Written for Day 25 of Sheith Month: Free Day, for which I chose Hunting.
Shiro plucked a stalk of lavender for the basket at his side, then went still even as he reached for another. He lifted his head, eyes going unfocused as he listened. He bowed low and whispered to the plants, asking them what they heard. Though they were strange to him - he hadn't roamed this way in several rounds of the seasons, and these plants were young - they were as pleased to answer Shiro as they had been to welcome his walking feet and harvesting hands.
Wolf, they whispered, bound up with fierce and small and trapped. Shiro's jaw tightened. Humans, hunters, they said, wrapping that with heavy boots and heavy steel and heavy ropes.
Shiro brushed his fingers over the highest reaches of the nearest plants in thanks, then grasped the basket and rose to his feet. The plants rippled against the breeze, showing him where. Shiro picked up speed, following their guidance and then, when he grew closer, the sound of wary men's speech and a sharp, biting laugh.
Shiro's hackles prickled and he touched his fingertips to the sheathed knife at his thigh, then shook his head and moved faster. Not unless he needed it, and - Shiro's eyes searched out the treeline, not far ahead - he shouldn't.
Although his resolve was tested as he crested a hill, then passed a scrubby line of brush and trees at its base, and found the scene the grasses and flowers had whispered of in his ears. In the centre of a torn patch of dirt was a skinny wolf, a patch of snarling shadow thrashing and snapping at the men circling him.
Shiro took a step forwards, ice flooding his veins. Keith was bound to the centre of the circle by biting steel clamped around one of his rear paws, inhibiting his freedom of movement and shedding drops of blood to spatter in the dirt every few moments.
One of the hunters raised a stave and took a step forwards as Keith lunged for one of his fellows. Keith laid his ears back and snarled, recoiling out of range before he could be struck.
"Leave him alone." Shiro demanded, moving into clear sight. Keith's ears pricked towards him and the fierce threat on his face eased slightly. "What are you doing?"
"No need to be concerned." One of the men turned towards Shiro, raising a calming hand. "It's a wolf; can't be allowed to roam free this close to settlements. He's a dangerous wild animal."
Shiro glared. There were no human settlements near enough to be this aggressive in eliminating threats, and Keith would have posed no threat. Dangerous he might be, but not mindless, and he had only come so far from their home forests keeping Shiro's side.
"He's no threat," Shiro glanced at Keith, baring his fangs at one of the other hunters closing in on his right flank, "unless it's well earned." he added tightly.
"Oh, quiet your soft heart." One of the others gestured with the crossbow he held, the half-careless movement making Shiro's heart tighten with alarm. "There are better things to put such feelings towards than wasting them on a wild thing that would as soon eat you."
Shiro's eyes narrowed, though if he'd been less angry - and less worried - that might have made him laugh.
Another of the hunters tapped the end of his stave on the ground. "Perhaps he thinks this isn't a wild thing, perhaps it's his pet dog." he jested.
It did nothing to calm Shiro's anger or alarm.
"I said leave him alone!" Shiro snapped, taking another step forwards and knocking his hood back fully. He let the basket of lavender and the other plants he'd harvested fall to the ground at his side.
"Oh now that's quite enough of this-" The man fell silent as one of his fellows smacked him with the back of one hand, glaring. "Wha- Elf!" he yelped as he looked again.
Shiro raised a hand and called silently to the trees as he stretched it out before him. The forest echoed with the creaking of living wood and wind caught in Shiro's hair as he reached for the power in the earth. He was far from the forests where he lived, but wherever an elf stood, as long as there was life and the strength of growing things, was home.
"Let him go." Shiro ordered, this time his voice rich and echoing eerily with the deliberate strength of roots that cracked stone, trees that stood implacable through the fiercest gales, windstorms that flattened entire plains. The scrubby grass around them stretched upwards in the bleed of power leaching off him, growing thick and lush.
"Why would an elf care about some mongrel wolf?" one of the hunters muttered and Shiro's eyes snapped to him.
The brambles near his heels stretched and reached for him as Shiro's temper spiked.
"He has hurt no one and done nothing let him go." Shiro demanded, eyes falling to where Keith half-lay in the dirt, panting roughly but calmer now. With a flurry of muttered curses and no few wary looks at the trees not so far away, two of the men approached Keith. He growled, laying his ears back, but made no move to attack.
One of them raised his stave as though to pin Keith at the neck and Shiro bared his teeth; a short, sharp gesture had the wood shaking in his grasp and a moment later it burst forth with vines and new branches. He dropped it with a shriek and it drove roots into the ground, stretching taller and taller and putting out pale green leaves as it reached more than double the height the height of the man who had wielded it.
The hunters were clumsy in their haste after that.
Shiro watched closely, hand still outstretched, until Keith's leg was freed and he dragged himself out of the circle they had made and into the grass before half-collapsing again, closer to Shiro and out of the hunters' reach.
"Happy now?" one of the hunters spat. "He's not hurt."
Shiro would argue that, but Keith was free. "Go then." he snapped back, beginning to release the power he had asked for. "And think twice before you would trap another wild thing for sport." he added with disgust as the brush snapped and dragged at the retreating men; this time using the power they had from the bleed off Shiro rather than answering directly to his will.
He called it back, but slowly. These men tramped heavily in the land and had made no friends in the wild, not even among the rocks and plants. When he had it all back and contained within himself, he opened it back to nature with a whisper of thanks. It was answered with a warm brush like a mother's caress to his cheek and Shiro smiled, bowing his head respectfully.
Body still faintly thrumming with the after-effects of the power he had borrowed but head clear once more, Shiro dropped to one knee and opened his arms. Keith hauled himself up, darting across the space between them and right up to Shiro's chest, one foreleg folding and the back of his paw resting across Shiro's thigh as he pressed close. He folded his arms around Keith's ribs and shoulders, stroking down his spine, fingers sinking into thick, shaggy fur. "You're all right." he said, more for himself than Keith, and pressed his cheek to Keith's, nuzzling there.
Keith tipped his head and bumped his muzzle against Shiro's cheekbone before licking his jaw. Then he dropped his forepaw to the ground to brace himself and shoved, toppling Shiro backwards into the tall grass.
He laughed, sprawling under Keith's light weight as his wolf snuggled into his chest. He buried his hands in Keith's coat and growled playfully, pulling Keith's head down to press his face against Keith's throat. Keith let him, rumbling softly in return. His fur was thick with the scent of the herbs he had been lounging among earlier, before he had grown bored and gone to explore, and under that he smelled warm and wild.
When Shiro pulled back from the softness at Keith's throat again he found himself looking up into a wide grin displaying wicked fangs.
Shiro reached up and rubbed either side of Keith's face, fingers digging into the thick fur along his jaw, then moving up behind his ears. Keith's vibrant eyes half-closed with pleasure and he grew heavier on top of Shiro as he relaxed.
Then suddenly Shiro was looking up into the same eyes, the same grin showing dangerous fangs, but now a sharp almost-elven face was cupped between his hands. Keith hummed, hands sliding over Shiro's chest, and he bent his head for a kiss.
Shiro let his hands sink deeper into Keith's hair and met it eagerly, closing his eyes. Keith's mouth was hot, his teeth scraping lightly over Shiro's lower lip before he gentled even more, clever tongue dipping in to meet Shiro's as he all but melted, plastering himself to Shiro.
Shiro rubbed behind Keith's ear with one thumb, making a low, warm sound as Keith just . . . breathed, their lips sliding together with a gentle catch of skin on skin. Shiro stroked Keith's wild hair, fingertips rubbing the base of his skull under the tangled strands. Keith rumbled low in his throat, soft and contented, breath tickling along Shiro's jaw.
Shiro clasped his hand snug at the nape of Keith's neck, and Keith crooned, butting his cheek against Shiro's jaw. Shiro sighed.
Keith wriggled, his whole body shivering and pressing against Shiro's, then lifted his head with a small smile. He cocked his head, eyes soft as he met Shiro's gaze.
"We should head back for home." Shiro murmured, nuzzling Keith's cheek affectionately. They had been planning to spend a little longer heading this way, exploring, but after today's run-in Shiro had no desire to stay here, and they'd been going to return home soon in any case.
Keith rumbled low in his throat, then huffed. "We should." he agreed, and nipped Shiro's jaw. "You and your soft heart." He was grinning when he lifted his head again.
Shiro laughed, smoothing his fingers over Keith's brow and into his hair. He closed his eyes in pleasure, pushing into Shiro's caressing hand. "Nobody traps my wild wolf." he said softly, fingertips nudging behind Keith's ear. He tilted his head, lips brushing the inside of Shiro's wrist, and slid off him into the grass at his side.
Shiro smiled, rolling onto his side and stroking a hand over Keith's ribs and belly. He opened his eyes and grinned again, whuffing companionably, then winced, expression pinching. Shiro stilled, drawing his hand away.
"Running home is going to bite it." Keith grumbled as he sat up. Shiro arched an eyebrow, and Keith shifted, folding one leg in closer to his body. Shiro winced. Just below the ragged end of his dark leather pants was the torn and raw bite of the steel trap that had caught him. The dull gleam of bone showed through bloody flesh in two places, where the knobs of Keith's ankle were most pronounced.
Shiro smoothed a hand down his calf. "I'm sorry."
Keith shrugged it off. "I'll be all right."
They wouldn't exactly be safe remaining anywhere near here, Shiro knew, but. . . "Even running?" he asked, leaning close enough to bump their noses together companionably, making a wolf-sound in his own throat. Keith smiled crookedly and returned it.
"On fours is easier." Keith said fatalistically. Shiro frowned. Keith made a quelling noise at the back of his throat and rubbed his cheek against Shiro's. "Be fine, mate." he promised.
Shiro sighed, but nodded, cupping Keith's jaw with one hand and pressing his temple to the top of Keith's head. Keith whined affectionately, then melted into his wolf shape again, pushing his head into the loop of Shiro's arm. He tightened it around Keith's neck, just enough to be felt.
"All right, love." Shiro rubbed Keith's ears. "Let me wrap that, and we'll go. We'll stop if you need to." he added, kissing Keith between the ridges of his brows. "I want to be away from here quick as we can, though."
Keith lifted his head, tongue sweeping in a feathery brush over Shiro's chin, then shifted away, sprawling on his side to let Shiro reach his injury as the plants rustled and whispered all around them, keeping watch.
(As may have been noticeable, it seems I chose a theme for the free days. I do love my shapeshifters!)