Kismet’s eyes flew open and he stared out at unfamiliar scenery. He moved his arm and found it weighted by his soaked clothes. He remembered where he was. The boy sat up and wiped the water droplets off his face. His side didn’t hurt as much, and his strength had been renewed enough for him to carry on. Kismet hopped off the roof and into the murky brown ocean. He strode through the waters, his eyes set on the horizon. His aim was to evacuate the town in hopes to find dry land. He wasn’t sure how wide the flood had spread, but he knew he would find the end of it somewhere, someday.
He whistled frequently, hoping Prestige would hear him, but as the hours dwindled into darkness, he began believing that he was the only one who had survived. Kismet’s body slowly failed on him. His feet became useless and he couldn’t feel anything except the motion of the water circling his calves. His entire chest ached and his arms were sore from swimming. Kismet licked his parched lips and smoothed back his drenched hair off his face. His stomach rumbled and constricted in a spasm of starvation. Kismet dropped to his knees and grimaced at the overwhelming pain. His limbs trembled and though his spirit demanded victory, his body thought otherwise. His arms gave out and his face hit the shallow water. And like a flame cloaked by darkness, he fell into a shifting pool of black
The smell of ashes and leather roused Kismet from his sleep. Through his hazy vision, he saw a rippling wave of orange flames. It was memorizing. Images of him of sitting in front of the fireplace with Jovie brought back a comforting feeling. Perhaps he was home and everything that had happened was a dream. Believing that he secure, Kismet slipped a hand under his cheek, moistened his lips, and closed his eyes. Without warning, a swift kick met Kismet’s ribs. Without thinking, Kismet flipped over onto his back and grabbed one of the being’s limbs. Feeling it to be a leg, Kismet struck a blow above the knee, sending the stranger crumbling to the ground.
The attacker’s face fell beside the flickering fire, revealing a face Kismet hated.
“You!” Kismet snarled, pushing himself off the ground.
“You’re talking again,” the stranger answered in a gruff tone. He stood up as well and brushed the dirt off his sleeves. He went over to Kismet and gave him an authoritative toss of the head. “Do I need to explain who’s in charge here?”
Kismet smirked. He had spent the past years reading lips; he knew what the other young man was saying. “Yes, please do, Tom.”
Tom crinkled his nose and squatted by the fire, his back to Kismet.
“Why did you pull me out?” Kismet inquired, kneeling beside Tom.
“Hard to see faces in the dark, I thought you were one of my buddies. When I found out it was you, I had half the mind to throw you back in,” Tom scoffed. He turned his face away from Kismet and whispered under his breath, “I may still do that.”
“I’ll do alright without ya,” Kismet stated, standing up quickly. He didn’t need to hear what Tom was planning to do, the hunched shoulders, crooked smile, and half-mast eyes told him that Tom was never ever to be trusted. Kismet turned around and headed towards the shadows. He didn’t know where he was, but he assumed it was the gully on the other side of town. If he had been washed ashore, then it was possible that he had escaped the flood’s vicinity. Kismet’s arm fell by his side, and expecting to feel the hatchet’s leather pouch and wooden handle, he instead felt unbuckled straps. Kismet pivoted on his heels and stared at Tom, who had the hatchet bound to his belt.
Without saying a word, Kismet rushed up to Tom and knocked him to the ground. Tom flailed to the ground, his feet and hands shooting up to the sky.
“Get off before someone gets hurt!” Tom warned while he unsuccessfully shielded his face from Kismet’s efficient blows.
Kismet pinned Tom’s throat with one hand while his other hand untangled the axe from the belt. With a smug look of conquest on his face, Kismet freed the hatchet. He leaned in to Tom and brandished the blade in front of his face. “This will cut in your chest if you follow me.”
“You don’t have your wolf to save you now, Kismet!” Tom declared. In one motion, one of his free hands swung up and the end of glowing stick made contact with Kismet’s side.
Kismet felt the jolt, but it took him a moment to feel his skin crackling and sizzling from the heated stick. Kismet tumbled off of Tom and smothered the smoke rising from his side. It was Tom’s turn to attack.
The two boys locked eyes on each other and each grabbed a wrist. In a wild frenzy of hitting, kicking, pulling, and biting, the brawl ended with Kismet pinning Tom against a tree.
Tom, glistening with sweat, stared at Kismet. He couldn’t say anything, for he was exhausted from the fighting, and talking only drained him of energy.
“You done?” Kismet questioned, squeezing Tom’s throat.
“I’m done!” Tom hollered.
Kismet released Tom and continued on his desired path. He didn’t look back for he had no reason to. But if he could hear, he would have returned in a heartbeat, for the next spiteful words to come out of Tom’s mouth would have changed Kismet’s journey entirely.
“You’re going the wrong way!” Tom stopped to catch his breath. “I saw your wolf and brother go in the opposite direction!”
YOU ARE READING
The Wolf's Boy
AdventureKismet and Prestige are just as unusual as their names. Though one is a boy and the other a wolf, they both desire the same thing: love. Through the years, their friendship grows and they become inseparable. But when their town is hit by a natural...
