Tori
Trees rushed by, snow crunching under my paws, the moon looming large in the sky. Pine and fir and musk and blood, smell was so much more precise as the wolf. Close behind, the snapping of jaws, snarling and furious, a pack of unfamiliar wolves chased me.
Those growls said so much, the yips and grunts and snapping jaws. Wolftongue.
Weak dog in the woods. Outcast prey who runs. Not wolf, never wolf.
I ran from them, managing to scramble away when one grabbed my leg. Teeth scraped, fur tore, I yelped.
I cried to them again, as best I could.
Trueborn. This, me, Trueborn.
Unrelenting, that did not sway them.
Blood and bone and death for the dog-wolf. Poison, weak human in wolfskin.
Their meaning hurt as much as their teeth.
The woods gave way to road, paved street, the forest one moment and the middle of town the next, lampposts replacing trees. My bare, human feet slapped against the pavement. I didn’t even see the guy in the middle of the road.
He was so much taller than me. A blond mustache sat above lips drawn in a tight line, his face scrunched up like he smelled something foul. Green eyes narrowed as rough hands grabbed my arms, as he stared down at me.
The man wasn’t alone in the street, behind him were more people. Faces that were vaguely familiar but no one I knew. No one to look to for help.
“Wolf.” The man spat at me. “She’s a fucking wolf. She’s not human.” The almost-familiar faces clouded in anger, in hate, and the crowd closed in on me.
“Stop!” I cried to them, struggling against the man. His hands squeezed me, digging into my flesh painfully, his nails scraping me as I yanked away. “I didn’t do anything to you! I never did anything to you.”
He sneered at me and I stumbled backwards, trying to stay out of those calloused hands.
“You were born.”
I fought against tears at the hate in his voice, turning and running the opposite direction.
Four feet ran, my claws clacking against the pavement as I ran, the world too blurry for me to even see where I was going. A grunt escaped me as I slammed into yet another object.
Soft hands were in my fur. Stroking my ears.
“I’m your Packleader.” Gwen’s voice was soft as she held me close, burying her face in my neck as I was pulled into her lap. “I’ll protect you.”
But we were standing. She held my naked human form in her arms, leaning down and kissing me softly as the mob of humans closed in. Gently, her hands on my shoulders, Gwen turned me to face them. She stood behind me, her hands never leaving me, lending her strength to me.
The mob slowed, shouting as they neared.
Gwen stepped out of the crowd, from behind the man. Before I could turn to see whose hands were on my shoulders, she strode forward, the blade of her spear sinking into my leg.
Silver burned.
The blade entering me wasn’t metal, it was a hateful, cleansing fire. My flesh split beneath it, blood spraying as I burned.
Gwen mouthed something that I never heard as the wolves came from both sides, teeth sinking into me, tearing me to pieces. Silver fangs in their mouths shredded me, every bite that same fiery agony.
The humans didn’t want me, I was too wolf.
The wolves didn’t want me, I was too human.
Did Gwen?
That was the question on my lips as I drowned in my own blood.
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The colors of the world were muted from my eyes compensating for the darkness. My wolf eyes. Pain radiated from my leg, spreading throughout my body. My teeth hurt from the throbbing, burning hole in my thigh. My mouth was an arid wasteland, cracked and dry and desperate. I could smell the bowl of water next to my head under the overwhelming scent of blood. My blood.
I tried to shift, pushing my body toward the dire. The change hurt under normal circumstances. Bandages, tight around my thigh, squeezed the wound as I grew sending wave after wave of torture through me. My vision began going white at the edges. I felt hot, my tongue lolled from my mouth and I gave up.
The collar was gone but I couldn’t change.
But it had just stopped during the fight. That meant I could overpower it. I could defeat it.
That spear was another matter entirely. Nothing had ever hurt like that in my life, and I never wanted to feel that again. A normal wound would have been healing already - this was what I had been afraid of, but faking sick was only going to work once.
I was the wolf who cried wolf.
My chest bobbed from my short-lived laughter, cut off by more pain. She wouldn’t believe me now, even if I was sick. I pulled myself up to three legs, leaning my head down to debase myself by lapping the water from a bowl, like her dog.
It was difficult, but I managed to twist to get a look at it - and fresh blood was spreading slowly on the white bandage around my thigh. Shifting had disrupted something, done something to the wound.
Gwen was there, just outside the cage, asleep on an air mattress.
The wound was her fault, this pain was her fault, and yet I still wanted very badly to go curl up next to her. To nuzzle her hand until it was in my fur. What would it feel like? Animals liked it - it didn’t even matter the species, pretty much every animal enjoyed being petted, brushed, or groomed some way, reacting with whatever their expression of pleasure was.
I wanted to feel it. I wanted to feel it from Gwen.
A confusing thought given how angry I was with her at the moment. I hated her for putting me in this position, and now I had a serious wound. Escape was going to be so much harder. Every failed attempt only made it more difficult.
Confusion wasn’t enough to describe the thoughts swirling around Gwen. I hated her but there was something sweet about how hard she was trying. I believed that she really did want to help me. I just didn’t want her help. The movie had been nice, although it was still clearly propaganda - in the end, the wolf-dog ended up as a pet, after all.
Exactly what she wanted of me.
Well… what we wanted of each other, in all honesty. I wanted to keep her as a pet just the same. I remembered the rush of her hand gripping my hair, the feeling of her lips against mine. Lips I didn’t even have at the moment. One thing I did have, however, was a need. A battle I was losing.
The thought of walking to the bathroom was daunting. It was taking everything I had left just to remain upright. In the end, to the sound of Gwen’s soft snoring, I relieved myself in the corner of the cage before laying down as far as I could from my shame. Mortified, I curled up as best I could, keeping all pressure off of my leg, and I let unconsciousness take me again.
The fight was gone from me at the moment, I stood not a chance in the battle against sleep.
As ever, there was no way to know how much time had passed in slumber. I woke slowly, groggy. Waking in wolf form was normal, but there was a new sensation. And it felt good.
Really good.
Human fingers were softly stroking my left ear, the thumb gently running along the inside, a finger following it perfectly on the outside. Those fingers buried themselves in my fur, from the front of my head to the back, between my ears and ever so slightly around.
It felt much better than I could have imagined.
The scent of rose and mint and willow was gone, her perfume faded. I missed it. It had been pleasant. She wasn’t saying anything, she hadn’t shifted or moved, just gently moved her fingers through my coat in a way that sent little lines of pleasure through my brain.
Almost enough to let me ignore the pain.
If I feigned sleep, if I just laid there with my eyes closed for a few, I could enjoy this moment of peace. I could let her pet me without sacrificing my dignity.
Her hand moved down to my shoulder too soon, shaking me softly. “Tori, I need you to get up. I have to see your leg.”
Full of disappointment, I pretended to wake, giving a whine before snapping at her hand. I would have bitten her if she hadn’t moved. As much as I liked her touch, I wasn’t going to let her know that I enjoyed her touch.
She had it in her head that my wolf craved her, to submit to her. To be a fucking pet, and that was the last thing I wanted to encourage.
With a growl low in my throat, I pinned my ears back and bared my fangs.
You won’t touch me while I’m awake, bitch.