Author's Note: So, I'm doing this to get back into the flow of writing for the Wolf's Rain fandom. I want to get back to Need A Second To Breathe so badly that it hurts, so hopefully this will help guide me back into the zone. Plus, I just love Toboe. So baby. I could cry over him for the rest of my life, easy. I don't think this will be long, nor will the chapters be too long, as you can see ;P
Disclaimer: I do not own Wolf's Rain and I most likely never will.
Toboe was only a pup when he first accepted the likelihood that he was going to die.
It was in the harshest months of winter, the first time that Toboe had been left to his own devices to survive. Unable to even hunt properly, he'd eaten bark and the carcasses of animals that had succumbed to the chill of the season before he did. It was a haunting and terrifying existence, and Toboe would like to forget it if only he were able.
He was at his lowest point when he decided death would be merciful. He'd wandered into the territory of a large wolf pack whose residents didn't much care for malnourished wolf pups encroaching on their land. Hunger and loneliness had driven Toboe into the heart of their territory, and when he was finally chased out, he left a substantial trail of blood in his wake.
They didn't bother to go after him. The alphas of that pack knew that the scrawny wolf they'd mauled wouldn't survive the night, and they howled and snarled at his back as Toboe limped across the frozen river that marked the end of that pack's territory.
The crows had circled him. Toboe watched them through the blood that dripped from his torn ear into his eyes, and at one point, the young wolf was certain he felt one land on his back, though he was too delirious at that point to do anything about it. Finally, when more of his blood was soaking into the freshly fallen snow than circulating throughout his body, Toboe allowed himself to stop moving.
The snow that had once nipped at his paws and made sleep nearly impossible was so warm as Toboe sunk into it, the crows cawing to one another in the treetops. It reminded Toboe of how things had been back in his den, a place that he barely remembered but still cherished in the darkest recesses of his mind. He remembered he'd been happy there. He'd been happy when he left it, too, but he'd had company then. He hadn't been alone.
Toboe was no stranger to death. It had followed him all his life, and as the crows fluttered down with the snow, the young wolf was prepared to greet death like an old friend; but just as the crows started to pick at the wounds inflicted by the wolves from across the river, a snarl pierced the air and Toboe heard wings flapping frantically in an effort to get away. Alive enough to feel curious, the near-starved wolf pup forced his eyes to open.
Paws. White ones that would have blended almost perfectly into the snow if it weren't for the black feathers caught in the claws and the blood that stained the fur. Toboe's insides heaved in panic as he slowly realized that the newcomer was another wolf, and the whimper that escaped through his clamped jaws sounded as pathetic as Toboe felt.
"Don't move." A voice said, calm and clear, strong yet soothing. Unnerving didn't even begin to describe the situation. It had been so long since Toboe had come across someone who didn't immediately try to kill him. "You'll bleed out."
Toboe didn't bother to say anything. He could smell the blood in the air, and if it hadn't been his own, his mouth probably would have been watering. He was just waiting for the white wolf to finish what the wolves across the river had started. It would have been a kindness.
The paws moved out of Toboe's line of sight, and when he finally lost consciousness, it was to the sensation of a tongue rasping over one of the wounds on his side, so much warmer than the snow.