by Forthright
“Was that some kind of language?” he whispered.
“Wolvish does not translate exactly. My name is at its best when it is sung. It means, ‘pooling moonlight,’ for my home den overlooks a spring fed pool.” Daroo spoke soft and slow, like he was reciting something he’d memorized long ago. “I was born at the headwater of your creek.”
Charles grabbed the tub’s rim. “You know where it is?”
“Can any forget the path home?”
“Dad and I hiked upstream more than once, searching for the spring. But there are so many splits and gullies and thickets.”
“The wellspring and the way are hidden.”
“No wonder.” He thought back to expeditions past. “We couldn’t find what we were looking for, but it never felt like we’d wasted our time. You know?”
Daroo gave one of his lawyerly nods, then announced, “Tonight, I will tell you a song.”
“Don’t you usually sing songs?”
“Are you conversant in wolvish?” He offered Charles the last clean towel.
“Nope. I can’t even pronounce your true name.”
“Then I will tell you an old story, one that is usually sung by young wolves in pursuit of the moon and her maidens.”
Charles wrapped himself in the towel and fished in a laundry basket for a clean pair of pajama pants. “Chasing moon maidens, huh? What happens if they catch one?”
Daroo smirked and sauntered out, tail flashing.
With a strong suspicion that this song wasn’t intended for little ears, Charles took a moment to cool his face with a splash of water. That shiver of anticipation was back, dancing under his skin. The kind that came with telling secrets and taking dares.
In a way, friendship with Daroo-fen was turning out to be like all those expeditions into the woods, searching for a hidden water source. Only this time, he’d had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. But despite that, or maybe because of it, Charles had finally succeeded.
Run with Me
On a morning in August, Charles couldn’t decide whether to clean out the cedar closet upstairs or the shed out back. Cole offered to flip a coin. That settled that. While the boy settled in to read to Rose—with Beast as his trusty backrest—Charles climbed upstairs to pull everything out of storage.
He was wrangling a set of wool blankets out of a back corner when Cole’s voice reached him.
“Dad! Stranger!”
Charles hurried downstairs to find a courier requiring a signature.
“Who’s it from?” Cole asked.
He took a deep breath and shook his head. It was from Ally’s lawyers. “Just more papers.”
“You need Mr. Hunter?”
“Yes.” Shooting a pleading look at Beast, who was watching from the dining room, he said, “I’ll have to give him a call.”
The wolf padded toward the back of the house. And no doubt out the nearest window or door.
Charles tapped Cole’s head. “You should finish reading to Rose.”
Alone, he sank to the bottom step and waited for the soft rap on the front door. Drew let himself in. Charles budged over. His friend joined him on the step and held out a hand for whatever had arrived via registered mail. Feeling more than a little sick, Charles hid his face in his hands and waited for Drew’s verdict.
“It’s finished,” he murmured. “It’s final.”
Charles simply nodded. He had nothing to add.
Daroo-fen knew how little experience he had being somebody’s comfort. But as the days wore on, he began to suspect that he was only half the problem. Charles didn’t seem to have much experience accepting comfort. He seemed bent on toughing it out. Alone.
He could hardly criticize. His own habits had been equally restrictive, and they’d helped him survive in less than ideal circumstances. But Charles’ acceptance had given Daroo-fen the rare chance to recall himself. And he wanted to return the favor.
“Run with me.”
“What?” Charles glanced down, then at the door, for Coop ranged freely at this hour.
Daroo sat on the floor, leaning against the lower cupboards, where Beast had lain a moment before. “Not everyone who runs with the packs is a wolf. Run with me.”
“I can’t.” He went back to cleaning paintbrushes. “I couldn’t keep up. And I can’t leave the kids.”
He wrapped his hand around Charles’ ankle. “You set the pace. Trust the rest to me.”
Wary, weary, he said, “I can’t run away. This is the only home I have left.”
Which was true, even though it was not. “I’ll show you a moonlit pool.”
“Do you mean … your den?”
“We won’t leave your property.” Daroo built his case. “Running together isn’t running away.”
Charles looked out the kitchen window, at the woods and mountain beyond. “What about the kids?”
“A pack runs together.” Daroo-fen knew this could make a difference. “A walk in the woods. One night in the den. All of us.”
“Okay, I guess.” Charles managed a half-hearted smile. “I’d like that.”
Trade with Me
Charles tried to focus on the path, on his son, on the questions he was asking, but his thoughts kept scattering. Maybe this had been a bad idea.
Drew called a halt. “Let’s reorganize. Trade with me.”
And before he knew it, his friend had unwound the intricate swaddling from his own body and was twisting it around Charles’ torso.
“Can I have a turn, too?” asked Cole.
“I don’t see why not. Perhaps this evening. When the air cools, you can share your warmth with your sister.”
Charles smiled at his son’s obvious excitement over the prospect even as he welcomed Rose, who was only too happy to be tucked up against his bare chest. She’d grown a lot since his return to Pine Hall. Six months old in another week and beginning to navigate. Emptying so much of the house had effectively baby-proofed it. An unexpected perk. And Beast more than earned his keep by sprawling across doorways like an enormous baby gate.
“Take your time,” murmured Drew. “We’re in no hurry.”
Charles checked the angle of the sun. The afternoon was getting on. “Won’t we need to set up camp?”
“Everything is ready.”
Drew bent to kiss the top of Rose’s head, which brought him very near. Charles caught a whisper of anticipation and a hint of yearning. Although fleeting, it was enough for him to understand that this was important to Daroo. And that was becoming important to Charles.
With long, sure strides Mr. Hunter, lawyer and friend, caught up to Cole and swung the boy onto his shoulders.
Cole waved in a way that clearly said, Look at me!
Charles returned the gesture and trailed after them. Was he ready for this? Nope. But he hadn’t been ready for most of the things that had come his way. Except maybe Rose.
Caressing her hair, returning her smile, Charles told her the truth and made it a promise. “I love you.”
They were miles from the house—but still on Cooper land—when Drew waited for Charles to catch up and took his hand to steady him over a fallen log beside the trail. Moss and decay and mushrooms didn’t account for the brief tingle that put Charles’ hair on end.
Something had changed.
Up until that point, Charles had known where they were. Yes, it had been a while, but he and his dad had walked these paths together many times. Past the log was a forest that grew stranger with every step. The trees gained height and girth, and things kept flitting and fluttering in his periphery. Gone the moment he turned to look.
They were following the creek again as they wended their way uphill, toward what looked like a wall of stone half hidden behind a semicircle of ancient holly trees. Beneath them lay a pool of water, smooth and clear and deep. Charles watched as it silently, steadily overflowed, its waters welling up and spilling out in the direction of home.
“This is where it begins?” he asked in
a hushed voice.
“Yes.” Drew’s gaze was thoughtful. “It’s a good place for beginnings.”
Charles had to look away, so he asked Cole, “Okay up there?”
His son was unusually quiet. Perhaps it was the setting. This part of the woods was as awe-inspiring as a sanctuary. It demanded hush. Drew lifted him down and moved toward the rockface. Skirting a stand of ferns, he showed Cole the way in. A moment later, the boy was scrambling upward. Charles followed.
The stone stairs couldn’t have been entirely natural, yet they looked as if they’d been an integral part of the topography for hundreds of years.
Cole’s voice carried down. “What’s in this cave?”
“A den.”
“What kind of den?”
Charles caught up as Drew answered. “A good one.”
Cole asked, “Is it safe?”
“Very safe.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s mine,” said Drew.
Which was more than Charles expected him to say. Then again, it wasn’t like Cole to ask questions first. He usually leapt in without a thought for the consequences. Had something spooked the boy?
Cole asked, “You live in a den?”
“Sometimes.”
“I thought you lived in town,” the boy challenged.
“I do. Sometimes.”
Cole folded his arms over his bare chest. “So you’re like Dad?”
“Me?” asked Charles.
His son rolled his eyes. “You both have rooms in the woods. Yours is a library. Mr. Hunter’s is a den.”
Drew inclined his head, then swept a hand toward the entrance. “All the comforts of home.”
Charles sat on the ledge outside the den’s entrance, feet dangling over the edge as he waited for the moon to rise high enough over the forest for its light to reach the pool below. The season for fireflies was past, but there were other things winking and weaving in amongst the trees. It was kind of frustrating. Nothing held still long enough for him to get a good look.
Beast trotted out of the den, and Charles gave one of his ears a casual tug.
Daroo-fen had been swapping forms all evening. Drew had lit a fire in the hearth just inside the door as well as several lanterns, each safely out of reach thanks to a hook or high niche. They lit a series of linked rooms, some with short passages that led into more private spaces. In a way, the den was as empty as Charles’ house. There was plenty of room for twenty people, yet Daroo-fen was alone.
Cole was all set to be a cave dweller.
Beast had put in his appearance soon after the tour. He dogged the boy’s steps while he explored the vicinity. Sure his son was safe, Charles had opted for a nap, burrowing down with Rose amidst the furs and blankets in one of the recesses.
Now it was night, and the air was soft, and Charles felt safe and calm. And wide awake.
Suddenly, one of those elusive creatures slipped into focus, but when he went to point it out to the wolf, the thing vanished. “Where’d it go?” he muttered.
His friend shifted, and Daroo-fen grabbed his hand. With contact came clarity.
“Most people don’t notice them.” Daroo watched his face with a little half-smile. “You’re gaining.”
Charles shook his head to express his confusion.
“My strength is becoming yours, just as yours is becoming mine.” Daroo nodded to the rim of pale light cresting the treetops. “That’s one reason I brought you here. I want to tell the moon your name.”
Moonlight on Water
“You’re going to introduce us?” He couldn’t decide what this meant, let alone what might happen. “Like, ‘Hey, this is Charles.’ And the moon will be all, ‘I’ve heard so much about you!’”
Daroo-fen huffed. But he didn’t deny it.
Charles’s gaze jumped to the moon’s swelling curve, his thoughts racing. He’d heard a few story songs, the old ones Daroo would tell him, his voice a deep thrum that was its own kind of music. From those, Charles had figured out some of what Daroo’s people cared about.
Home and family were so important, they were practically sacred. And they owed an enormous loyalty to the Moon, who was actually a person, not an orbiting satellite. She wasn’t so much a goddess or Queen of the Wolves or anything. She had her own people, so it was more of an alliance. The closest thing he could compare it to was that thing when two far-off places became sister cities. Daroo’s people and the Moon’s people were on friendly terms, and that sometimes led to visits, and those visits came with favors.
If last night’s ballad had any truth to it, wolves sometimes intermarried with members of the moon clan. Dozens of verses were dedicated to the various tactics that eager young wolves might use to lure a moon maiden—the embodiment of a moonbeam—into reach. In this particular song, most of these strategies failed in funny ways. Because you couldn’t trick them. They only lingered in the presence of a fortunate few. Good guys. Noble types. And even then, capture was far from assured. Only if a wolf could coax an elusive moonbeam into a shadow—ideally his own, which was all kinds of euphemistic—would he be able to bring her into his den for keeps.
Charles cleared his throat. “You’re not trying to set me up with a moon maiden, are you?”
Daroo-fen huffed again. Giving Charles’ hand a small squeeze, he said, “Run with me.”
“The kids,” he protested.
“Asleep.”
“I can’t leave them alone.”
“I warded the passage. They’re safe.” Daroo leaned into him and all but begged, “Run with me.”
Charles knew this was why they’d come. It wasn’t the time for roadblocks. “How?”
“I’ll carry you.”
He balked. “Like a child?”
“Like a rider.”
Without any further explanation, Daroo-fen transformed into a wolf who was easily twice Beast’s size, nearly crowding Charles off the ledge as he crouched. But this didn’t need explaining. Grabbing handfuls of fur, he pulled himself aboard.
“Kind of terrified right now,” he admitted.
Beast stood and shifted his weight, forcing Charles to adjust his position.
The wolf gave a small hop, and the message was clear—get a grip.
So Charles did, laying low and clinging tightly, just in time for a leap that stole all the breath he needed to scream. Except the fall never came.
From the ledge, Beast sailed higher, bounding from one invisible point to the next. He wasn’t going particularly fast, and there was a lightheartedness to his springing gait. Or maybe Charles was picking up on Daroo’s elation. They were certainly close enough.
Daroo was joyous. Charles hoped it’d prove contagious.
“This is new.” After one downward glance, Charles decided to keep his gaze fixed on the stars. “Flying.”
Daroo slowed to a walk, strolling eastward toward the rising moon.
Charles straightened in his seat, windswept and breathless and exhilarated. From here, it was easy to believe that magic was real and anything was possible. But some things were impossible to forget. “The kids?”
Everything shifted beneath him, and he was left sitting astride Daroo’s shoulders in much the same way Cole had earlier.
“Charles, I must be in this form ….”
“ … if I want to talk. Yeah. I remember.” Charles wasn’t sure where to put his hands. The stranglehold he was leaning toward probably wouldn’t be polite. “The kids?” he repeated breathlessly.
“Safe.” Daroo gripped his ankles. “Would you feel more secure …?”
He swore and muttered, “Not a fan of this position.”
“I have you.”
Charles really hadn’t expected Daroo to simply sit in midair. Leaps and bounds had fit in the framework of flying. But sitting was … bizarrely casual. Still, he did feel much safer, cradled by strong arms with a lap for support. Daroo didn’t remark or tease, which killed most of the awkward. But still.
“Are the songs you told me real?”
“As testimony, I doubt they would hold up in court.” Daroo gazed placidly at the rising moon. “Much may be figurative, but there is truth to the old stories. Things that must not be forgotten.”
“I want to believe in them,” admitted Charles. Something inside him desperately needed the kind of loyalty wolves sang about.
A promise that would never break.
A vow worth keeping because it was shared.
Something he would have a say in.
Something that would save both of them.
“How does this work?” he asked, his gaze locked on the rising moon.
“This?” Daroo softly echoed.
“Well, I mean ….” Charles hesitated, because maybe he was way off base. “Am I here because you have something to say to the Moon about me? Or am I here because we have something to say that the Moon needs to hear?”
Daroo’s breath caught.
“Because I liked that ballad. The one about the wandering wolf who dragged his best friend along on an adventure, chasing the Moon across the whole world, making all kinds of promises if she’d only grant his wish. A moonbeam to call his own.” Charles stole a look into wide eyes. “He thought she was giving him the cold shoulder, but he was kind of dense. You can’t be given something you already have.”
“His friend,” Daroo-fen murmured.
“He was so busy looking for moonbeams, he somehow missed the obvious. His friend was a star. Or the embodiment of starlight. Or something equally shiny.” Charles had liked that part. Because it was all how you looked at things. Even if nothing changed, you could understand stuff differently. “That whole time, his friend was granting his wish, just by sticking close.”
Daroo took a slow, deep breath, like he was trying to calm himself down. Charles was about to apologize when his friend huffed. All things considered, it seemed a good sign.
“Am I to be the wolf or the star in your story?”
Charles said, “I’m pretty sure I’m the dense one.”
