A/N: Wolf Whistles began as a very simple question, asked after the Warden cures the werewolves: "Now what?" Soon the wolves were off and running, and growling at me in the night, demanding to be written down.
This chapter corresponds to chapter 33 in my full-length Dragon Age fanfic, "The Great Escape." They go well together, and if you like this then I think you would enjoy at least reading chapters 33-35, but it isn't necessary; this story can be read independently.
WARNING: This story is on indefinite hiatus as of August 16, 2012, for health reasons. New readers might not want to bother starting a story that won't be finished for a long time. I'm so, so sorry. :(
In the small hours, when the new moon's silver circlet rose high above the treeline, Sundancer's eyes gleamed yellow in the night.
She had to get away. The room she shared with her mate, heaped with soft leaves, feathers, and shed fur, lay in the very heart of the ruined palace her pack used as a den, and escaping it without arousing pursuit would not be easy. She panted in distress, shifting in her nest with a soft whine as she squirmed, trying to settle her swollen belly more comfortably. One of the puppies kicked, and she was on her feet in an instant.
This could not wait. She had to get away, now.
Her mate, Swiftrunner, had taken most of the pack to confront the elves, but Gatekeeper had stayed behind along with the few other females and young, to keep them safe. To keep her safe.
It was not enough.
She lurked inside her room, watching for Gatekeeper. He had a set patrol route, a routine he took comfort in and used to help the younger werewolves who had trouble finding balance. Her tail lashed once, and then she forced herself to absolute stillness.
The grizzled werewolf made his steady way past her door, stopping to sniff the air and frown at the scent of distress and fear in the air. He opened his mouth, about to ask Sundancer if all was well, but must have decided not to risk waking her and continued his patrol, huffing softly to himself.
She waited, trembling with urgency, until she thought he must have passed the exit, and her way was clear. Then she bolted, and her wolf took over.
Something about the chirping of the dawn-birds distracted her wolf long enough that her mind rose again to the surface. She was running, tongue lolling out as she panted, back aching with the extra weight of her pregnancy. She still felt the urgent, burning need to flee, to hide, to get away from her pack. She clung to her self-control with every ounce of will, guiding her desperate flight, doubling back, following streams, scrabbling across fallen trees and slogging through wetlands, every trick she and her wolf could dream up to hide their trail.
Miles away, she heard Gatekeeper's deep-toned howl, and redoubled her efforts. She stumbled, awkward in her tiredness, and struck her nose hard on a tree. Her wolf shoved her aside.
Sundancer gradually came to herself with her head down in a sizeable hole. She was digging, a dogged scrape-scrape-scrape with her bare clawed hands, stopping only to bite through the roots that got in her way. Fully conscious once more, she stopped and backed out of the hole to look around.
Blackberry brambles rose above her head on all sides, save the narrow game trail by which she must have entered. The death of a tree had left this small clearing here, and her wolf must have chosen it as the safest place available. Vaguely, she worried about the chunks of lost time when her wolf had fought her for control; she hadn't had trouble like that since she was a pup. Then she surveyed the den, and it felt right. Yes. She should finish digging.
She dug until her fingers bled, and then curled up in the cool, damp earth to sleep.
"Dearest, beloved Sundancer," a soft voice like the sighing of wind whispered into her matted ear. "You hid so well, I had to ask the trees to find you."
Sundancer blinked dully, and focused on the achingly lovely women kneeling beside her. Her heart swelled with love and joy, and she heaved herself over with a grunt, flopping down again with her head on the woman's lap and thumping the ground with her tail in greeting.
"No words for me, my dear?" the Lady of the Forest said softly. "Then it must be nearly time. Drink."
Water welled up suddenly, a thin stream spurting from from the wall of her shallow hole, and Sundancer opened her muzzle to let the water trickle into her mouth, lapping slowly. Then the contractions began, and her mind swirled, becoming muddy with pain and instinct and the wolf.
For hours.
Sometimes she stood up and paced in circles in her little den; sometimes she felt a sudden urge to dig, or just to push the dirt around in the floor of the hole. Her breasts ached, ready for children that did not come, and in the end, she lay down on her side and shivered, and waited, and waited some more.
Her Lady said something to her, stroking her face, and tried to drip more water into her mouth. She whimpered. Then her Lady said something else and she went away.
Sundancer cried a little, afraid and alone, before fresh pain rolled through her body and she swallowed her screams before they betrayed her hiding place. Near despair, she let go and sank into her wolf, welcoming the animal's dumb absolution.