf opposite her bed, she rounded the corner of the curtain separating her and her fellow room-dweller, determined to make up for any and all lost time.
“Wednesday?”
The gears of Wednesday’s body screeched to a halt hearing her name dance across the open air of the hospital room. With some effort, she managed to turn her head in the direction of the familiar calling only to find herself face to face with the object of her month-long hunt.
There was Enid, somewhat bandaged and bruised, but all Enid. Smiling from ear to ear looking as though she’d been waiting for Wednesday to wake up this whole time and not, at any point, traipsing through Canada, feral and alone.
“Enid?”
In just saying her name, Wednesday knew.
She was fucked.