And with a crown of feathers upon her head, she was the queen of the forest, princess of the dark, and ruler of all who dwelt there. At night she slept upon a bed of leaves, with a blanket of stars to warm her.
And she was never lonely.
Something's here. Rustling leaves, snapping twigs. Breaking. Hurting. Young shoots, crushed underfoot. Always so clumsy. Always so careless.
Not like her; daughter of the forest. She cares. She's ours.
Ours.
It's coming closer. Quick! Stalk, hunt. Protect.
Closer, closer, closer. Come closer.
Stop. Listen. Where is it? Where?
Come closer.
They're here again. The forest feels them.
My brothers slink, slip – steal through the darkness. Dark coats dyed darker by the night, so much so that they might not be there at all. But I can see them. I can feel them. All around, we move as one. Prowling. Protecting. Golden, she-wolf, dark, and runt.
A howl, and I return the call. Safe.
Crack! They're getting closer.
Why are they here? Why do they come? The forest feels them creeping, like poison berry under skin. Hurting.
But we will send them back again.
Closer, Stranger. Come closer.
I know they're here…
But I'm also pretty sure they know I'm here – almost certainly not a good thing. If I could just get a little closer, though…
But I shouldn't be here. I'm sure of it, like I can sense it. The forest doesn't want me here… if that even makes any sense. It's like it's placing these bloody broken twigs under my feet so I can snap them.
Why do I feel like I'm being watched?
Crack!
Dammit! At this rate I'm going to get more than the usual slap on the wrist. Maybe I should turn back…
Which way was back? And why is it so bloody dark?
He comes from another world, where the stars are studied, not heard, and those born with no coat of their own kill and steal for the comfort. With no knowledge of the night to guide him, he creeps into the lion's den, heavy-footed and danger-blind, because he feels it…
Something… different. Something… more.
And cursed curious, the two legged always crave more.
More.
More.
What is it?
Like me? My chest ba-dum, ba-dums, as the moon finds holes in the trees and I can see it.
No, not it… him.
Like me, but… taller. Like brothers to she-wolf. Bigger. Stronger.
But no. He is not stronger than me. I have brothers, and he is all alone.
And they are here. Golden slinks from the green, fur all up, teeth out. A snarl.
Protect.
Dark is next, soft-footed, not like stranger.
Why is he here? Why does he come?
Closer, closer, closer.
A howl. Kill!
No!
I found them!
I can hardly believe my eyes – or breathe, for the fear and exhilaration that spins dizzyingly through my veins. I wanted to find a wolf pack. A wolf pack.
And I found her…
She's beautiful.
Wild, untamed, pure, perfect – I must be dreaming.
Please, please, never let me wake up.
Just at the edge of the clearing, half in shadow, half alight – the silver of the moon gilds touches of her face. And she stands… erect. Fearless.
And so she should be. She's not alone.
Arm outstretched, her hand rests in the soft, bristling fur of a wolf. A big, fucking wolf.
Its fur looks golden even in the dark – its teeth bright, frightening white. Alarm bells begin to ring, but I can't move. Wide, brown eyes fix me to the spot. And then fear, as another appears from the darkness. I didn't see him before, for the almost black-grey of his coat.
How many are there?
Then a haunting, menacing howl sends an icy chill shivering down my spine as the servants of the moon crouch readily on their haunches.
Ready to pounce, I realise. Ready to kill.
Wait!
Why?
Something… like me. Something… different. Stranger, why did you come?
And you make strange sounds. Soft, murmuring – like the life water. Coming and going sounds. I don't understand.
Snarl, yip.
Golden wants to know. Kill? Protect!
Not yet. Wait.
Why?
Something…
I can't believe it.
One hand twisted tight in golden fur, she snarls, and they stay. They listen to her.
"Who are you?" I find myself asking. "How long have you been here? How did you get here?"
Her answer is answer enough. Gruff, rumbling sounds spat from between gritted teeth. Guttural and low. Too long, or long enough. She doesn't know any different.
The golden wolf growls, and I find myself observing their exchange with trepidation. I feel like a man on death-row, waiting to hear his sentence. I watch her. So beautiful.
Then she looks at me, and for the first time I feel like I understand as something akin to a smile touches her lips. It's brutal, all teeth and no joy, but I see it clearly in her eyes.
Something…
Turning to her kin, she howls, and between the two I can see and two I cannot, four feral voices call back.
Stalk, watch, protect… wait.