The Black Wolf and the Red [story]

[With quite starting presentiment, I was about three quarters of the way through writing this when my relationship triad took a turn for the utterly shite, and ended...]

We are safe here, in our den. Group scent combines with turned earth, musty and thick. She sleeps, her back to me, fur glimmering with russet lights. I imagine that I smell oranges, persimmon, cinnamon and rust. A noise from outside enters our space and her muzzle lifts, scents the air, then returns to light sleep. He is curled around me, my alpha male, my black wolf. He stirs in his sleep and re-settles, nuzzling my neck and sighing heavily, loudly. His breath ruffles the fur on my neck, my jaw opens and my tongue peeks out, a wolfly grin. His paw lies heavy over my belly, I wriggle slowly and silently away from his side, trying not to wake him. I make several attempts before I succeed, but finally I slip from his grasp and he turns over, sleepily searching for me. I lick the fur behind his ear and he settles back into deep sleep.

I pad over to our lair's entrance, and sit on my haunches, alert, watchful, but calm, centred. I sense something is coming - a change - but I'm not sure yet what kind. I slip outside and decide to Change; in this interim state, this transition, perhaps I can catch the scent of the future. My mind traces patterns and possibilities. I slip between one state and the other, floating, lightly touching the weave, using my gift to follow the strands to the different places they might lead; this place or that, I don't know what's to come, only that something has begun.

I touch the space in my mind where my pack lives - my Dark Wolf lies sleeping still, my Red Wolf is troubled by strange dreams, but she is safe. I sense this coming change means no harm to them. I can leave them for a little while, explore this interesting but odd anomaly. I walk naked and unafraid through the forest. My muscles flow with each movement, utterly and completely under my control. In this Form my hair is long, blonde, dreadlocked, reflected the ruffled and tousled fur in my other Form, which never seems to shine or lie flat no matter how thoroughly it is licked into place by my Alpha Female.

Now.

There it is.

Events spiral into alignment - I recognise their shape from the feel, the same sensation from my earlier foreshadow. The world breathes in, pauses….explodes into action. A chase…running figures…shadows in grey passing behind the flickering green woods. The change I sense centers around the figure in front - an older man; he's going to become connected to our pack, somehow. This is the important event, as he intersects with Us, and I realise something very significant is happening. But there's something in the way of that Event, and this angers me. The stranger is being chased by two hunters - they have guns. Furious, I leap forward, as I call my Pack - but it will take them a while to get here. In the meantime, I need to keep this person safe until I find out why he's meant to be here.

I'm so much faster than the hunters, I reach and overtake them in moments. I don't know why they're chasing him - all I know is that he is weaponless and they are not. The stranger stumbles, grey with exhaustion, just as I reach him. He falls to his knees and puts his hand to his chest. His lips are blue. The hunters slow, bring their guns up to shoot. I know my Alphas won't make it here in time. And I've run out.

The decision is easy, weightless, and I smile as I move in front of the stranger. The first shot hits me in the shoulder, the second clips me in the neck, and blood spatters the man I'm protecting as he falls to the ground, gasping for breath.

The pain hits a few seconds behind the shock, but my mind is moving fast, skipping ahead of both. I can't heal the damage to my body on my own, I'm too young and untried. I need my Alphas to lend me a little of their strength for that. All I need to do is keep this man safe until they come for me. I am torn between two choices - the threat from the hunters, and the threat from the man's own body. I can heal him, given time and space to work undisturbed, but the hunters are coming for us. I make a decision impulsively, and reach out to the man. I put my hands on his forehead, and his chest, and lean down to kiss him. My lips brush against his, my breath warm against his mouth. My blood drops from the wound to my neck, and I rub my fingers in it and smear red on my lips, pushing my fingers in between our flesh as I keep my lips against his blue and breathless mouth.

He gasps, breathes in noisily, then exhales. Another breath. Pause. Another. Pause. Then he breathes normally. His eyes open. They look directly into mine.

We keep eye contact even as I'm pulled back, thrown off his body and to one side. The hunters have reached us, I smell their sweat, angry and afraid. My face is pressed to the grass, I've lost too much blood, I'm cold. A blur of red and black passes me - my Alphas; the sound of tearing, cries - human and high pitched - the wet sound of something hitting the ground. I need them to help me heal some of the damage I've taken for our Pack. I call out - there is no response, no voices from the hunters, only the sound of feeding. I call again - I know they can hear me. I call out - whimpering, questioning now. I'm so very cold. Two figures walk towards me - my Pack at last. My red wolf in human form crouches down. “Thanks for the meal. We don't need weakness in our pack. You look broken now. Don't come back to the den”.

They walk away. Even my dark wolf walks away, they don't look back.

Somewhere inside me there are ashes, with only a tiny flicker of heat, a burnt ember, a fragment, glowing. One last shape where there might be a flame, a chance, the beginning of a new fire. I am deep inside myself now, retreating to that last place, the most hidden. There, in the place where I first found out who I could be, I breathe on the embers, willing them to burn. They glow, then turn to ashes too. Again, I breathe, finding the will to make fire where there wasn't any before. Not fuelled by anger, but the need to endure, to survive.

My eyes flicker open. The hand curled into my neck wound is sticky, but there is no new blood, the bleeding has stopped now. I sit up, and the forest moves too much. A hand on mine. “Steady”. His voice is exactly like I expected it to be. I look at him. “Who are you?”

“I'm your friend”. And for now, that is enough.