The One You Feed

What is it that makes us human? Is it our awareness of the life we live? Is it our intelligence, our use of tools? These are the thoughts that run through my mind as I sit here, covered in blood. The taste of iron in my mouth.

I’m sorry, this must seem confusing. Let me start over, explain how I got here.

My name is Dakota Aniwahya. Today is my eighteenth birthday. I sit on the porch of our small home in the town of Monteagle Tennessee. I am waiting for my father to finish getting ready so we can go celebrate with my grandfather. Grandfather lives to the north just south of the Savage Gulf State Park. I remember exploring those woods in my youth. It has been some time since I roamed them, and I feel it calling to me. High school life had kept me busy. But I graduated just last week. I plan to spend the summer with my grandfather before heading to college in the fall.

“Ready son?” My father asked as he exited the house.

My father was a tall, slender man. He always wore a smile and had the kindest brown eyes. His black hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail. You could see the Cherokee heritage more in him than you could in myself.

“Yes, sir,” I said, grabbing my luggage.

My mother followed him out the door. She was much shorter than he was. She had fair skin, with long blonde hair. She hugged me tight.

“I am going to miss you,” she said, “be good for your grandfather.”

“I will mom,” I tell her, hugging her back, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said, wiping a tear from her hazel eyes.

You would think this was the last time she would see me by the way she acted. I will be back in just two months.

“Come on,” father said, placing his hand on my shoulder.

We got in the car and drove away. Mother stayed on the porch waving until we could not see her anymore. It only took thirty minutes to get to grandfather’s house, but the excitement made it feel like an eternity. Grandfather slowly walked out of his house as we pulled into the drive. Nothing but woods behind the house made for a picturesque backdrop to the place I would spend my summer.

At one time Grandfather probably stood taller than my father, but his age had stolen some of that from him. He was the last full blooded Cherokee in our family, a heritage he was proud of. He rarely smiled, but was always kind hearted. His dark hair had greyed with age, but was still darker than most his age. His eyes had sunk behind the wrinkles of his face. He walked with a walking stick in his left hand. The same hand that had always weirded me out as a child. He had lost his pinky many years ago. Though no matter how many times I asked, he would not tell me how he lost it. He hugged my father then moved towards me.

“Gvgeyu atsutsa,” he said, hugging me.

The phrase meant ‘I love you son’ in Cherokee.

“Gvgeyu,” I said in return.

“Happy birthday,” he said, with a rare smile.

“Thank you,” I replied.

We walked inside and I went to the room I would be staying in to put my luggage away. I threw it on the bed and walked back into the living room where my dad and grandfather were sitting, talking about things that had happened since we last talked.

“I’m going to take a walk out back,” I told them.

“Did you put your things away?” Father asked.

“I will do it when I get back.” I said.

“It’s fine,” Grandfather said, “Enjoy the woods.”

I smiled and turned for the doors.

“And remember,” grandfather started, “Stay out of the caves.”

“Yes grandpa,” I said with a bit of sass.

He told me the same thing every time I went out into the woods. He had always told me stories of the U’tlun’ta living in the caves. She was a Cherokee tail of a witch who would lure children with songs and eat their livers. But I was never much of a believer in crazy tales. If U’tlun’ta were real how had she stayed hidden for centuries. She was just a tale to frighten children. It worked for the longest time. I used to be so afraid of any cave we came across.

I walked with excitement, and within fifteen minutes I was as deep into the forest as I could ever remember being. It was quiet, you could not hear the sounds of cars or the city. Just the sounds of nature. This is what I had been longing for. Tall oak and maple trees shrouded the sun, darkening the area. I took a deep breath. The calm of these woods was something I had missed for too long. I sat down against a mighty oak and leaned back into it.

The calm took over me and I drifted off to sleep.

“Find me.”

I woke up with a start.

“Hello?” I called, “Anyone there?”

I swore I heard someone whispering. I think they said find me, or was it feed me? I shook my head and stood up. The sun was setting quickly and the woods were getting dark. The sounds of nature had all but stopped. The forest was eerily quiet. I looked around one last time before making my way back to grandfather’s house.

“Find me.” I heard the whisper again.

I frantically looked around and saw a cave, barely visible behind an old oak. Did the voice come from the cave?I took a step toward the cave. Could it be the U’tlun’ta? No, I convinced myself, that was just a myth. Besides, she ate the liver of children. I was no longer a child. I took another step towards the cave. A slight breeze blew through the trees. It almost sounded like they whispered ‘yes’.

I took a deep breath. I told myself there was nothing to fear. I am a man now. Time to face my fears. With determination I entered the cave. It was dark beyond imagination, shortly after entering I was unable to see even my hand. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, with a click the light came on illuminating the cave. It didn’t go much deeper but widened into a small chamber. The walls were painted with images. They were of the U’tlun’ta. Just as grandfather had described. The first images of her are of an older woman. She seems calming and trusting. Following the paintings I can see her luring a child into a cave, this cave I wonder? Once here she shows her true nature. A grotesque figure with gray skin, grandfather had said her skin was strong as stone. But the most terrifying feature was her long, sharp right index finger. The spearfinger was how she would cut out the livers to eat. The final image was that of her eating the child’s liver.

A distant sound of movement startles me. Enough so, with the images before me, that I turn to run out of the cave. I took three steps before I tripped, falling hard to the cave floor. I cover myself to protect myself from a threat. But none comes. I sit up and see that I am still alone in the cave. I take another deep breath to calm my nerves.

“Stupid story,” I say, standing up and brushing the dirt off my pants.

As I brush my leg off I notice something coming up from the ground. This must be what I tripped on. But I notice that it is not a rock. It is made of wood, the corner now splintered from my tripping on it. I brush aside the dirt covering it. With a little digging I am able to pull a small box out of the dirt. There is a small lock on the box, but the wood is rotting and I am able to pull the lock away from it with ease. I opened the box to find a bit of a disturbing sight. A bone finger lays in the box, and on the it is a ring. The ring is made of black stone, the top of it in the shape of a wolf’s head. I picked up the ring, the bone finger crumbling to dust as I lifted the ring from the box. I felt a strong urge to put the ring on my finger.

“Dakota!” I hear my father calling out in the distance.

I quickly put the ring in my pocket and rushed out. Hoping to avoid them finding me in a cave. I hear them shout again as I exit the cave. Moments later I find them.

“I’m here,” I shout to them, waving as I approach them.

“Where have you been?” My father asked.

“Sorry, I fell asleep against an oak.” I told him.

Grandfather looked in the direction I had come from.

“The sounds of nature can be a powerful thing.” He said, turning back towards his house, “Lull you to sleep. Be careful it does not lure you into U’tlun’ta’s lair.”

My father rolled his eyes as he looked at me and shook his head.

“I think we are both old enough to not believe in those tales meant to keep children from wandering alone in the woods.” my father chuckled.

“You do not believe?” He asked.

I smile, “No. I don’t believe it.”

Once we returned to my grandfather’s house we said goodbye to my father. My grandfather had something in the oven that smelled fantastic.

“I made your favorite,” He said, opening the oven to look in.

“Deer roast?” I asked with excitement.

“Yes, and if you would like, we can go into town after and get ice cream at Brown’s.”

I laughed, “I’m not a child anymore.”

“Oh,” he said, a little disappointed, “So you don’t want any?”

“I didn’t say that,” I said, laughing at his chuckle, “Their shakes are the best.”

Later that evening I enjoyed their peanut butter shake. One of the best in the state of Tennessee, if you ask me. We laughed as he told stories of his youth.

“I met your grandmother right here at Brown’s,” he said, with a heavy sigh.

I could tell he still missed her. I had never met her but she still held a place in his heart.

“What happened to her?” I asked, “You don’t talk about her much.”

“Mistakes were made,” he said, “She died when your father was only a year old. I never got the chance to tell her I was sorry.”

He stirred the shake left in his paper cup, lost in his thoughts.

“I’m sure she knew,” I said to comfort him.

“I hope,” he said, before a long pause, “Let’s get home. It's getting late. This old man needs his sleep.”

We drove home and he said good night. I went into my room and pulled the ring out of my pocket. Getting a better look at it with the light in my room. It was smooth and the black stone shined as if recently polished. The wolf’s eyes were small dots of pure yellow. I probably stared at it for an hour before I set it on my nightstand.

That night I dreamt I was running through the forest. But I wasn’t running on two legs, but down on four. I came across a pond and slowed to a walk. I looked into the calm waters and saw that I was actually a beautiful black wolf. Magnificent yellow eyes staring back at me.

My alarm startles me awake. I get dressed and put the ring back in my pocket. I walk to the kitchen to see my grandfather has left me a note. He is running errands and will be home late tonight.

I decided to go back to my happy place, walking amongst nature. I found myself walking back to the cave. I pulled the ring out of my pocket. Should I put it back or put it on? I ask myself as I enter the cave.

“Its just a ring,” I convince myself.

I slid the ring onto the middle finger of my left hand. Suddenly my hand erupts in pain. I scream, holding my wrist. I watch as black lines flow up my arm from the ring. The pain is so intense I scream out loudly, the scream echoes in the cave to sound like a howl. I feel the lines making their way up my neck as my vision tunnels and I black out.

The same dream as last night. But this time I am running faster, taller. I see the pond coming up. I stop short. Something catches my attention. The smell, something is near and I’m starving. Then I see it. A deer is drinking from the pond. My heart beats so fast. In what seems like only seconds I closed in on the deer, jumping on it before it realized danger was near. I tore its flesh, devouring the raw meat. After a few savage moments the hunger calms. I lean over to get a drink from the pond and pause in fear. I am not the beautiful black wolf. This time I am much larger, standing on two legs but still very wolf-like. I stare into my reflection, blood dripping from my snout. I roar in rage, a monstrous claw strikes the calm waters and I turn and run.

I sit up in the cave, shivering. I am naked and covered in blood. Was it really a dream? I take a deep breath. That's when I realized my senses were all firing on high. The sights, sounds and smells are all stronger than I had ever noticed before. I feel strong, I feel… awesome. I ran through the forest, faster than I could ever imagine possible. I jump into a tree, clearing half the tall oak in a single jump. The power I feel is remarkable. The things I can achieve now. No one could ever hold me down.

It’s getting late, I need to get home and clean up before grandfather gets home. I got there in moments, and was relieved that he had not returned yet. I barely get dried off from the shower when I hear the door open. The door didn’t slam, but I heard it.

“Dakota, you home?” He asked.

“Just a minute, I’m getting dressed.”

I meet him in the kitchen and he is looking into the pantry.

“What sounds good for dinner?”

The mention of food causes my stomach to rumble. The hunger has returned. I shake, resisting the urge to strike.

“Feed me,” I hear in my head, “Feed me and unlock your power.”

I grab my wrist, it's shaking, I wince in pain.

“Dakota!” grandfather shouts, a look of absolute horror on his face, “What have you done?”

“This,” I show him the ring, "It's just a trinket I found in the woods. It’s nothing.”

“I told you not to go into the caves!” He shouts.

Anger builds up in me as he yells at me. How dare he, who does he think he is?

“I am not a child?” I shout back, “I can damn well go and do as I please.”

There was a deepness in my voice that surprised even myself.

“Do you know what that is?” He asked, calmer this time.

I shook my head no.

“That ring is the reason your grandmother died,” he says, rubbing the end of his left hand where his pinky used to be.

“That was your pinky in the box?” I asked, a little horrified.

“We must remove it,” he says, pulling an old knife off the wall.

The knife was an ancient Cherokee knife passed down in our family. The sight of it angered me.

“NO!” I said, swatting the knife from his hands and across the kitchen.

Grandfather fell to his behind and looked at me in fear.

“You cannot control it,” he said, “Trust me. I tried and it cost me everything.”

“Control it?” I said, “I don’t want to control it. I intend to unleash it.”

As the sentence finished the deepness returned to my voice.

“Atsutsa,” he said, “Please resist.”

It was too late. I had agreed to feed the hunger. My eyes turned yellow as bones popped and skin shredded into fur. I now stood over my grandfather cowering in fear.

“Gvgeyu,” he said, closing his eyes as I approached.

I snapped my large jaws around his neck. Feeling the bones break as the blood filled my mouth. He didn’t fight, didn’t resist. He didn’t even scream.

It’s at this moment, now back to human form, naked and covered in my grandfather's blood, that I have this moment of clarity. So I ask again. What is it that makes us human? I’m sure that most animals in the world are aware. And we are not the only ones with greater intelligence. Apes and some birds, even, use tools. No, I think the only thing that makes us human is our place in the animal kingdom. We are human because that is what we call ourselves. Perhaps it is our arrogance, our belief that we are the top of the so-called food chain that makes them human. I will show them that they are not the apex predator any longer.

My grandfather used to tell me a story. A story about two wolves inside us all. The black wolf represents fear, anger, greed, and a lust for power. The white wolf represents peace, love, kindness and empathy. I asked him once, which wolf would win. To which he simply replied:

“The one you feed.”