Just an Old Legend

On her way back to the island, Helen sat thinking about a lot of things. The wind was coming up and the skies that had looked foreboding earlier now offered a bit of hope since the clouds were showing patches of blue. She throttled back enough to just maintain a bit of headway.

She needed to think.

Her eyes fell on the nylon bag and she picked it up. A quick look around told her that there were no other watercraft within sight. Now would be the perfect time and place to lose this troublesome detail that she really hadn't wanted to accept from Stan in the first place.

As was usual for her, she thought, as her hand began to open the zipper on the bag, she realized that she was probably going to do the wrong thing. It seemed to be her way.

Helen lived her life quietly and just tried to enjoy small pleasures where she could. The artist in her would be taken and captivated by the smallest things, sometimes - a dew drop sitting on a single petal of a daisy, or the patterns created by a gust of wind on the surface of still water. She had a bit of a photographic memory and often saw things which she could and would recall later to create a scene if she chose to paint it in any of several mediums.

But there was a dark side to that. The same memory ability would cause her to recall and reflect on things which she didn't necessarily wish to think about. At times, her memories could really bring her down as they replayed in her mind.

She'd watched all of her friends fall in love and get married - and then divorced. She'd even decided once that she wouldn't do what they'd done. Helen had resolved stay well clear of that trap, since the only tangible results that she could see were rich lawyers, bitter people of both sexes and children. She thought it might be better in the long run for her to only date now and then if she found someone who might hold her interest for a time. Just to keep things simple.

She'd told herself that it wouldn't happen to her, this tangle of unhappy complications that everyone found themselves bound and chained in the center of. She just wanted to live and keep her life simple, straightforward and simple.

And what had she done? Why, she'd fallen in love with Pete.

Excellent plan, that had been, she smirked. Well it had been a bit of a storybook romance, she remembered fondly, and everything had gone so well too with the two of them living a very real fairytale in bliss together.

But she'd been raised to think for herself and to always question. Not bad, as far as that went for personal qualities, she thought, but she recognized that she did have a few others that hadn't helped the mix. She could be as argumentative as hell, and could be so stubborn in an argument that she'd stick to her guns even if it was clear to anyone and everyone that her position was just wrong. On occasion she'd take it way past the point where she should have abandoned it purely as a point of personal pride.

That had cost her so much, she realized sadly, especially with Pete.

There had been one fight between them that she just wouldn't let go of, and she raised it to him time and again, long after he'd declared her to be right, because it just hadn't been worth it as far as he was concerned. He loved her and didn't want an almost academic, and stupid argument to come between them. He'd even begged her to drop it. But no, she'd been too hard-headed for their own good.

The unions at two of his family's factories had wild-catted at the worst possible time for a work stoppage. Pete was beside himself trying to deal with the strikes, find out the causes to deal with them, and he was frantically scratching around for ways to meet the contracted deadlines for product delivery. It had taken him two years of hard work to procure the contracts in the first place. Right in the middle of that, and for reasons which Helen herself could never explain to herself even now, she'd forced their old issue again.

It had taken Helen a couple of years to realize that the very qualities in her that had brought this thing on between them were among the ones that he'd most admired in her, her willingness to doggedly pursue an end and her unending wellspring of determination. Show her an underdog, and her heart was with him or her. That had always been her first gut reaction, and Pete was so proud of her for that.

But not that time. She'd flown at him once more over what should have been dropped long before, throwing it in his face when his mind was elsewhere. She shook her head once more thinking back. She'd wanted to pick a fight, and he was beset from all sides as it was, trying to keep over two thousand workers employed, never mind keeping the cash flow up and the customers at bay.

When he wouldn't take the bait, she'd slapped him, and his reaction had been instant. He'd pushed her from him - hard, and she'd fallen backwards. He looked at her in shock, and then down slowly to his own tightly clenched right fist in horror. She could see that it killed him that he'd reacted like this even though he hadn't struck her.

Curling that fist had been automatic as a secondary reaction, and maybe it was the stress, but to him it was something that he'd never have allowed himself to do. He'd opened his hand then and shook his head in disbelief, asking her if she was hurt. But her blood was up then, and she'd spat the magic words at him that shattered the spell and ended the fairytale. And that had been that.

Since that time, she'd lived alone. He'd gone alone for a time, but was now remarried to a far smarter woman. They'd met once, and Helen was happy for them. Her replacement could complement him perfectly in his world and unlike her, she knew what he needed from her and when. She wished that she'd had that ability. Most of all she wished that of all of her replacement's graces, she'd have been happy with just the ability to keep her mouth shut at the right times and her razor-sharp tongue caged behind her teeth that once.

Helen nodded to herself, he deserved to be happy now. She had a lot now because of him, she thought sadly. But she didn't have him anymore. For almost seven years now, she'd have traded everything she owned, everything that she'd done, and probably her soul if they could just go back to that terrible day. What he'd needed then was her support, and her mind on the problem, as he'd asked.

She smiled, he'd asked her for her help, an idea, something. That was Pete. His respect for her was boundless. A pity that it had been misplaced.

Here, she thought, in the middle of nowhere, she suddenly had a few options. She could just lean over the side, and slowly sink the bag letting it fill first to be certain that it never came up again. Looking over the side she saw a very unhappy woman looking back. Someone who had up to now just accepted her unhappiness and carried on.

She could take the bag with her and keep it just in case, as the old man had pleaded with her to do, as much as she didn't like it. Or,...

She could just,... fully accept her failure. Right here and now.

She pulled the old scattergun fully out, and reached into her bag for the box. Taking one of the shells loaded with buckshot between two fingers, she opened the breech and shifted her grip on the shell to use her thumb and slide it home into the left chamber. There were tears in her eyes as she snapped the gun shut.

A bit of her own determination would go a long way now, she thought.

This old thing had been turned into an illegal weapon the day that it had been sawed short so long ago. She wondered why and listened to the gulls. Her eyes went to the horizon where she could just see the island which with a bit of luck now she could own very shortly.

She thought about the big wolf for moment, and was hopeful still for more of his friendship, as strange as their relationship was. And then she looked at the old envelopes - letters written between two lovers long ago. She wondered if it had gone badly for them the same as it had gone for her and Pete, but with a higher price paid. She wiped her eyes.

Looking at the thing in her hands, she saw the safety, and the two triggers. She looked at the island in the distance once more and her thumb lifted to the breech release. The shotgun cracked open, and she pulled the shell out and put it back into the wooden box.

No, she thought, It didn't matter anymore that the fairytale had turned to shit. She'd try to make her place in the world right there. She could always take the easy way out, she decided. She snapped the empty breech shut and slid the thing back into the bag. Looking down at the envelopes, she carefully closed the old box and opened the throttle on the motor, pointing the bow toward the island.

What had gotten into her, she wondered? How could she be having these thoughts while there was a home for her right there, and a jeezly-huge wolf to be fed?

And, she smirked, now there was no way that she was not going to read the translations of those old love letters. She chuckled. There surely can't be a woman alive who could leave them alone.

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There was another secluded little pool on the island. It was just a little depression between the rocks of the shore, hidden by a tangle of plant growth. Not much to it, really, unless you were someone who wanted to wash off a day's sweat and dust.

In the distance, a sightseeing tour boat went by, the guide's voice droning on that off to their right was an island with a tragic past, and the rest was lost to him in the breeze. He ducked his head under and ran his fingers through his hair for as long as he could hold his breath before coming up for air. This was just how he'd always washed during the warmer months, and it sure beat rubbing his body with snow as he did in the winter.

He stepped out and looked at his reflection for a moment. This was the closest that he could come to what he'd been born as. His hair was still dark, any aging that would normally have happened to him gone with the arrival of this curse of his. He supposed that if there were any others of his kind now that they probably didn't live for very long. There was a lot of madness to this at the beginning, a lot of self-destructiveness. But being where he was, and having the will that he did had pulled him through, though he'd often wondered about that.

The pain of the first transformation had been nothing compared to his anguish and the soul-crushing guilt for what he'd done when he'd killed what his wife had become.

It had been decades before he could come to grips with it afterward. Working and waiting and never giving up hope for Danaya. Worrying for her fragile health and if she'd even ever get to his arms, and then to find that she was no longer the sweet girl who had held his heart so when they were courting. She'd become something else after being attacked one night on a lonely road. He cursed himself endlessly for wanting a better place for them and leaving to make their humble dream come true. If he'd never left, she wouldn't have been alone there that night. He didn't know what he'd have done, but she'd had no chance there without him, no chance at all. And the cruelest thing about it all was the knowledge that it was manageable, now that he himself had experienced the curse.

The first while was lost in confusion, but afterward - that was when the full impact came to him. Only afterward once he'd found that he was still in charge, still himself inside what he had become. He could change at will with three forms to alternate between, each with its advantages or disadvantages to any situation. If he'd only known, he'd never have done the terrible thing that damned him in his mind.

Danaya had tried to tell him that it was this way, that they could still live and love like this, but it was beyond what his simple rustic upbringing would allow. To him at the time, this was just evil.

Now? He smirked sadly, it just was what it was.

He supposed that he could pass himself off as what he once was and live among them. But for the way that he spoke, and the need that he had sometimes to hunt something - anything.

He looked at himself with a small laugh. That, and the fact that he had no clothes to wear while hiding in the crowd. His old clothes had worn out years before, and anyway, their styles had changed. His hand came up to his chest and the remains of the bite that had begun it all. His fingers slid down the ridges created by his abdominal muscles. He tried to remember what he'd looked like before. Much like this, he knew it, but this curse had added its flavoring to everything that he was now. Even in human form he was different from before in some small ways and one very big one. He was better than he'd been. He'd grown up fairly muscular - the by-product of good farm nutrition and as much physical work as any human could ever do. But what he was now...

He felt the mosquito settle on his upper thigh and moved a hand to brush it off before the bite. It was an almost unconscious movement, but he watched in the reflection of the pool as his abdominal muscles tensed even more with the reach and his eyes darted to the knots of muscles there under his skin over his ribs.

Another one, or maybe the same mosquito went for his shoulder, and he watched as his arm reached for the spot. It was a pity, he thought, that today nobody needs to work as he did in his day. Back then, a man like he was could easily earn a living with his back or feed his family working his farm. He smiled, a man such as he was now could work himself to riches with a bit of sweat. He could probably do the work of seven or ten men easily.

He looked at his face reflected in the pool and his mind drifted to a dim memory clouded over even now with old longing from so long before.

There had been one young girl who had loved him from their childhood together. She'd been all that he could have ever wanted, he remembered with a smile. They'd wanted so much to get older, and couldn't wait for that time to come. But life had thrown them a rock in the road when he'd moved away with his parents. He'd tried for a long time, but could never find where she'd gone as well afterward. The memory pained him a bit and her lovely young face faded in his mind. He hoped that she'd found someone for herself who could take care of her and her difficulty as he'd done for her. God knows she deserved to be taken care of by a good man.

After growing up in another province of the mountainous land where he'd come from, he'd had his share of farm girls back in his day, but never thought about his looks very much and never had a thought about giving his heart to anyone. It had taken Danaya to make him care what he looked like, hopeful for that one dance at the village festival so long ago. She'd been the only one who had somehow gotten through to him.

Afterward, they'd each admitted to the other that they'd been hopeful for that one evening for months, just for the wishful chance at the other's heart. They'd both prayed for the chance, and vowed that if fate would only smile at them once, then this was the one chance now. He sighed. They'd been so happy then. Danaya had a temper and was sometimes spiteful, but then he supposed that it came with the territory.

He came back to himself and changed to the tall furry beast that he was. He shook his head after a glance at what he'd become. He didn't know why he'd never used the gun on himself the first while, other than the thought that it was wrong to his religion. It was what he really should have done rather than try to live like this. It took him years to decide it, but by then the fat man had found the gun and taken it away. He spat on the rocks. He should have torn the fool apart when he'd had the chance of it. Well it hadn't happened, that was all there was to it.

But now? What was going on now? He knew that he was becoming infatuated with the woman who seemed to like him, and even smiled and laughed when she saw him. He wondered about that. Was he this lonely that he'd fall over the only female within miles? He decided that couldn't be the way it was. By any standard she was beautiful. He wondered at what he wanted from this. In the fantasy world that his grandparents had painted for him with their stories when he was a child, you were supposed to just accept it when magic came your way.

He snorted. This was magic? This would get even worse for him soon and he knew it. All that he could ever do was to follow her around and try to keep bad things from happening to her. He sure couldn't ever let her see what he really was.

He suddenly had a thought then. She seemed to want to be a friend to him. He might not deserve more than that, but he'd take it if it was all that he would ever be allowed in this prison. He decided that it would have to do, and that was the end of it. If she needed a friend to keep her company, he'd be happy to be her friend. It would be unsatisfactory, he knew, but it would be better than nothing.

He'd loved a girl his age from their first meeting as very small children. She'd been lost to him due to circumstance. He'd married Danaya and after years apart, it had become a horrific nightmare at the end. He'd been alone here with his dark pain for so long.

Now he couldn't love anyone as a man because he no longer was a man. He was something else whether he liked it or not. Now all that he might have was the friendship of a lovely woman who talked to him and seemed to enjoy his company.

Not much, he thought, but maybe it was enough to keep him sane.

He completed the transformation and bounded away as a wolf.

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Helen was in the kitchen. The potatoes had been peeled, cut and washed, the bones boiled and removed and some set aside for soup. The weather would turn colder with the arrival of a new front and to Helen, that meant you needed something that would stick to you and warm your insides. Carrots were peeled and in, chunks of brazed stewing beef too, beans, corn, whatever she had that she thought would go well. She even toyed with the idea of making drop biscuits with cheese and garlic powder.

The whole thing was going nicely, she thought. Now all it needed was time. She looked out and decided that the weather couldn't hold forever, so if she wanted to get her ass onto a beach towel, this might be it for a couple of days.

Getting a few things together, she was almost out the door when she saw the bag on the table. She hesitated, and then threw a couple of shells into the side pocket of the bag before zipping it up and slinging it over one shoulder. Let's just see how much of a pain in the ass this thing can be, she thought. This might be the first and last time that she granted the realtor his wish.

She was about halfway to the cove when she saw him coming. She couldn't believe that a living thing short of a cheetah could cover ground like that. She was sure that he'd moved faster in the forest, but here she could see him motor along in the open, and he was clearly happy. She'd hate to see what he looked like coming her way if he were pissed.

Then he was beside her, nosing her hand onto his head and back, and sniffing to see where she'd been. Helen didn't even think about it. She just began to tell him what had happened to her in town, where she'd been, who she'd seen as though she'd just met her friend at the mall. She'd just accepted that he'd want to hear everything, and she told it as though he were human. She wouldn't dream of treating him like a dog.

But after a minute, something began to bother him, she noticed. He sniffed more insistently, his nose in solid contact with her clothing. He smelled something familiar about her, where she'd been, or rather, he thought, who she'd been near. He knew that smell.