Violet Light

     He sat, cold and miserable, watching the small town, eyeing the cozy houses longingly and watching with a glimmer of hope as a light flicked on in one of the round wooden houses.

     The figure that emerged came to the edge of the forest, searching through the undergrowth for the source of the despairing yelps, a torch clenched in his hand. Behind the human, a shimmering golden Tonu nudged bushes and pranced around the outskirts of the village, which was indeed, tiny. The tiny pup pricked his ears hopefully as the pair approached, and he rose to his paws, his tuft of a grey tail swishing back and forth.

     The Tonu was the one to find the pup, shuffling through the undergrowth, nudging at the little thing with his menacingly giant horn.

     As soon as the pup was spotted, the Tonu alerted the human, who came over, torch lit, to investigate.

     "Werelupe..." he murmured, and called out to the village.

     "Werelupe!"

     Suddenly, lights flicked on in all of the round houses, and more torches appeared.

     The pup yelped in terror and disappeared back into the bushes, whimpering the whole way, aware of a few humans - and pets - chasing him through the Haunted Woods.

     He lodged himself in a hollow tree, whimpering quietly, and curled up to wait for the morning.

     When morning finally came, the pup had fallen asleep in the tree, and the humans had given up the hunt.

     He was hungry and thirsty, but he could hear no water nearby, and he had no idea how to hunt.

     His parents had abandoned him near the village that had tried to hunt him down the previous night, and he had absolutely no idea why.

     Was he bad? It seemed to be the only answer, that he was a bad puppy and needed to be punished. He nodded and stared up at the dark sky, pricking his ears.

     He could hear small Petpets scurrying in the underbrush, and attempted to pounce on one, but missed.

     He thought longingly about the meat that his mother had brought him a few times, and sighed.

     He wasn't sure if he would ever go home; he wasn't sure about anything these days.

     Except his name.

     Balthazar the Werelupe, Balthazar the puppy.

     He had no idea what a Werelupe was, or why those village people seemed to hate him for it.

     He whined softly and looked around, stomach growling quietly.

     There was nothing to eat, nothing that he could catch...

     Pulling himself to his swollen paws, the exhausted puppy continued on his way, through the leering and gnarled trees of the forest, and although he had spent his whole life deep inside the dark woods, he was lonely, and frightened of the shadows cast by the malformed rocks and trees.

     There was nothing but darkness, darkness and emptiness, and Balthazar kept bumping into trees, his eyes being barely developed enough to see in weak light.

     This blackness was impossible, completely impossible...

     Until...

     Light! It was faint, and it was not the golden streaks through the trees that the pup remembered from his time with the small pack of Werelupes; it was rather a purple glow, but it was lighter than the dark that surrounded him, so the terrified Balthazar headed toward it.

     When he broke through the trees into the lighted clearing, he gasped at what he saw.

     What seemed to be dozens of tiny humans, all with little wings on their backs, and all hovering and talking to each other in voices so high-pitched that Balthazar couldn't understand them; he crept closer, transfixed by the beauty of the tiny, glowing human-like things.

     They were so beautiful to him, in fact, that he believed that they couldn't do him any harm; he thought perhaps that they would feed him, give him something to drink even. A warm place to sleep, maybe even he could live with them... Then he could be safe forever in the purple light that came from them. He would protect them, for he saw that they were too small to carry human weapons, and when he got bigger he would have the same fearsome teeth and claws as his father and mother had possessed. It would work well, him with these strange beings...

     Or so he thought.

     He stepped boldly into the clearing, under the group of faeries.

     They immediately became wary of his presence. The conversation ceased, and they narrowed their eyes down at Balthazar in hostility.

     The dark faeries soon sensed that this puppy was harmless, judging by his emaciated frame and the look of hope in his eyes.

     They were not interested in a companion, and found it hysterical that Balthazar had even considered joining them.

     He was an outsider even among Werelupes, the strange grey pelt, versus the normal brown color.

     They slowly shed their wary stance and began to laugh, looking down at this odd and hopeful puppy.

     They swooped down at him, pinning him up against a tree; he was now a whining wreck, and didn't understand why they rejected him, or why they didn't like him just because he was different.

     A group continued to pin him against the tree, and another group started to throw stones and sticks at him, putting little cuts all over his thin, ragged body.

     "Stop!" he wailed, cowering in fear against the rough bark of the tree, and the faeries just laughed.

     He finally managed to strike one on them with an enormous paw, and knock it to the ground, temporarily stunned.

     It formed a break in the mass of swooping creatures, and he bolted back into the forest, crying pathetically for the feeling of loss and despair.

     After a straight hour of frantically tearing through the forest, the lost Balthazar stopped running, and stood, shaking and whimpering.

     His paws trembled, and he curled up, exhausted, tears running from the corners of his eyes. He had never felt so awful; so unwanted. His parents didn't want him, and even the purple people thought that he wasn't good enough...

     A sudden thought gripped the young Werelupe.

     What if he proved that he could still be powerful? Maybe... just maybe... His family would let him come back!

     He wagged his tail at the thought of going home, curling up next to his brothers and sisters, and sleeping comfortably on a full stomach.

     The idea gave him confidence, and he got up, wandering to the edge of the clearing that he had collapsed in the middle of. There was a small cave there; it reminded him of home, so he curled up in the middle of it and, finally, was claimed by sleep.

     The next morning when Balthazar woke up, it was just as dark as usual; just as gloomy as usual.

     But something was different.

     As if some looming presence had suddenly appeared; some great predator.

     The puppy was afraid of it, and walked with caution, until he realized, after finally finding something to eat, that the presence was himself.

     Something had changed within him; he wasn't sure what, but it was amazing, and an omnipotent feeling gripped him as he stared out into the forest.

     Why am I letting the purple people do that to me? he wondered. I'm strong; I know I'm strong... I can show them, and maybe my family will love me again if I can show them that I can be strong, too, just like them.

     It seemed reasonable, and there were only two flaws in his plan.

     First off, what would he catch the faeries in? Second, what would he do with them?

     It was a difficult problem, and he sat down to ponder it.

     I'll need food... The shopkeepers around on the edges of the woods take money and give you food... The glowing people look magic-y and shiny and as far as I know, people like to buy magic-y and shiny things... I could catch them, and I could sell them to people that like shiny stuff! And magic-y stuff!

     A simple enough plan; one issue solved.

     Now for the other issue... Well, those little glass things that they kept the weird colored sand in, of course.

     He would go out into the Deserted Fairgrounds not too far away and beg the masses of people there to give him bottles of sand.

     They usually would do it for free, because they thought that bottles of sand were useless junk.

     It wasn't very smart.

     He sighed, shook his head, and headed toward the Deserted Fairground, a new type of pride in his step.

     He was all alone, and look what he had figured out!

     He was so proud of himself, it was ridiculous. In fact, it took a while to get himself down to the appropriate stance for begging.

     He found that about forty owners in succession were glad to be rid of the bottles of sand, and the pup buried each one together at the border of the woods.

     Ironic, he thought, that the Deserted Fairground is so crowded all the time...

     He didn't question it, and just dug up his sand.

     Forty was enough for now; the first hunt.

     He would get more later.

     After transporting the bottles further into the woods, near an enormous hollow tree that he decided would be his home for the time being, Balthazar painstakingly pulled the corks out of each, lining them up so that they were ready for use.

     He would try capturing just one first, to see how to go about it.

     Picking up the bottle in his mouth, he prowled through the undergrowth, yellow eyes darting back and forth wildly.

     After a few minutes, he spotted the cluster of faeries.

     He placed the bottle on the ground and crouched low in the underbrush. While his paws itched to lunge at the creatures that had caused him so much pain, he restrained himself.

     He needed to observe, that was the key... observation.

     The puppy couldn't keep back a low growl as he watched the faeries chattering busily to each other and flying around the clearing, but the "glowing people" were too busy to notice.

     And that was when he saw the stray.

     She was separated from the group, hovering near a bush on the edge of the clearing.

     The tiny grey puppy crept closer, putting his weight onto his haunches and proceeding in an almost cat-like fashion. At the perfect moment, he swiped at the thing with an enormous paw and knocked it to the ground, stunned.

     He picked it up very carefully in his paw, and slid it into the bottle.

     The faerie was unconscious for now, but when she woke up...

     Hah!

     She would be panicked!

     Balthazar grinned at that thought, and at the fact that it was so incredibly easy to capture these faeries.

     He carried the faerie away, back toward his tree.

     He glanced over at the bottles, a cold gleam in his now vicious yellow eyes.

     He would fill them all and more... He would be accepted, he would never be outcast again. Never. He would capture the vile creatures, all of them, until his family accepted and loved him again.

     It was the vow that changed his life.

     Throughout the years, the pup grew. Monstrous fangs and claws grew from his body, and he became the most efficient faerie catching creature of all time.

     And still he captures them.

     Still, he sits in his hollow tree, with his captured faeries, and he waits...

     He waits to go home.

The End

This is my first Neopian Times story. You can expect more from me about Gallery of Evil characters. ^^