Chapter Text
petrichor [pet-ree-kor]
noun, no plural
1. the smell of earth after rain
If someone were to ask Ashton, as he lay dying here, freezing and alone and pathetically drunk with a pulsing gash wound tearing open half of his shoulder, how it all had started, there would have been just one thing he could have answered. And even now, as he heaved in a breath and tried to calculate how much blood there was in a human body and how much he had lost already, he could see it when he closed his eyes. It was easy to relive the dream. He had had it for months, the same visions haunting his mind over and over.
He was drowning, in the dream, salt water filling his lungs as he desperately tried to stay afloat. Ashton fought against the waves clashing over his head while cold, cold water turned his clothes into stones that pulled him into the deep. He swam against the tide but there was no god to turn it, no deity to save him. The only thing with him was light. It was a beacon’s light, a deep thrum resonating in his chest with every turn of the light hitting the water.
Ashton pushed his endurance to the limit but it didn't work. He knew he had to get to the shore, but the beacon’s light kept turning and he kept drowning. The effort was excruciating. Soon, fog laid itself over his vision, wrapped around his bones. He couldn’t see. In total darkness, his feet touched the sea’s ground and he woke up, bathed in sweat, his mind oscillating back into reality.
*
Ashton stood by his locker. He was busy shoving the last of his books into the crammed space when slender, perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around the metal door and slammed it shut, sending him tumbling back a step. Ashton didn’t have to turn around to see who had just nearly chopped off the fingertips of his left hand. Partially because he recognised the perfectly manicured hands as belonging to his best (and only) friend, partially because there weren’t many other girls at his school sporting waist-length blue hair, like the one wedging itself into his field of sight.
“Ashley!” He groaned, clutching his chest. “You nearly scared the shit out of me.”
“Ohoh,” the girl blinked at him, clacking her tongue, “do your little siblings know you use such words?”
“Well, I’m not swearing around them,” Ashton tried. He pushed his glasses higher up his nose. His best friend just grinned, carding a hand through her hair whilst leaning back against Ashton’s locker. Somewhere down the hall, someone catcalled.
Ashton wanted to sigh. Sure, he preferred the catcalling over the muttered insults or plain disregard he was usually faced with, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed on Ashley’s behalf.
His best friend seemed unbothered, flipping the offender off with a smack of her bubblegum. Ashley had the thickest skin out of every person Ashton knew, but he supposed that that was what happened when you grew up as a gorgeous girl in a small town filled with numb-skulled jocks and jealousy-ridden plastics.
“So I was thinking,” Ashley said, effectively pulling Ashton out of his thoughts, “the football team is throwing a party tonight…”
Ashton felt the corners of his mouth tilt downwards. He knew where this was going. Something in his gut clenched with dread.
“...and we should go.”
Ashton heaved in a breath. He was cut off by a hand wrapping over his mouth before he could protest.
“Please,” Ashley fluttered her lashes at him, pouting. "It will be cool, I promise. There will be tons of people, not just assholes, I swear. Even the Science club is invited. It will be good, please.”
Ashton rolled his eyes, huffing air out of his nose.
“Right, sorry,” sheepishly, Ashley retracted her hand. "Now what do you say?”
“It’s a school party,” Ashton frowned. "We hate school people. Why do you wanna go?” It was then, that he noticed something his best friend had said.
“Ohhh,” Ashton let a small smirk play on his lips, “this doesn’t have to do anything with a certain Norwegian exchange student, does it?”
Ashley’s eyes grew wide, treacherous blush spreading over her cheeks, “N-no.”
“Mhm,” Ashton giggled, poking her in the shoulder. “‘course not. Though you must be aware of the fact that he’s coming, since you specifically said that the Science Club is invited.”
“Shut up, Irwin,” Ashley mumbled, rightening the lapels of her school blazer.
“Want me to ask Losnegård?”
Ashley paled, “No!”
“Alright, alright,” Ashton cackled. “Mum’s home tonight, so I don’t have to watch the little ones. We can go to the party, but if it sucks I will leave, with or without you.”
“If you hate it, we can go home and watch Star Wars until we both fall asleep,” Ashley promised, grabbing Ashton’s arm and dragging him into the stream of students scuffling past them, all headed for the carpark, eager to leave school as soon as possible.
“Even the prequels first?” Ashton asked as they stepped into the warm autumn sun.
“Even the prequels first.”
*
The party took place on a clearing in the woods, behind the old munition factory that marked the entrance to town. The football team had gone all out. A metre-high bonfire was set up in the middle of the clearing, logs and camping chairs splattered all over the place. Music was spilling from the trunk of one of the tuning freaks’ cars. At the edge of the clearing, a table full of bottles and kegs was supervised by a couple of seniors. Ashton hated it.
After a good half an hour of gathering as much liquid courage as possible, and refilling Ashton’s cup every time she went to get herself a new one, Ashley had finally wandered off to approach Peder Losnegård. “Lido” for friends was resident treasurer of the Science Club, Norwegian exchange student and obviously overwhelmed by, yet aware of the blessing that was coming down on him right now. Ashton watched him and Ashley flirt awkwardly. It was rare, that he saw his best friend all shy and girly. He thought that he should be takingü a video.
As soon as Ashton had reached the bottom of his cup, he pulled himself to his feet. A bad idea, he realised, as his vision became blurry at the edges. Silently, he cursed himself. He shouldn’t have drank so much. Now, he was in no shape to drive himself home. Ashley was busy, also too drunk herself to take him, and Ashton would rather shoot himself in the foot than ask any of the DDs of the night.
Ignoring the slight churning of his stomach, he made his way past the people and lights. Ashton left the clearing and wandered into the woods. It wasn’t that far to his neighbourhood, only a few miles. Opening the flashlight app on his phone, he began making his way through the undergrowth. Ashton left the couples that had snuck off to hook up behind him quickly and soon, it was only him and the rhythmic crunching of branches beneath his feet.
The night was beautiful, he could recognise as much in his half-drunken state. Damp air filled his lungs with every breath, moonlight falling through the canopy of leaves above. It was a full moon tonight, the orb glowing in rare orange. Ashton thought of his home, of his younger siblings in their beds and his mum, probably fast asleep on the sofa by now. Lauren would be awake. She could never sleep when it was a full moon’s night. Or when her older brother was gone. A quick glance at his phone told Ashton that it was almost midnight. If he kept up his pace, he could be home around one in the morning.
He was just about to shove his phone back into his pocket when he heard the howling. It started out low, and far away, becoming louder by the second. The blood froze in Ashton’s veins. Whatever creature was uttering the sound was headed in his direction, coming closer. Panic made his muscles contract even before he could tell them to. Ashton ran.
The alcohol was still heavy in his system, making his movements sluggish. He didn’t stop, even when he came to a steep descent. Ashton tumbled down the undergrowth, branches and fallen leaves splashing into the air as he waded through the creek. The ascend was more complicated. His hands slipped on wet stones and moss, but eventually, he had managed. Not allowing his aching muscles to stop (he shouldn’t have skipped as many PE lessons as he did, Ashton thought) he pulled himself to his feet and ran on. It was just when he thought his lungs would collapse that a clearing appeared to his right. In the middle of the small meadow, a set of boulders protruded high into the night sky.
Ashton assessed his chances quickly. There were smaller stones surrounding the bigger rocks, making an ascend possible. If he gathered the last of his energy, he should be able to climb to on top of the biggest boulder, climb to where safety lay. Somewhere behind him he could hear branches crack and then another howl, deeper than the first one, and much closer. Less than a couple hundred metres away.
Deciding in a split second, Ashton broke out of the woods and made a mad dash for the rocks. Not fast enough, he realised when he was hit from behind. Ashton uttered a scream as he was sent crashing to the ground. Something massive landed on his back, hot pain searing through his shoulder as the skin was being torn open in gashes. That pain was nothing in comparison to the one exploding in his head, however. Faintly, Ashton tasted earth on his tongue, felt warmth run down his cheek as he lifted his head off the rock his head had collided with. The smell of damp ground and something atrocious clogged up his lungs.
Ashton wasn’t stupid. If one was to take a look at his latest report card, they would find that actually, Ashton was pretty smart. Sure, his PE and History grades were shit, but it was hard to get a good mark when you never went to class. Ashton excelled in the subjects that interested him, however. He had learnt all about timber wolves in his AP Biology class. The knowledge what kind of wild animal was going to end his pathetic teenage life was not really any consolation, though.
There were three of them, their golden eyes gleaming like amber in the moonlight. And they were huge. The wolf closest to Ashton was also the smallest, about as tall as Ashton’s navel. His fur was a beautiful saturated blond, interspersed with streaks of gold. The second wolf must have been the height of Ashton’s chest. His fur was a shaggier blond, like sand, shimmering more silver in the moonlight. His built was burlier than the first wolf’s, but he still seemed small compared to the third wolf. This one was about as tall as Ashton’s shoulders, his chocolate brown fur contrasting heavily with the strands of the light wolves. His snout was tinged a darker shade. It took a couple of seconds for Ashton to realise that that was blood, his blood, dripping from the dark wolf’s mouth.
The wolves were fighting, Ashton figured after a few seconds of the two light wolves snarling and barking at the third. Ashton could feel a gust of wind when the golden wolf’s tail whipped half an inch past his face. He surged forward and landed a mere metre away from his opponent. The brown animal took a stance, chunks of grass and earth flying into the air as he dug his paws into the ground. The golden wolf growled in a way that made Ashton’s bones thrum. It was enough to cause the brown wolf to leap forward. Before he could reach the first wolf, he was cut off by the second wolf who, teeth first, rammed into dark wolf’s side. In a bundle of fur and snapping jaws they tumbled over. Ashton’s vision became blurry as he watched the golden wolf join them. An ear-splitting howl accompanied him into darkness.
*
When Ashton came to, there were voices. Human voices, loud and angry, shouting above him. It made Ashton want to drift off again.
“... fucking crazy!” a male voice roared, cracking halfway through. Not an adult, Ashton thought. The speaker couldn't be older than him.
“Stop yelling at me!” a second voice shouted back. It was higher than the one of the first person, but still male. This one was even younger, maybe.
“Oh, trust me I won’t,” the first speaker snarled, “You could have fucking killed us, Luke!”
“Aleko would have killed him!”
“So what? Look at him, he's half-dead anyways."
Ashton wanted to move, open his eyes to show them that he was in fact not dead, but his limbs were heavy, his thoughts wrapped in cotton.
"Don't say that," the second voice, Luke apparently, pleaded. Next, there was a hand on Ashton's chest, right where his heart beat. The touch was soothing, like a cold shower in summer, or his mum's chocolate cookies on Christmas eve.
It gave Ashton the strength to pry his eyes open. He was met with bright blue eyes and a shaky smile. A low pant escaped Ashton's mouth. Luke couldn’t be older than fifteen, a child in Ashton’s seventeen year-old senior eyes. Ashton wanted to warn him about the wolves, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. He could do nothing but stare as a second face wedged itself into his line of sight.
"Can you talk?" the boy revealed himself to be the first speaker, green eyes gleaming with something close to annoyance.
Reflexively, Ashton cast his eyes down at the harsh tone. Both of the boys were naked, save for pair of matching basketball shorts. Midnight was a weird time to go for a run, Ashton thought, but then he had probably done weirder things in his two weeks of trying to become fit during freshmen year. A low growl made Ashton’s drag his eyes back up. His shoulder was pounding, sharp jolts of pain rippling through his entire right half in steady intervals. Nonetheless he managed to lift his hand, and hit Luke on the knee. Go, he wanted to tell them, go before it gets you too.
Luke did pull himself to his feet, his gaze swaying to the area behind Ashton. The green-eyed boy did the same, running a hand through his purple-pink hair, a curse slipping from his lips. They didn’t move to leave. Ashton knew he had hit his head hard, the persistent pounding in the back of his skull was proving as much. He must have hit his head harder than he originally thought, however, because that was the only explanation for what he saw when he tilted his head back to follow the other boys’ gazes.
On the edge of a clearing, another wolf had appeared. After his encounter with the other three wolves earlier, Ashton had thought that he had been desensitized to the intimidating sight of the beasts. He was wrong. It was still breath-taking, seeing the wolf from this close of a proximity. Inhaling sharply, Ashton watched the wolf’s movements, his smooth, supple steps, the thick, jet black fur shimmering like the night sky. He was unmistakeably headed towards them.
Ashton was almost sad when he realised it wasn’t real. If he had to die, dying at the feet of this majestic creature would have been a good way to go. But it was a hallucination, obviously an alcohol-induced vision. It had to be. Because in the next moment, the wolf had reached them. His paws, bigger than Ashton’s head, teared into the ground as he came to a halt. Then his features were shifting and the wolf’s silhouette changed into something else, something smaller, something human. Ashton tasted iron on his tongue. His vision became blurry, overcast with red mist. Gleaming gold was the last thing he saw before he slipped away.
*
Ashton didn’t know how much time had passed when he woke up the next time. It couldn’t have been more than minutes. He was still lying on the ground, still in the same spot. The stench of iron and forest was heavy in the air. It would have made him retch, if he would have had the energy.
He wasn’t alone.
"I want him.” The voice was new. For a moment, Ashton got lost in the sound of it. It was so calm and quiet. He needed a hospital.
“No way.” That voice was familiar. Ashton would have recognised the harsh tone everywhere. And the purple hair had been memorable. It was nice to know that mean boy and Luke hadn’t been part of his hallucination. Hopefully, they had called an ambulance.
“We need to leave,” mean boy continued, “They are going to be here any minute. We should just leave him here, cut it and run. He’s dead anyways.”
Ashton’s stomach sank. No, they couldn’t leave him. He wasn’t dead. Before he could force his eyes open, there was a hand, wrapping around his cheek. Its fingertips were calloused, pressing against his jaw bone. Ashton let the muscle twitch, earning a light tap in return.
“He’s not dead,” the calm voice said. Ashton wanted to cry in gratitude.
“He’ll be in a few minutes,” Ashton decided that he hated purple hair, “Just as we will be if we stay here any longer.”
“We can save him.” That was Luke. “Please.”
The stretch of silence was excruciating.
It was the calm voice who ended it, "I want him."
“Look at him!” the purple-haired boy roared, his annoyance replaced by something much worse.
“I am looking at him,” the calm voice interjected, “It is my decision and I say yes.”
“He’s lying in their territory."
“Half,” the calm voice interrupted, “he’s lying half in their territory.”
“You know they won’t give a shit about that.”
A few seconds of silence passed, "I will not let him die here."
“But-”
“Michael”, the calm voice snapped. There was a sense of finality to its tone. Purple hair, apparently called Michael, let out a frustrated noise.
"Guys,” that was Luke, again.
“I know.”
Ashton was about to wonder what the calm voice knew, when all his thoughts were violently pushed to a hard stop as soft lips bumped against the shell of his ear, the sensation nearly overtoning the hushed “I am sorry” that followed.
Ashton wanted to ask what the calm voice was sorry for, but he never got to ask. A second later, he was torn apart. A singeing kind of pain exploded in his shoulder and spread throughout his body within two pumps of his heart. Ripping eyes and mouth open, Ashton’s whole body arched. He saw nothing but stars. Then he was gone.