April 10

[captainryan]

April has come and with it the warm weather. Werewolves, for the next six months at least, do not find it quite so miserable to be outdoors for three days in a row.  The level of easy prey is beginning to rise as well, as the animals of the forest begin their reproductive cycles anew. A good time to be a predator.

It’s the last night of the full moon. The right edge has begun to wane ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but its light is still bright over the hills and valleys of Milliways' Scottish simulation. The light is less illuminating under the trees, but still enough to pick out a path without too great a difficulty, provided there’s a path to follow.

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[hell_in_highheels]

After a century of wandering the Library, River has become quite accustomed to navigating territory she's only crossed once and only with a glance of key points of the terrain. Which is a damned good thing, because the path in the moonlight is only a shadow compared to what she remembers from their journey a little less than a week ago.

The Holzmann shield makes her skin itch. But it's necessary. He's not the only one out here.

And she has to see him.

The nightmare is hard on her heels, even an hour dead and gone. The image of him, of his werewolf form, dead and cold, a spike of cold silver through his heart, his golden eyes glassy and sightless, so vivid, she can't shake the idea that it's really happened. It brought her screaming into wakefulness, and it brought her to the arms room, frantic hands shaking as she dug out the belt bag and the force field within.

It brought her, dressed in his shirt (she'd been sleeping in it) and her khakis and field boots, hurtling down the stairs and through the bar like a shot through a cannon.

It's brought her all the way here, an hour into the woods, determined to find the den again, determined to lay eyes on him, living and breathing, even if he does try to eat her.

She needs to see him, if only for a moment.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

The forest is full of night time noise, whistling wind, crickets. Twigs and leaves crunch underfoot, bushes swish as they're pushed past, pebbles tumble when they're kicked. A wolf howls in the distance, long and drifting. Eventually, the call fades away.

Two canines answer, much closer by.

[hell_in_highheels]

She turns her head, trying to listen, trying to tell if it's them. Her heart is in her mouth as she holds her breath, straining to hear the final fading tones.

She can't tell. She can't tell.

She forges ahead, keeping to the trail, trying not to run.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

She's headed in the right direction: the path is getting more distinct. The wind is faint, pushing against her only gently as she moves and carrying her scent back the way she came.

Which is why the black werewolf lets out a surprised snarl when he sees her, hackles going up as he stops short. The black Doberman nearly ploughs into his legs but manages to skid aside at the last second, sniffing curiously.

[hell_in_highheels]

River freezes, taking in the sight of him, glorious and wild and terrifying. She knows instantly that it's him, even with the dog-shaped shadow at his heels. The sight fills her heart to overflowing and she has to choke back a sob of relief.

Luckily, instinct keeps her rooted to the spot. The part of her brain that remembers the meeting with the Tyrannosaur is gibbering at her to run, but she holds fast. She can feel the wind on her face and she knows he can't smell her.

She meets his eyes, drawn in by the familiarity of their depths. At the last moment, she remembers to avert her gaze.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

The growl that was building up cuts off, though the werewolf is still showing teeth. They're both sniffing cautiously, but it's Damocles who's creeping forward, ears flat in case that irritates the alpha.

I think that's River, sir.

Instantly, the teeth are hidden. River? is accompanied by a questioning headtilt and a twitching nose to confirm this with scent. Cautiously he moves in, a hint of a hopeful bounce to his step.

[hell_in_highheels]

Damocles. The rest of her canine is gone, simply gone. She looks back at him, remembering to breathe, and trying to remind herself that she's an alpha, too.

He is magnificent, she thinks. Massive and so fucking tall.

And he's not growling anymore. He's getting closer and she inhales, willing herself to trust the shield.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Why are humans always so short? He almost has to crouch no matter how he's trying to interact with them.

He alerts on her at the canine, ears pricking forward and mouth closing as he goes still. He sniffs at her again, finally catching the barest whiff of her scent.

River! It's exclaimed with an excited yip and giddy joy as he bounds forward to greet her properly, Damocles not far behind.

[hell_in_highheels]

Hearseeing her name is all it takes and her hand is reaching to deactivate the shield. It takes every ounce of her will not to cower, not to bolt like a frightened rabbit, as he comes barrelling towards her.

Wolf? It's the only word she's ever known him by in canine.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He shoves into her a bit more roughly than he intended -humans are so delicate- and partially crouches to nuzzle her and bump her and generally be a pushy alpha. Damocles pushes in on her other side, just as happy to see her.

Hi. He's grinning caninely, mouth open, tongue lolling out, except for the part where he's trying to clean the fear scent off of her. There's no reason for that.

[hell_in_highheels]

River's breath goes out of her as he tumbles into her, her hands coming up to touch him, to verify with her hands what her eyes can barely believe. New skin beneath her hands, and thick black fur. A wall of muscle and sinew, all jostling into her. She can feel Dam at the back of her knees, can see their smiles and see the greeting.

The wet velvet of his tongue laving her cheeks is a surreal contrast to the flashing ivory of his teeth. Teeth. The laugh that bubbles up from her is joy and relief and wonder, and still that giddy fear, where this moment overlaps with another, filled with teeth.

He leans on one hand, crouching to nuzzle and lick, making himself small for, and her mind stitches this moment together with the memory of their first kiss, on the bridge. He bent his head for her kiss then, and he was so formidable. He is even more terrifying now, and yet, she needs this.

"I know you," she whispers fiercely, pressing her face into his mane. My mate.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Her sounds make him pause, tilting his head slightly, mouth closing for a moment.

Yes, he answers, to both sentences. You need more words, he adds firmly before returning to his very important task of cleaning away the fear. His great cold and wet nose whurfles into her hair, seeking her ear and the rich pocket of scent there.

If he had a tail, it'd be wagging fiercely.

[hell_in_highheels]

She would laugh more at his statement, but he's washing her face rather thoroughly. Her shoulders rise but she grins as his nose leather passes over the back of her neck.

More words? Love you, wolf. Love you more good. Happy I hunt you. Slept --, she struggles with the next word, wrong. The fear scent is slowing being overwhelmed with each passing moment.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Her human accent is fun to decipher, too.

My mate. Love you, happy you're here. Better to have you here. Content with not finding anything strange in the scents covering her, he settles back on his haunches a bit.

[hell_in_highheels]

She pulls back, her eyes wide as she gets a chance to look at him properly. Her hands come up but she hesitates, not knowing if it's all right to touch his face, his muzzle, his ears.

My mate, she repeats, a bit overwhelmed with the wonder of this moment, so many times imagined. Her imagination, she's discovering, was completely inadequate to the task.



Even crouched, he's tall.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He sniffs her palms curiously, first one, then the other before he pulls his head back again. He lifts one of his own hands, carefully non-threatening, to compare.

Small. No tentacles. He's thinking of Suzi there. No claws, he pokes his nose at her mouth, or fangs. He bumps her reassuringly.

Safe with me.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her eyes go wider still as he brings his hands up to hers, lightly pressing the heel of her hand against his.

There's another nervous giggle as he nuzzles her mouth, cataloguing her inadequacies as a predator.

She does understand safe with me, and the accompanying bump. The feeling of relief, both that he's not trying to eat her and that her dream was just that, a dream, brings the sting of tears to her eyes. Giddy joy.

She can't help but throw her arms around his neck and bury her face in his mane.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Hugs are not something he's used to in this form. The hand that was up quickly touches ground again to steady himself as he takes her weight.

It's really not all that different from a lean.

You're okay? He queries with a curious sound.

[hell_in_highheels]

She makes a happy canine sound in response, nodding into the warmth of his fur. She just needs to hold him for a long moment, breathing in his scent in great lungfuls. Summer rain on wood-smoked stone mixed with the musk of wolf.

Then she pulls back, because he's a predator and not her own great dog to cuddle like a pet. She looks up into his face, still a bit wary of offending the wolf.

Den?

She feels the bump at her thigh and reaches down to stroke Dam's head and back, leaning back against the very welcome familiar body.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

You want to stay? He looks past her at the path. They'd been heading out to mark territory, since other wolves are still around, but, well. It'll keep.

This way. He rises to his full height, towering over her, before he turns to face the trail deeper into the woods.

[hell_in_highheels]

She'd offer to go back, but she doesn't want to. And the sight of him rising above her robs her of her language (any language) again. She swallows hard, keeping one hand on his smooth flank. He is no warmer than he is in his human form, but his skin is like nothing she's ever felt.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

It's more aptly described as 'hide' for one thing. Fur is somewhat limited to his head, back, and a few other choice spots, but everything else is thick dark skin.

The 'wolf steps forward, slipping away from her hand and into a gentle trot. One ear is pinned in her direction, listening sharply to be certain he isn't losing her.

[hell_in_highheels]

She has to stretch to keep up, and soon she's breathing hard. It feels good, her legs and arms moving, forcing the stress to bleed away. She has to focus on him and the placement of her feet, the shadows becoming a blur around them.

For a moment, she allows herself to imagine a different body, one with claws and a muzzle. One with impossibly long legs and a mane. A tiny laugh escapes her lips.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He's panting a bit himself but manages a questioning whurfle regardless, both ears flicking back to her. He slows down a bit, thinking perhaps he is going too fast.

He's never run with a human before. It's a new experience for him.

[hell_in_highheels]

She pushes herself to run parallel to him, timing the motion of his body carefully to land a brushing bump as she runs, laughing again. She pulls ahead of him a little, trusting to the path for a few steps to look back over her shoulder at him, her lips pressed tight over her teeth even as she grins. (She knows primate expressions and canine expressions are not analogous.)

He looks so comfortable in this form. Almost... happy.