WHEN EVIL STRIKES

 

                The stars twinkled down on the walls and towers of a white castle from their vantage point in the black velvet sky.  They danced about the silver-gold moon, a perfect orb that sent down softly glowing shafts of light to kiss the stones of the fortress and caress the trees that surrounded it.  The wind caused the trees to sway gently and sent the lonely, mournful strains of a harmonica up into the sky to greet the moon.

                On a tower’s circular roof sat a lone figure in a light blue cloak.  The hood was back to reveal a man in his twenties, wild blond hair drifting into his deep blue eyes that held an inexplicable loneliness and a deep sadness- eyes aged with the loss of friends and the memories of war.  The harmonica at his mouth sent out the voice of his soul into the night, its melody carrying the sadness and loneliness in the man’s eyes.

                You have your friends back, Yamato, he told himself, putting down the harmonica and leaning against the cool ramparts.  And they’ve forgiven you…  Takeru’s here, too…  Pale blue eyes swept over the trees below Castle Destiny, the home of the DigiDestined.  Then why do I feel so alone?

                Matt’s gaze wandered up toward the moon as his thoughts meandered over the events of the past two years.  The other digidestined, whom Matt had avoided for ten years, had come to Castle Destiny.  Yamato had captured them… but Garurumon, his conscience, and his memories had given him trouble.  With the attack of evil digimon, the adult’s digimon had freed the digidestined.  They’d found seven cloaks similar to Matt’s, which enabled them to use their digimon’s attacks, and had then fought alongside the man to protect the castle.  Takeru, in a burst of fury, had leveled the evil army.  He and Tai, who had been wounded trying to protect Sora, had lain comatose for a week… and when T.K. had come to, he forgave Matt.

                But I don’t know if I’ve forgiven myself.

                Tai and Sora had gotten married a year later- no big surprise to anyone.  Just the month before, Joe and Mimi were wed.  Now, Takeru and Kari, both at age twenty, were showing definite interest in each other.  Izzy… well, Izzy could be said to be married to his computer.

                And I’m the odd one out.  As usual.

                Yamato Ishida held his crest in his gloved hand, gazing at it.  The crest of Friendship.  What a joke.  He had friends, true… but the friendliness was not from him.  Tai and he did not fight as much any longer, even if the digidestined leader had lost no time in asserting control over Castle Destiny.

                Ishida’s thoughts wandered to the years he’d run the whitewashed fortress.  He’d protected it… settled problems…  He’d worked hard at keeping things running smoothly.  Those years- those ten long years- were lonely ones, though.  His only true friends were Garurumon… and the shadowy virus digimon, Wraithemon.  Yamato’s eyes stung at the memory.  Wraithemon.  He had sacrificed himself to save Matt from the lightening of an airdramon.

                He killed himself for me.  He shouldn’t have.  The man’s gloved fist clenched.  I’m not worth it.

                A howl- the chilling, thrilling, mournful call of a wolf- drifted over the forest and reached Yamato’s ears.  He looked up, brow furrowed in confusion.  Garurumon was inside, in Matt’s room… so who was this lone wolf in the digiforest?  Another garurumon?  What if it were a pack?

                A pack that Garuru might want to join?

                He hoped- hoped with all his heart- that it wasn’t.  Yamato couldn’t stand losing Garurumon, his closest friend.  If the blue striped wolf left, he’d be truly alone.  As much as he stayed aloof from the others, he would not be able to live without his digipartner…  There would be no reason to do so…

                If Garurumon left, Matt would die.

~*~

                ~Guardians!~

                The deep, rich, telepathic voice voice boomed through the dimensions, falling on the ears and minds of only those attuned to it- one in each world and dimension.  It rolled through the barriers of time and space and realms, with no difficulty whatsoever.  Those who heard it raised their heads, stopped what they were doing, and fuzzed out of where they stood, transporting to the owner of the voice.

                SaberLeomon crouched on the netherworld of flashing colors and sparkling lights, his long tusks nearly touching the ground between his huge, clawed paws.  Golden, fierce eyes regarded the ones who entered the netherworld, worry flickering within the depths of the saber-toothed tiger-lion’s dark pupils.

                One Guardian, a tank-like being, shot off a bullet in the air.  ~What do you want?~ he snarled.  ~Another of those dratted writers wrote another alternative future of Earth, making yet another world!  I need another Guardian to help with the workload!~

                A tall, bipedal, purple-and-white feline shot a disgusted look at the tank.  ~Calm down, Tankol.  Just because you can’t keep your people from writing fantasy…~

                ~You’re new to the Guardian Council, Mewtwo,~ a bronze dragon rumbled.  ~Your world, the Pokéworld, was created by some of Tankol’s people.  We aren’t supposed to CONTROL our charges… just protect them.~  He snorted.  ~Not that the Earth Guardian’s doing much good.~

                ~You’re just upset that an Earthian created Pern,~ the tank grumbled.

                The dragon hissed, fangs bared.  ~Why, you overgrown lump of…~

                ~SILENCE!~ SaberLeomon roared.

                The Pern Guardian turned red-swirled eyes on the Digimon Guardian.  ~And what are YOU doing, ordering us around?  Mewtwo’s more well-known than you…~

                ~It’s not a question of power,~ the tiger-lion hissed.  ~What has happened in my world could destroy us- and all of our worlds.

                ~Oh, no…~ a jet-black gryphon groaned.  ~Who thought it up?

                ~I’ve no idea, Skandranon,~ SaberLeomon said.  ~Might have been one of yours, one of Tankol’s- who knows.  The problem is, it happened.~

                ~What’s “it”?~ a silver paladin queried, looking on with interest.

                ~I’m still not sure,~ the DigiGuardian said hesitantly.  ~Some new type of digimon…~

                ~Then send the DigiDestined after them,~  Tankol yawned.  ~You took them from one of Earth’s shadow-worlds… I’ve been watching them.~

                ~They can’t handle the Myndemon,~ SaberLeomon said grimly.  ~These digimon are like your Yeerks, Prince Elfangor,~ he told a Guardian that looked half-deer, half-human, with a scorpion tail, no mouth, and stalk eyes- as well as the usual kind.  The andalite’s tail twitched at the news.

                ~Not good,~ Elfangor murmured.  For the benefit of unknowing Guardians, he raised his voice.  ~The Yeerks- and appearantly, the Myndemon- can take over the minds and bodies of living creatures.  The host species is still conscious, but has no control over their body.  They look like slugs, and enter the host through the ear, then go to the mind.~

                ~The Myndemon are similar,~ the DigiGuardian agreed.  ~There are differences, though.  The host species cannot digivolve.  The myndemon must exit the host every three days, like the Yeerks, to feed in a Myndepool.~

                ~The creator of your Myndemon must have read Applegate’s “Animorphs” series,~ Elfangor grumbled.  ~You’d think the humans would have more sense…~

                Tankol bristled.  ~What makes you think it was a human?~

                ~Sentients, aliens, intelligent species, what-have-you…~ the andalite corrected himself mildly.  ~Are they able to travel through dimensions?~

                ~If they overrun the DigiWorld- yes.  They could eventually find the Destroyer in Castle Destiny.~

                Each Guardian winced, except one- a ghostly mouse leaning on a red-pommeled broadsword.  Battle scars could be seen on his fur, some concealed by a green tunic.  ~What’s the Destroyer.~

                The Guardians looked at him curiously.  ~You’re older than several of us, Martin,~ a huge, wine-red dragon rumbled.  ~You don’t know?~

                The mouse warrior shook his head.  ~When did we decide, Redwall time?~

                ~Um…  Summer of the White Rose, I’d guess,~ an aged, tall, bearded man wearing greek clothing replied.

                ~Ah, that explains it, Zeus,~ the Redwall Guardian said with a nod.  ~I was busy at the time- some trouble with some rats.~

                ~Oh,~ the red dragon said.  He fizzed into mist, then appeared again as a tall human with a wine red birthmark splashing over one side of his face.  ~Well, the Destroyer can destroy any world if used wrongly, or heal it, if used correctly- but no one dares use it to heal, for they might make a mistake.  In the wrong hands…~  He shrugged.

                Martin winced.  ~I see your point, Dragonlord.  Where did the Council place it?~

                ~In a castle now inhabited by the DigiDestined,~ SaberLeomon replied.

                ~That IS a problem,~ the mouse agreed.  ~What do we do about it?~

                ~I believe I can help,~ a voice called.  A sinuous white tigress wound through the crowd of bodies.

                Zeus frowned a moment, thinking.  ~Now who would you be…  Oh- Swiftclaw.~

                ~That’s Tarina Swiftclaw,~ she corrected.  ~Guardian of Werewyld.  I’m new to the Council,~ she purred.

                SaberLeomon blinked.  ~Werewyld?~

                ~A relatively new world, still undeveloped…  Werewyld isn’t it’s actual name, it’s really called Tiroliae,~ Swiftclaw elaborated, tail twitching as she layed down in the same semi-crouch as SaberLeomon.  ~The two people groups are Werewylders and Truehumans.  The werewylders are called “were” until they go on a journey and find their wyldself- the half of them that is their animal form and wild half- in a wyldkeeper.  Wyldkeepers are the animals that hold the wyldself of their same species until the were recieves it.  You might mistake me for a wyldkeeper, but I’m actually a werewylder in wyld form.~  She yawned, displaying sharp teeth, and began to change.  Her limbs crackled as they bent backwards, she gave a roar of ecstacy as her bones rearranged and changed shape and cartalidge grew and changed.  Soon a wiry, long-legged woman stood before them.  Black stripes looked to have been tatooed on her skin, and tigress ears peeked from her long striped hair.  A white shirt and breeches covered her body, and she placed a casual hand on the gold-pommeled her side.  Gold eyes- the casually fierce eyes of a feline- gazed at the Dragonlord nonchalantly.  ~You’re not the only formshifter around here,~ she told the man who’d been a dragon minutes before.

                ~So how can you help?~ SaberLeomon growled, irritated by the werewylder’s mannerisms.

                ~The werewylders have fought for a long time against the truehumans,~ Swiftclaw explained.  ~They can disguise themseleves and go into the enemy camp, and vice-versa.  They are warriors, spies, assassins, mages, and they know how to detect spies and imposters, even magic-aided ones.  Just work with me a little, and I can place a few weres’ wyldselfs in some of your digimon, and give them digivices to boot.  They’ll aid immensely in the fight.~

                ~Good idea,~ SaberLeomon agreed.

                Zeus spoke up next.  ~I can send a few of mine over, and I bet some of the other myth-Guardians can, too.~  A few gods and goddesses- Norse, Indian, and others- nodded their assent.

                The offers flowed in, and the Council of Guardians got to work.

~*~

                In the digiworld forest, a lone garurumon paced, unsure and confused.  She lifted her head and howled again- howled for the One whose other self she held within her, howled for the humanoid who she felt a strong link to.  She paced uneasily.  The One was close… very close.  The wolf ran a few paces one way, then another, confused and anxious.  The One was close, but in what direction?  Her spirit throbbed like a raw wound, blood screaming to escape into the One… but where was she!?

~*~

                Twenty-four, and still only a were, Kalira thought morosely.  She ran her brush through her white-and-blue striped hair, pulling the long, wild mane back into a ponytail.  It had been that strange color from birth, an indication of the animal form she’d have… eventually.

                She slid the brush into the dark green back that rested on her shouldes, then kicked sand over the small fire before her.  Spreading some leaves over the burned area, Kalira glanced around to check that all signs of her camp were gone.  Finding no fault with her campsite, she adjusted her satchel and broke into a long-legged, easy lope.

                The tall, wiry woman had begun feeling the Wyldcall- the tug on her spirit from the creature that held her wyldself, her animal form- a month before.  In following it, she had stumbled on a strange object made of cold metal.  Kalira frowned, reddish eyes barely glancing at the teal mechanism hooked to her belt near her blue-pommeled rapier.  It had no feel of magic on it, yet when buttons were pressed, it showed images.  When she’d taken ahold of it, she was transported into this world from her own- and the wyldcall became stronger.

                Kalira turned her attention to the trail and the wyldcall, but her thoughts, predictably, wandered.  This world was a strange place.  Thus far, she’d been attacked by a swarm of green blobs with stalk-eyes and two large insects.  The blobs were no difficulty- the were’s sword easily dispatched them- but the insects were another matter.  Fortuantly, they were not as adept at stealth as she.

                It was a strange world she was in, far different from Werewyld, her homeworld.  There was no magic, except some slight magery from the monsters she’d encountered.  It all had the feel of the device on her belt.  Perhaps the best thing about this world- and maybe one of its failings- was that it had no truehumans nor werewylders- none that she could sense, at any rate.  No one to mock her for lack of a wyldself, none to laugh at her for her actions, none to psychologically torment her until she couldn’t take it and finally lashed out.

                They were scared of her- no doubt about that.  Kalira smiled tightly.  Few messed with her- those that did left with a broken bone or a lost finger.  She was hated and scorned, avoided and mocked.  Some called her truehuman- a vile insult indeed- due to the fact that she had no wyldself.  She was nobody without a wyldself- she was nothing.

                Kalira kept running, following her wyldkeeper’s call.  Whatever this strange land threw at her, she could handle it.  Just as long as she got her wyldself, just as long as she could prove the mockers wrong, she would fight anything.

                She had to.

~*~

                “Matt?”

                The man turned at the voice of his digipartner; looked into the red-orange eyes of the great wolf.  “Yeah?”

                Garurumon padded over to him and sat down, following Yamato’s gaze into the trees.  “What’re you all alone out here for?”

                Ishida stood, walked over to the ramparts, and looked out over the forest.  “Just thinking.”

                The garurumon’s howl echoed through the woods, and Matt stiffened, hands clenching the stone until they turned white.  Garurumon’s ears pricked, and his sensitive nose tested the wind.  “I didn’t know there were any garurumon in Destiny Forest…” he murmured.

                The adult cast a fearful glance at his digipartner.  “You aren’t leaving… are you?”

                Garurumon looked at Yamato, surprised.  The confusion on his features soon melted into realization, however, and he shook his head.  “If you’re afraid I’d desert you, Matt, you’re wrong.  Yet…  If there are other garurumon out there, they’d be valuable allies…”

                Matt felt as if his soul were tearing in two.  The blue and white wolf clearly wanted to meet others of his own kind.  But if Garurumon found them… he’d be with them often.  It would be almost the same as losing his digipartner for good…

                What kind of a friend AM I?  I want Garurumon to be happy, right?  He’s given up a life with his own kind to be my digipartner…  The least I can do is help him find his own species!

                Matt turned away, closed his eyes against the pain his words brought him.  “All right.  We’ll go.”

                “When?”

                NEVER, dammit!  I don’t want you to ever leave!  I want to keep my closest friend with me!

                That was what his heart screamed.  What came out of his mouth was fully different, backed by a falsely light tone.  “How about now?  We could leave a note on the table…”

                “Very well.”

~*~

                The thrumming of paws on the forest floor caused Kalira to duck behind a tree, sword instantly drawn.  She drew her dark gray hood over her head to better hide herself, and tucked her blade under her cloak to keep its shining metal from betraying her.  The woman didn’t have long to wait.

                A gigantic blue-and-white striped wolf loped into view with the long, easy strides that Kalira often used.  His fierce, penetrating, red-orange eyes were the same as hers.  The were gasped in astonishment as he ran by, for he was, she knew instantly, of the same species as her wyldself.  Her eyes traveled up the sleek creature to the humanoid on his back- a blonde, blue-eyed male in green clothing and a light blue cloak.  Kalira’s eyes narrowed as she realized the only magic on him was from his cloak and the shimmering design that was the clasp of the cape.

                Truehuman.

                They were the bane of Werewylder existance, sworn enemies of were and wyld.  What they didn’t understand, they feared and hated- and tried to destroy.  Werewylders were one of those feared by the truehumans.  The Unwyld, as truehumans were also called, had no animal form, no wyldself or wyldkeeper.  They were evil and vile and horrible.  Truehumans even used animals- sometimes even wyldkeepers- for slaves!

                The wolf suddenly stopped, sniffing the wind.  That blue-and-white creature was the species of Kalira’s wyldself, even if he wasn’t her wyldkeeper.  And he’s under a truehuman’s control! she thought savagely.

                I must free him!

                With a sharp, terse cry, she leapt out of the trees, sword flashing as it bit toward the vile truehuman.  He twisted on the wolf’s back, eyes widening as shock as the sharp metal whistled through the air.  The wolf growled and leapt aside, causing Kalira’s sword to miss by inches.

                The man’s hands came together as he shouted the words “Howling Blaster!”  Blue energy flew from him toward the were, and she fell to the ground to escape it.  The attack missed her- barely- and she was up again, blade singing.

                “STOP THIS!” the wolf roared.

                Kalira halted in shock, fingers suddenly nerveless.  The truehuman paid no heed to his mount, beginning to raise his hands for another spell.

                “I said STOP!” the wolf howled again, jerking so that the attack flew upwards harmlessly.

                “She tried to kill us!” the truehuman protested.

                “You,” Kalira corrected coldly.  “I tried to kill you, truehuman.  Not your slave.”

                His blue eyes held confusion at her words.  “Garurumon… my slave!?  He’s my digipartner, you idiot!  And my friend!”

                Her sword hissed as she darted forward, but the wolf dodged again.  “I am not an idiot!” she growled.  “For insulting me, you’re the idiot!”

                “BOTH OF YOU!” the tiger-wolf roared.  They looked at him.  “Stop… fighting?  Good.  Now, let’s get this straight.  I’m Garurumon; this is my digipartner, Yamato Ishida, called Matt.  You are…?”

                “Kalira.”

~*~

                The lowed cawing of a raven pulled Taichi “Tai” Kamiya out of the realm of dreams and into the fog of half-consciousness.  The ravenmon cawed again, and he reluctantly opened his brown eyes, wishing Castle Destiny had a sleep button.  Beside him in the large bed stirred Sora Takenouchi, coming awake as well.

                “Another day,” she muttered.  “Another early morning of waking up at the ravenmon’s caw…”

                “Part of being royalty,” Tai grunted, pulling on a pair of loose black velvet pants.  He shrugged into an equally dark long-sleeved shirt, then walked over to the door, where an orange cloak hung on its hook.  The man swung it over his shoulders and fastened the clasp, the Crest of Courage, at his throat.  He flipped an orange digivice into the air, caught it, and hooked it to his belt-loop.

                “Better get dressed, Sora,” Tai called over his shoulder, looking into the mirror as he ran a brush through his thick, bushy hair and applied hair gel.  He pushed his ever-present goggles up on the dark brown mane to keep it in place, then grinned at his reflection and walked out the door.

                Sora groaned, rolling out of bed.  “Since when has HE been the morning person?” she muttered, rummaging through her dresser drawers.

 

                Breakfast was a leisurely affair, as the seven digidestined piled food into their mouths.  Takeru paused, his spoonful of food halfway to his mouth, and glanced around.

                “Where’s Matt?” he queried.

                “Probably still sleeping,” Tai snorted, popping a slice of cantalope into his mouth.

                Mimi looked up, vaguely troubled.  “Ravenmon, could you peek into Yamato’s room?” she asked.

                The raven digimon nodded and took off, winging his way toward the reclusive adult’s quarters.  A few minutes later he returned, a white slip of paper in his black beak.  He dropped it on the table while the digidestined looked on.

                “It says: ‘Garuru and I have gone to find the source of the garurumon howls in Destiny Forest.  We’ll be back in, at the latest, a month.  See you guys then.  –Yamato Ishida’.”

                “He would go off alone,” Tai grumbled.

                “He is safe,” a voice thundered.  Every eye turned toward the hall door to see SaberLeomon, watching them with mixed emotions in his usually stony face.

                “SaberLeomon!” Joe shouted.  “We haven’t seen you in a long time!”

                He nodded gravely.  “As usual, however, I am afraid I am not here for celebration and joy,” the tiger-lion rumbled.

                The group sobered immediately.  “Why are you at this present location, then?” Izzy queried.

                “I am the Guardian of the Digiworld,” SaberLeomon replied.  “I have come to warn you of a new menace- the Myndemon.”

~*~

                By the time SaberLeomon left, the seven digidestined were shocked and, truth to tell, a bit frightened.

                “He plans to raise an army of DigiDestined,” Joe said finally in near disbelief.

                “None- except us- from our world,” Kari added.

                “And the Myndemon…!  How will we be able to know who’s evil and who’s good!  There won’t be a black gear in the backs of digimon to clue us in!” Sora exclaimed.

                Mimi shook her head.  “This won’t be easy.”

                They were all silent for a while, until Tai rose from his seat.  “We’d better prepare for a siege,” he said tiredly.  “Sora, you and Birdramon go warn the creatures of the forest, see if you can get them to help the castle.  Izzy, get to work on your laptop.  Joe, you and Ikkaku take to the water, talk to the stream and ocean digimon.  Joe, Mimi, Takeru, Kari…  We’ll start gathering supplies and working on defenses.  Let’s go, team!”

~*~

                It took only an hour before Kalira, Matt, and Garurumon sorted out each other’s stories.  Yamato was amazed at the idea of the Werewyld.

                “Why is it that only the werewyld can have a wyldself?” he queried as Garurumon queried the two of them onward.

                “A little to the left,” Kalira told the wolf.  He altered his course, and the were felt the call align directly to herself again.  “No one knows,” she replied to Matt’s question.  “Maybe they have to not be afraid of the wyldself, or something.  I don’t really know…”

                He shrugged, attempting to decipher if he feared having an animal half inside him.  It did repulse him, a little, he decided.  “You may be right.  I’m not sure how I feel about having a wyldself, myself.  I don’t fear someone who is half-digimon, but I don’t know if I’d want to be a werewyld…”

                She nodded, thin eyebrows furrowing.  “You’re better than normal truehumans, I suppose.  Most fear the wyld, and try to kill were and werewyld as much as possible.”  She hesitated.  “You’re sliding off course again, Garurumon.  A bit to the right, this time.”

                A legend from his world, a mere story, started to slide into his consciousness.  Yamato grasped at it, trying to remember fully.  “There’s a story in my world… about werewolves.  Supposedly, if a human survived a werewolf’s bite, they’d become a werewolf.”  He frowned.  “I think that’s what it was.”

                She laughed lightly.  “So if I bit you, you might become a Were?”

                He turned red and ducked his head in embaressment.  “Well… I just thought…”

                “Many Unwyld have lived through our bites,” she continued.  “None of them, to our knowledge, has felt the Wyldcall.”

                “Ah,” he said, still sheepish.  “I see.”

                Matt has certaintly been acting strange- ever since we met Kalira, Garurumon thought, a suspicion beginning to form in his mind.  I wonder…

                “So can you do magic?” Yamato questioned, as Kalira corrected Garurumon’s course yet another time.

                In response, she let a ball of blue fire form within one hand.  “All Were have inherent magic,” she replied, closing her hand and extinguishing the flame.  “We have heightened senses and the ability to make a flame of any color and temperature.  I know some spells as well, but I’d rather not waste them.”  She gasped suddenly, feeling a hard tug on her heart and soul.

                “What’s wrong?” Yamato asked, blue energy beginning to form on his hands.

                “The wyldcall,” she whispered.  “I go alone from here.”  The woman swung down from the wolf with all the grace of a trained warrior, her sword slapping against her leg.  Anticipation and nervousness mingled with anxiety clenched her heart and twisted her stomach as she started forward.

                Matt began to dismount, but Garurumon shook his head.  “Let her go alone,” he commanded.

                Yamato nodded and leaned against his digipartner’s muscular flank, blue eyes gazing after the were as she was swallowed up by the forest.  She was a fascinating person, he reflected, and someone he’d be proud to call friend…  But she was werewyld, and he was a “truehuman.”  Kalira didn’t seem to want to associate with an Unwyld…

                “I wish I were a werewyld,” he sighed, sliding to the ground.  “I just wish it were possible…”

~*~

                Kalira was running now, racing to keep up with the forceful wyldcall.  Her mind was numbed as she raced onward, trying to find her wyldself that was as anxious as she to be joined with its other half of soul.  Finally she sighted her- a wiry female garurumon whose reddish eyes held a strong restlessness.  The wolf was looking straight at Kalira as the woman slowed to a walk, the call becoming a steady throb that matched their heartbeats.  They walked  toward each other, finally meeting.  Kalira looked into the eyes of the wolf, level with her own, and reached with her hands to grasp the sides of her wyldkeeper’s head.

                Energy outlined both digimon and werewyld in blue light.  Kalira could feel a fierce happiness and wholeness as she felt her wyldself drain into her from the garurumon, making her complete.  As she gained her wild half, she began to change.  Her hair grew all over her body, coating her in blue and white fur.  A long tail grew from her tailbone, lashing about as her joints and bones changed shape and rearranged with loud cracks and snaps.  She fell to all fours as the change completed, and gave a wolf howl to the bright silver moon.  Energy pounded through her veins, her senses were heightened even beyond her enhanced wereself senses.  She was a wolf- she was a garurumon.

                Her wyldkeeper padded over to her, and now Kalira noticed the necklace around the digimon’s neck.  “Take it,” the garurumon said.  “It is your crest- the Crest of Protection.  You have protected yourself for a very long time.  Now protect others as well.”

                The werewyld hooked the crest necklace with her muzzle, sliding it onto her own neck.  “Thank you, garurumon,” she said.  “I am Kalira… now, Kalira Garurumon.”

                “No,” the wolf said with a smile.  “You are Kalira Nighthowler.  All digimon have a name besides their species name… some merely prefer the name of their species as their personal name.”

                “Nighthowler,” she repeated quietly.

                The garurumon flicked her tail with another smile.  “Will you only stand their, werewyld, or will you run?”  With a laugh, he wolf bounded away, following the trail Kalira had left in following the wyldcall.  The werewylder grinned as well and followed, delighting in her wyldself.

~*~

                Two howls of different pitches caused Garurumon and Matt to come alert.  Two female garurumon raced into the clearing, wolf-grins on their features.  They howled again.  “Come hunt with us, pack-brother!” one- Nighthowler- called.

                “Follow the scent with us!” the one with a crest about her neck- Kalira- added.

                Garurumon hesitated only a moment before letting out his own howl and following them.  “I’ll be back in a little while, Matt!” he told his digipartner, and was gone.

                Gone.  He’s left me, to run with the pack.

                The creatures of Destiny Forest were apsolutely silent, cowed by the hunting call of the wolf.  The trees grew darker, blocking out the sky and concealing the creatures of the night in black shadows.  Never had Yamato felt so alone.  The one person he’d been sure would always be with him was gone, had deserted him.

                Matt dropped to his knees, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.  He was alone, and his heart was tearing in two.

 

                Nearby, a wormlike parasitic digimon watched the man from a griffmon’s eyes, throughly pleased by what he saw.  The real griffmon watched as well, trapped within his own mind, wishing beyond possibility that he could stop the myndemon that controlled him, enslaved him- but his own spirit was breaking and dying.  Matt was in a perfect position to be tricked by the Myndemon.  All it would take were a few well-said words from the evil slug…

 

                “So they’ve left you.”

                A voice behind him caused Yamato to whirl, blue energy forming at his hands at the sight of the griffmon stepping out of the shadows.  “Who are you?” he growled, voice twisted by barely held back tears.

                “A friend,” the half-eagle, half-lion creature said calmly.  “Griffmon.”

                The beginnings of the attack faded from the man’s hands.  “Why are you here?

                “To help,” the griffon purred, his foretalons raking the ground and toying with a feather that had fallen from the digimon’s neck.  “You want a wyldself, neh?”

                Blue eyes turned cold and hard.  Energy began to outline gloved hands clenched with suspicion.  “How’d you know that?”

                “I was passing by and couldn’t help but overhear,” the digimon explained.  His raptor gaze sharpened and intensivied, golden eagle eyes looking straight into Matt’s shadowed ones.  “I know how you can get a wyldself.”

                Again the energy faded as Matt’s suspicious gaze turned to confusion and half-hoping eagerness.  “You- you do?  How?”

                “There’s a pool you will have to put your head in,” the Myndemon-controlled griffmon explained. “I can take you there.”

                The man struggled with the decision- desire against ingrained suspicion and caution- but not for long.  “Lead the way.”

                The myndemon smiled- an expression full of poison and wicked glee.  “Come with me, Yamato Ishida.”

~*~

                “Matt?”

                Garurumon padded into the clearing, eyes probing the shadows for his digipartner.  Kalira and Nighthowler followed, equally concerned.  The male wolf’s sharp nose probed the wind, testing for scents, and then he let his muzzle fall to the ground.  His eyes narrowed as the scents came- chief among them nervousness, griffmon, Yamato, and a faint, strange smell that spoke of a virus digimon.  The digimon pondered over this last scent, attempting to decipher what it meant.  The smell of a virus was not old, merely faint, as if it were inside another digimon… but that wasn’t possible.  Was it?

                The trail of the griffmon and Matt led northward.  Garurumon glanced at Kalira and Nighthowler.  “Matt and a griffmon are going that way.”  He motioned north with a tapered muzzle.  “Coming?”

                They nodded, and the three wolves set off on the trail.

~*~

                Yamato and Griffmon soon reached the gaping, stalactite-toothed maw of a dark cave.  The bird-lion turned to Matt, lion tail twitching ever-so-slightly.  “Wait here,” he hissed.

                The man nodded, pulling his cloak around him and leaning against a tree.  Sharp blue eyes darted about, into shadows and to the canopy of leaves.  Nothing amiss could be seen or heard, but he felt something that twisted his gut and raised his guard.  The mynde/griffmon disappeared into the cave’s shadows.

                Now he came out again, a mysterious smirk on his face.  The digimon flicked his tail in Yamato’s direction.  “Let’s go, Ishida.”  Matt followed the griffmon, apprehension and excitement clashing in a chaotic mess in his heart and mind.

                They walked to a pool hidden in a dimly lit chamber of the cave.  The light was not bright enough to reveal the greenish cast of the liquid, nor the pale slugs swimming in the teeming waters.

                “Now all you have to do is put your head in the water,” spoke the griffmon.  “Some property of this pool makes the wyldcall clear to those who do so.”

                All his instincts were screaming that this was not right; that there was something amiss with everything- the griffmon, the pool… It seemed almost against his will when his feet took slow, reluctant steps toward the water.  Then Yamato was bending over, head to the surface, he could smell something acrid and odorous, he wanted to stand but talons grasped his shoulder and forced him down…

                The water was warm and thick, stinging his face with a mild acidity.  Slimy bodies brushed against his face; he was struggling against the talons digging into his skin, trying to rise, and then something was entering his ear, squirming, sliding, cold and sickening…  Pictures formed before his lidded eyes, of the slug flattening out, filling every crevice of his brain.  Talons released his shoulder, and he was standing up.  Eyes looked about against his will; his mouth was drawn into a smirk that he didn’t want to make.  He tried to claw at his ear, to get that thing out, but his hand only twitched and then was still, folding into his other hand.  He couldn’t do a thing- he wasn’t in control of his own body…

                trapped

                prisoner

                helpless

                anger fear grief despair…

                A low laugh reached him in the bars of his mind, pushed where the Myndemon had shoved him.  He “watched” helplessly as the virus parasite looked at every one of his memories, all of his private thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams and griefs…

                -Human weakling,- the myndemon said scornfully.

                Now Matt reached out to the parasite, trying to see into the digimon’s mind.

                Triumph greed scorn darkness EVIL…

                -That’s enough,- the digimon snapped, and his mind shut against Yamato’s like a heavy door.  Immediately the man tried to gain his body back, trying to fire an attack at the griffmon.  The myndemon snarled, grasping back control expertly, aiming the howling blaster into the ground where it struck harmlessly.

                -None of that, human!- the virus growled.

                Now Matt once again went after the myndemon’s memories, this time seeing the tortures of other hoss, psychological pain and breaking the host…  He withdrew with a mental gasp, repulsed and shaken.

                -So it’s memory or body, eh, Ishida?- it mused, a smirk in its mental tone.  –Impressive.  Very well, search my memory as you will.-  When the human made no move to do so, the virus laughed.  –Weakling!  Coward!  Afraid of what you’ll find?-

                Yamato sprang, controlling his own body once again, yet again striking out at the griffmon.  Again, he was pushed back, and the howling blaster flew harmlessly aside.  Then he felt a painful mental blow from the myndemon, and he gave a gry of pain..  He was struck again, his mental image of himself falling to his knees as the slug lashed out, a whip of psychic energy assaulting his mind.  The barrage slowed; stopped at last, leaving the human collapsed in agonized exhaustion.

                -You don’t rebel; you aren’t hurt,- the myndemon- Matt found from the creature’s memories that his selfname was Sekaar- snarled.

                Yamato only crouched on the mental ground, battered mind not protesting as Sekaar walked out of the cave in his body.

~*~

                “Garurumon!”

                Sora’s voice caused the wolf to pause in his relentless tracking and look up.  There was the woman, perched on Birdramon’s talons.  The bird landed, allowing her digipartner to hop to the ground.  “Where’s Matt?  Who are the two garurumon?” she questioned.

                “This is Nighthowler,” Garurumon rumbled, motioning to the wolf in question.  “The other is a werewolf, of sorts… Kalira.”

                The werewyld’s form twisted and convulsed until she was a long-legged, wiry human.  “Hello,” Kalira Nighthowler greeted the shocked Sora.  “I’m a werewyld, not a werewolf.”

                “We’re following Matt,” Garurumon explained.  “He’s somewhere with a griffmon… and there’s also a scent of a virus digimon…”

                He paused at Sora’s sharp intake of breath and looked at her curiously.  “Myndemon,” she whispered.

                “Myndemon?” Nighthowler echoed, confused.

                “They take over the minds and bodies of other creatures,” she explained, voice fearful.  “That’s why I’m out here- warning those of the forest…”

                “And that what was in that griffmon?” Garurumon queried.

                “And what may be in Matt,” the woman added.  “If you find him… keep him in your sight for three days.  Don’t let him leave.  After three days, he should be himself again.”

                “You’re not coming?” Kalira asked.

                “No,” Sora answered, though she clearly wanted to help.  “I have to warn the digimon of the forest and the air.”  She climbed on the bird’s talons again.  “Good luck!” the woman shouted above the beating of Birdramon’s fiery wings.  Then they were gone, and the garurumon took to the trail once again.

~*~

                Thrumming.

                Matt’s first thought was of his digipartner.  The myndemon smiled with Yamato’s body.  “Well, well, well,” he purred, picking up the pace.  –Looks like I get to have some fun with a puppy dog.-

                “Matt!” Garurumon called, coming into view.  “Are you all right?”

                Sekaar made Matt smile sardonically.  “Of course I am.  You ready to go back to the castle?”

                ~NO!~ Yamato shouted, shoving at Sekaar’s mind.  The myndemon showed no outward reaction, however.  He lashed mentally at his prisoner, sending Matt reeling.

                -Fool!  You are already weak.  You cannot hurt me on iota,- the virus parasite grated.  –You are helpless!-

                Helpless, indeed.  Yamato watched in despair as the wolf nodded.  “I’m ready.  Let’s go.”

                Sekaar started for the digimon, intending to climb on his back.  Suddenly the wolf’s paw darted out, slamming into the human’s head, and he blacked out.  Matt’s last thought and emotion was a feeling of triumph and joy and relief- that Garurumon somehow knew the myndemon’s secret.

~*~

                When Sekaar and Yamato awoke, they faced Garurumon, who was beside a blue cloak and a shimmering crest.

                “What’s the meaning of this?” Sekaar demanded, pulling at the bonds that secured him to a tree.

                “You’re staying this way for three days,” Nighthowler replied, padding up beside the wolf.

                “Why?” Sekaar queried, putting as much confusion and innocent indignation as he could in his face and eyes, holding back the rising fear and anxiety.

                “I can smell you, Myndemon,” Garurumon growled, eyes narrowed with suppressed hatred.  “Your scent is faint… but it’s there.  You can come out of him for a swift death, or stay and die slowly.”

                Bile rose in Sekaar/Yamato’s throat, but the myndemon forced it back with a burst of hatred and rage.  “You’ll never win!” he hissed, straining at the bonds.  “You’ll eventually be infested by the Myndemon- all the digidestined will!”

                “I think not,” Kalira said, walking up and placing a hand on her digimon.  She was in human form.  “I doubt I’m the only werewylder to enter the digiworld.”

                “You’ll be taken, too!” Sekaar ranted, his fury twisting Yamato’s face into a contorted mask of black hatred.  “You’ll be tortured and…”   He paused, and slowly a wicked grin spread across his face.  “You’ll be tortured, just like your friend here.  I’ll give him his body, and you’ll get to see every bit of agony he suffers under my control!”

                Garurumon sprang, then stopped at Sekaar’s laugh.  “That’s right- kill your friend.  Go ahead.”  He smirked as the wolf turned, stalking back to Nighthowler and Kalira.  “It might be prefferable to my torture…”

                No response from the tiger-wolf.  Sekaar laughed again and gave Matt control of his body.  It was obvious when that happened- Yamato sagged in his bonds, unaccustomed to his body again and too weak to move much even if he was used to it.

                -Now,- the myndemon purred.  –A little bit of vengeance.-  He lashed out with every trick he knew, now showing images of the future if the myndemon won, now triggering nerve impulses in Matt’s body that wounded as badly as any cruder physical torture, now flaying the man’s mind…

                Garurumon watched in agony and helplessness as his digipartner jerked and moaned and cried out in pain, sweat rolling down the human’s face.  He watched as Matt groaned and whispered the names of friends, as he suddenly screamed in agony…

                “STOP!” the wolf howled, unable to bear the sight of his friend being tortured.

                Immediately, the myndemon took over Matt’s body.  The spasms stopped; the eyes opened.  “You will let me leave?” Sekaar queried.

                A long tension-filled minute passed as Garurumon struggled with the decision.  “No,” he said finally.  His proud head drooped, knowing what he condemned Yamato to with his words.  “I cannot let you go.”

                The myndemon’s mouth tightened in a grim line.  “Very well.”  Matt’s body began to convulse again as the virus continued his… vengeance.

                “Please!” the wolf pleaded desperately.  “Stop torturing him…”

                Sekaar pretended to think a moment.  “Oh, all right,” he conceded.  “I’ll let him have a nice dream instead.”

                Red eyes flashed.  “What?”

                But the myndemon had conceded control to Matt.  The man gained enough energy to look up at the wolf.  “Don’t free him,” he whispered, voice barely audible.  “Don’t… NO!”  He jerked once, then closed his eyes.

~*~

                Yamato was having difficulty knowing what was real and what was illusion.  He saw everything through a red haze of pain, in constant agony from the relentless mental assault of Sekaar.  Now he was in a dream, though he was not sure it was a dream.  Reality… dream… memory… they were indistinguishible to the man’s battered senses.

                He was back in the real world, fourteen years before.  His mom was crying, huddled in the corner of the room while his dad yelled at her.  Yelled and ranted, about the kids, Matt’s grades, their money… shouted and ten struck.

                fear guilt shame horror

                “…and he got in trouble with the police for the third time this year!  Breaking that kid’s arm… why couldn’t you have brought him up better?!”

                A crack, a cry

                Fear and guilt and shame

                Can’t look away

                Can’t keep watching

                ~My fault.~

                “Matt?  What’s happening?”

                T.K.

                “Go to sleep, T.K.  It’s just the television.  Mom and Dad have it up too loud.”

                Wishing that was all it was

                Gotta protect T.K.

                Some protecter.

                Can’t protect your mom.

                You only get her hurt.

                Loser.

                “All right, Matt.”

                So young, so innocent

                I can’t spoil that

                Can’t let my dad spoil that

                Can’t let the world spoil that…

                “Good night.”

 

                The memories kept coming- some, like the first, true events- some not.  All were aimed at breaking Matt, at piling guilt and shame and grief on him until his spirit snapped.

                He was teetering on a dark pit; the pit of despair and suicidal depression; wanting to die, wanting the torrent of memories to end, to stop- to relent.

                Takeru- stony face, innocence gone.

                “He lost hope, Matt!”  Sora’s voice, eyes and tone accusing and sad at the same time.  “I can’t remember the last time I heard him laugh.”

                Takeru on the walltop of Destiny, firing relentlessly, killing digimon callously, golden robe shimmering, and the yell that ripped through Matt’s heart, left him shocked and guilt-filled and despair-ridden.

                “I HATE HIM!”

                The blast of golden energy that whiped out the evil digimon and sent Takeru into a coma.

                Blink.

                Flicker.

                The sequence of images and memories paused, blacked out, flickered, continued, blurred, fuzzed.  Matt remembered how Takeru woke up from the coma and forgave him and said he loved him- not hated him.

                Searing pain ripped through him, coming from the myndemon, jerking him from the memories that had- unbeknownst to myndemon and man- taken three days.  He screamed- screamed a mental and physical scream in unison with the myndemon in his brain, screamed in agony, feeling death approaching with its dark and painful scythe to cut through him and past him and into the parasite that controlled and tortured him.  Memories burst out of Sekaar like air from a punctured baloon, flooding him in their tidal wave, carring him through them as he learned the secrets of the Myndemon’s past and his hosts and all he’d experienced- all the thoughts and memories that Yamato had earlier recoiled from.

                Then something cold and limp and grey slid out his ear.  Sharp claws and fangs ripped off his bonds and he fell forward, collapsed, but Garurumon was there and he fell on the wolf, arms encircling the muscurlar neck for support- both emotional and physical.  He was alive, and still unbroken- barely so, but still unbroken.

                “Garurumon…” he rasped, voice hoarse and faint.  ~My friend…~

                His crest around the wolf’s neck glowed, a bright blue that swept over both human and digimon.  Energy flowed from Garurumon into Matt, calm and strong energy and emotions that healed and strengthened his battered mind and body, and then he was changing- joints and bones crackling and stretching and fur growing and tail appearing.  He stood before the wolf, both now in the same form, but Matt’s eyes were still a bright blue, and his fur was blue and yellow, rather than white and blue.

                “So, Yamato Garurumon,” Kalira said as he was staring down at himself in surprise and shock.  “You found your wyldself after all.”  She had changed back into her wyldform, and gazed at him with respect, admiration, and amicability.

                “Shall we run?” Garurumon queried, a wolf-grin spreading across his features as he slipped the crest of friendship onto Matt’s neck.

                A wide smile burst onto the now-werewyld’s face.  “Of course.  Catch me if you can!”  With an exhuberant howl, he broke into a full-out run, racing into the shadows with his three lupine friends close behind, pushing the days’ events to the back of his mind and concentrating only on the thrill of the race.  He tried to ignore the shadows that lurked in his haunted eyes, blue eyes that held momentary laughter.

                Memories, painful or joyful or unpleasant, could wait.