Little Wolf (30 page)

“Only a stupid bear would make a habit of entering the Meadows.” Nathaniel grunted, eyeing Tim like he saw his attack of nerves. “Packs of weres come out here. Packs of wolves can take almost anything, and weres are bigger than any wild wolf. The bears know that.”

“Safety in numbers.” Tim nodded his understanding and ignored his squeaking voice. He pulled at his flannel, the same flannel he always wore, which was a silly thing to worry about when he was about to get naked too. “I, ah, don’t see anyone around right now.”

Nathaniel gave him a weighted glance, and Tim’s eyes widened as he understood. The privilege of rank: either Nathaniel had asked people to stay away or they’d heard and done it anyway.

Tim put his hands over his face. “Shame is for humans too, right?”

“You don’t have to do this.” Nathaniel was probably standing tall and noble with the sun at his back as he said that. Tim realized he was peeking over his hands like a shy child, and gave Nathaniel a direct look more befitting a Dirus. He gestured eloquently at Nathaniel’s hotness. Nathaniel rolled his eyes but then turned around with a sigh. “You can go into the trees and do it. I’ll wait here. If you decide not to, that’s fine. Just come out when you’re ready.”

Tim crossed his arms to consider Nathaniel’s back. Nathaniel stayed resolutely facing the other direction and likely would for as long as Tim stood there.

“And Tim? Don’t worry about anything else. If someone was out there, I’d know, and I’d protect you.”

Tim was not a blushing maiden, except in the sense that he was a virgin whose face was on fire. He also didn’t need the exaggerated courtesy. But the line of trees
was
close.

“I can always see you naked later,” Nathaniel added when Tim didn’t move. Tim huffed at him, not amused and not about to be mocked any further by anyone, no matter how sexy they were. He pulled his T-shirt roughly over his head, taking everything else with it. He grabbed his belt next.

Nathaniel went incredibly still at the first rustle of cloth, but every time Tim glanced up at him, Nathaniel remained turned away. Tim kicked off his shoes and socks on top of his loose pile of clothing and shivered.

The sun felt nice, not nearly warm enough, but nice. Unfortunately, getting naked was the easy part. Tim took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could smell plants, grass, flowers, trees. He could smell the air itself, thinner, colder, from the mountains. He could find the sun. He could find Nathaniel. He already knew he could track Nathaniel in a town full of weres, but now Nathaniel was right in front of him, as if he was there to be found by Tim. Tim whimpered.

“Little Wolf?” Nathaniel twitched. Tim shook his head and opened his mouth only to realize he had lost his words.

He blinked and took another deep breath, this one rich with heat, all Nathaniel and sunshine. The sun was rising, warming the valley. Tim could sleep, it was so warm, but there was too much energy in him for that.

He shook his head and looked down at his hands and feet, strange and pale, too hairless. They hurt, an ache at first, until the pain was suddenly so sharp he fell to his knees and shut his eyes tight. His heartbeat roared like a wild thing, and though he opened his mouth, he couldn’t seem to get air. His bones were twisted, wrong, out of place like the words in his throat he couldn’t push out.

Part of him, human and insignificant, noted that the shift wasn’t supposed to be this slow or this painful, but that part was quickly drowned out by the wolf scrabbling to escape after being held in so long.

Tim opened his eyes, panting, and studied his large, clumsy paws and sturdy legs. He thought of a puppy that had not been allowed to grow, and then his words slipped out at last, a confused half-yip, half-growl.

The wolf-man in front of him turned around, and Tim narrowed his eyes. Tim’s half-growl grew louder. The wolf-man was very big. His eyes were gold. Tim bared his teeth. The wolf-man paused but made no startled, quick moves. He extended his hand, his palm almost to Tim’s nose as if he wasn’t worried about Tim’s fangs.

Tim sniffed him, maintaining his distance and poised to bolt. The wolf-man smelled of no fear and no anger, but his gaze was a challenge. Tim’s growl trailed into a displeased huff, but he inched his head forward until his nose was pressed into the man’s palm. He reared his head back at the scent, meeting those eyes, then extended his head again, his mouth open, his teeth sliding over the man’s skin. Skin and blood and bone below the press of his fangs, the spring trap of his jaw.

Tim looked up as he nipped at a thumb, familiar salt on his tongue, and whined for the hot, fond gaze on him. The wolf-man would not look away.

“Of course you’d want to bite me.” The man used words that floated over Tim’s head, but the tone made Tim ease off to give that palm another flat, curious lick. The wolf-man tasted good. It was a known taste, one Tim already had a place for in his mind. It was
his
taste, and Tim yipped at him again before stepping closer to put his body against the wolf-man’s legs. He reached the man’s waist without effort, which made him dizzy until his senses adjusted. The wolf-man,
Tim’s
wolf-man, trailed a touch over Tim’s back, avoiding the places around Tim’s face and ears. “You’re like the snow.” The wonder in his tone almost made his speech sounds make sense.

He was happy, the man, Tim’s man, even if he was too tall and too big at the moment. Tim sniffed up his legs and then between them and then jumped away when the man laughed. Tim ended up with his face in a patch of flowers, which smelled amazing in a new way, like pollen and dirt and bugs, although not as amazing as the wolf-man smelled. Remembering him, Tim turned around again, but the wolf-man was gone, a wolf in his place.

The wolf was big too, bigger than Tim, so Tim held still, feeling fur spike to make him seem larger. He planted his feet and waited so the big wolf would come to him, but the big wolf sat back on his haunches and stared at Tim with his head to one side. Tim sidled a few steps closer, pausing to sniff at a pile of clothes that smelled like the man-wolf, then crept in even closer. The breeze carried over his wolf’s scent, wary but friendly.

Tim kept his distance for a while longer. When he was close, but not too close, the big wolf stuck out a paw, right on top of his. Tim huffed at him and kept walking. He circled the big wolf, taking occasional sniffs from a short space away. The big wolf reminded Tim of the place where Tim slept,
warmth
and
sleep
and
safe
. He smelled like food and bitter drink and paws already dusty from this ground. He smelled like Tim.

Darting forward, Tim nipped the big wolf’s ear and jumped away again when the big wolf shook his head and stared at him. Tim hopped up, then flopped over on legs that were slow to respond. When he righted himself and spun around, the big wolf’s tongue was lolling out. Tim grunted and lunged forward, trying for another nip.

The big wolf pinned him. Tim hit the ground and squirmed as the big wolf sat on him without much effort. Tim squirmed again, protesting, and felt teeth at his ear a moment before he was released. He swiped a paw at his ear and charged forward into a stumbling leap, landing half on top of the larger wolf before he slipped to the ground. The big wolf stood up and leaned down to lick Tim’s head. Tim shut his eyes and grunted again.

His wolf kept on licking until Tim reopened his eyes. The big wolf was dark, with a thick coat of dark browns and golds. Tim’s fur was white, with small mottled patches, mere hints of color. He raised his muzzle up to inhale the other wolf’s breath, and startled at the quick flick of the wolf’s tongue across his nose. He squinted suspiciously but then rolled to his feet and leaned in, taking another careful moment to press his teeth against the other wolf’s ear. This time it only earned him a sideways look and another gentle nip in return.

Satisfied that he wasn’t going to get pinned again, Tim bumped his body along the big wolf,
his
wolf, and then leapt out into the field. The grass almost reached his belly and hummed with life. He stuck his face down to investigate and flicked his ears back and forth, listening to the wind, feeling the ever-changing sunlight. After a while he poked his head up and turned to the big wolf to call him over. He kept his mouth open to inhale it all, the meadow and the grass and the big wolf with his
happy/home/Tim
smell and thundering heart. The big wolf warm and rich with the scent of Tim’s fur and Tim’s teeth and Tim’s spit. Tim bumped him again when he approached, rubbing more of himself onto him and nearly falling when the big wolf grunted and nudged him back. His big wolf glared significantly out toward the line of the trees but did not keep Tim from running lines in front of him. He stood and watched with his feet planted and his attention partly on the rest of the world. Tim understood. Big Wolf was looking out for him because Tim and the meadow were his.

Tim stopped to consider the line of trees too, huffing at anything that would dare to come closer to what was his. Big Wolf was Tim’s and the meadow was Tim’s. Everything was Tim’s, and he panted, keeping his ears up as other life moved somewhere beyond the trees. Then his big wolf nuzzled him to encourage him to continue exploring, and the breeze caused the tall flowers to sway, and Tim had to investigate.

The grass was full of things, living things and old things and dead things. Tim made noises in excitement and danced impatiently around his big wolf when he was slow to move. He yipped at his heels and stopped once or twice for the golden stare that made him want to roll over and beg in apology, until he shook his head and yipped at him some more. He circled and danced until the bigger wolf finally came over to walk alongside him.

It did not slow Tim’s heart, but it let him go quiet and skip ahead, secure now that whenever he turned his big wolf would be close behind, searching the meadow for predators while Tim found ant trails and chased the breeze.

Their meadow was vast, and Tim had to learn it. But now he stopped whenever the big wolf did and stared with him until the winds changed. He moved on from each faraway noise and unfamiliar smell only once the big wolf’s posture eased; then he hurried through the grass with a clumsy stretch of his legs. He marked places to explore later, claiming all as was his right, until his thoughts were simply animal and air and mate. He had only to inhale to find his big wolf, and he returned there, again and again, sharing breath, pressing his teeth to muzzle and ear, feeling the same done to him, until his legs were trembling with exhaustion and his stomach rumbled and the sun had moved far in the sky.

“F
UCK
.” T
HE
moment human words slipped into his dreams, Tim came to. He briefly thought someone else was speaking and turned toward an intruder, but he was alone on the ground, propped against a tree trunk. The world was darker, blue with early evening and a setting sun. The world was also colder.

Tim glanced down at the blanket covering him, bending his head automatically to smell it despite visually recognizing it as the spare blanket from Nathaniel’s truck. The blanket covered him from chest to ankles, soft but itchy, because it wasn’t his fur and nothing else would have felt the same no matter how chilly or embarrassed Tim was going to be in a few minutes.

He followed the lingering Nathaniel-scent to a bottle of water leaning against his thigh and blinked to see the unopened pack of wet wipes. The wolf in him, louder now than it had ever been, despite the exhaustion weighing down his bones, insisted he continue to search for Nathaniel, but between the exhaustion and the growing awareness of how cold and naked he was, Tim stayed where he was—under the blanket.

He couldn’t see his clothes, and the meadow was empty. He turned to the water with a lick of his lips and moaned at the unexpected taste of dried blood. The blood was cool, the flavor mostly gone, and he didn’t know where it came from, only that it wasn’t human. The taste was in his mouth too, sticking to his teeth.

He rinsed his mouth out a few times, then drank the rest of the water before using the wipes to clean his face. He kept an eye on the grassy valley the entire time, his head at an angle to better allow him to hear. His big wolf would be near.

He could hear small animal scratching noises coming from the trees behind him, but not many. The animals were aware that a wolf, two wolves, were near. Tim shut his eyes, wondering when he’d curled up to take a nap and what his big wolf had done then.

“You don’t need to stand guard,” he announced slowly, speech foreign, tongue clumsy. “I’m okay… I think.” He shook his head and opened his eyes, and Nathaniel stepped out from the trees, where of course he had been guarding Tim like a sentry. Tim’s heart gave a thump. It felt, somehow, like a wag of a tail. He rubbed at his ears, which were flat against the sides of his skull again, then blinked at Nathaniel’s coloring. Brown and gold, like the trees.

Nathaniel was dressed, even more out of place in his jeans now that Tim had a memory of his strength on wild display, a mad dash across the valley, careful stillness replaced with a burst of speed after too much of Tim’s teasing. Tim had wanted a chase, and he’d gotten one. Tim had won the race, but the fight had been no contest; a panting, big wolf had pinned him easily once again, adding a playful bark this time before letting Tim go. Nathaniel was careful, even as a wolf, but then he was so large he’d have to be.

He was careful now too, as if Tim might run. Tim couldn’t see why he’d think that. Even if Tim had wanted to, his body wouldn’t have let him. He eased his head up so he could see his big wolf—Nathaniel—without straining too much. “I have never been so tired,” he mused out loud, and Nathaniel released a breath but smiled. The smile was kind, human and full of feeling that did not involve even a hint of threat or strength. Tim smiled back. He’d missed man-Nathaniel in the hours he’d been gone.

Tim glanced up farther and stilled at the fond, golden gaze on him. His heart thumped again, a good, solid kick against his ribs. “I’m naked,” he added, long minutes after the last time he spoke.