The Witcher; without kin

The world was white and icy. In every direction I looked, only snow-covered forest stretched out into the distance.

Food was scarce for all creatures in the winter, humans despite their citadels and burning torches, were no exception.

Fortunately there was still prey to be caught for those who knew how to look.

'I've gotten used to this.' I thought to myself.

The chill of the frost was constant, forever snapping at my heels. During the moments I stopped to rest, I would dream of a warm and cozy nest filled with leaves and tender twigs.

The desire to go curl up and sleep stemmed from every fibre of my being. At the same time the humanity within me roared with outrage at the idea of succumbing to bestial instinct.

Falling snow settled on my fur as I swung through the treetops. The branches were cold and slippery but the tenacious strength in my long limbs allowed me to hang from them effortlessly.

Occasionally I would grasp a pinecone or handful of leaves that would enter my stomach a few moments later.

All manner of things could be digested in my stomach, even tree bark and fallen leaves were no exception. The taste was severely lacking but I was glad to be unconcerned with filling my stomach.

Habitating stretches of hot and humid jungle was the usual choice of my kin, not that I had seen any of my own kind, the frost and icy rocks were a poor match for my hands.

I had expected that I would be plagued by loneliness in the silent forests. The abrupt shift from society to solitude had initially frightened me. Days passed as I explored my new surroundings, finding out what my limits were and learning from the instincts hidden in my blood.

Humans passed down knowledge with stories and books, animals were far simpler. All that I needed to know was told to me by bloodline inheritance. It was how birds knew to build their nests high above and sharks knew to ride the ocean currents.

It was a pity that the hunting instincts of my species were rather weak, fruits and berries rarely put up much of a fight. With memories of a life as human, I had immediately thought of creating a weapon to aid my hunting; disappointingly due to my strength, ordinary branches would crack within just a few strikes. Thicker branches would of course be better suited to my strength, but they were too cumbersome to be useful.

After some trial and error I had settled on a violent but delightfully effective tactic.

Millennia of swinging through treetops and hanging by a single arm had lead to powerful muscles and great endurance. Without the use of gunpowder or heavy weaponry I would be nigh on invincible in a fight against humans.

Killing didn't bring me any joy, if there weren't benefits to me I would have preferred to stick to nuts and berries. Blood was warm and viscous, it tasted of iron and salt and the smell and colour lingered on my fur.

'I like my fur clean.' I mused to myself, suppressing the howl of laughter inside of me.

Syllables and enunciations went against the natural development of my vocal chords; I could imitate human words but they were harsh and ugly. I preferred howls and shrieks.

Life was strangely relaxed in the forest. The coming of frost had driven countless creatures into their burrows and dens. The mighty king of the forest, a huge black bear, slumbered peacefully in the depths of the forest and the wolf packs sparingly left their territories.

Within the snowy treetops not even the king of the forest could pose a threat to me.

Swinging through the treetops and foraging for food brought me immense contentment, I had little desire to compete with the giant black bear for his title.

Arrogance was a typical quality of many beasts and it existed within me too. Fortunately my human side restrained this dangerous emotion.

While the king of the forest could not catch me if I chose to retreat into the treetops, his sharp claws and fangs were more than capable of putting an end to my existence. Taking unnecessary risks just to satisfy a bestial instinct would make a mockery of my human soul.

However nature was cruel and uncaring, despite my peaceful charecter, trouble stil came searching.

'Wolves.'

The thought made me subconsciously bare my teeth and a low growl thrummed in my chest.

Several moons ago I had accidentally crossed into to the territory of a large wolf pack. In the darkness a pair of bloodthirsty red eyes had gazed at me hungrily.

Lit by the moonlight a huge brown wolf stepped out from the bushes. Present on its angular head was a series of unique scars. Those scars could only come from the claws of an even more ferocious predator.

The demeanour of a ruler radiated from the huge wolf's body and it's murderous stare contained only confidence. It was the alpha of its pack and in the prime of its life, no challenger could take it's throne.

Never in its life had the wolf come across a creature that looked like me. A squirrel was perhaps the closest thing.

The thought of being compared to a lowly squirrel made me snort with outrage.

Wolves were pack animals, they relied on phenomenal endurance and cooperation to take down creatures far bigger than themselves. Although it's self-assurance was at its peak, the alpha wolf nonetheless chose to summon it's kin to assist in the kill.

Being stared at by tens of pairs of hungry eyes had filled me with a burning rage. I had none of my kind to command but the instincts of a chieftain were imprinted in my bones.

Nothing about my newfound existence in this world made any sense. There were only questions and no answers. My parenthood was one such question.

Biologically I was the peak of my species. My fur was thick and glossy and my muscles rippled with unimaginable strength.

Chimpanzees were said to have 3-5 times the strength of a grown man. Determining an exact figure was difficult but I knew my strength touched upon the limits of my kind.

Upon suddenly obtaining such formidable strength I had naturally started to worry about keeping it. Going against the laws of nature, as seemed to be my talent, I had discovered that my strength did not deteriorate with the passing of time.

Going too long without food would lead to weakness, this limitation I could not escape, but so long as I filled my stomach each day my body would remain in its strongest state.

'I know you have something to do with this.'

Since awakening in this world I had been accompanied by a mysterious force.

In the centre of my consciousness a red flame burned brightly. For the majority of time it was an emotionless bystander. I had attempted to trigger a reaction from it by stimulating myself with dangerous situations. Through this I had become familiar with the king of the forest.

But regardless of how frightening the bear's roar was, or how it nearly tore through the trunk of a towering pine, there were no changes to the red flame.

Only one thing could interest the red flame.

'Your furry bodies may be disgusting. But your souls are quite delicious.' Wicked whooping noises echoed in the forest and the steady drum-like beat of my heart began to quicken.

Awooooooo!

The black fur on my body bristled with anticipation. The familiar cry of the alpha wolf was swiftly followed by numerous long howls from his kin.

Peace was comforting and safe. But peace rarely brought about change.

The temptation of strength was irresistible. If killing, provided it did not violate my principles, could ensure my continued life in this new world, I did not mind getting blood on my hands.

Red eyes glinted in the darkness.

Soon blood would stain the snow that same colour.