Gray
My mate does not hate me, and it is the greatest gift I could ask for.
She is here with me, and she is healing, and she does not hate me.
She seems happy enough to let me show her the cave, and I want nothing more than to show her every inch of it.
She comes softly as she follows me around, listening to my singular words and watching my careful pointing as I try to explain everything I've built for her.
For us.
At first, I feared I would make her panic by mentioning she is my mate, and I regretted saying it almost immediately.
I was so fearful that she would reject me outright and run for the hills, but I had just been so excited, so happy she was finally mine.
I couldn't contain myself any longer and I had to tell her.
And by some miracle, it hadn't scared her off. She seems happy enough to be here, and she hasn't run screaming, which is a win. Would this work? Could we live happily in this cave away from all of the humans?
The only damper on my feelings is her slight flinch when she moves and the smell of blood I can still sniff on her. I did my best to clean her wound, but it wasn't enough. She needs a bath, which will clean the rest off and hopefully make her feel better.
Decision made, I nod to myself and stand.
"Come."
I hesitate. If I could blush, I would, but I am too furry for that. Wow, that definitely came off too bossy. I swallow, hoping I can ease the sting of that single word with another.
"Please."
I'm not entirely certain what the word means, but I’ve heard humans use it before, so I’ve kind of gathered what the context means.
It feels like some sort of plea or like asking for forgiveness.
Which seems close enough for me; I don't want her to think that I am telling her what to do, ordering her about like those fools from her village who think they control her. That's not my intent whatsoever.
My voice softens, and I offer her a paw. She didn't seem to mind holding it before, and I was thrilled at the touch. She was rather fascinated before, in fact, and that alone sent shivers of excitement through my body.
Maris hums gently before she places her hand in mind. I lift her gently to her feet, not letting go when she's up, and letting her brace herself against me as we walk.
The cave is warm from the fire near the doorway I made to block the frigid wind.
Maris’ cheeks are pink from the chill that has settled in the air and she's a good deal shorter than I am.
Her strides are also smaller compared to mine, so I have to make sure I walk slowly enough so I can support her as she leans on me for support.
I could scoop her up and carry her into the water, like I carried her before, but I fear that would be pushing my luck.
Plus, it may hurt her wound if I were to move her the wrong way, so we shall take it slow and easy until she’s fully healed. I guide her into another cave that has a different pool for bathing. Having her dip into one of the others would freeze her to death.
"Wash?" I suggest as we reach the warm pool’s edge, hooking a claw at the clear water.
It's a natural hot spring, not warm enough to be dangerous, just comfortable.
The warmth is barely enough to penetrate my thick fur, but it should be perfect for my mate.
And perhaps the heat will alleviate some of the pain of her wound.
Maris smiles brightly, her whole face lighting up.
She kicks off her boots behind her and begins to disrobe, loosening her belt, and I whine softly.
I would very, very much like to see her without her clothes, to see the dips and curves of her body, to see if my imagination has done it justice all these years, but I cannot.
Humans are less free with their bodies than wolves like me, who grew up, surrounded by others and never learned to fear their body as humans do. I would be happy to let her see me unclothed, but I have fur, and I don't foresee that changing anytime soon.
Besides, it's not about what I'm comfortable with; it's about what she is comfortable with.
I turn away, folding myself neatly to my paws. Behind me, I can hear the rest of clothing slip down her body, the soft thump resonates through my bones as the heavy skirts hit the stone floor of the cave. The corset is next, strings rasping as she unties the laces.
My ears twitch and I fight the urge to turn around with every fiber in my being. Maris deserves respect. She needs to know I am not a danger to her in any way be it mental, physical, or spiritual. Though, I will worship her for the rest of her life even if she won’t or can’t return the feelings.
Maris sighs softly, the water splashing as she wades in.
I keep my eyes locked in place, away from the pool entirely.
I will not move. The wall in front of me is nothing interesting, simply smooth stone fragmented by thin stalactites, and mushrooms that shouldn't be able to grow in this darkness. But I keep my eyes forward.
Everything interesting is behind me. My whole world is at my back in that pool, sloshing around, rising herself, and torturing me in the process.
I close my eyes and inwardly groan. She’s so close, yet so far away.
All it would take is for me to turn around, slip into the water next to her and pull her close.
Would that scare her? I’m not even sure if she would accept me that way.
I open my eyes and let my gaze travel over the hard work I’ve done for her.
Rough hewn stone shelves, painstakingly carved with my claws and any tools I could find, just like the door.
Small baskets, easy enough to weave even with my claws, are stacked on the shelves.
I've managed to gather plenty of fabric over my years of scrounging, everything from the big cloths for drying after a bath, and the little ones for washing up.
Which reminds me, she will need one of each.
Clamping one paw over my eyes, so I'm not tempted to peek, or do so accidentally, I stand and turn slowly. I know this cave like the back of my paw. Even so, I stumble a few times, and I hear Maris giggle softly causing my tail wags. Her laughter is the sweetest nectar and I just want to drink it up, and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard.
I would happily stumble my way down this mountain with my eyes covered to hear even a moment more of that laugh.
I place the two strips of cloth down at the edge of the pool and begin to turn away, only to be stopped when Maris speaks softly.
"Can you help me with my back? I can't reach it."
Yes! I want to do that very much. My heart lodges in my throat, knowing I will take any opportunity I can get to touch her, but that requires permission, and now I have it.
I pluck the cloth from her hand with my claws once I've waded in beside her. The heat is a pleasant warmth, sliding into my bones through my thick fur. I sigh in relief.
I've always been careful to be, if not perfectly clean, at least well groomed for my mate; I did not work so hard for years, pine after her like a lovesick pup, for her to be disgusted by me when she arrived.
But I did not plan to bring her home when I did, so things are not as perfectly arranged as I would like them to be. I certainly didn't have time to clean myself up beforehand, so now is the perfect opportunity. For me and for Maris.
Her back is as lovely as the rest of her.
I gently stroke the wet cloth along her shoulders and spine, rubbing slow circles when she seems to lean back into the touch.
There is a thin smattering of freckles across her shoulders; I want to trace every one of them with my tongue to see if they are as sweet as she is, to touch them all with my claws and memorize every single perfectly placed dot.
I keep scrubbing, even after she's clean, ears perked forward to listen to her happy hums. I expected her to be terrified of me, but if I didn't know any better, I would say she's pleased with my touch, and my heart leaps.
Can she feel the mating bond between us? Does she feel that magnetic attraction that keeps pulling me closer and closer to her. Will she accept it even if she can’t?
Finally, I can’t put it off any longer and reluctantly wade to the side of the pool to lower the cloth to the stone. If I remain by her side for too much longer, I will not be able to control myself. Behind me, Maris winces softly and I whirl in a panic. What is it? What's happened to her?
“Good?”
I've always been careful to be, if not perfectly clean, at least well groomed for my mate; I did not work so hard for years, pine after her like a lovesick pup, for her to be disgusted by me when she arrives.
But I did not plan to bring her home when I did, so things are not as perfectly arranged as I would like them to be, and I certainly didn't have time to clean myself up beforehand, so now is the perfect opportunity. For me and for Maris.
Her back is as lovely as the rest of her.
I gently stroke the wet cloth along her shoulders and spine, rubbing slow circles when she seems to lean back into the touch.
There is a thin smattering of freckles across her shoulders; I want to trace every one of them with my tongue to see if they are as sweet as she is, to touch them all with my claws.
I keep scrubbing, even after she's clean, ears, perked forward to listen to her happy home. I expected her to be terrified of me, but if I didn't know any better, I would say she's pleased with my touch, and my heart leaps.
Finally, I can put it off no longer and reluctantly wade to the side of the pool to lower the cloth to the stone. Behind me, Maris winces gently and I whirl in a panic. What is it? What's happened to her?
In my haste to check on her to make sure that nothing is wrong, I forget the promise I made to myself that I wouldn’t stare at her body without her permission.
I yelp and clamp a paw over my eyes quickly, then stumble so hard I end up dunking my face into the water.
Warm as it is, it's still a surprise, and I nearly suck a breath of it into my nostrils in surprise.
Sputtering, I rise to the surface and shake myself, spraying water everywhere.
Maris is laughing uncontrollably, her head thrown back, mouth wide open.
The long column of her throat flexes and I gulp, licking my lips.
I want to taste her skin, but it's taking all my concentration not to stare.
The water ripples over the curve of her breasts, hidden beneath the water in the dim light.
Her full lips stretch into a smile before they purse again, like she's trying not to laugh even more.
Behind me, my tail wags slowly back and forth in the water. I remember myself and turn away, sinking into the water and peeking through my claws.
"Hurt?" I ask, sobering immediately when I remember why I was concerned to begin with. She made a sound of pain, but as far as I can see, nothing is amiss.
Her face twists. Water drips from her fingertips as she reaches up, her fingers curling into the ends of her hair as she lifts a lock into the air. The flames are doused, the curly strands straight and dark from the water soaking them through.
"My hair is tangled," she admits. "And I don't imagine you have a brush, do you?"
What is a brush? I tilt my head to the side, trying to work through what she needs, and she sighs.
"No. Obviously not. That makes sense."
She slipped her fingers into her wet curls and begins to untangle them; of course, that was what she was trying to do. I can do that.
"Help?"
She pauses, fingers still buried in her curls, and I point a questioning claw back at myself. She nods. I inch closer, then slowly sink my claws into her hair. It's as soft as I imagined. Even better.
I work my claws carefully through her hair, using the long nails to comb through each section and untangle the snarls.
It's a slow, tedious process, but she doesn't seem bothered.
We just float in the warm water while I work on her hair, pieces of leaves and mud get brushed away from her ordeal yesterday, while guilt floods through me.
I should have cared for her better when I brought her back.
Not just the blood, but this too. I should've been more thoughtful.
How can she trust me to provide for her when I don't even have a brush for her hair? I have to do better. This has been quite the learning experience, and I will make sure to do my best to convince Maris to forgive me.
I will do better.