![]() ![]() His breath is knocked from his chest as his nose breaks, blood pouring down onto his lips and into his open mouth. He only makes it halfway before he smashes into an invisible barrier. When he opens his eyes again, his father is further away, standing on the other side of the clearing. “You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re dead, you died, you let him take you, you let him hurt you, why why why, did you do it? Why did you-” “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Carter chants, hands over his ears. Other times, he’s a man, a breakable man who watches Carter with knowing eyes. Sometimes he’s a wolf, white with black on his chest and back. Carter was too young to understand it when it happened, but he knows it now. Duty called, and they’d answered, not caring who stood in their way, or who they left behind. And how he hates them, hates them for all they’ve done, for all the mistakes they’ve made. It’s the land of his father, and his father before him. He wants to bite and tear and claw until the earth beneath him gushes blood. ![]() ![]() He stands in a clearing, the same one where so much of their history has been decided. When Carter is lost in a haze of violet, his rage alive and all-consuming, he hears the only voice that matters. ![]()
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