Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  I saved her life. She saved mine. We were now bound together by ties stronger than steel cables. Breaking them could very well shatter my soul.

  Lifting my head, I gazed at her sleeping face, her black-tipped ears slack, and her eagle’s eyes closed. She curled her talons into fists under her beak, the same thing she did every night, just as she covered me protectively with her wing, every night. Her tail never rested and its black tip forever flicked softly back and forth, every night.

  “She has to go,” I murmured, my heart already burning with grief.

  “Perhaps it’s time.”

  “Past time.”

  “It’s what’s best for her.”

  “I know. That doesn’t make it easier.”

  “I know.”

  Resting my head once more on my paws, I shut my eyes.

  ‘Twas a long time before I slept.

  All things must come to an end.

  Our good fortune with the weather came to a crashing halt.

  After my late-night conversation with Darius, I woke after a cold night of thin sleep with a heavy heart and even heavier clouds overhead. The sun rose behind a thick bank of storm clouds creeping down from the higher peaks above. The night’s bone-chilling cold remained the same, the dawn not bringing its former warmth. My heavy pelt and new layer of fat kept me warm enough, but Feria shivered as she emerged from our nest under the fir tree. She chirped in dismay, seeing what had come to call in the night.

  “I expect our hunting will be bad, too,” I said, earning myself a sharp glance from those raptor eyes.

  Anything with any sense will be headed downhill or into shelter. My wolf instincts told me all game would be difficult to find in this weather, this time of year. The wild cattle, the elk, the deer will migrate to the lower valleys for shelter and food.

  “And as I have no sense, I’ll be travelling uphill and into that mess.”

  “There’s no help for it.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Feria, knowing I spoke to someone else, merely sighed and turned her face into the freshening, icy wind from above.

  “I dare not wait this out,” I said, scenting the rain yet to fall. “I can’t spare the time.”

  “You can’t. You must keep going.”

  I trotted forward, expecting Feria to launch her body into the wind and fly as she usually did. She surprised me by trotting along behind, her wings furled over her back. I glanced back once or twice, asking the obvious question with my eyes. She didn’t see, or pretended not to, and refrained from replying. Females always liked keeping secrets.

  Before midmorning passed, the rain arrived with bells on. Not light droplets of a summer or early autumn storm, but the slashing, icy, chilling sheets that froze the instant they hit the ground. My paws slipped and slid over ice-covered rocks, my heavy fur wet and cold. Only my warm undercoat, still dry, kept me from freezing.

  I suffered only a little hardship, but Feria complained bitterly. Her feathers soaked through, she constantly shook icy water from her mane. Her wings clung damply to her back. Like any cat, she hated the wet. Belatedly, I realized that eagles didn’t fly in the rain. Nor did lions long tolerate the wet or the cold. One never saw a lion swim. Both species sought shelter in weather like this.

  She shouldn’t be here, I thought. This weather will kill her.

  “It may.”

  “Did you send this storm so I might be rid of her?”

  “I? I don’t have that power anymore.”

  “But you have friends that do.”

  “No comment.”

  On through the miserable morning I loped, shutting my teeth when they wanted to speak, maintaining my uphill trek. Doggedly, Feria held on, scrambling over slippery rocks and logs, her breath frosting the air. The icy rain increased in fury, as thick as a fogbank, and as blinding. The temperature descended rapidly to killing levels, the ice thickening hour by hour. With every stride I waited for her to shriek her displeasure, explain in rapid fire clicks how she forgot an appointment and wing up and over the storm. Yet, every backward glance showed me her determination to follow my tail over every dead tree and into every thicket, her beak shut as tight as my jaws.

  “You can’t win.”

  “She’ll see sense soon,” I replied, my ears flat.

  “She won’t leave you.”

  “She will.”

  She didn’t.

  I hoped, prayed, she’d relieve me of the responsibility of separating ourselves, make the choice to fly away from the misery of the storm and my company. Despite the deadly weather, the treacherous footing, the killing ice, Feria never faltered. She trotted, loped, her wings half-furled, never more than a length behind me. Her dedication increased my guilt.

  “You have to do it.”

  “Gods, I can’t. I love her.”

  “If you truly love her, you will send her away.”

  “This really bites.”

  “Suck it up.”

  Setting my jaw, I loped uphill, jumping dead logs and rocks, dodging spindly trees, targeting a wide overhanging rock. It stuck out from the side of a steep hill, about fifteen rods across and thirty wide. Under it, we might shelter for a time. At least until I could talk to her.

  I must convince her to leave me.

  Under the doubtful shelter of the rock, the biting wind still reached us, yet only a little rain swept in. Feria shook wet from her mane once more, her lion flanks quivering as she shivered from the cold. Her beak dripped water, her usually bright eyes bleak and miserable. I licked the icy wet from her beak and eyes, hoping to warm her, offering what comfort I could give.

  She sat down, coiling her long, black-tipped tail around her haunches, her wings out and dripping. I didn’t know much about griffins, but I knew they inhabited the mountains. They should be used to this kind of weather. Yet, Feria was miserable, cold, wet, unwilling to fly, and near death should she remain with me.

  “They den in caves, in their home ranges,” Darius commented.

  “Like wolves?”

  “Indeed. Like wolves, or humans, they seek shelter in bad weather, wait it out. Later, they’ll emerge to hunt and return to their homes and their young.”

  “She can die in this.”

  “She can and most likely will, if she stays with you.”

  “Can she even fly?” I wondered.

  “Probably.”

  “Must she leave me?”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  This was no good. I had to talk to her. I had to make her understand.

  The cold bit deep, making me gasp, as I shifted my shape. My teeth chattered so hard I thought they’d break, and I clenched my arms around my shoulders in an effort to stay warm.

  Feria’s eyes widened as I changed, saw how easily the chilling wind tore into me. She squawked in concern, her body leaning, stepping forward. She raised her taloned hand toward me; a razor-sharp tip brushed my shoulder.

  “Listen, girl,” I said quickly. “It’s time for you to fulfill your promise.”

  Her talon retracted, recoiling back into her feathered breast. She hissed, her green eyes flattening. No.

  “Please,” I said, the icy wind cutting through to my bones. “Don’t make me remind you of your oath. This is no place for you.”

  Feria screeched, her voice loud and strident in the enclosed space under the rock. I stood implacable, determined, as her swift denial sweeping over and past me. This I expected.

  “Don’t make me the bad guy,” I all but snapped. “You know what you agreed to. I let you remain longer than I should have and that’s my fault.”

  Her eyes begged, no, pleaded with me. Let me stay. Please.

  “I’ll not see you die because of me,” I said, my heart in my throat. “If not now, then later, when I must face a beast beyond the ken of both of us. Go, while I still have the courage to send you away.”

  Raine –

  I turned my face away, my heart bleeding, broken once more. I don�
�t think I could handle more pain without going completely and utterly mad. “Go, Feria. Fly south. Find the sun. Return to your people.”

  She chirped, her eyes agonized, as I half-way turned to face her. Please, don’t send me away.

  “Forget me, girl,” I grated hoarsely, my heart trip-hammering in my throat. “If ever I saved your life, repay me in this. Forget I ever lived.”

  I heard her withdraw from me, felt her emotions wilt like flowers under too strong sunlight and too little water. She didn’t speak, but watched me for a long moment, her eagle’s eyes soft and grieving. My wounded heart bled afresh, seeing that expression in her face, in her parted beak, in her wilting wings. Even her tail, active as she slept, lay withered and silent in the mud.

  I half-turned from her, hunching my shoulder not from the cold, but from that bleak, accusing green eye.

  Go, my girl. Please.

  Oddly, her right foot rose. Hanging in mid-air, she paused. She didn’t breathe. That deadly talon, the razor sharp claw that could gut a dragon with one sweep, held firm, hung suspended, waiting.

  Damn her.

  I wanted to so much to ignore that upheld hand that waited patiently for mine. If I managed it, then she’d realize the futility in loving me. In that absent gesture, she’d see my rejection, and, at last, understand. She’d realize I didn’t return her love. Would she then fly away and be finally, truly free of me?

  Would she go?

  Could I do that to her?

  She knew me better than I knew myself.

  She may not have a Tarbane’s keen insight, yet she knew the battle within my heart. Her eagle’s eyesight saw not just me, but the heart I didn’t see for myself. Feria knew bloody well I sent her away for her own good, and sacrificed my own soul.

  Just as she knew I’d reach for her offering.

  Just as I knew I would.

  Tears welled up in my eyes, but I dared not let them fall, dared not let her see them. My very human hand clasped hers with all my strength, all my pain, all my love.

  “Be well,” I whispered. “Be free, my darling.”

  Her beak parted in a low hiss.

  “I know,” I murmured. “Me, too.”

  Withdrawing her hand from mine, Feria retreated from me, out into the killing rain. I followed after, back in my wolf body, watching as she unfurled her great wings. Like an angel from the old legends, she launched herself into the dark grey sky above, her head angling downward to keep me in sight, for a little while longer.

  She circled a while, not speaking, her eyes saying everything. Her downward wing beats hurled rain from my face as she rose higher and higher yet. Still she circled, gaining altitude, keeping me in sight. Upwards, ever higher, she rose until she was but a black dot against the stormy grey sky.

  My Feria vanished into the sullen depths of the early winter storm. At last the dark clouds claimed her, consumed her regal body. The thick, roiling mists above enclosed her into their deadly embrace.

  I lost sight of her.

  Fare thee well, my friend, on thy journey.

  I stared down at the stones at my feet, my heart shattered into a thousand, ten thousand, pieces within my chest. I found companionship, friendship, love, and I sent it away from me like yesterday’s meal. No matter that it was best for her. Just as it was best for Ly’Tana, Arianne, Rygel, Silverruff, Tuatha and Kel’Ratan to be sent as far from me as was possible. I shoved love from me as I might deadly poison.

  I am a killer. This, my sole purpose in life: to kill. I killed for the sport of others. I killed to protect my own. Now I must kill to free Darius and prevent the annihilation of the wolf species.

  I took death with me wherever I went.

  Feria’s last words haunted me as I walked with lowered head and downcast tail into the slashing rain. They followed after me as I loped headlong toward the distant mountains, alone, my heart dead within my chest. How many breaks can one heart take before it withers and dies?

  Mine took one too many. It despaired and collapsed in unto itself, a mere shell of what it once was. It beat strong, carried blood where it needed to be carried, but loved no more. For Feria had taken my heart with her, as she flew up, ever up, into the roiling clouds, her strident voice still ringing in my excellent wolf ears.

  I love you.

  “Shut up,” I snarled at Darius, the first time he tried to speak to me after Feria flew away. “Just shut up and don’t make me hate you more than I already do.”

  He didn’t speak for another four days.

  Northward I travelled, my once strong lope eventually slowed to a half-hearted trot against the stinging ice. As the day wore on, I couldn’t even keep that pace. Into the driving, frigid rain, I lowered my head and plodded on. What was the use in hurrying? Why should I rush into the jaws of death? For Darius’s sake? Had I the strength, I might have turned my tail to the north and galloped south as fast as my paws could carry me.

  Toward her.

  Which her? I loved Ly’Tana with every part and parcel of my being. Despite that, I also loved Feria.

  Ly’Tana, fiercely independent, beautifully savage, yet she amazed me with her bubbling laughter and incredible gift of love. Feria, wild and free, willingly faced death to remain at my side. How could one such as I have earned the love of such beautiful creatures as they?

  I loved them both, yet neither of them could be my mate, in truth.

  How did I land myself into such a sublime mess? Was my heart fickle? Was I unfaithful, not in body but in heart? Did I betray Ly’Tana by loving Feria almost as much as I loved her? I didn’t know, told myself it didn’t matter. Why would it? After all, I’d never see either of them again in this life.

  How could one fall in love within the span of one week? I hadn’t done it once, but twice. How did I fall in love so damned fast?

  As I dreamed of Ly’Tana when I slept, I saw Feria while I walked. My eyes saw her everywhere. If I chanced to glance upward, the swirling clouds mimicked her great wings. I flinched at trees, half-thinking her huge lion body alighted beside me. In the late afternoon sunlight, the clouds retreated, rolled away. Her green raptor eyes lit with uncomplicated joy and laughter in the glimmering droplets of rain.

  An eagle screamed from on high.

  I halted in my tracks, one paw raised to step yet another stride into the clinging, wet snow. Hearing her voice on the light wind, I hesitated, staring wildly upward, my heart soaring on her very wings.

  Feria, did you come back? Come back, please Feria, come back, I’m sorry, I need you.

  The white-brown eagle vanished beyond the treetops. Its call echoed shrilly across the canyons, reverberated across the rocks. It lanced deep into my very essence. I allowed my heart the freedom to descend once more into the dark void.

  Not her. It wasn’t her.

  I plodded forward again, my muzzle down.

  Never again. I’ll never see her again.

  I broke into a mile-eating lope, blindly jumping deadwood and rocks, dodging trees and heavy thickets, descending one hill to gallop heedlessly up the next. I climbed steadily higher and higher into the mountains, hoping I left her voice far behind me. I swung down sharp ravines and narrow valleys only to run a twisted pathway up the next canted hillside. A tawny rock panther screamed a warning at me from a boulder high above, but I ignored her as I tried to ignore the pain that dogged my heels. I ran, but I failed to leave it behind.

  A broken heart never truly healed. Oh, scar tissue grew and mended the fierce hurt, soothing the hot ends, breaking apart the terror of being alone. Yet, here I was, solitary once more, trying to find peace within me. What more did I need? I thought. Feria was safe, Ly’Tana was safe. If either of them were with me, they’d die as I will. That’s all that mattered to me now: they’ll live, though I’ll die.

  I was born to be alone. As long as I had the courage to remain so, those I loved will survive.

  Onward I plodded, feeling nothing at all. No love, no hate, no grief, no remorse, no lif
e. Only one purpose kept me on my paws and moving forward: kill the Guardian before it killed me.

  The sun slid behind the mountains, casting me in shadow. Life stirred in the underbrush, game abounding in the aftermath of the storm. After sheltering all day, the locals emerged to stretch cramped limbs, find food and converse with one another. Deer, elk, cattle, rabbits, wild hogs wandered in an out of my path. I had my pick of potential meals had I any appetite. Like Feria and my soul, it had departed on angel’s wings.

  Toward midnight, the full moon shining down on me, I found myself at the edge of a high mountain. I stepped onto a wide boulder and gazed downward. Like a cliff, it fell steeply, scattered boulders and clumps of trees breaking up its sharp descent. Above me the nearly full moon cast down her bright rays, turning the blackest of night into a mixture of light and shadows. My keen night vision saw as clearly as though it did at high noon. I saw right down to the mouse nibbling at the thick-stemmed grass seeds and the stalking red fox that snapped it up on the go.

  A wolf couldn’t weep.

  However, a wolf could howl.

  My grief spilled out of me in an anguished, lonely lament to the vast array of glittering stars. Feria, I cried, calling. Come back. I shut my eyes, howling, my loneliness and pain expelled on my breath frosting in the moonlight. Come back, Feria.

  Of course, she didn’t. She returned to her people, her life before I meddled in it. If she did as I had asked, she’d already forgotten me. Like the life of a dusky moth dancing with the deadly flame that killed it, she entered my life. Like the flame that killed the moth, she exited just as quickly. My moth to her flame, I died.

  Like Ly’Tana, like Rygel, like Tuatha, she was gone.

  I howled.

  As though apologizing for its bad weather that forced me to send Feria away, the sun shone for the next few days, its bright rays gentle on my fur. I walked on, uncaring, not hungry, sleeping only after exhaustion forced me to rest. Even then, she haunted my sleep. Not Ly’Tana, this time.