Circling the trapped beta in slow, deliberate circles, the little human's heart pattered inside his chest with a quick, irregular rhythm that the wolf couldn't identify. Bristling, every charcoal hair standing on edge, quivering in the chilly autumn evening air, the wolf fought down his growls, eyes trained to the little boy who had come to stand still before him, mere inches away. A slight breeze danced between them, enough to cause the child to shiver but not enough to stir the circle of mountain ash entrapping the beast. Goosebumps rippled across the child's exposed skin, riddling the pale flesh with pockets of shadows and the boy shivered as the temperature dropped minute by minute. Bending down, snout close to the ground, the wolf let out a small wheeze. The sun was going down. If the child froze to death the wolf would never escape, but if he were to die there, he could only hope it was before the hunters came.
Unfamiliar footsteps would send the boy crashing through the trees until he found one big enough to hide behind, but the sounds would draw his attention and eventually the curiosity would be too much. Those brown, too large for his tiny face eyes would peer out from behind the bark. By then there would be only blood smeared along the forest floor, crystalizing in the leaves, soaking into the already dark soil, and the broken body of slashed open fur and exposed bones would fasten itself to the insides of the boy's eyelids. Pink tongue lolling uselessly from the corner of a gaping mouth riddled with sharp teeth, the wolf would be unable to send the child away. Those kinds of nightmares were the kind that never went away.
Another whine escaped the wolf.
The boy, eyes large, knelt onto his knees and crawled toward the beast slowly, fingers ripping apart the leaves with every crunch of contact, knees darkening from the still moist fall soil. With each intake, the air made his lungs ache. It slithered down his throat like a frost faerie, whispering as it went, leaving frost on his teeth and throat. Coughs wracked his tiny frame so hard he had to pause, centimeters from the ring of ash cresting the ground in the perfect circle the wolf had stumbled into. The child sat back, gasping for air, and the wolf knelt again, whining. Every muscle in his body trembled like a violin string, the tension stretching him thin, his only chance at survival a fast fading light in the body of a frail child whose heart pattered faster than it should be able to. For a moment the boy reminded the wolf of a rabbit, panicked and paralyzed. A little growl crawled out of his throat like a soul forcing its way from purgatory, hesitating at the teeth long enough to be snapped up and tossed back into the chasm of the belly, but the child heard anyway.
Those large eyes were impossibly wide and a fog curled out from behind the child's lips, a testament to the chill becoming much more than that. Fighting down the urge to howl, the wolf brought his head close to the child's face, as close as it could get with the ash ring, so close that each huff stirred the boy's hair and warmed his face, so close that the wolf's eyes filled up the boy's vision. Something about their blue drew the child closer.
Break the circle.
Fingers long even then, trembling with only the brief moment of hesitation, the child's hand hovered over the ash in the fading dusk and the wolf whined when the world seemed to pause, as if taking a breath, before suddenly he was compelled forward. The ash parted, just a tiny slit, but it was enough. The wolf lunged over the line and drew up short to throw back his head and let out a howl that made no sound, but the child trembled from it all the same. Panic oddly absent, he struggled to his feet. His companion's head dropped and his ears went up, listening for the hunters, keeping check on the frantic patter of the boy's heart thumping like a bird in a cage. It wouldn't be too long before the hunters caught up with them. Whining low in his throat, the wolf turned to fix the child with those eyes like frost.
It wasn't safe. The child was rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, and failing fast in the cold that marched upon them intending to lay siege. Jaws parting to allow his tongue to loll, the wolf cocked his head. The little boy took a shaky step forward, knee giving out at the last second but then suddenly the beast was there, allowing him to wrap his tiny fingers in his fur and nipping him on in encouragement. While the fur might have looked coarse, it was softer than anything the boy had ever touched, except, perhaps, his mother's hair.
They found a hollow in the gnarled roots of an old tree that the wolf did not like. Whining and dancing on his paws, he looked about, desperate for anything else except that old tree, the one that rose up like a creature from the dark, ready to swallow them whole, its bark nearly black and twisted, broken as if something had tried to tear it apart and failed. The scars were white against its cracked skin and the branches spread out over the top, curling like vines. Nothing grew around the tree. Even the soil was pale and dry, refusing to soak up an ounce of moisture, and around the tree grew no grass except for the purple flowers that stung. Growling low in his throat, the wolf knew the hunters would not follow them there, to that gateway into the darkness. The child too, seemed to sense the canine's reluctance.
Yipping, the wolf nudged the little boy toward the hollow, nipping when necessary to get the child moving. Night was almost upon them and there was nowhere else. It wasn't safe, but there was nowhere else. The child touched either side of the opening as he stumbled inside and his fingers came away wet, dripping with sap so dark it was almost crimson and while the wind moaned outside, the hollow was almost perfectly silent. Only the child's own heart and the wolf's breathing interrupted the quiet.
The beta circled around once, twice, thrice in the small center and then settled, nose tucked carefully into his paws and covered by his tail. Blue eyes blinking owlishly despite himself, he glanced up at the little human who swayed on his tiny feet, reaching out to steady himself on the trunk and leaving dark smears on the frightening pale inside. Feeling his heart constrict, the wolf let out a low rumble. When the child looked down at him, wide-eyed, the wolf flicked his tail and stretched out a little so the child, when he crawled forward, could curl up with him. When morning came, the wolf was gone and the little boy stumbled out into the arms of his father, unaware that a pair of blue eyes regarded him curiously from the trees.
The little boy didn't go back to the forest after that, not the next day, nor the next, and it was many years before the wolf saw him again.
