Vision Quest
A "Beast Master" super hero short story
Hello everyone!
I elected to write something different this time. This is a short story revolving around a unique super hero comic book idea I’ve had. The premise takes perspective of the hero’s animal companion as she watches or fights alongside her master, as opposed to the perspective of the super hero. It would be focused on visual story telling with minimal spoken dialogue.
Hope you all enjoy!
War… I’ve traveled far from my home to escape one only to enter another. I know not whether my choice was the right one. I could have died a losing battle after they murdered my cubs, or this: slowly cook and freeze by my lonesome. I knew my fate since I was born as a bitch, to be a loyal subservient to my master. I’d say I was a proud mother. Our babies grew up fast, and they were going to do great work for our pack. I taught them how to hunt and kill, and they were as disciplined as they were vicious.
Oh, I miss them. I yearn nothing more than to go back to my tribe. Even if I still had to suffer through famine of this wicked desert, or suffer my paws onto the burning grains of sand, I’d gladly accept this destiny if I still had my tribe. We all suffered much hard ship. We lost many loved ones by either dangerous prey or those fearsome two-legged predators. If not perish by their strength, we endured great injury because of them. The bonds we forged carried us through all kinds of hardship in those green mountains many miles ago.
Isolation, however, pains me the most. I know not, nor care, whether its because of our nature to form bonds, or if it’s the sudden, abrupt loss of everyone I cared about. I want them back. I’d give anything to bring them back. I haven’t even seen a single insect or bird since I entered this damned desert. This stubborn loyalty only led me to this torture, this sickening isolation.
Isolation…loneliness… Nay, I’m sadly wed to this evil spirit of nature as her slave for her to torment to her hearts delight. Her countless grains of sand cook under that hot sun and burn my paws, and her frost-bitten wind freezes me under my furs with her taunting kiss. The desert is a cruel mistress, a bipolar villain of roaring elements. If not for the burning sand and stone, and the freezing air, I’m gravely neglected.
But she hasn’t broken my spirit. It broke when the wolf pack usurped my betrothed, slaughtering him and every one of us who were loyal to our alpha. They didn’t even stop at the pups. I feel foolish not yielding to the rebellious kin. Maybe they would have spared me, maybe they would have slaughtered me. I just knew I couldn’t betray my alpha, and my motherly instincts would never have forgiven me. How is this an acceptable life, toiling in the woodlands, hunting vicious bears and moose, only to be betrayed by your own pack?
I’ve been traveling for days. Please, let something sate my ravenous stomach. At least a drop of water. The pain of seclusion is becoming more and more bearable as the pains of my body flare. Right as those thoughts entered my mind, it’s as if my prayers were answered. I stood defensive when I first saw a body on the cold ground of the mistress’s moon. From a distance it was hard to tell who or what it was at first. My heart raced when I heard his tongue speak, “Damn… it… Give me a reason…!” he sounded hurt, but humans are known to be clever. “Why am I doing this? I own a successful casino! I have all the wealth I need. But what am I missing? Why am I here?” I know not the words this man speaks, but for some odd reason I can understand him. Maybe not the language, but certainly his suffering.
Why are we suffering?
The fear of humans was installed deep into our instincts. Their roaring guns alone brought a good number of us deaf, if not dead. Yet I can’t help wonder, why have we not adapted to the potential treason of our own kind? Do they suffer this same fate? Do the city dwelling monkeys worry about the violence from their own kind like what happened to us? They’ve conquered most of our world it seems. It’s hard to imagine them going through the same struggles we do. If they can conquer this evil mistress of sun and moon, they can achieve anything beyond what I can comprehend.
I cautiously approached him from an angle he couldn’t see me. This is the cruel world after all, and those who are weak are subjected to those who can feast. That’s how we’ve all grown up. Yet, something was itching my mind. Why is a human out here by himself? Why is he almost naked, without food or water and only a piece of cloth tied to his groin? What are these paintings and symbols plastered on his body? Are they toxic?
His odor was especially peculiar. As I stepped closer, my nose felt a gentle burn of his scent. In that moment, visions poured into my mind. My eyes saw a history I never experienced, but a history of my ancestors. They were there, communing, working, feasting, even playing with these humans. These weird monkeys wore feathers on their heads and had similar markings throughout their bodies. It was a strange partnership, between humans and wolves. In my six years I never would have guessed different species could work together in such harmony.
Those mystical visions left me almost as soon as they entered. However, I caught myself licking his open palm as he remained flat on his stomach. He was unconscious. My raw instincts wanted to gnash my fangs into his throat and devour clean every muscle and organ from this man. It is the only way I can survive. Yet, something compelled me to stop. That same thing likely compelled this man to come out here all on his own. For whatever reason, he chose to come out in the wild desert completely vulnerable. Humans have their own shelters they constructed, and live in these glass towers and buildings. They have powerful tools to defend themselves. They have all the comfort and abundance that we have to fight every day of our lives for. But why would a human throw that away?
It then hit me like a rampaging bear at full charge. This is what sets humans apart from the rest of us. This is why humans are the apex predators. It’s not just because of their thumbs or their tools. It’s not just because of their intelligence. They choose to suffer. They choose to undergo hardship. How much wisdom and strength a human can gain from deciding to set aside every comfort and luxury is unimaginable. Us wolves have been stuck fighting for survival every day. Even an ounce of comfort to us is cherished. But these humans, oddly seem to cherish these struggles and hardship. You… we are worlds apart, yet I feel deeply connected to you.
I blinked, then I saw a hand reach out towards the man. It was slender and had long, sharp nails, much longer than a human. It wasn’t a hand; it was a claw! An instinctual fury roared within me, and fueled my bite. The fangs dug deep into the hand, even touching one another on both ends. The taste of her flesh was arid and dry. I was so used to the scent I didn’t recognize it at first. The hand belonged to the desert. Suddenly my mouth was full of sand, nearly causing me to choke. I knew not what this sorcery was, but I did know she must be stopped!
It's hard to recall everything. I knew I fought hard against this witch. With one hand she strikes me with a searing blow, and the other an icy one. I was already weakened by starvation and dehydration, and I knew not whether I’d be able to fend off this spirit. I didn’t know why I bothered fighting for this man. He was my meal. He was my salvation. Why did I protect him? Was it the pains of loneliness that pushed me beyond my need for survival? What I do vividly remember is hearing the words of that man, “Go. Fight!” Something mystical happened within me. I understood those words as clear as the language of the wolves. Those words carried a force that ignited a renewed power within me to continue fighting. It was painful, grueling, and even though it felt like defeat was inevitably, I kept listening and obeying his words as he guided my claws and my fangs. Even through the struggle, the strength and endurance I felt in that fight felt supernatural. Even the way I fight changed. I was more elegant, less primal, and more tactful.
I woke up next to the man. I felt so much pain from that fight…from that…dream? It felt so real, yet surreal. The exhaustion of the desert still remained. We both still were on the brink of starvation. However, I smelled hope, in both of us. I even felt my maw smile. Was companionship what we both needed? Is this bond the answer this human was missing? I certainly feel destined to make him my new master.
This hope led me to follow the human back to his home, by his permission. He resided in a strange city of loud colors and noise which he called “Las Vegas.” Sometime during our long trek back, another human approached, with a similar odor than his. The generosity of this stranger, which turned out to be a family member of my master, gave us the fuel and water our bodies required. Fresh meat, I cried. The humans were right. There is much to learn about suffering.
Amazing job of getting into the mind of a wolf!
Hey Michael, exciting stuff here! I haven't read many stories from animal perspectives that worked, but I felt no resistance to this story. The emotional tugging at the start by creating this isolated wolf in an isolated Desert is strong. I love the title and the ending was wild, lol.