Maris
Even in my dreams, my worst fear is Gray leaving me, deciding she doesn’t love me any more.
And when I wake, I find that exact thing has happened.
I gasp and flail, instinctively reaching behind me.
These past… what? Days? Weeks? It’s so hard to keep track.
Every time I’ve had a nightmare, Gray has always been there to help, to hold me close and promise that everything will be okay.
She is a firm presence, always there, always calm enough that her heartbeat is enough to slow mine.
But not today. Today, there is no one else in our little nest; the other side is cool enough to suggest that she hasn’t been here in some time, and I wrack my brain in an attempt to remember the last time I saw her.
I was so exhausted after the encounter in the forest that I had basically gone straight to our bed, but I still had a vague recollection of her warm arms curled around me, her tail brushing against my legs while her strange purr-growl reverberated through my back.
That was how I had fallen asleep. Now, when I wake, she is nowhere to be found, and unease trickles through my chest.
I don’t like this.
I fling the blankets off my lap and stand, already fumbling on the floor for my skirt.
I’ve taken to going to bed in less and less when we sleep as time has gone on, and now I’m left in only my undergarments, just enough to cover anything important.
Honestly, what does it matter? She’s already seen me in less, and with her fur, she’s so warm that I don’t get cold under the blankets.
It’s a perfectly good sleeping method, but it does mean that getting dressed in the morning takes longer.
Soon enough I’ve managed to pull myself together, then begin the march down the mountainside after Gray.
I’m uncertain if it’s some sort of mystical mate magic or just the sheer amount of time we’ve spent together, but I have at least a vague instinct of where she’s headed.
True or not, it’s the best thing I’ve got, so that’s what I’m following.
It takes a surprisingly short amount of time for me to catch up with Gray, a fact that makes me immediately suspicious. She’s at least double my size, and half wolf; she should be moving so fast I had no chance of catching up with her.
Instead, it’s almost like she’s wandering, and I don’t like that. She doesn’t wander, not without me. So why is she out here, and why did she leave without telling me?
I find her by the stream, sitting on her haunches and staring into the rushing water like it holds answers to questions she's afraid to ask. Her ears are pinned flat against her skull, and her tail lies motionless on the ground beside her - never a good sign.
"Gray?" I call softly, not wanting to startle her.
She turns toward me, and the look in her mismatched eyes makes my stomach drop. There's a resignation there, a terrible kind of acceptance that I recognize all too well. It's the same look I used to see in my own reflection during those long, lonely months in the cottage.
"You should go back," she says, her voice carefully neutral. "It's not safe out here."
"It's not safe anywhere," I point out, settling myself on a boulder beside the stream. "That's why we stick together, remember?"
She looks away from me, back toward the water. "Maris, I've been thinking about what those men said. About what's going to happen when they come back."
Here it comes. I can feel it building in the air between us like a storm gathering on the horizon.
"They'll bring more people next time," she continues. "Better weapons. Maybe even one of those church inquisitors. And when they do..." She takes a shaky breath. "When they do, you'll be safer if I'm not around."
"No." The word comes out flat and final. "Absolutely not."
"Listen to me—"
"No, you listen to me." I slide off the boulder and move to stand directly in front of her, forcing her to meet my eyes. "If you think for one second that I'm going to let you sacrifice yourself for some misguided idea of protecting me, you're out of your mind."
Her ears twitch forward slightly, surprise flickering across her features.
Good. I have her attention.
"Besides," I continue, reaching up to cup her face in my hands, "where exactly do you think you're going to go? They're not just hunting you because of me, Gray. They're hunting you because of what you are. Running away won't change that."
She leans into my touch despite herself, a soft whine escaping her throat. "But if I'm not here, they'll leave you alone. You could go back to your cottage, pretend none of this ever happened."
"And live the rest of my life knowing I let the person I love most sacrifice herself for nothing?" I shake my head. "That's not living, Gray. That's just... existing. And I'm done with that."
I can see the moment her resolve starts to waver, the way her eyes soften and her shoulders slump slightly. But she's stubborn, my Gray, and I can practically see her building up new arguments in her head.
Time for a different approach.
I let my hands slide down from her face to rest against her chest, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat under my palms. "You know," I say conversationally, "I had the most interesting dreams last night."
Her eyes narrow slightly, suspicious of the sudden change in topic. "Maris..."
"About you," I continue, letting my fingers trace idle patterns in her fur. "About us. About all the things we haven't had time to explore yet."
Her breath catches, and I feel her heart rate spike under my touch. Perfect.
"We've been so focused on surviving, on figuring out this whole situation," I murmur, stepping closer until there's barely any space between us. "But last night, I dreamed about what it would be like to just... be with you. Really be with you."
"Maris, what are you—" Her voice is rougher now, breathless in a way that has nothing to do with running.
Instead of answering, I rise up on my toes and press my lips to the sensitive spot just behind her ear. She shudders beneath my touch, a low growl rumbling in her chest that I can feel as much as hear.
"I'm showing you," I whisper against her fur, "exactly what you'd be walking away from."
My fingers find the places that make her breath hitch and her eyes flutter closed, and I take my time exploring every sensitive spot I can reach.
When I press my lips to the hollow of her throat, she makes a sound that's half whimper, half growl, and her massive hands come up to tangle gently in my hair.
"Maris," she breathes, and there's something almost desperate in the way she says my name, ruffling the hair by my ear and causing goosebumps across my body.
"I'm here," I murmur against her skin, letting my hands roam lower. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."
She tries to protest again, to bring up all her noble reasons for leaving, but I silence her with my mouth on hers, pouring all my love and determination into the kiss until she's trembling beneath my touch.
Her warm arms encircling me in a net of safety, provide the security I never knew growing up, and the gentle autumn breeze helps to somewhat cool the fire burning beneath my skin.
When I finally pull back, we're both breathing hard, and her eyes are dark with want and something deeper.
"Please," I whisper, my forehead pressed against hers. "Let me show you what you mean to me. Let me show you what we'd both be losing."
Let me love you, I want to say.
It’s not something words could portray. I need to tell her all the ways I love her with my hands, lips, and teeth. I have this deep desire to show her that I’ve also claimed her as my own.
Her resistance crumbles entirely then, and she pulls me closer with a reverent tenderness that makes my heart ache. We lose ourselves in each other, in whispered endearments and gentle touches, in the way she holds me like I'm something precious and fragile.
But she’s fragile and precious to me, too, even if she seems strong and unshakable at times. I know deep down, she’s just as scarred and damaged as I am, just as easily broken with weapons or words.
I kiss and smooth all those worries away, exploring her like she had explored me that first time back in our cave, and also, in a way, discovering things about myself.
When we finally collapse together in the soft grass beside the stream, I'm sprawled across her chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her breathing beneath me. Her arms are wrapped around me protectively, and I can hear her heartbeat gradually slowing back to normal.
For a long moment, we just lie there in comfortable silence, surrounded by the light trickle of running water and the rustle of autumn leaves falling all around us.
Then I push myself up on my elbows so I can look down at her face.
"Now," I say firmly, "promise me you'll never try to leave me again."
Her eyes widen slightly at my tone. "Maris—"
"Promise me," I repeat, more forcefully this time. "Promise me we figure this out together, whatever comes.”
“But—”
“No! No more noble sacrifices, no more running away to protect me. We're stronger together, Gray. We proved that today in the forest."
She studies my face for a long moment, eyes searching mine in earnest, and I can see her weighing her words carefully.
"I can't promise nothing bad will happen," she says finally. "I can't promise I'll be able to keep you safe from everything."
"I'm not asking you to," I reply. "I'm asking you to promise you won't abandon me. That you won't make that choice for both of us."
“Maris,” she whispers.
I can feel the burn of tears I’m unwilling to shed. I can’t live this life without her.
I won’t.
“I—” Her hands come up to frame my face, and when she tries to speak again, her voice is thick with emotion. "I promise."
The breath I’d been holding rushes out of me in relief.
She runs one single claw through a strand of hair that’s fallen and loops it behind my ear before whispering, "No matter what happens, we face it together."
I lean down to seal the promise with a kiss, and for the first time since I woke up alone this morning, the tight knot of fear in my chest finally loosens. It unravels itself one piece at a time and I can finally breathe without restriction.
Whatever comes next, we'll handle it. Together.
And we’ll make those men pay.