The Unknown Soldier

Paws crunched upon burned wood and splintered remains, black fur outlined in light, eyes yellow, lit by the flames. Behind them, a village aflame. Looking upon the destruction they looked to the burning sky rife with smoke and the sound of crackling, burning wood as the fire consumed the village.

A male stands once where a village was, now long since burned and destroyed, his mind returning from the past. The wind billowed softly, fluttering his Cloak, wolf ears twitched against the coming wind. Yellow eyes took in the ruination as he walked through the desolate and burned place he once called home. He continued through, memories - what could even be recalled - came to him in fragments, like missing puzzle pieces.

His ears twitched upon the sounds of several heartbeats, ten... Twenty of them. Bandits? He pondered the possibility of them this far in. A spike in elevation, they were planning to assault. They came out of hiding as various beastfolk emerged, armed and sneering. He had been surrounded. He closed his eyes as the leader demanded he give up his money in exchange for his life, he handed him a single coin.

 "Take this for the ferryman." He said as from the ground, oil black barbed wire emerged and entangled the bandits, peircing their skin as in a swift motion the bandits save for their leader were shredded into crimson rain as his cloak spared him from the red rain that fell. The heart of the leader pounded like that of a rabbit, fear laid in his eyes at the sight of his band slaughtered like pigs. And it was then stopped, a hand in his chest, wrapped around the very organ that supplied him with life.

Crackling came from the bandit, who gasped and coughed up smoke, skin turning black and cracking before he was set aflame and dropped. Burning to death as the wolf walked on, all that followed him was death and destruction. For that was his curse.