Gray
I swear, the universe waits until everything seems to be going fine to throw another stick at my head.
In this case, almost literally. Maris is up ahead of me, happily chattering away, and doesn’t realize that I’m not as close to her as she thought I was.
The stick she was holding flings back in my direction, snapping me in the muzzle so hard my eyes water, and I fight down a whine.
It’s not her fault. I’m far larger, with longer legs, and therefore entirely capable of keeping up with her if I really try.
But I’ve noticed how skittish she is since the attack, how attuned she is to the sounds around us, and I’ve been doing my best to give her room to breathe. Sometimes it seems like she needs to be alone, but of course I can’t allow that after last time.
Instead, I give her as much room as I can, always in eye and ear shot, before I bound back up to catch her. It’s been working well enough thus far, with Maris happily chattering away while she picks the last of the mushrooms and berries and tucks them into her skirts.
But it’s my fault I caught a branch to the face. I wasn’t paying enough attention, and I wrinkle my muzzle, scratching lightly with one of my claws to ensure that I’m not bleeding.
Maris doesn’t even notice; she’s still happily talking, pointing up at the nests in the trees and wondering about whether the birds will come back to them once winter is over or if they will have to start all over.
Her head turns, gaze wistful, and I follow her eyes.
Her human eyes.
She can’t see it, but I know what she’s looking for. Her village, what was once her home, which she was chased out of because of her association to me—not her love—not then. But just because she knew me.
There’s no telling what terrible things they would do to her if they discovered she is my mate now. I may be half wolf, and cursed, but I’m not half so monstrous as the humans who claim to be doing the right thing.
They claim I’m the monster when I’ve hurt no one and look at the countless people they have hurt with their words, their knives, their hate. They fear what they don’t understand, but that doesn’t justify their actions.
“Miss it?” I ask softly, tapping one claw against her shoulder gently.
She hums gently in agreement, but she’s still turned away, her eyes distant like she’s hearing something. It shouldn’t be possible that she hears something before I do, but admittedly I have been paying more attention to her than I have to our surroundings, and my ears twitch and swivel.
Maris raises one finger, pressing it gently against her lips.
I frown. Does she want a kiss? I’m happy to acquiesce, of course, but now seems an odd time for it.
It’s only when her other hand cups her ear and she jerks her head do I realize what she means. She wants me to listen to something.
I hold my breath, ears swiveling to catch every sound. Where a few minutes ago it was normal, chattering squirrels and soft cracks of sticks being stepped on, it’s deathly quiet now.
Something is very wrong here.
Maria nods. She’s realized the same thing I have.
Her fingers twitch in my direction and I slide my paw into her hand, following a step behind her as we slink through the forest. I grew up within these towering trees, yet she moves through it more quietly than I can, the only sound is the soft swish of her skirts.
My paws are too big for silence, but I’m so close to her it hardly matters. If anything happens, I’m the bigger threat here. I will protect her with my life.
Maris taps my shoulder and points. We crouch as one.
Ahead of us, more humans crouch, chattering in low tones. There’s something in their hands, and I squint to get a better look. Rope and sticks and other things I can’t quite make sense of from this angle, but Maris gasps sharply.
I tense, every muscle on high alert, poised to fight or flee.
“Traps. They’re setting traps.”
Ah, I see. I’ve never seen traps such as these, but I trust her opinion on them. Most of my experience with humans has been from a distance, and as much as I file away everything I learn in case it helps me with her, that does not mean I know everything.
Traps, just like so many other human things I’ve noticed, do not interest me. I will never trap Maris, nor do I need traps to catch prey. They mean nothing to me.
Maris grits her teeth so loudly I can hear them grinding, and my ears twitch toward her. She must be very angry to react in such a way, and the hackles along my spine flare.
“We have to stop them. There’s no telling what they’ll catch, and if they think it’s safe to trap out here, we won’t be safe. We have to make sure that they don’t come back.”
I nod, tail swishing slightly. She seems to have a plan, so I follow her lead. As soon as the men step away she slinks forward, every bit the predator I am, and a flare of pride tugs in my chest.
Even with spending so little time together, she is already beginning to learn from me, and I could not be happier. Perhaps she is more of a wolf than I gave her credit for.
As soon as the men move away Maris glances around, clearly searching for something. I shift forward, wanting to help, but without knowing what she searches for I am of no help. She’s too focused to tell me what she needs, but it matters not, because she is already moving into action.
“Perfect.”
She crouches down to retrieve a stick, and I wonder what is so perfect about it. But I trust that she knows what she’s about, so I follow close on her heels.
Maris jabs the stick at the trap. I flinch as the rope yanks tight, snapping closed around the stick. She wrestles it free, leaving the trap a mangled mess that she surveys in satisfaction.
“Good. That will keep them from finding anything useful around here.”
She hefts the stick and marches off in the direction the men went.
I follow close on her heels, still ready to step in and protect my mate should anyone notice us.
Moving together, we tail after the human men, with Maris springing each of the traps. When they come back, they will find nothing useful. I have my doubts that it will be enough to change their minds, but Maris seems sure, and what she says makes sense.
Besides, I don’t have a better plan.
My ears twitch, and this time I don’t hesitate to snatch Maris up, one arm around her hips as I swing her into my arms, doing my best to fit my bulk behind a tree.
She doesn’t protest, just snuggles deeper into my chest. She trusts me, and I would revel in that fact if not for the noise I just heard.
The humans are back, and Maris tenses in my arms when she hears them too. One of them shouts and she cringes. They said something about the traps, of that I am certain, and I growl softly under my breath.
“Don’t,” Maris breathes in my ear. “They’ll be angry that we sprung their traps, but if we hurt one of them it will only stir them up worse.
They’ll leave, and hopefully they won’t come back.
If they do, we’ll just do what we just did until they get so frustrated that they won’t come back to the forest. They’ll leave us alone. ”
I growl softly. I’m not so certain I believe that, but she is right about one thing; the men don’t seem to be inclined to stick around, no matter how angry they are. They’re muttering amongst themselves but already slinking off into the forest.
My ears twitch nervously.
I manage to hold in my growl, but it’s a close thing. There is something wrong here, I can feel it, even if I can’t put my paw on it. I have a bad feeling about this. I can’t let my mate be hurt, and I get the sense that’s what is going to happen if we’re not very careful.
My chest clenches.
I can’t lose her.
I won’t lose her.