Greykin Mountain

| 55 | Fight

⥐ ⋞ ☽ ⋟ ⥐

Glimpses of the moon and snow-covered trees flashed before Jackson's eyes. One moment he was still, and the next he could feel his paws thumping on the ground as he ran and ran and ran.

          But where was he running?

          He wasn't sure how long he'd been unable to think or feel, but it felt like forever. Whenever he caught glimpses of the world around him, there was no sign of Damon.

          Until he heard snarls.

          Something was colliding with him; his heart was racing, and he could feel anger drastically increasing within him. He swung his claws—he snapped his maw. He was fighting.

          The flashes last longer, and when he finally caught sight of the white wolf, angst wrestled with his anger. He didn't want to hurt Damon, but his wolf kept charging at him, snarling and growling, attempting to wrap its jaws around whatever part of the Alpha it could reach. But Damon fought back; he shoved Jackson's wolf away and dodged every attack, but that didn't make Jackson feel any calmer.

          He was coming around—he could see and feel what was going on, and it was time for him to take control.

          He'd done it before. He had commanded his wolf—he'd told it to reveal itself, and this time, all he had to do was command it to settle...and let him be in control.

          But as his wolf snapped at Damon, he could feel his anger evolving into fury. It was shoving aside his anxiety and determination to take control. Damon had warned him about this...but he couldn't let it win.

          If he didn't win this fight, he'd become lost forever. He'd never see Damon again—he'd never get to listen to his voice or feel his warm, comforting embrace. And not only that. He'd never find Wilson. He would fail one of the only people who had ever cared about him...he'd fail both of the people who he cared about the most. And that was something he wasn't willing to do.

          He had to do this for himself, though. Not just for Damon and Wilson. After all the shit he'd been handed in his life, he finally had the whys and hows, and he wasn't going to give up now. He knew how his parents had died; he was getting closer to learning what his stepfather was up to, and he wasn't going to stop until he found out why all of this was happening.

          Why were journalists being sent out here despite all the stories of them going missing? Why was Dawnward trying to forget these disappearances? He had to know if Wilson's uncle was involved; he had to know if his stepfather was involved. And he had to know why his parents had to die for simply trying to live their lives.

          But then confusion hit him. What was this new feeling? It was anger—no...rage. He could feel it burning in his heart as his wolf backed away from Damon and shook its head, snarling ferociously. It was something he'd never felt until this moment; rage entangled with a hunger for something so far out of reach. It was more than his desperation to find out the truth, and it was more than his desire to make those accountable face the consequences.

          This.... It was a desire for revenge.

          The Holy Grail had killed his parents and hunted his kind to endangerment. He was in more danger than he could have ever imagined. And why? What had he ever done to the Holy Grail? What had his parents ever done? It wasn't like they were a part of the Nosferatu's forces, was it?

          Or...were they?

          There were still so many things he didn't know, and as he came to realize that, his longing for revenge grew heavier.