The Wolf King

A wolf encounters a werewolf and his world is changed.

  The wolf knew he was being watched.  Like every hunter that suddenly finds himself stalked, a thread of fear was worming it's way through his belly.  He lay very still under a fragrant, thorny bush.  The branches pricked at his fur every time he took a breath.  The wolf ignored the uncomfortable crawling sensation and remained frozen in his spot.  Every wild thing knows how to hide itself and the wolf, though a predator, was no exception.  He curled in tight then relaxed his muscles, allowing his outline to flow into that of the thorn bush.  Rich charcoal and buff fur became dappled with the afternoon shadows, the red of his legs melding into the tinted sand below him.  This skulking, hiding position was not natural to him though.  He was a dominant male with a mate and seven half-grown younglings.  His territory was vast and bountiful, bordered by the ever churning sea.  Being a northern creature he was the largest predator the southern world had seen other than the occasional bear and rare large cat.

  With one of those predators he would have simply outpaced them.  But this creature was different.  This was another wolf.  No wolf in the area could match him for size and strength for in his jaws was the power to crush bones and tear the flesh of the smaller southern species.  This one, however, was not a normal southern wolf nor was it a roamer from the north.  This wolf smelled of Man.

  Dogs were not strange to him.  The almost wolf-like creatures often amused him with their frantic yapping and subservience to Man.  A wolf reeking of Man was new to him.  Wolves and Men avoided each other.  He had no interest in them, and they had little in him.

  He could smell the other wolf clearly.  Her scent was of the desert, of crushed bone, sand, and cactus flower.  Intermingled with it was the scent of Man, the prey that was not prey, the animals without teeth and claws but fire and metal.  No wolf the male had ever met smelled like Man unless they were foolish enough to hunt Him.  This odd one would be no worry to him if it were not for that cloying scent.  Something in the deep memories of the Voice told him to be cautious.

  So he waited, daring to pant only when he began to feel very light in the head.  His muscles cramped and his stomach began to pain him, reminding him that he had not yet eaten.  He remained though, waiting for the other one.  When she appeared the wolf silently exposed his teeth in a soundless snarl.

  The wolf was like no other he had seen.  She was massive, bigger than some of the small bears that moved through his territory.  Her head was at least double his, flatter and broader with stronger muscles.  Small, pricked ears wavered his way then forward again.  She was alien and terrifying; worse, his emotional reaction to her was confounding.  On a primal level he was horrified by her.  Yet there was the strong urge to throw himself at her with the excitement of a pup.  Within him was the need to be her supplicant, wagging a curled tail under his belly like many submissive wolves had done to him.  As a dominant male, the feeling was disconcerting.  Feelings from the Voice warned him not to be rash, but to simply wait and watch.  When he searched the Voice he heard only distant babble from other packs, quiet and reassuring like the bubbling of a spring.  the big wolf was silent.  He wondered with a shiver if she was one who had strayed from the Voice.

  The male cast his mind forth again.  Nothing but silence greeted him.

  I can hear you looking for me, the wolf called to him, come out little one.

  Her voice was like her scent.  They communicated in expressive feelings, thoughts.  Her voice sounded like the shifting of sand in his ear, made powerful by the metallic hammering of bronze behind it.

  No.

  He was not as large as she, but he was not a weak creature.  His voice was the icy wind of the north, tinged with the crackling of juniper and cedar.  The male was gratified to see the other flinch.  For a second she flattened her fur and twitched her ears back.  His voice had cowed her if only for a moment.  It pleased him to see a beast like her react in such a way.

  Your voice is from the North, her voice was gentled by curiosity, why are you so far from your home?

  From his hiding spot he narrowed his eyes at her audacity, You have no right to question myself.  You are an intruder.

  She laughed gaily, a laugh that was frighteningly reminiscent of the humans that joked whie eating in the fields.  It was a struggle to keep his fur from rising on end.

  If I am an intruder come chase me away, her jaws dropped in a playful grin.  There was something sinister there, something dark that made the wolf wish that his pride would let him flee.

  You are a Trickster, he scoffed, I won't bother.

  A deep rumble emitted from the female's throat, You insult me.

  A Trickster was a black, malignant soul that would take the form of the wolf in order to cause panic and dismay.  The male had never seen one but had heard stories through the Voice.  Perhaps this was his first, an honor he was more than dubious about.

  Believe whatever you will, the giant shook out her russet coat and stretched, I was merely wondering why a wolf of the North has traveled so far south.  I would not hurt you, nor your younglings.

  Do not come near them!

  The male restrained himself, the urge to leap at her coursing through his body.  The very thought of the monstrosity before him invading his home enraged him.  The places where he kept his mate and young were intimate secrets that not even another normal wolf would pry into.  Yet under his rage were small ripples of denial.  Something told him it could be a good thing for this creature to recognize his small family.  He warred with his emotions; feelings given to him by the Voice were easier to ignore than instinct but no less invasive.

  The female seemed to be studying the sky, I'll leave your territory for now, but you will see me again.  Eventually you'll tell me of the North.  I rarely do not get the things I desire.

  Shrewd eyes turned towards his shelter, And I desire your story.

----

  The male had waited until near sunset and until almost all vestiges of the giant wolf's scent had faded before he ran swiftly back to his den.  He took hidden back-trails, careful to double back and start anew on another path should the female be interested in tracking him back.  Prey animals acted in such a fashion, not grown male wolves with their own packs.  It rankled him to have to act in such a manner yet for the safety of his family, he did so.  Meanwhile in the back of his mind the Voice continued to whisper at him.  Perhaps the monster should meet his pack; perhaps them seeing her and recognizing her would lead to something so good that it bordered on terrifying.  The Voice was telling him one thing but instinct and fear told him another.  It was not like the wolf to ignore the advice of the Voice, the ancient connection with the other members of his species that gave them sentience.  Yes, he believed something good could happen but he had also sensed something dark about the female.  It was that sense of darkness within her that drove him to hide his movements.

  When he reached his family's main den site he felt relief so profound he allowed himself to relax and let out a short huffing noise to announce his arrival.  They resided in a small grove, an area that sheltered them from the worst of storms but still allowed the cool ocean breeze through, making the hottest parts of the day bearable.  His pack was relaxing, his mate resting with the dignity that only a female leader could.  Their younglings, half his size now, played in a lazy manner.  The thoroughly gnawed fishtails and shells told him that they had raided the tide-pools in order to fill their ever empty stomachs.  At the sound of his greeting cough the half grown wolves stopped their play to rush the male in a craze of joyful whimpers and squirming bellies.  There were four males and three females, two of the males and one of the females took after him in build and size.  The others were slender as was their mother.  Their happy youngling babble filled the Voice.  They told him of their day.  Their dame had taught them to catch fish trapped in the tide-pools.  They had chased the jackal young but all in good fun, of course.  There were games, and then they had been hidden for a short time when mother sensed something wrong around them.  Afterwards there was sleeping, then more play where the smallest male had his tail pulled on unfairly...or so that particular cub thought.  The male listened to the chatter of his young until they were content that he knew all.  Once done with their stories, they ran off abruptly to continue their games, having grown bored with relating their daily activities.  Even out of sight the male could hear them as they galloped through the groove on large, clumsy paws.

  His mate waited patiently until he approached her.  He pressed his muzzle into her thick ruff and took a deep breath, filling his senses with the smell of salt, grape vine, and sea polished pebbles.  They opened their mind to each other, sharing their experiences.  His mate had encountered the unusual wolf briefly and had hid the younglings and herself until the other female had passed through.  When the male shared his story she became fiercely agitated.

  She will not come near my young, his mate had all the power of the angry sea in her voice, Huge or not, I will lay her throat open.

  It will not come to that, he assured her with some amusement.  The other female dwarfed his mate, who was already small by his northern standards.

  She sighed, cross with him, Do not doubt me.

  I don't, he leaned his head against her, What should we do?

  His mate gazed into the grove where their seven younglings had traded play for sleep.  He knew her thoughts were of them and how to keep them safe.  They had lost their first younglings to a wolverine up north that had taken one but slaughtered the rest in bloodlust.  His mate was obsessive in the protection of their nearly adult litter.  No, he did not doubt her.  If that creature threatened their young his mate would die for them.

  Then again was that feeling that the giant she-wolf did not mean their family hard.  Neither of them would risk their safety on that confusing feeling though.  It was too much of a risk to take.  The Voice begged to be listened to, but until the shared mind of the wolves could guarantee the safety of their family, it would be ignored.

  We wait, his companion finally answered, We wait until we know her intent.

  Fair enough, he agreed.  Waiting was better than hasty action.  Besides, he could not deny that he was intrigued by the giant in their midst.

  For now though, his mate rose from her place and stretched luxuriously, I plan to sleep.  Your young have worn me out.  Come lay with us when your mind has cleared.

  He watched her leave, their young joining her as she retreated deeper into the undergrowth.  Later he knew he would find them curled up in the thorn thicket.  The wolves that had occupied this territory before them had dug a path under a thick thorn thicket that allowed them to safely enter the cleared middle, the thorns a barrier against any unwanted intruders.  When the sound of the pack faded he rose and walked to the southern edge of the grove.  The edge of the grove rose upwards then dropped into a mildly steep bank where a couple of paths had been worn smooth by the movements of his family as well as other creatures.  A family of beach foraging jackals, the ones his young enjoyed playing with, had a den dug into the side of the bank.  Goats and other prey creatures traveled down the path, combing the beaches for nutrient rich greens that washed onto shore.  The male laid at the edge of the bank and looked out into the water.

  Six years ago he had been born into the North where the land was dominated by trees as tall as mountains.  The foliage was lush and before he could leave his den, he laid every night with his mother and siblings, nestled deep in crackling pine needles.  His first memory was of the snow and how he blinked against it's brightness.  Winters, deep winters, were times of empty bellies.  But his pack survived, a large powerful group of many individuals.  Summers were for bounty and all the younglings waddled with fat bellies swinging just above the ground.  The north had been his home.  His first kill had been in the winter.  Snow had exploded around him as the rabbit he was chasing attempted to double back on it's own path in hopes of confusing him.  Instead of losing the rabbit, the male's jaws had snapped it's spine cleanly in two.

  The male sighed and thought back on his life in the North.  He had been dominant in personality from the time when he was very young.  His sire had kept him in check, though.  Open rebellion was not pleasing to the male so he was satisfied to remain submissive to his sire and dame.  Wanderlust struck most of his siblings and they left the pack to fight their own way through the world.  They set up small territories between their home and those of other packs.  The small family units would be tolerated until they became so big that they had to be driven out or until they melded back into their home pack.  Some packs were greedy and chased away the younglings as soon as possible.  The male's pack was not like that.  The small families on the outside of their territory could be called on for a hunt or to defend a border; prey was mostly abundant so there was no need for violence.

  His life changed though when a strange lone female appeared.  She was thin and blundered in the snow.  But when she was challenged by his dame she stood her ground, not aggressive but not submissive.  The pack heckled her for a short time but soon all but the male lost interest in her.  This strange female was a potential mate.  The male admired her; she was composed in a way that lone wolves often were not.

  Once they encountered her as she was sating herself on one of their cached kills.  The audacity of it drove his mother to spring an attack upon the lone female.  His dame was a good paw's length taller than the strange female and weighed much more.  But the lone wolf was full of surprises.  As the male's dame loomed above the smaller female, the loner curled in on herself and neatly caught his mother's throat in her jaws.  The northern female had twisted and writhed, trying in vain to reach the other with her jaws.  But the southern creature held on firmly, not once drawing blood.  The way she held his mother's throat reminded him of the way he would secure a wandering pup in his jaws.  After a few moments the loner spoke, her voice of the tide, with more than a little exasperation.

  If you don't leave me be, I will leave you no throat with which to swallow your food.

  You lowly Trickster, his mother had snarled, You dirty...

  The other then sighed, You're making my jaws twitch...

  The grip must have tightened for his dame suddenly gasped.  In that moment the male knew he had found his mate.  No one dared to bother her once his mother was released; they had enough sense to know when bested.  They left the rest of the kill to her, more than a little perturbed by this odd one who had no care for the structure of traditions of the pack.  The male saw her as he saw himself.  She was one to lead her own pack, not one to follow.  She was meant for him.

  The male dropped his jaw in a wolfish grin as he remembered, tasting the sea on his tongue.

  The only problem had been convincing her the same.

  Why do you stay here?  She asked him when he came after her that night, You are not fit to belly-crawl to others.  You are acting out of place.

  I plan on leaving, he had responded, plenty of meaning in his voice.

  The female narrowed pale yellow eyes at him, Not with me.

  Why not?

  She sighed, I have no need for a mate.

  He tilted his head playfully, I didn't say I wanted to be your mate.  Why did you come so far north?

  The loner was quiet then, Because I felt like it.  The world is a large place.  There is much to see of it.

  Where are you going now?

  Home, she looked around with a lip curled in disgust, I have had enough of your north.  It is too cold here and the snow clumps between my toes.

  Exactly what I was thinking.

  They had pups in the following months and then lost them.  The male had said goodbye to the snow and mountains to start a life in a place of sand and sea.  The ocean had shocked him at first but he grew to love it and it's moods.  It brought them food sources he had never dreamed of.  When the tides changed odd spindly legged things wandered the beach and he quickly developed a taste for their sweet, slippery flesh.  Giant white ocean birds nested in the dunes, providing them with eggs and ungainly chicks.  There were always fish trapped in the small pools that drained at the end of the day.  In the winter large furred mammals beached themselves to give birth.  The adults were too fearsome with their tusks and powerful flippers but the fat young were easy to steal away when the adults went to hunt.  The wolves weren't the only hunters of the sea though.  On clear days sharp, nimble forms swam gracefully in the water.  When the shapes were spotted the furred sea-things stayed on the beach, barking and grunting in distress.  Sometimes they returned from the water injured by teeth that left wounds that made the male shudder.  The male had a feeling that those slim, quick shapes were the sea-wolves, hunters like himself.

  His mate had taught him to adapt.  She knew how to chase goats into the sand where they were less nimble.  She taught him to ignore the birds that flapped upon the ground; they were simply pretending and if one was patience, one could find their nest full of eggs or fuzzy chicks.  His mate knew which snakes to eat and which to avoid.  Big insects armed with a stinger arched over their backs were tasty mouthfuls once he had been taught how to properly catch them.  At first the male had recoiled at eating such unusual things and his mate had mercilessly taunted him till he gave in.  Now their young were being raised on the bounty given to them.  Almost adults, they were frightening beach-combers, eating all the small prey they could catch.

  He had made this new life his and it had been free of disturbance until this new monster had intruded upon it.  The male watched the cove.  Gulls spoke to one another their their guttural language and the ceaseless tide rolled along the beach.  Here he had found his peace.  He decided that there was no way on this earth that he would relinquish it.

------

  You have been near her!  The male roared, his body stretched up along the tree, Tell me everything now!

  The dusky wildcat blinked at him slowly, no concern in her voice, You are quite bothered by this.

  The wolf growled and fell back upon his haunches.  He could smell the behemoth all over the cat.  The cat had been far too evasive and angered him into driving her up the tree where she now gazed down on him with vague irritation.

  Of course I am, he said with much more irritation than she expressed, She could be a threat to my family.

  You wolves are so short-sighted.  You have been given the gift of the Voice yet you continue to act with no more intelligence than your domesticated cousins.  More and more of you lose the Voice every day.  Haven't you considered that this new being is here for a reason?

  The wolf could not help but be interested, What do you mean by this?

  The cat shifted herself on her branch, Perhaps you cannot see it but she has been touched by the Moon, by the Giver of the Voice, but I can.  Maybe even both of you.  She doesn't know.  She, like you, is a creature of the here and now.  Should you listen to the Voice you may just figure out the reason for her and what she is.

  You know what she is.  A statement, not a question.

  Yes, keen eyes stared into his, But is it not my place to tell.

  I'll never understand your kind, the wolf stood and shook his head.  It was nearing high summer and soon he would have to begin bathing in the dirt to ward off fleas.  Already he was losing interest in what the cat had to say.  Cats were queer predators.

  And we'll never understand yours, the cat spoke with rich amusement, Our kind is older than yours.

  So?  He could see little significance in that.

  The cat's voice was stony, We will be here much longer for we always return.  Humans have turned some of you into beings dedicated to them.  Your kind turns from the Voice for the promise of easy food and shelter.

  This did bother the wolf, How is it that your kind can reside with humans and yet remain within the Voice?

  Choice, the cat said as if speaking to a youngling, Your kind is choosing to lose their way.  It is simply a matter of free will.

  They looked at each other solemnly.  What she said was true.  The wolf knew it in his heart.  His kind was slowly drawing away from what gave them the power of thought and knowledge.  The Voice, year after year, was becoming quieter.

  It could be, the cat continued as she began to fastidiously groom, That she is your salvation.  Neither of you can see it, though.  May your Moon damn your ignorance some day.

-----

  Is that what you are?  The male asked her.  He stood with his back to the beach, her's to the ocean.

  Salvation?  The giant female looked at him curiously, Why does salvation concern you so greatly that you would seek me out?

  My kind is wandering from the Voice, the wolf looked past her.  Her eyes were too intense for him.

  The she-wolf scoffed at him, How is that any of my concern?

  He looked at her with surprise, We are your kind.

  No, she corrected him, I am not your kind, nor you mine.  I am my own.

  Do you not have a pack?  The question was taken by the female with a slight grin.

  Not in the sense that you do.  Why did you come south?  Tell me and maybe I will be more keen on telling you of myself.

  And he told her.  She was a polite listener, standing attentively with the waves lapping at her feet.  When he was done she stared at him as if considering all that he had told her.

  That was daring of you.

  No, he said thoughtfully, More so of my mate.  She came north with no guidance, no one to teach her to hunt our way or how to survive there.  She was alone and yet she did it with no purpose other than to see our world.

  And in their world that often meant death.

  You care for her greatly.

  I do.  I would want no other.  She is the mother of my young.  She is smart and strong, he spoke honestly, I couldn't find another like her.  Will you tell me why you're here?

  To find answers.

  For what?

  The wolf-smile was back, but there was darkness behind it.  It was a taunting, intangible thing that made the wolf recall her Man scent even more strongly, I want to know the full extent of what I'm capable of doing.

  The male back up, away from her.  Her voice was now louder with the bronze hammering of Man.  There was power in her voice, a power that frightened him and also excited him.  He was on the verge of knowing something very important.  It shivered through him like a cold breeze.

  What can you do?

  She laughed airily, You're full of questions now.  It wasn't long ago you wished to shoo me away from here.

  I held an interesting conversation with a cat.

  The female's eyes snapped from within, And what did that cat tell you?

  The look in the giant's eyes intimidated him, Salvation.  She said you might bring though you don't know it.

  I'm no one's savior, she responded with a sneer, You could do better than listen to the rumors of a cat.

  Silence filled the space between them.

  Then why are you here?  He asked, frustrated that he could not get to the root of it, You are being as evasive as a cat.

  I already told you!  She snapped.

  That was not a real answer!  If you are to intrude upon my territory you at least owe me an explanation, a real explanation, as to why.  Why my territory?  Why did you stalk me as you would a rabbit?  Do you not have a dame, a sire, younglings to call your own?

  Stop it, she ordered.

  He glared at her, finding strength in his questions, Have you been banished?

  No.  I am free to come and go as I please.

  What of my other questions? 

  The female sighed, the ferocity draining from her, My dame is Golgraine, my sire Rhaed.  I have no younglings of my own, no mate, no territory.  We have no need for territory.  This earth is ours to wander.

  Golgraine, goal-gry-een...Rhaed, rhy-ed...they were human names.  A chill struck him.  Wolves and other creatures had no need to name themselves as humans did.

  Were you kept by humans?  Is that why you smell of them?

  I have never been kept by them, not in the sense in which you mean it.  I smell of them because they are a part of who I am.

  That makes no sense.

  Maybe, she seemed hesitant, Maybe someday I will show you.

----

  He saw the cat again, this time fishing in the rocks.

  Your younglings chased my litter up a tree, her eyes never left the pool, It took me a whole afternoon to get them down.  They were scared witless. 

  The male found it amusing but apologized any way, They are young and exuberant.

  Well they may play with the jackal pups then, the cat continued to watch the water, Mine are too young for such games.  They were terrified.  If they do it again I'll have to find one of my larger sisters to give them a scare right back.

  I will make sure they leave them be, he said seriously.  He was sure that by sister the cat meant the larger, maned versions of her kind that sometimes wandered the coast.  They were rare now, mostly driven out by Man, but he did not want near his pups.  Predators larger than himself were not to be toyed with.

  Thank you, with a move quicker than the wolf's eye could follow she flipped a fish from the pool and neatly dispatched it, I take it you spoke with the other wolf?

  I did.  She knows nothing of being a savior.  I don't think that is what she is.

  The cat eyed the water as if contemplating another catch, What do you think of her?

  She is frightening but fascinating.

 What do you find fearful about her?

  The wolf had no problem answering that question, Her power.  She could easily kill myself and my mate, not to mention my pups.

  A bear or lion could do that.  What else?

  There's a blackness behind her words, he thought back on his conversations with the female, I don't know if she will cause intentional harm but there is something dark and hateful within her that can.

  Unintentional evil, the cat seemed thoughtful, That's something new.  What's fascinating about her?

  She makes me feel as a pup does.  I want to howl and jump at her, grovel on my belly and beg for her attention.  It is like I am her subordinate.  The Voice tells me to be careful but also praises her but my gut says caution.  She could end me.

  I see, the cat blinked wide, feral eyes at him, Doesn't that mean anything to you?

  It means that she is confusing, he replied crossly.  The cat's probing questions were quickly becoming an annoyance.  She was trying to get him to figure out the answer for himself.  The wolf had no patience for such a game.  He was tempted to seize her by her scruff and shake it out of her but he wanted no repercussion from her more dangerous kind.

  What do you know about salvation?  He asked instead of shaking her.

  We are the Eyes of the Goddess whom we call Bast, and whom the wolves call the Moon.  Your kind is much loved but you are young and uncouth.  We are made to know such things while you are made to seek out answers on your own.  We know Ours when we see them, smell them, and hear them.  I don't know why your kind fights against recognizing them.  Always it has been a struggle for wolves to stay within the Voice.  You would rather listen to your more base nature than the sense She has given you.

  How do we know for sure?  How do we know who is Ours?  The wolf was confused by the cat's speech.

  The cat stared long and hard at the male.  For a second their Voices overlapped.  Each great species chosen by the Moon, Goddess, God, or whatever name the Giver of the Voice was called, was given the ability to use one common voice to communicate.  But the wild canines and felines had their own voices as well.  A feline could not hear the private collective voice of the wolves and jackals, nor could he hear the private collective of the felines.  Yet in that moment he joined her and heard her as he would a wolf and her voice was that of a babbling brook, of the shiver of fish scales against rock, and crackle of sun-dried leaves.  She showed him what she knew until he tore himself away in horror, the soft bubbling sound of her voice gone.

  Your kind is made in the image of the Giver of the Voice, yet you are always fighting to find your way back to her, the cat whispered.

  He was on his feet, backing away from the small predator that stared at him with eyes that knew far too much.  He fled from her, the scenes in his mind refusing to be shaken away.  The female was no true wolf.  She was no savior, not even a Trickster.  She was one who could walk as Man.

----

  His mate smothered his broken voice with her's, the sound of stormy waves breaching the reef.  He let her quiet him with force, a tactic used on frightened younglings and unpleasant subordinates.  The male lost himself in his mate's mind until he was steady again, ready to live with what he had seen.  What other monstrosities walked the earth?  How could the cat call the female wolf-human a savior?  There had been nothing savior like from what he had glimpsed.  There was no savior, only a creature whose very existence denied all that he knew.

  What will we do?  He asked his mate.

  You must see it for yourself, his mate responded coldly, You must make her show you.

  Why?  I do not wish to see such a thing!

  There was hate in his mate's eyes, and he knew it was reflected in his own.  Hate was a human thing and spurned by the wolves.  But now he felt it, the all consuming burn that babbled unceasingly in his mind.  This creature could bring Men upon them, Men who in their cruelty would slaughter his mate and him for the want of fur.  Men, who would trap their young and pit them against the great dogs that wore spiked rings about their necks.  Or his young would be chained, kept by humans as a plaything until they too lost the Voice.  Fear was dictating their hearts now.

  When she is human and weak, his mate hissed, You will kill her.  Then she will be gone and we will not have to fear.

----

  I can smell your fear, the female sounded distressed, What has frightened you so?

  They stood as they had once before, the female's back towards the water and his to the beach.  This time though, it would be her that would need an escape route.  He was determined to destroy this creature before she could willingly or unwillingly harm his family.  The cat was wrong about this female.  No such thing could be a savior.  The Voice was wrong.

  I know what you are.

  Shock made her take a step back into the sea, You don't know anything.  You can't.

  The male stared her down, You walk as a Man.

  How did you find out?  She sounded more forlorn than angry.

  The cat told me, he didn't see any point in lying.

  She must have thought it was necessary, the other wolf's ruff was standing on end, I don't...I don't know why though.

  She still thinks you're our savior, he let the disgust into his voice, No creature like you could save my kind.  You no more belong within the Voice than the dumb creatures we hunt.

  That's not true!  She was hurt, Just because you do not understand my kind does not mean I don't belong.  I am no freak to be banished from the Moon.  I am no monster, no Trickster.  I am of two worlds, nothing more.

  There is a darkness in you, the Voice was begging the wolf to play it more gently with this one.  So he cooled his tone and calmed himself.  Some memory in the Voice that united them told him to not act foolishly.  It was warning him of the path he was taking.  But fear was stronger.

  The she-wolf hung her head, Yes, but not in all of my kind.  What is in me...it comes and it goes.  But I was truthful when I said I would not hurt your pack.  It isn't the kind of darkness that you think.  It is the sort that makes me lonely and afraid.  I followed you because you have that same darkness.

  The male bared his teeth and snarled at her, a low ripping sound, I do not!

  You do though!  You just don't see it.  You have let fear and hate rule you.  You feared me first because you thought I would hurt you.  Then you came to me because you thought I could save your kind.  Now...now you hate me because I am not what you wanted.  I am something different, a walker of two worlds, and this is hateful to you.  Men are hateful to you so you hate me.

  The Voice was droning in his ears and mind, making it hard for him to focus on her words.  He was missing something...she was something more...not a danger...not in the way he expected...she was...

  ...we tell him again and again that she is no monster but the one who will lead his way who will help save Man and wolf alike...

  The wolf shook his head, trying to ignore the ringing of the Voice within his head.

  ...for Men are as younglings foolish things that will destroy themselves and for fear and hate the wolf would turn away from the Voice...

  Enough!  He cried within his mind, silencing the Voice.  There was no other path with her.  There was no savior, there was no one to lead them back. 

  This hate, she said softly, It makes you no better than I, no better than a Man.

  Curse your Voice!  It was a vile, hurtful insult.

  She responded with a snarl that was deeper than his, the sound of two boulders crashing into one another, I am sick of your curses!  If you would damn me and ignore the Voice then you do not belong in it!

  It was blasphemy she spoke but he ignored it, Show me.  Show me then leave.  I will forget you.  If you stay I will collect every pack I can find and even if it is the death of me, you will be destroyed.

  The Voice cried out in his mind at such a hateful thing.

  She bowed her head, a shamefully human movement, I thought to show you, but under different circumstances.

  Her body seemed to flow and shrink swiftly, fur, eyes, and paws changing faster than his eyes could follow.  It was as if she jumped backwards.  The figure in front of him stood, tall and slender.  The sunlight shone through her hair and her skin was speckled by small marks as if she were a cat.  There was a terrible beauty in her lean form.  Her eyes were still that of a wolf's, human in shape and form, but glowing with the ferocity of wolf-kind.

  But she was human.

  She is of both worlds! 

  The Voice was screaming at him now, screaming for him to stop, but his body had already lifted from the sand.  His paws struck her shoulders, knocking her into the waves.

  Can't you hear them?!  She cried out, I am both!  I walk both worlds!

  The salty waves rushed over them and he sought her throat with his teeth.  The sea stung his eyes and nose, nearly choking him.  But he didn't stop and finally he felt against his muzzle tender flesh.

  STOP!

  Hands with a vise-like grip seized his muzzle, snapping it shut so soundly that he tasted blood as his incisors sliced into his tongue.  He could only grunt in pain as the hands tightened their grip and forced his neck back.  The wolf had no choice but to stagger backwards from her, the human female rising from the water.  He had been wrong to not listen to the Voice for her eyes and strength were not human, but greater than even a wolf's.  Her lips parted to reveal canines as sharp and deadly as his.  He thrashed in terror.

  I wanted you for my own, she panted, I wanted...I wanted to see if it could be done.  And maybe the cat was right.  Maybe I could save your race that way.

  But now...now it won't be for love.  It won't be for understanding, she hissed and he could not fathom as to what she meant, I will do it because I can, without your permission.  Watch, little cousin, and if you live you'll understand.

  His neck was twisting to the side and it was either allow it to break or fall.  So he fell.  Her body was over his, pinning him as easily as he would a cub.  He kicked at her, whining for release.  His nails dug gouges into her skin but her muscles were as unyielding as stone.  Her bared teeth lowered to his exposed neck.

  Now she shows him, the Voice said in a hushed tone.

  Watch, she commanded.

----

  A child was born to a fair haired man a woman whose hair was the red of the sunset.  Rhaed and Golgraine, he knew from her mind.  But Rhaed was not her true sire.  Golgraine was loved by two men.  Khajad was as dark as Rhaed was fair and though Golgraine chose Rhaed, it was Khajad who was as a father to her.

  He was my true father, she spoke to him over the memories.  A dark haired man played games with her in the sand.  They lived in a hot place where the sun burned mercilessly.  But she was born into the heat and it did not bother her.  The four of them lived happily together.  She knew that before her that things had not been happy.  Happiness had only come with her birth.

  She was called Naiom and they all had wolf eyes.

  Through her memories he could see the three adults in the moonlight.  Their eyes reflected back at her.  She was young and jealous of them for she could not change as they did.  Sometimes she was so upset that Khajad would miss the hunts to stay with her.  Naiom would knot tiny fists into his fur and cry bitterly with envy.  All she wanted was to run with them, to hunt, and to sing praises to the Moon with the voice of a wolf.  She wanted to howl until the sand foxed joined her with their tiny, sharp voices.  She was just a child though and she could not do as they did.

  One day she did change though.  She was running through the sand when the Voice told her it was time.  And she ran fleet-footed through the dunes, no longer on two legs, but upon four.  The wolf could feel the elation of the child-Naiom.  She felt as if she were flying, her paws knowing where to go when her human legs would have stumbled.  She ran until she was exhausted and curled up to sleep in the shadows of the dunes.  Night woke her and her family was there.  That night she sang, and the sand foxes sang with her.

  He saw them as she saw them, proud and beautiful.  She loved them and they her.

  Time snapped forward and she was a young woman in the city.  She wore an intricate veil that hid all but her eyes which were an unmistakable honey-emerald.  She loved the city despite it's flaws.  Naiom loved walking thought the streets, hiding the secret of her true self underneath vibrant fabrics and delicate jewels.  At night she roamed the roofs and back alleyways.  She could see all the secrets of the city people.  Her family lectured her, telling her it was safer to go outside the city.

  Like all young things that think they know much of the world, I ignored them, she thought with amusement to him.

  One night a young man saw her change and began to scream about devils in the city.  She opened his belly before he could alarm others and that was when the darkness in her took seed.

  I never wanted to kill a human, she said mournfully, For all their flaws I loved them.

  But she began to see them in a new light.  Murder, treachery, rape, and slavery.  Many men were good but man more were bad.  Naiom, who had once loved the city with all her being, now needed to leave.  Rhaed was prone to coldness and he did not understand her guilt.  Her mother and Khajad knew though and agreed.  She was an eternal creature and they did not want her to lose her mind at such a young age.

  How old are you?  He asked her, watching her memory of the sad procession from the city.

  Hundreds of years, she said with a sigh, I was old before the men came to live here, before they built Gods and Goddesses of marble.

  How?  Such a long lifespan was unknown to wolves.

  I don't know, she answered him honestly, It is something to do with our bite and the dual nature of our selves.

  Her words gnawed at him but he was lost again.  A man with skin as dark as night was talking to her, soothing her guilt.

  Damju, she said with great affection, The first of our line.

  They traveled north and then west till the desert changed into woods.  Damju was with them and where ever he went wolves like the male were eager to see him.  The male could see his kind as Naiom and her kind saw him.  Even the biggest northern wolves were as younglings to them.  The giant form changers had an instinctive urge to protect them as they did their own younglings.  Naiom was not lying when she said she would not hurt his family.  To her they were tiny, delicate creatures.  The male had let fear guide him and now the guilt was bitter.

  That's why I picked you, Naiom's voice was excited, There was something about you when I felt your mind.  You have the same capacity for guilt that I do.  You understand fear and hate as a human would.  You will be the one that can show us how far our powers may go.

  The male was dizzy and her memories were spinning in his mind, What powers?

  The power to create.  Humans have been able to be made into our kind, but we are of both worlds.  We are as much, if not more, wolf as we are man.  So why has not a wolf been turned?  I have asked and asked but received no answer.  Then I found you, and the Voice told me you were the one, you who feels as a human does.

----

  He had no memory of separating from her but suddenly he was staggering backwards out of the surf.  His world spun around him, every sound oddly muted.  All he could hear was the crashing of the waves.  No gulls, no rustling of sand.  No beach sounds could be heard over the waves in his ears.  There was a stinging hum in his veins as if a slow poison was working through his body.  He shook his head to clear out his senses.  He wished to flee but his sense of direction was confused and he stumbled over his own feet.

  The wolf was on fire.  His blood was burning.

  Naiom was before him in the water, the pulling tide washing his blood from her.  Her eyes locked with his, eyes that were emerald-gold wolf eyes.

  "If you survive," she reached out to brush blood from his fur, "I will know and I will come for you."

  "You are Lycaon, the Wolf-King.  And someday, you may lead what was once your kind."

----

  The female wolf strolled the beach, her seven young following her, ambling with the lazy march of already full predators.  They were grown now but hesitant to leave.  Their mother was on her own now and not as young as she once was.  They felt a responsibility for her.  Without them it would be harder for her to hunt, or so they believed.  The female knew this and was secretly amused.  She had been fine on her own before but she appreciated the care of her young.  They would remain with her until strange males and females came to lure them away.  Eventually, she supposed, she would find a new mate.

  Father is here, her largest male pup stopped in his tracks to look past her.  She stopped too.

  Indeed he was.  When he first came back to her he appeared as a human and she had fled.  He came again as a wolf, but he was not as he was before, and was now bigger than the giant female that had disrupted their lives.  The change hadn't affected his persistent nature though.  He came to them again and again until she finally tolerated having him around.  His change disturbed her greatly; her mate's mind was the same but he had changed so severely in form that she was frightened by him.  Then slowly she began to let the pups see him.  They were ecstatic and saw her mate, now Lycaon, only as their father.  They were young and ignorant.  It took longer for her to open up to him again.  They shared the Voice and she saw the wonders and horrors that he did.  He showed her the human world, a frightening place that was terrible in it's beauty though.  He showed her what he called art, sang to her their songs.  It was a mixed world and somehow he had found his place in it.

  Lycaon.  Perhaps there was something to humans and their naming of things.  His new name had a certain power to it, as if it had been waiting to be given to him.  He told her that he had given their young names.  The two big males that reminded her so much of him were Nyctimus and Linus.  Their two smaller males were Helix and Ares.  The biggest female was Tisiphone, the middle one Calypso, and the smallest Phoebe.  The younglings found their names most diverting.  Truthfully it made the female laugh inside.  The pups took their names seriously with their father.  They let her slide on not using the name but not their sire.  He was expected to always call them by the names he had given them.

  It was greatly confusing to her how he could change but not change.  Other than his form he had changed only slightly.  He was more insightful and more determined.  Had Lycaon gained those traits but stayed the same form as he had been his mate would have cared for him even more.  But now he was something different and as long as what he was, and as long as she was what she was, things could never be the same.  The truth of that was bitter in her heart.  The female longed to have things the way they had been, just them and their young, no mystery and no interfering curse.

  May we go see him?  Phoebe, the smallest of her litter, asked enthusiastically, Please?

  Let me speak with him first.

  She approached Lycaon, who had once been her mate.  He was in human form, kneeling in supplication to her.  The female walked into his open arms, laying her head on his shoulders as he wrapped strong arms around her.  At first she believed that he would be weak as most humans but he taught her to see the wolf in him.  His nails were longer and more pointed, his ears more sharply shaped.  Lycaon had sharp, strong teeth instead of the flat ones humans had.  His eyes reflected light in the dark and his strength was far greater than man and wolf combined.  He was right when he said he was equal parts wolf and man.  It had scared her but now a type of wonderment and reverence had replaced her fear.  There was a certain rightness in him and knowing that he was watching them, protecting them and the other wolves from human mischief.  Had they been wiser they would have seen this in the female Naiom.

  ...finally she sees things as they should be this the most Blessed of the Moon protecting Her chosen creatures and they will one day save both Man and Wolf from a great catastrophe...

  The wolf closed her eyes to the Voice, basking in the feeling of her mate using his human hands to slick down the rough hairs of her outer coat.  She could understand now why so many wolves gave themselves over to Man as willing companions.  The petting sensation relaxed her and made her feel secure as a pup curled against it's mother's belly.  He finally pulled away and looked at her squarely.  His human-wolf eyes were intimidating but she was a dominant female.  She did not look away.

  "I have something important we need to talk about," he had a way of using his spoken voice with the Voice to give meaning to his human words.

  What is it?

  "The Voice," he scratched under his chin as she spoke, a gesture that made her feel somewhat dog-like but it was done out of affection and she allowed it.

  He continued, sadly, "Our kind is losing their way.  More and more of us are stepping away from the gifts we have been given.  In a few hundred years all wolves will have lost the Voice.  We will become as dumb as prey.  We'll be as the stupid goats and sheep that humans herd."

  "The cat...I think she was right in a way.  Naiom's people, my people now, they live eternally and even the oldest has not come close to losing the Voice.  I hear it, feel it, all the time.  It's like a river running always through my mind.  Naiom says that one day I will learn again to be selective about what I hear as I could when I was only a wolf.  I think that's why none of them can stray away.  Somehow we are keepers of the Voice.  As long as we live, which is forever, the Voice cannot die.  When it's lost from the wolves we will still be here, ready again to lead them back when the time comes.  Some of those who can walk two worlds do not agree.  They think we would be interfering with the natural course of things.  I don't believe that.  I believe someday we'll be needed and not just for wolves but for humans as well.  They too are losing their way.  The Voice tried telling me this but I listened too late."

  Lycaon, she said gently, This does not concern me.  Myself and our younglings will have long turned to dust when that time comes.  Those of our blood may yet live but I will not.

  He stood then, looking down upon her, "It doesn't have to be that way.  We can do this together, be together and see this come to be.  There aren't many of us and we are eternal but we can still die.  Some plagues can take us, like the foaming-mouth sickness.  If injuries are too great our bodies cannot heal in time.  There are not enough to keep the Voice.  I know this in my heart.  I want to see the world grow and change but only if you and our children are by my side."

  She broke his gaze.  Eternity was too grand of an idea.  To be immortal though, to never fear his loss or that of her young...

  "Rhea."

  He called her by the name he had chosen for her.  His voice was soft and full of love, a love that if she chose could last until the end of the world.  The things she feared now would only be tiny and insignificant and they would pass as if in a blink of an eye.  She could stand with her mate, their young, and watch the world turn before them.

  "I'm giving you what Naiom didn't or couldn't give me.  We have been blessed with free will and the ability to choose.  I'm giving you this choice."

  Hand was extended to her.

  I choose you, she said as she laid her muzzle in that human hand, You and eternity.
 
 

Author's Note

Polite critiques welcome :)