The Beauty’s Beastly Wolf

Gray

The curse of seven years burns in my blood, but it doesn't matter. I won't live long.

A cool autumn breeze ruffles my fur, bringing with it the stench of death.

I wrinkle my nose but don't have the energy for more than that, save a soft growl that rumbles through my throat.

The body of the other wolf is a dark shadow at the corner of my vision, a brutal reminder of the curse that now lays entirely on my bloody shoulders.

And bloody paws, too weak to protect him.

My partner. Not my mate; we are too young for that, and there are none of the signs my parents had told me to expect. But we were the last two wolves strong enough to hold the seven year curse, to protect the humans in the valley below from the evil the curse will wreak if left unchecked.

Now my partner is dead, and the curse aches in my body. If my injuries don't kill me, the curse will.

Although starvation might get me first. Trapped in my wolf form, there's little I can do to feed myself, especially when I'm too weak to hunt anything that isn't already dead.

For generations the rest of the pack has supported the cursed wolves, ensuring we are safe and well fed so our bodies are strong enough to fight off the curse that lingers in the air like a stagnant whiff of death.

Now my pack is gone, killed by humans who hunt us for our "unholy" ways, and so is my cursed partner.

I am all alone.

What is the point? Even if I had the energy to hunt, which I don't, most creatures have already begun to bed down for the winter. The birds have gone south to warmer climes, and a thin layer of frost covers what few plants still live.

The frost bites against my tongue and I wrinkle my nose, dropping my muzzle back to my paws with a soft huff.

As a wolf, I am more limited on things I can eat than I am in my human form, a fact I found out the hard way when my stomach first violently rejected plants that are perfectly safe for me to eat in human form.

I am a wolf, but if I could survive this winter by grazing like a goat, I would.

Blood and fire have taken my pride from me.

The wind turns, ruffling my matted fur, abandoning the scent of death and bringing with it something altogether sweeter. Cooking meat and some sort of fruit, but more than that. Something that makes my instincts shiver, both the human and wolf within me humming softly in agreement.

I lift my head, nostrils flaring as I whine softly. Opening my mouth to allow my tongue to loll gives me a better sense of the direction it's coming from, and what it is. My ears perk up, searching for any hints of danger.

Before their deaths in fire and iron, the elders of my pack told me about love, about mates, about the other half of my soul.

The urge to be with them starts with scent, they said, but that's only attraction, not love.

Love requires effort, courting. Bringing bits of food, proving common interests, showing them that I am a worthy mate.

With the death of my pack, I had expected never to find a mate. I will likely not last the winter as it stands, but this... this scent, this tug in my belly, it fills me with a renewed sense of purpose. If I have a mate, perhaps my life—what little is left of it—might yet be worth living.

Whining softly, I force myself to my feet.

The dried blood on my fur crackles. Every step is a dull ache, the pads of my paws still blistered from the flames that destroyed my village.

There's a jagged gash running from just above my shoulder down most of my side still weeping softly.

There's a faint scent of rust in my nose from my own coat, but it's nothing compared to the smell of death coming from the dead wolf that was once my partner.

Fabian. Other than me, he was the last living member of my pack, until we were hunted down.

Fabian defended me with his last breath while I lay bleeding in the dirt.

The human hunters left me for dead. When I regained consciousness, Fabian lay dead mere feet from me.

I will live with the guilt for what remains of my life, knowing he died alone in an attempt to protect me.

Better that the curse had taken us both.

I nose Fabian's side gently with my nose one last time, then turn into the grass.

The smell of my potential mate is nearly as strong as the savory odor of the cooking meat, but I am entirely clear on which one draws me more.

A hunger of another kind, but both of the scents come from the same place.

Whatever there is to find, it lies in the village below.

The journey down the mountain is a haze of agony as my body struggles to keep me upright.

It isn't hope keeping me going; it's spite and stubbornness. Every step is a painful reminder that I’m still living despite the human's best efforts.

The wound on my shoulder has reopened from all the exertion and the warm trail of blood trickling over my skin makes me shudder as I slink through the underbrush at the edge of town.

I stare at the rundown structure just a few yards away, positioned way outside the perimeter of the town and the safety it could provide.

The cottage before me is nothing special, rather ramshackle compared to the rest of the buildings in the town.

There's a clear distance between them that confuses me.

Close enough to still be part of the same town, but far enough to make me think that whoever lives in this home is unwelcome with the others, and has been since it was built.

When said occupant steps outside, the door creaking as she closes it behind her, my ears prick.

This woman is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. My tongue rolls out of my maw, her scent floating down my throat and through my nostrils. This is the smell I've been following down the mountain, and it's worth every agonizing step.

Long, curly red hair falls over her shoulders in waves I wish I had fingers to run through.

She's lean, but I know that look. Not enough food.

About my height, in my human form, not that it matters.

I am young, and I will grow if I survive the years to come.

When I return to my human form when the curse leaves me, I imagine I will be larger than she.

My ears perk up as she moves about with such grace.

I imagine years from now, when I am finally human again.

Caressing her shoulder, leaning ever so close to her, offering her a soft kiss as my parents often did.

As mates do. I know I’ll be bigger than her, a thought that makes my tail wag faintly.

If I am bigger, if I grow stronger, then I can protect her, keep her, worship her. My mate.

I won’t be alone.

Ears twitching, her soft hums lull me into a relaxed state, and the rush of warmth that fills me takes me by surprise. A gentle soul. Perhaps she would take care of me as I want to do for her.

I shift, the tall grass rustling around me, and her head whips in my direction, eyes wide.

My head thumps to my paws as I try my best to conceal myself.

I don’t want to scare her; it’s too soon for us to meet, even if I want nothing more than to curl up at her feet and guard her from the world that would cause her harm.

Tiny puffs of dirt rise from her worn boots as she steps across the carefully tended rows of the garden toward me. I sink deeper into the ground, heart pounding like a bird trapped in a cage, desperate to escape.

I should flee. Run from here as quickly as my poor wounded paws can take me, away from the danger of the humans in the village off in the distance, like the ones who destroyed everything I have ever loved.

Away from her.

And yet, I cannot. I do not fear her as I should. Heart still pounding, I remain where I am, tail twitching nervously. Even though I know I should remain still.

She freezes, eyes locking with mine, and I shrink into myself. Perhaps if I make myself small and nonthreatening, she will allow me to stay. I do not dare hope for food, as she is too slender herself. But if I can remain in her presence until the curse takes me, I will consider myself blessed.

Dark brows arch. Her lips twitch into a frown; clearly she is warring with herself as to what to do. I can only imagine what she sees. A filthy, bleeding wolf curled up in the grass staring at her with both hope and horror.

Hope that she won’t reject me. Horror that if she does, I’ll always be alone.

My eyes, one gold and one purple, are locked on hers. Those full lips of hers purse for a moment, seeming to come to a decision.

“You’ll get us both into trouble,” she whispers. “Wait until dark, and I’ll come back to clean up that wound. And food, if I can find some.”

She blanches a little and I whine softly, pawing at the ground. Her scent has changed. Not sweet, but almost… sad? Did I make her sad? That was not my intention at all.

I whine once more, the grass brushing my belly as I slink toward her, only a few shuffles. I don’t want to upset her; I want to help her, with what little strength I have left. I want to stay with her, close enough to smell, to touch, to taste.

To love.

Her face softens. She crouches slowly, fingers extending toward me. Her hand is trembling slightly, but I don’t budge. I will not frighten her away and risk everything. Any touch of hers I will take gladly, and she will see that she has nothing to fear from me.

Her touch is infinitely gentle, fingers sinking into my coat despite the bloodstained surface.

Her nails catch in a few places, the bloody fur tangled and dry, but the pain is nothing compared to the ache I have been feeling these last few days.

And even if it was, it wouldn’t matter. She could dig her fingers into my wound, and I would bask in her touch still.

This gentleness, the careful strokes, are akin to bliss.

“I don’t know how you’ve made it this far, love. But just hold on a little longer, and I’ll be back as soon as night falls.”

I lick her wrist gently to show her that I understand. Her fingers tense in my fur like she’s reluctant to leave me, but she pushes herself to her feet and shuffles back into the cottage. The door thumps shut behind her, a quick squeak of the hinges before it latches.

I lower my head to my paws with a soft huff. Before, I wanted nothing more than to lay down and die. But meeting her, my mate, has changed things.

Does she know she’s mine? Can she feel it deep within the recesses of her heart the same way I do?

I never thought I would have a mate, let alone a human one.

Now that I know, I’ll have to rethink some things, starting with my willingness to die.

Seven more years as a wolf, if I survive that long.

Seven years to bear the curse. I don’t know what it will do to me, being borne by me alone rather than the pair that was always intended, nor if I will survive at all.

Will the curse kill me, or change me? Will it end with me, the day I die?

I have no one to ask. But perhaps, if given time, my mate will be able to help me.

Curse or not, for her, I will live.