"No. I need you to protect-"
"Our son. Yes. And what I need is to protect you."
This was her world... and the way I’d lived as a shifter princess - the assessnt of threats and necessary social actions that had kept alive within a society of intrigue were well and far away from directly fighting like territorial beasts.
One thing I’ve noticed is that her kind - not just successful CEOs, but werewolves - act on instinct a lot more than they do any sort of careful planning and thinking. Not because they are stupid or risk junkies, just...
Well, our way was surprisingly more ’human’ than theirs. Probably because we were primal creatures trying to be refined toward increased order while they are the sort of beings that let themselves be truer to bestial nature.
In that regard, I’m not surprised that... with all of this going on, the inhibitions and rules that kept those right on the edge of being respectable have now shown those ’black souls’ that Rick referred to.
But I’m a little surprised at how sure of myself I feel right now. All because she has been treating like a good person. It makes want to... be a good wolf.
> Or maybe that’s just the motherhood speaking through . Or indigestion. Or her hand placent. <
"You’ve been trying since we’ve t. To extend your protection. So just let rely on you now - when I’m willing, in the way that I am asking of you. Listen to my order. Summon the container, use the heater. I’ll be quick."
Without giving her further chance to convince , I loped after the enemy. An Alpha of a pack, the apex of their culture. And felt no fear of danger.
Only fear of ignoring this. Of letting him get away.
Frost covered trees beco obstacles to my speed. Feeling powerful just like in the bigger wolf form - and hardly controlled, unlike the wolf form - I try to use a smaller spruce as a springboard to change my angle and the whole trunk cracks.
Sprawling in a tumble of limbs, I scratch at the ground until I find purchase. I rip forward again with the realization that I weigh a whole lot more than before. And that trees that are not alive and green are *not* springy.
> I miss being laughed at for my mistakes... <
⧖ ☾ ❄ ☽ ⧖
I found him less than two miles away, resting back against a tree trunk in his hybrid form. Breathing heavily despite the wounds being staunched now that he’d worked out the bullets.
He sensed staring before he saw , his head snapping up in my direction. Which is to say, literally up on the biggest tree within a hundred feet of his location.
I was not at all happy about being *overweight*, so I had tried hard to figure out how to climb effectively in this form, over these fifteen minutes. Mostly that required careful stabs of quadrupedal claws on all the largest trees along the path.
Using them like natural crampons into the frozen wood worked best. Jumping up from below to grab on didn’t work too well. Being uncareful with weight distribution led to the claws just shearing the bark and leaving long trailing lines in the poor tree.
> Honestly, I’m not sure how he didn’t hear coming! <
"...You. So that’s what was going on out there."
Oh, maybe he did hear . I guess this form and how I am using it does not count as stealthy. More to work on... so much to learn.
"What do you want? Co to talk more about right and wrong from a position of plenty?"
Hopping down, I stalk closer. Circling him without hiding my ultimate intent. The sweet wolf used the word ’murder’, but I’m seeing this situation a bit differently.
More like one of those gunfighter standoffs in ’Western’ films. The kind where the more confident one forces the other to cross the line that will begin the execution.
He of course has already crossed many bounds he should not have already. But for the sake of clarity...
"I ca to ensure we understand each other. You, what I am. I, what you are."
Eyes glow bright as he heard *speak* in this form. Struggling to his feet, fur beginning to roil out slowly, so slowly.
> Why are all of them so terrible at the transformation? Is it because they are going against the wishes of their spirits, or- <
"The law of nature is clear. There are more of them than can survive. It is a rcy that solves our problems. The humans are a blight, but their at is a boon."
Yes. It sounds exactly like their ability to use their Goddess given gift is tied to so respect to the reason for the contractual link. Which is probably why Kyrie is quite adept, if the original purpose was to be ’shepherds’ to humankind.
I’m not sure of the reason that deity *allowed* them to stay in these undutiful bodies, trapped with inferior hosts that strayed. Maybe she isn’t very good at legalese and the way she was doing it did not allow for such changes..
After all, she did agree to the one I made with Vrika insanely fast... and she did say that her and her partner made mistakes at the start of the world... I’ve been worried about fae for so long tricking .
> Now I’m starting to wonder if one tricked them. <
"Just one final question, then. If you were to pick sides between ’Chosen’, would you pick mine or-"
"I’d rather be tied to a silver cross. Look at you, just like him. The world begins to give you more benefits and options than others and you use it to threaten and control. You think you will kill here? I’ve buried seven challenges before now. I am an Alpha, you abomination!"
His voice grew more and more strained, growling out the sounds as his change completed. Snarling, fangs flicking spittle as he barks more brief wolven threats.
That feeling of slowness, of *heavy focus*, increases as he attempts to lunge my way. The system’s new synergistic aid giving plenty of ntal capacity to react.
He isn’t much smaller than I am, so such a rush and attempt to tackle probably helped take down people who couldn’t get out of his way. Getting them on their back is smart, especially the way one hand is aid to hold back my maw.
To push away the danger and expose my neck. It could have been quick and decisive. Perhaps this was even how he hunted the humans that only weigh so much.
But I don’t budge even when his claws start scrambling against my flesh. Or when he tries to pull my wrist away from where it grabbed tight. Immovable on the nape of his neck.
"I am a mother. Whatever else I am... doesn’t matter. Not to you."
The slam to the earth, the crack of vertebrae. They were very, very unsatisfying.
Not because they were any less noiseso than that of a deer once upon a ti. Or because I feel particularly bloodthirsty and want to paint the ground red as so kind of warning to others.
But because the action and result had this... feeling to it. Like I’d solved one problem while inviting a dozen new ones.
Like I’m a terrible person for being involved in yet another violent werewolf death. Without any snake priest’s rituals to cleanse their departing soul.
And certainly without any belief that any deity exists in this world to facilitate that.
"What exactly... do I do now?"
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