Disclaimer: Everything (and I mean everything) belongs to someone else.
A/N: I know I said the next fic I posted would be a Buffy, but The BlueFoxtrot A Samba posted the next chapter of Far, Far, Away (chapter 8) and one of the scenes inspired me. So, here is my twisted, convoluted interpretation of the moment in FFA when Remy was circling Rogue in her new dress. (If you haven't read that fic, go do it now. Mine'll keep.)
Dedicated to Blue, 'cause she's awesome, and anyway, she started it.
The night sky was purple and black. The time between day and night hung in a perfect moment, still, heavy with expectation and anticipation. It passed all too soon, and dusk fell over the countryside.
The Great Woods of Canada were no place for a traveler after dark, but the man wasn't afraid. The critters living in these woods left him alone as long as he extended them the same courtesy. He'd rarely even met any of them.
Tonight though, his attention was captured by a long howl piercing the silent darkness. Cautiously, but without hesitation, he made his way towards the sound. The trees snagged at his brown jacket, and he impatiently swiped at them.
Finally, he broke into a large clearing in the middle of a ring of trees. The forest seemed poised, waiting for… something. The howl sounded again, much closer. He pivoted on his heel slowly, dark blue eyes scanning the woods line. Where was-
He jerked as a long sleek body came flying out of the trees to land fifteen feet away. Three seconds later, it was joined by another, slightly larger silhouette, bounding into the clearing and coming to a graceful stop a couple of feet away from the first.
The wolves were quite large and healthy looking. Neither appeared to notice him, and so he welcomed the unexpected delight and luxury of watching them in their natural setting.
The female was a reddish-brown color, with an unusual streak of white in her tail. She turned her head, and he was startled to see huge silver eyes glinting in the moonlight. Fumbling slightly, he struck a match and lit his lantern. She was panting, no doubt winded after her run.
The other wolf was a male, and while his fur was also a red-brown, it was much thicker and so seemed darker. He was big, strong and fast. Every inch of him screamed predator. Muscles bunched under the fur and skin. The man stifled a muttered oath as he caught a glimpse of red, glowing eyes in the wolf's face. The creature didn't seem tired or out of breath at all, despite what had obviously been quite a chase.
The female got her breath back, and the male's ears instantly perked up and he tensed, prepared to chase if she should take off again. She didn't. Apparently, she knew better now.
The male almost seemed to smirk as he slowly, leisurely began stalking forward. The female shivered a little, though her thick coat should have been plenty warm enough to block the chill of the Canadian evening. He grinned at her lazily, sharp white teeth glinting, red eyes smoldering in the blackness. For some reason he didn't know for sure, the man held his breath.
The she-wolf stood her ground as the male stalked her, allowing him to get within a few inches of her body.
And then he began circling.
Left, right, left, right. Front, back, front, back. She stood stock still as he completed and began another circuit around her. He was a hunter, an alpha, a predator. And right now, though she too was a formidable creature, she was his prey.
Her silver eyes watched him from the corners of her periphery vision. As he slunk out of sight behind her, she breathed in deeply, closing them, only to snap them back open as he came around her other side.
He'd chased her for miles it seemed. And now finally, in this clearing, in the middle of nowhere, he'd caught her. Both wolves had to be aware of the man's presence, but they paid him no more attention than they did the trees. They were too immersed what had apparently been a long and volatile courtship. Their dance was witnessed by none but the silent man who couldn't take his eyes off of them.
As he completed his seventh circle, the male stopped in front of the female and stared at her. Silver to red, they simply stood locked in each other's eyes for what seemed like hours. At long last, he moved forward the teeniest bit (having stayed not four inches from her the entire time) and bumped her nose with his.
Without hesitation, she did the same. Now he nuzzled her neck. Instantly, she nuzzled back. He nipped playfully at her ear and she snapped cheekily at his shoulder. Dancing away, he immediately came right back, invading her personal space (if such a thing exists for wolves), and touching his nose to hers once again. Her silver eyes seemed to soften, and her pink tongue slipped out to give his muzzle a lick. He nuzzled her affectionately, and she rubbed her head against his neck.
The ritual continued. The man felt tears in his eyes at the sight and gruffly swiped at them with the back of his hand. Crying over the beauty of a wolves' mating dance was one thing he would never admit to anyone. He was irrationally glad it was dark, wondering what the wolves would say if they could talk (and if they ever acknowledged his presence).
The she-wolf nudged the male and he growled softly. Her silver eyes danced in the night shadows thrown by his lantern, and she pressed close to his side, her head coming up under his chin, snuggling into him deliberately. She nipped at his throat gently. He snarled quietly, but not in anger. In excitement.
She whined at him a little, seeming to ask what he was waiting for, and then stopped, cocking her head mischievously. The male paused, confused. Darting forward, she bumped his nose with hers and then, tossing a (was that flirtatious?) look over her shoulder, she loped in the direction of the forest.
The message was clear. You want me? Come and get me.
The male rose to the challenge, chasing after her with barely a second's hesitation, confident in his seduction, and correctly deducing that she was only playing, prolonging the dance. His triumphant howl soared over the forest as he pursued her around the edge of the clearing and into the trees.
The man slowly turned and began walking out of the open, into the cover of the foliage. He kept his lantern lit. You never know what might be lurking in the woods. His cabin was a mile walk from his current position, and he'd have to walk fast to make it before it got any colder. Why did he come up here to live like a hermit on his vacation so often?
Another howl spilt the air, joined by a high-pitched keen, both totally exuberant and victorious. He smiled a little. Oh yeah. That was why.
He reached his cabin and climbed the porch steps wearily, a good-feeling ache settling into his bones. Sighing contentedly, he opened his door and entered, closing it behind him without looking back once.
Which is why he didn't see two shadowey figures on the ridge above his cabin, or catch the odd glimmer of red and silver in the light of the now-fully-risen moon.
A/N: Well?
Guess who the man is? ;)
BTW, the she-wolf has silver eyes instead of green because I was using TheBlueFoxtrot A Samba's color scheme for the Far, Far, Away-verse.
You like, Blue? It was surprisingly simple to write, even though wolves have somewhat limited physical displays of affection. And really fun too!
Okay, now this is my last Evo 'till after posting some Buffy. But no worries, I'll be back!