Wild Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  If wolves could laugh, she appeared to be laughing at him. Hellhounds.

  Naked, shivering in the bitter cold, he grabbed her clothes and bundled them into his pack along with his own. He stashed the pack between several large boulders, tucking the coats underneath.

  Then, taking a deep breath, he began his transformation.

  The wild wolves watched from a distance. One of them whined, but for the most part they seemed to take such a miracle in stride. Of course, though they were brethren, they could neither reason nor wonder.

  Change done, as wolf, Simon again looked at Raven, though now he primarily “saw” her with his nose. Yet even with his wolf eyes, he found her beautiful.

  Tossing her head, she took off running. Without hesitation, Simon followed, the wild wolves close on his heels.

  Days blended into nights as they roamed the mountain. They moved as pack, hunted as pack and slept as pack. The difference between the wild wolves and the shape-shifters faded as time went on, and Simon felt he could remain wolf forever. Now he understood Raven’s words, and finally, after years of hunting them, sympathized with the Ferals who refused to return to human form.

  He knew if he could have kept his wolf persona indefinitely without going mad, he would.

  On the morning of the third day, another blizzard hit.

  They had plenty of warning—the sky turned the color of slate and the wind contained the moist scent of snow.

  The first snowflakes were dainty and sparing, then the snow began falling in earnest and soon a heavy curtain of white impaired visibility. People died in whiteouts like this, and wild animals instinctively knew to take shelter.

  If Simon and Raven could have communicated better than a few whines, grunts or barks, they would have discussed the need to find shelter. As things went, a swift glance at each other and then at the sky was more than enough.

  With the pack still trailing behind them, they headed farther down the mountain, looking for a cave, an abandoned miner’s shelter, anywhere they could take refuge from the snow.

  Luckily, they came across a locked hunting cabin. Wolf-Raven and Wolf-Simon alternated throwing themselves against the wooden door until the frozen lock finally gave.

  Once the entire pack had filed inside, she changed to human and bolted the door.

  “There’s a fireplace,” she told Wolf-Simon. “But no wood in here. If there’s a pile outside, we’ll never find it in this storm. But I’m going to look.”

  He nodded to show he understood. At that, she muttered a few words under her breath and changed back to wolf. Padding toward the door, she nudged it with her head and disappeared into the blizzard.

  The wild wolves settled themselves on the floor. For wild animals, they seemed unusually unperturbed at being confined inside. They trusted Raven that much.

  Raven had her own problems to deal with. She knew that night the temperatures would dip well below freezing. The cabin would provide some shelter, but if they had no fire it would still be unbearably cold. Even as wolf, she’d already felt the cold, already shivered. She didn’t know how much longer she could fight off her body’s desire to return to human shape. She knew she’d reached the limit of her ability to remain in her lupine shape. With every breath, her body constantly tugged and pulled at her, attempting to change.

  Though fighting this took the remainder of her diminishing strength, still she fought. If she allowed her body to become human, she knew she would die. No way her furless human skin could survive in these temperatures. So she fought to keep control and remain wolf, though if she made it through this night she would have surpassed her previous limit.

  She returned to the cabin, a large stick in her mouth. Dropping it near the fireplace, she barked twice to let Simon know she’d found wood, then headed out into the storm to retrieve more. An instant later, Simon followed. Though the task would be a thousand times easier as humans, they had no clothing. Naked, they wouldn’t last a minute in the subzero temperatures.

  She’d help all she could, especially if that meant they’d have a small fire to keep them semiwarm through the night.

  But her internal battle took its toll on her energy. She lost count after the fifth or sixth trip. They’d carried in all the smaller pieces of wood, and the larger logs remaining would take more work.

  Hating her weakness, Raven watched as Wolf-Simon clawed at the woodpile, leaping back as several logs tumbled down. One thumped him solidly in the shoulder and he yelped.

  Concerned, Raven started forward, but Simon merely shook himself, sending snow flying from his fur, and bared his teeth at her, warning her to back off.

  Several good-size logs were now on the snowy ground. These Simon could not carry in his mouth, so he began pushing one toward the door, using his paws and nose.

  Taking a deep breath of icy air, Raven did the same. Finally, they managed to assemble a small collection of logs on the floor near the hearth.

  Raven changed back to human and bolted the door closed.

  “These logs are pretty wet,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Somewhere around here, there’s got to be lighter fluid and matches, or something. Maybe if I can get a fire going, the logs will burn.”

  She found some old newspapers in a cupboard. “Look. And there’s lighter fluid and a lighter.”

  Somehow, despite her shivering, she managed to get a small fire going. The damp wood smoked and sputtered, but it burned.

  Close to the hearth, huddled together in a pile, the exhausted wolves curled against each other, forming a protective cocoon against the cold.

  Still wolf, Simon waited for Raven. Once she’d changed back to wolf, she curled into his side.

  As her body temperature cooled, she slipped into sleep with her snout buried in Simon’s damp fur, his scent strong and familiar and oddly reassuring.

  Halfway through the night, while the storm’s fury beat against the log walls, Raven’s body changed as she slept. She became human.

  Raven woke, aware something was very, very wrong. Mouth dry, heart pounding, she opened her eyes to utter darkness and the scent of wet fur. She felt a flash of panic until she remembered where she was. With the pack of wolves, safe inside the tiny cabin.

  Except once again, her body had betrayed her. She could try to change back, but from past experience knew the attempt would fail and only sap her strength.

  Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her middle. The small fire wasn’t enough to warm her. The temperature in the room was below zero. She needed to build up the fire.

  Edging away from the still sleeping pack, the cold hit her. Without fur to protect her, her skin afforded no protection whatsoever. Her shivers became violent, body shaking, teeth slamming, shudders. She grabbed a tattered blanket off the bed and wrapped herself in it. Moving close to the fireplace, she pushed another damp log into the smoldering pile, praying the fire would blaze. Yet all that accomplished was to make smoke. The minimal warmth barely changed the temperature.

  Still, she huddled close, wishing she had Simon’s thermal long johns and his parka. Hell, right now she’d give her right arm for his down sleeping bag.

  Meanwhile, the pack of exhausted wolves still slept. Simon slumbered in the middle of them, his glossy gray coat rising and falling with his breathing.

  She added another log to the fire. More smoke, fire hissing, stuttering, trying to go out. Cold, so cold.

  Gradually, her shivering subsided. Not a good sign. If she couldn’t regain her wolf shape, she’d freeze to death. Unless the collective warmth of her wolves could get her warm. Praying, she crawled over to them and attempted to burrow into Simon’s furry side.

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  Chapter 6

  V iolent shivering roused Simon from a deep slumber. Slowly, he opened his eyes, resisting the urge to explore with only his nose, knowing those olfactory senses were too frozen to work properly.

  The dim glow from the pitiful fire allowed him to see somew
hat. Raven’s wild wolves surrounded him, curled on all sides. They slept a kind of hibernated sleep, lowering their body temperatures as far as they could and still survive.

  The shivering didn’t appear to have disturbed them. Only him. Half human, he hadn’t been able to succeed in reaching unconsciousness as thoroughly as they.

  Raven.

  He saw no sign of her. Alarmed, he stuck out his muzzle, seeking her scent. His nose encountered…human skin instead of fur. Hers.

  Shivering, furless Raven. Somehow, she’d changed in the night while they slept.

  Eyes half-open, he saw she was semiconscious. She shivered in huge, violent, body-shaking tremors. Again, Simon touched his nose to her. Her skin felt cold, clammy. The small fire had burned to merely embers and what little warmth it could provide was not enough to heat the cabin. Even now, wind whistled through the leaky walls, around the corners, battering the solitary window.

  He could see her breathing, her breath freezing the moment it left her lungs.

  Outside, the cold and the howling wind made the air temperature well below freezing. In the cabin, the walls were able to blunt some of the wind’s force, but he’d still bet it was in the twenties, if not the teens. No way a naked human could survive in temperatures like this, even with her wolves piled around her for warmth.

  If she didn’t change back, she’d die. One look at her terror-filled eyes and he saw she knew this already. Had she tried?

  Since as wolf he couldn’t communicate, Simon forced his own body into a rapid change back to human.

  Instantly, the cold hit him. Damn. Reaching for Raven, he wrapped his naked body around her, trying to warm her chilly skin with his rapidly cooling but still-warmer flesh. He told himself he could ignore his fierce arousal—normal after a change, the cold would take care of that easily.

  They fit together like a hand in a glove.

  “Raven,” he called. No response. Lightly shaking her, alarmed at the way her head lolled lifelessly, he repeated her name. “Raven.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, then closed. Her shallow breathing and irregular pulse told Simon that she hovered on the verge of unconsciousness. If she went to sleep now, most likely she’d never awaken.

  He couldn’t let that happen. He hadn’t come this far, defied so much, to simply let her die of the cold.

  Again he spoke her name, and again, each time louder.

  “Hot.” Finally, she thrashed against him. “Too hot.”

  Though he could barely make out her words through the shivering, he realized hypothermia had set in. Most people died of exposure like this, believing they were too warm. They shed their clothes and simply froze to death.

  “No.” Simon spoke firmly. “You’re not hot. It’s cold. Hold on to me.”

  “Not cold.” She sounded weak, as though her body temperature had already fallen too far to bring back. “Let me up. I need to cool off. Let go.”

  This he ignored, clutching her even tighter. “Raven, listen to me.”

  At his sharp tone, her gaze focused on his face for an instant before darting away. He put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Raven, you’ve got to change back.”

  No response. He repeated the words, louder. Finally, Raven focused on him. “Can’t change back,” she mumbled. “I’ve been having this problem lately. I’ve already stayed too long as wolf.”

  Now awake, several of her wolves had raised their heads and watched them, alert. In the small hearth, the fire embers still glowed. If he could get more wood…

  At the thought, as though daring him, the wind shook the small cabin. Going out into that storm to retrieve anything would be suicidal.

  Holding her close, Simon felt when Raven’s shivering all but subsided. Again, her eyes drifted closed.

  “No!” He shook her urgently. “Help me here. Come on. Raven, you’ve got to stay awake.”

  “Tired,” she mumbled. “Leave me alone.”

  Desperately, Simon tried to envelop her, to cover her smaller body with his larger one. “Change,” he ordered, as by saying the word he could will her to try. The cold had gotten to him, too, and he shivered almost as violently as she had earlier.

  Once she’d changed, he’d change back, too. Their heavy wolf pelts would keep them warm.

  “Can’t.”

  At least he could still hear her.

  “Try again. Please.” Wiggling closer, he continued to hold her close, hoping he could lend her some of his rapidly diminishing strength and warmth.

  “Can’t,” she repeated. This time, he thought her voice sounded a little better.

  Shivers racked him. Desperate to warm them both, he clutched her tightly. With a weak protest, she rubbed against him, arching her back like a cat. Despite his weakness, his body responded, his half-faded arousal roaring to life. Even so close to cold, his primal urge to mate still ran strong.

  Exactly what he didn’t need. Wrong, a crime, he reminded himself desperately. He had to save her life, not mate with her.

  She writhed again. Against her belly, his body continued to swell and harden. He shifted his weight, trying to move that part of him away from her, but she clung to him.

  Color had begun to return to her skin. Her eyes were open, her bleary gaze seemed more able to focus.

  “Simon?” She breathed his name. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m trying to save your life,” he retorted, still shivering, his arousal throbbing against her thigh. “See if you can change back to wolf now. Please.”

  Slowly, dazed comprehension dawned in her eyes. She attempted to push him away, a look of raw horror transforming her face as she felt his arousal. “Get away.”

  He continued to hold her tight, now knowing with certainty that in addition to his other crimes, the professor had raped her. “I’m holding you to give you strength and to keep you warm,” he soothed. “Don’t worry, I won’t—”

  Jaw tight, she jerked her head in a reluctant nod. Gradually calming, she focused her attention inward. “I’m ready to change.”

  Gradually, he loosened his grip on her, helping her get onto all fours, still cursing his unruly body.

  She took a deep breath, muttered a few words under her breath and then began the process of shifting back to wolf.

  Once the change had been completed, she collapsed, exhausted. Simon changed, too, then curled up by her side and slept, praying she could keep her wolf shape until dawn.

  The next morning, the storm had subsided. When Raven woke, still in wolf shape, she padded over to the window and raised herself on her hind paws to peer out.

  The mountain wore a heavy coating of white powder and the clear, bright blue sky promised a sunny day.

  What had happened last night? Or more importantly, what hadn’t happened? Simon was human, male and he’d been completely aroused. She’d been weak, helpless and completely at his mercy.

  Yet he’d done nothing but try to keep her safe.

  Confused, she tried to understand. He hadn’t raped her, or even touched her in that way. She didn’t understand.

  Oblivious, Simon slept. At Raven’s movement, the rest of the pack began stirring. They would all need to go outside, to roam and hunt and relieve themselves. She’d need to change back to human to open the door.

  Quickly, she let the change ripple through her. Then, naked and feeling the chill, she began searching through the cabinets, hoping to find something—whether food or clothing—they could use.

  All she found were some tattered old towels, a box of plastic trash bags and a dented can of beans. That would have to be enough. She wrapped one towel around her waist and tied the other over her shoulders. Then she pulled a trash bag up over each leg like a boot. A quick run outside to get enough firewood to stoke up the embers, then she’d see about finding a way to open the canned beans.

  Once outside, the bitter cold hit her like a punch to the gut. Moving as fast as she could in the powdery snow, she hurried to the woodpile and to
ssed aside the top snow-covered logs since they were damp. Gathering up as large of an armful as she could carry, she turned to head back to the cabin and tripped, going to her knees and sending wood everywhere.

  Her limbs felt numb. Another few moments in this temperature and the frostbite that was beginning to develop would turn deadly.

  Somehow, she pushed herself to her knees and raised her head. When she licked her lips, the moisture froze.

  Then he was there. Simon. Human, wearing a snowsuit made entirely of trash bags.

  “Come on,” he urged. “Get back in there where it’s warm. I’ll get the wood.”

  Pushing her slightly, he turned and began gathering up the logs she’d lost.

  For the space of a breath, she stood and watched him. Then, not about to be outdone, she went back to the woodpile and got another armful of logs. Moving carefully, she stomped back into the cabin with Simon right behind her.

  They dropped their burdens on the hearth and, while Simon began trying to build up the fire, Raven stripped off her trash bags, shivering and hugging herself. “Hurry,” she told him, knowing he probably needed the warmth as badly as she.

  He didn’t acknowledge her words as he set up a pyramid of logs surrounded by newspaper. She noticed he took care not to use too much paper as the dwindling stack was all they had. If he was shivering from the chill, he hid it well.

  Finally, a small fire crackled. Simon rose and turned to face her, stripping off his trash bags with his gaze locked on hers.

  Mouth suddenly dry, Raven found herself at a loss for words. “Thank you,” she said. “I owe you one.”

  “You’re welcome.” He looked away, his voice hoarse.

  At his words, inexplicably her eyes filled with tears and her throat ached. She shook her head and brushed past him, crouching down by the fire and holding out her hands to warm them.

  He cleared his throat. “About last night, er…this morning—”

  “Don’t.” She cut him off, knowing she needed more time to analyze what had happened. “Can we talk about something else?”