The Company of a Wolf
Title: The Company of a Wolf
Inspiration: Angela Carter's A Company of Wolves
Rating: PG
Genre: Fantasy AU One-shot
AN: I tried to do my homework. Unfortunately, the book the homework was in was not available (besides the fact that it was not in the store, it was part of a "pack"—pardon the pun—and why would I drop another thirty bucks for books I already own?). If I order it online, from Chapters, it will take 3-4 weeks to ship, meaning that I'll acquire it as soon as I don't need it anymore. So, as a final step, I tried to find an illegal copy of Angela Carter's A Company of Wolves online. Did you know that a Yahoo search of "The Company of Wolves- book" will bring up precisely "of about 2, 250, 000" results?
So, after 7 pages of web sites for the movie—and several about Oz and Willow fan fiction from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I figured: I always complain that vampires are over done, and no one appreciates a good werewolf/shape-shifter story. So… here's a perfect excuse to make one, based on the age old story of Little Red Riding Hood. And the best part is: I can claim that it's homework!
I don't remember much of the actual story. A Company of Wolves, but I remember the ending fondly. It sent chills down my back. Unlike the other stories of Little Red Riding Hood, this one has a twist, and I refuse to alter that twist. It's the crux of the whole story. I do, however, strongly recommend reading Angela Carter's story. It's poetic.
The Company of a Wolf
The air was crisp, and a little chilly as Sango stood at the threshold of her house. Past the outskirts of the city lurked the woods, dark and foreboding in the rising sun's shadow. Her breath was visible in the air when she sighed. Sango pulled her red cloak around herself tighter, and quickly retreated back into the house.
"Winter's coming quickly this year," Sango said to her little brother.
Her brother put down the book he was reading and looked up at her, curiously. For the moment, A Company of Wolves, a book about the history of werewolves and their folklore, was forgotten. "How can you always tell what the weather's going to be like? You're very rarely wrong, Sango. It's a little bit like magic."
Sango snorted in a very unfeminine manner. "None sense. There's no such thing as magic. It's nature, Kohaku. Nature is simple. It has guidelines governing it the same way we have rules governing us. Once you understand those rules, it's really quite simple. Come on, your breakfast is burning."
After a meal of porridge, Kohaku left for school, leaving Sango alone in the house. It had been that way since their parents had died. At that point, Sango, already sixteen years of age, had been deemed old enough to take care of her little brother. She had taken care of the house, and had gotten a job to pay for their food, but she had been sad. Sango had lost out on a lot since she had become a caretaker, a nurturer. She had missed out on her school, getting to see her friends, she felt like she had even missed some of Kohaku growing up. Now he was in his last year of school, with an apprenticeship lined up for the summer when school ended, and there was that girl he liked…
What would happen if Kohaku married her? Tradition dictated that the male inherit the house. Where would she go? What would she do? It's not as if they had any other family, and even if they did, Sango didn't know if she would be welcome. Nor did she have any romantic interest. If someone decided to offer Sango a ring for marriage, the first thing she would do is check if they had a fever. She had no dowry, she was twenty-one years of age, she had become totally independent and shuddered at the idea of being stuck in a house all her life…
Sango shook her head. She often worried about the future, but she always pushed them away for another day. There was no use worrying about it. Kohaku was her family. There was no way he'd leave her out on the street if he did decide to get married. Besides, most men tended to wait and to build up money first. And even then, it was common for families to live together under one roof… just not older sisters, as they would have normally already been married off to another family.
She checked the reserves in the pantry, bored. Everything was full. She didn't need to go shopping, she had her day off of work… And Kohaku had taken his book with him, so there was nothing new to read. Sango found herself passing the time by staring off into space… and right at their container of porridge.
'I'll go get some berries,' Sango thought. 'Some of them will still be ripe. The frost hasn't come yet. I bet Kohaku would love to have berries in his breakfast tomorrow!'
Filled with the thought of doing something nice for her little brother, Sango smiled and found a basket. She gathered her cloak and belongings, and set off.
Contrary to first thing in the morning, the chill had lessened. Wisps of smoke clung to the path and the forest floor. Sango almost felt like she was walking on a cloud. She could feel the hem of her long skirt starting to become weighed down from the dampness in the air, but Sango didn't mind. She had her knife in her pocket of her apron, should anything happen. Sango always tried to be prepared. The woods were dangerous. Some called her foolhardy to go into the woods alone, but Sango was well prepared. She had water, her knife, her thick cloak should it rain…
Far in the distance, she heard the howl of wolves. She stopped, mid step, and she felt panic tugging at the roots of her mind. Since she had been a child, playing near the outskirts of the woods, she had been told to run if she heard wolves. Wolves were wild and territorial, she had always been told, and they didn't know the difference between a child and a meal.
But Sango wasn't afraid of the wolves. Their songs always seemed so lonely. They were frightening, haunting, in the dark of night even ghostly and nightmarish, but more than anything, Sango thought they were lonely. This one, in particular, was lonesome. It almost sounded… abandoned. There was no pack-song to accompany it. There was only one voice. Despite knowing that lone wolves were often the most dangerous, starved from food because they couldn't hunt alone, she couldn't help but feel a little sad for the poor creature.
Would that be her one day?
'That will be another down side to having an earlier winter. The prey will start hibernating, it will become scarcer… the wolves will start attacking the village for food, if need be.'
Sango didn't know how long she walked. She had seen many bushes so far, but they had all been picked clean, either by the other villagers or by the animals of the forest. Sango rather enjoyed the hike through the forest. The air was invigorating, the chill kept her moving at a quick and steady pace, and she liked being alone. Whenever she went with one of the other girls, they always talked, and Sango never quite enjoyed it as much. This way, she got to see many animals, and she was left alone with her own thoughts, which were pleasant enough.
Finally, Sango found a raspberry bush that still held some promise. It wasn't far off of the path, and though the raspberries were small, Sango knew from experience that they were also the most flavorful. Sadly, she wouldn't be able to get as many as she wanted, but Kohaku was a sweet boy. He'd appreciate the gesture alone.
"Pardon me, M'am?"
Sango turned at the sound of the voice, surprised. Who in their right minds would call her M'am? It was almost insulting! She patiently smiled at the man, but after inspecting him, her smile turned genuine. That was the power of a charming face. She didn't bother to correct the man. It would only make him embarrassed. Nonetheless, Sango patted her apron to ensure that the knife was still there.
"Yes?'
The man seemed relieved that she was talking to him. His blue eyes turned happy, their shade lightning slightly. He brushed his black hair away from his face and politely whipped off his hat, wrinkling it nervously in his hands. Sango noticed that his clothes were patched, making him look almost clownish in a mixture of whatever scraps of fabrics had been on hand. She wondered where he had come from, and how long he had been traveling if he had clothes in such a condition!
"Could you please tell me, is this the way to Shirefold?"
"It is."
The man began to express his thanks, but Sango couldn't let him walk alone. She had never been very fond of men. Most of the ones she knew enjoyed the ale too much and became quite irate under its affects. What made her offer to escort him there was because she had also noticed that he seemed unarmed. While she doubted that he would be considered a suitable target by rogues, there were worse things than men in the forest.
"I'm almost done picking berries. If you'll stay a moment, I'll walk with you there."
His blue eyes widened in surprise. "You'd… I'd like that, M'am. I'd like that very much."
Sango rolled her eyes, dusting off her hands and picking up her belongings. "Please, don't call me M'am." She held up her ring finger as she stepped back on the path. "As you can see, I'm unwedded. Call me Sango. That's what everyone else does. What's your name?"
"My name's Miroku, M'… My name's Miroku." He paused, uncertain of what to say next. "Thank you for walking with me. It's been rather lonesome by myself. It's nice to know that you can't let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sights." He tugged his hat back on, shadowing his face, but the intensity of his eyes still made them visible.
Sango smiled despite herself. "Don't count your chickens before they've hatched, Mr. Miroku. I didn't ask because I found you attractive. I asked because the woods are dangerous, and you might need help. Just last week, a girl came in here on a dare and accidentally stepped on a trap. She didn't have a knife to cut it from the ground, and she didn't have anyone else there to help her. By the time her parents had found her, she had been attacked by wild animals. It wasn't a very pretty sight."
Miroku appeared genuinely concerned by this information, and began asking questions. One question turned into two, and two to many, on both sides of the conversation. By the time that they had reached the village, Sango knew much about Miroku, though he had proved more intriguing than informative. When she had asked where he had come from, he had replied "here and there". When she had asked where he had been born, he had given her the name of a town she had never heard of.
However, she had been able to find out that he was traveling. He said that he liked to travel, and never spend too long in one place. He went, he claimed, where the work was, doing his duty and then moving on. When Sango had voiced her opinion that his life seemed lonely, he looked at her with a kind of… respect and appreciation that no one else ever had before. He nodded, accepting her opinions, but he said no word as to whether or not he agreed.
"I don't know how much of a job you'll be able to find here. The crops are about to be harvested, though." She gave him the name of a few of the wealthier farmers in Shirefold, telling him that they might need help on their larger plots of land. As they approached the village, Sango couldn't help but feel a little sad. Never had she enjoyed a conversation quite as much.
He nodded again, smiling at her with his charming grin. "Thank you again, Lady Sango. Hopefully I'll be able to find employment, just so that I can talk to you again."
"Sir, you are a shameless flirt. If it wasn't for me telling you where I had hidden the knife, I think you would have tried something on the way home."
"Well, could you blame me?" He watched as her hazel eyes narrowed, and he realized that despite her teasing tone, she hadn't been making an offer. He should have known better than to say something like that! Girls who offered men their escort home did so because they were independent. Girls who acted meek and helpless were the ones trying to get something out of him.
He quickly bowed his head again. "I apologize, Lady Sango. That was most improper of me."
"Indeed," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Which makes me wonder if we have insanity in my family. Sir, please join Kohaku and I for supper tonight. My house is welcome to you if you haven't found a place to work by then. I…" Sango suddenly felt like she had a fever. She glanced at her nose. She was blushing so hard, even her nose was pink! She was utterly humiliated! "I would feel much better knowing that you had a place by a warm hearth rather than a haystack. I'm afraid all I have to offer you is a thin mat and a blanket by the fireplace, but…"
Reaching out, he took her hand, caressing it gently. Sango felt like his eyes were boring holes right through her. It was the eeriest feeling she had ever experienced. "Sango, that is the kindest offer I have ever heard," he purred, before lifting his hand and kissing her knuckles gently.
Sango was grateful when he turned and left. She didn't want him to know exactly how much that had affected her. More importantly, the last thing she wanted was to be under that gaze and to watch him realize how much it had meant to her.
That night, Sango was uncertain as to whether she should set the table for two or for three. For that matter, she didn't know if she should set the table for one. As of late, Kohaku had been dinning at the house of the girl he liked. Sango didn't mind at all. It was easier cooking for one, but it made the house feel empty.
At the time, she wasn't thinking about how the other villagers would react if they knew Sango was alone in the house with a man. The thought never even crossed her mind when someone knocked on the door. She rushed to answer it, and was pleasantly surprised when she found Miroku on the door-step to her house.
He had taken off his hat again, and stood nervously there, looking like he didn't belong. He took one look at her, his features softening, and he turned to leave. "I'm sorry, Sango. I shouldn't have come here."
She reached out, grabbing the hem of his patchwork shirt. He stopped, turning to see her properly over his shoulder, and she released him. "If… if you go, there'll be too much food for me to eat. It'll go to waste. Help me finish it, please?"
Miroku considered, and then he smiled at her. "If I'm doing you a favor by eating with you." He stepped into the house, and she watched him peer around. He could have commented on many things, but instead he asked where Kohaku was. "You talked about him so much this morning, I was looking forward to seeing him."
"He's eating at a friend's house."
Miroku laughed, understanding immediately. It was a pleasant sound. "You mean that this friend is of the female persuasion?" Sango nodded. Miroku sniffed the air, removing his shoes and placing them neatly by the doorway. "Well, his loss is my gain. Supper smells wonderful, Sango."
She smiled, and froze when his arm suddenly snaked around her waist as they walked into the kitchen. She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye, but he looked perfectly normal. She didn't think he was even aware of him touching her. Guiding someone to the table was a fairly innocent act, after all…
He reached the table first, and pulled out a chair, indicating for her to sit down. When she paused, his smile became pleading. "Please, Sango. Unless you have a real problem with it, let me serve? You went through all the trouble making it." With a sigh, Sango sat down, but the grin she received was well worth giving in first.
Miroku puttered about the kitchen. Sango only pointed to him where plates or cutlery were hidden when he looked at her inquiringly. He was amiable, chatting with her and telling her about the people in the town he had met and his opinions on them. When he told her that he had gone to see one of her neighbors and the wife directed him to the barn, and in the barn he'd walked in only to find the husband in the middle of an indecent act with the maid, he was so comical and well-timed that Sango nearly spat out her drink laughing.
"You had to wait until I was drinking, didn't you?" Sango accused, drying her eyes with the hem of her apron.
Miroku tapped his finger on his chin. "No, that was completely by accident," he decided. "If anything, making you choke was the last thing I wanted."
"Did you manage to find a job, though?"
He nodded, and Sango smiled with pride for him. "I'm working next door. After I caught him like that, the man would do anything to keep me from telling his wife. So he offered me a job tending to the fields, and I accepted. I should have negotiated more and tried to get into the barn too, so I had somewhere to sleep."
"You'll be working next door?" Sango had to ask again, just so that she could be certain she had heard properly. Her smile turned rapturous when he nodded. "That's wonderful, Miroku! It means that… that, well, that I can see you a lot more this way. In fact…" Sango paused, and the joy disappeared as she thought, quickly calculating in her head. "Why don't you stay here? Period. I'd charge you rent, of course, but just for food. I'm not going to charge somebody for sleeping on the floor."
This time, it was Miroku's turn to look like he had been given a wonderful gift. His face was genuine as he smiled, setting a plate of food before her. It turned sad a moment. "Are you sure you want to do that? You don't know anything about me. I could be an escaped criminal, for all you know. I could be dangerous."
For the first time, Sango felt a little worried, but she nodded without hesitation. "I'm well aware of that, but I'm also not about to turn you out of the house when I know you have nowhere else to go. I have what you want, and you have what I want. You get a home, Miroku, and I get…" Her voice shyly trailed off.
Curious, he arched an eyebrow. "What do you get?"
Sango finished. "Companionship."
For three weeks things had been going well. Miroku was as quiet and clean a houseguest as Sango ever could imagined. Every morning when she came downstairs, she found the blankets folded and the mattress put away. More often than not, she came down to find him reading a book. The first time she found him like that, she had stood at the bottom stair and had watched him. He held it carefully in his masculine hands, as if holding it too tightly would ruin the book. He turned each page delicately, but when she knew from how quickly he was turning the page that he was rapacious, engorged in the story.
"Good morning, Sango," he said, bringing himself to put down the book and face her.
"How did you know it was me?"
He shrugged. "Lucky guess. Want some help cooking breakfast?"
It was perfect. Kohaku was able to spend more time with his girl, and Sango wasn't lonely when her little brother was absent from the supper table. Miroku was opening up to her each day, and his stories always made her laugh. At times, she heard the door close at night, and she recognized the patchwork cloak he wore as it left her house.
At these times, Sango often wondered where he went, but it was no business of hers. Many of the women—both single and married—had expressed an interest in Miroku. Sango had made no claim to him, nor he to her. He had every right to go out and visit the bed of other women, so long, Sango told herself, as he didn't invite himself into hers. They were friends, and Sango was sad to think that he might leave her soon.
Her fears were realized sooner than she had wished. She stood on the door-step again, her red cloak wrapped around her shoulders, enjoying the way the crisp air invigorated her. She stepped off the step, feeling the layer of frost under her shoes crunch and snap against the stone walkway. The first frost had come. Whatever grain remained un-harvested in the fields would be ruined. Miroku was out of a job. Unless he was lucky enough to get a job shoveling snow, he would have to go elsewhere for work.
It wasn't fair. Sango knew life was very rarely fair, but after this, she felt life had some kind of vendetta against her.
"Sango?" Miroku had been asleep when she had opened the door. She turned, wondering if she'd forgotten to close the door all the way and the colder air had woken him up.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
"No." He stepped out, shutting the door behind him and wrapping his cloak around himself. He blushed when she gave him a disbelieving stare. "Okay, not really. I'm used to waking up around this time. What made you get up? Normally you don't come downstairs for another fifteen minutes are so."
Sango laughed. "Am I really so predictable?"
"You're effective," he said with a shrug.
"I got up early because it was cold. I love the first frost fall, normally. Everything's so pretty. It's still colorful, but everything's frosted with silver. This time, it makes me sad." She knew the question coming next, and continued to answer it. "If the frost is here, it means that your job is over. You should probably leave as soon as possible so that you don't have to walk in the snow and risk frostbite."
She wished he had offered her some sign or hope. He did, but it was sad. "I'll be here for a few more days, Sango. We have to get that grain out of the field so it won't rot and ruin next year's crop. I'm trying to convince him to let me stay throughout the winter. He keeps telling me that nobody can take care of his hunting dogs the way that I can. Maybe, if he tells a few of his friends about me, I can stay the winter and look after hunting dogs…"
His voice trailed off. Obviously, he wasn't very hopeful that it would work out. Sango tried to find a silver lining. "At least the forest has been quiet. The last time the wind was like this, I kept hearing a wolf. Lately it's been quiet. At least we won't have to worry about that lone wolf coming and stealing our livestock."
Soon after that, Miroku went to work. Sango was on her way out the door when a boy came running up to her doorstep. He was gasping for air. Sango ushered him into the house and gave him a cup of water. The boy drank it down greedily before slamming the empty cup down and explaining to her what had happened.
The girl that Kohaku liked had fallen sick. The doctor had identified the sickness, and he had sent the worried parents off the fetch the antidote from his quarters, but he needed herbs to inoculate the rest of the village. Almost terrified, the boy finished, saying that the first person to have been put into quarantine had been the person spending the most time with the sick little girl…
"Kohaku!"
The boy nodded. "The doctor told me to come and get you because you knew where to find the main ingredient." The boy named an herb and Sango nodded. She did indeed know of the plant, and exactly where to find it at this time of year.
Sango reached into her purse and pulled out a coin for the young boy. "Do me a favor, please. Go to the fishery and tell them I'm not coming in today. Tell them that story exactly as you told me, and I'll give you another coin."
Miroku was knelt over, raking at the earth with his trowel, careful not to accidentally break the root of the weed he was carving out of the frozen ground. The wind shifted directions, tugging at his ponytail, but it also brought new scents. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the air. Sango was right. It was enjoyable, even if it was a bit chilly.
He opened his eyes in time to see the hem of a blood-red cloak disappear into the woods. He knew the owner of that cloak very well. 'Where's Sango going?' he wondered. Miroku took a glance around him. No one was around. So long as he got the weeding done, they wouldn't mind… it could be an emergency. Correction. If Sango was ditching work, it had to be an emergency.
Without a second thought, Miroku ran after her.
Sango was frantic as she ran through the bush, thinking only of the thought that she had lost her brother because she had failed to find an herb. The plants were common, but all the ones she found thus far had been destroyed by the frost earlier that morning. Sango switched paths many times, continuing to work southwardly, hoping that the village to the south hadn't been hit by the frost.
The vegetation was beginning to clear up. The leaves under her feet weren't damp or soggy from dew anymore, but crisp from the dry air. Sango felt her hopes beginning to rise…
And then all she felt was pain. Sango fell to her hands and knees when her leg suddenly stopped working. A cry of pain escaped her throat. She knew, without having to look, why she could feel blood running down her ankle, pooling in her leather shoe, and why she felt so much pain. Sango needed to know how bad it was. It wasn't far from the village. If she could still walk on her ankle…
With a quaking hand, she lifted up the hem of her skirt. Metal jaws were clamped tightly around her ankle, the teeth digging into skin. It had lacerated her flesh when she had stepped on it, and Sango felt a wave on nausea when she realized it had bitten her all the way down to the bone.
She had warned Miroku about the traps the hunters had left in the forest. She had warned him, she had seen what had happened to the bodies of people who had fallen into traps, so why hadn't she been more careful? Sango patted down her skirt, but when she looked at the trap, she realized her knife wouldn't do any good. The trap was metal, and buried into the ground. It wasn't tied off by rope the way the traps of her village were.
Desperate to find a way out, Sango shifted. The jaws cut her more, but she ignored it. Her hands began to claw at the ground, trying to dig the trap out. She could feel the tough ground digging at her nails, tearing her flesh, but she dug with single-minded determination. It wasn't just for her, it was for Kohaku.
Then Sango heard something that made her whole body go numb with fear. It was a ragged, snarling kind of breathing. She looked up to see a wolf standing in front of her, its fangs revealed as it breathed heavily. She could see the individual ribs rise and fall with each breath. Its eyes met hers, and he sniffed. The wolf's demeanor suddenly changed when he smelled blood. The snarl became sinister and it slunk forward, sniffing, curious at this new prey. Sango's hand clasped the hilt of her knife. The wolf was old, but wiry and spry, still full of life. It cautiously approached, waiting to make sure she was dead.
Sango swung wide, but she hit her mark. A thin of red appeared down the grey-furred shoulder of the wolf. It snarled viciously. It knew that its pray was still alive now. It approached again, this time making a lunge. Sango tried to strike it, but it was surprisingly agile. The wolf's yellow eyes seemed to understand her predicament, and it circled her, trying to find the best angle of attack. Sango didn't have much mobility. She knew that if it got behind her, there would be very little she could do.
Another growling reached her ears. She turned to see another wolf on her other side. It was younger than the first, and the oddest wolf she had ever seen. Its fur was dark grey, nearly black, and its eyes seemed blue, not the typical yellow.
The second wolf frightened her. Its hackles were raised, saliva dripping from his bared fangs, and it bristled with anger. She didn't think that she'd be able to hit this wolf if it attacked her. But then, just when she was thinking she was doomed, she realized that the wolf was, in fact, ignoring her. It was looking at the other wolf.
The old wolf barked, and the second one sprang into attack. She watched as it buried its fangs into the wolf's neck, rolling and fighting on the ground. Their legs kicked, almost like a cat's, trying to disembowel each other or get a better grip. No matter what the grey wolf tried, the black one wouldn't release its hold on its neck. Blood matted the grey wolf's fur, but it still it struggled to fight. It ran down the neck of the other wolf, landing on the ground. Sango had never seen anything like this before. Finally, the grey wolf fell on the ground, whining pitifully. The black wolf released it, its tail waving slightly as it lorded over its kill. When the wolf didn't move, the black wolf howled triumphantly, but no answering wolf pack shared in its glory.
The wolf turned back to her, saliva stained red pooling in the corners of his long mouth. He was panting heavily, licking his teeth veraciously in an attempt to rid them of the red stain, but it was to no avail. Finally, the wolf seemed to give up. It cautiously approached Sango, its blue eyes focused on the knife in her hands.
Sango dried her face, leaving behind streaks of dirt. "Get away!" she snapped, raising the knife. The wolf whined, and sat down where he was, almost obediently. Sango's heart picked up, merely out of sheer surprise. Tears continued to run down her face from the pain of her wound, but now she was terrified to boot. Never had she seen any animal act so strangely! In fact, those eyes, they way the looked at her with such fear, even though she was the one in danger, they were familiar. In fact, they almost looked pitying.
The wolf tried to be friendly. It lay down, it rolled over, hoping to get a belly rub, as if it were nothing more than a friendly lap dog. It barked, trying to get her attention. After a few minutes, Sango gave up. If the wolf was going to eat her, he might as well hurry up and do it. She was probably dead out there, anyway. Besides, the wolf just seemed…
"You don't have a pack, do you?" she inquired, setting down the knife. The wolf's tail thumped at this sign. "That's why you're acting like this, right? But why did you protect me from that other wolf, then?" The wolf stepped up. Sango wasn't afraid when his nose was inches from hers. He was a beautiful creature, with sleek features, and those eyes were amazing. She reached up, scratching his ears and the wolf's tail went erratic. He licked her cheek, making her laugh though the sound choked on her sobs. His tongue was warm, his breath not bad, for being a wolf. She smiled despite herself.
There was something else about him too. It was almost familiar. When she touched him, running her long fingers through his thick coat, she had the sudden image of Miroku—of all people!—pop into her mind. She bet that this would be what it would feel like to touch him like that. The wolf turned his head, licking her arm, and there was something almost… there was something almost human about the way he treated her…
Whining softly, the wolf pulled away from her, leaving to sniff at her leg. He whined again, this time even softer, and he her flesh by the wound, as if trying to clean it for her. He tilted his head, and Sango was suddenly struck by the idea that he was thinking about it, considering what condition her leg was in, and how to get the trap back open. It was so amusing, she almost laughed about it.
When he looked up at her, his look was wretched. He looked so sad! If Sango didn't know any better, he was ready to cry. His tail wagged one final time, and then, he rippled.
That was what it looked like to Sango. It was the only way to explain it. His fur rippled like the waves on an ocean. Most of his fur began to lighten in hue. His face lost their sharp features, becoming human. Only its eyes remained unchanged. They were still as deep and blue, and every bit as soulful. The lips became human ones, soft and full. The nose became human. Eyelashes, as dark as ink, grew. The hair finally evaporated, and human flesh encased a naked male body.
Miroku stared at her, crouching over her body. He was completely naked, his muscles tight and ready to pounce or flee. His eyes were panicked, waiting for her to scream, but they were focused, too. Sango felt them on her, boring into her, eyeing her. She watched his chest rise and fall, and she could hear his breathing. His eyes… they were hungry, a glimmer of the respect she had seen that morning still visible. Sango swallowed, feeling herself being devoured by that gaze.
She was scared; Sango was, in fact, petrified. Miroku was… a werewolf! She had heard of them before, but they were make-believe! They weren't real! Maybe she had become delirious from the pain, maybe even from losing blood… but right now, Miroku was her only way out of the situation alive. She didn't care if he was human or half-partridge, so long as he could help her. A choked sob escaped her throat. "It hurts…" she whimpered, thought at the moment, she was more afraid than in pain.
"I know. I'm going to try to open it. Take a deep breath, okay, Lady Sango?" Sango nodded and took a deep breath, gritting her teeth, but she couldn't bear to close her eyes.
She watched as he gripped the steel jaws of the trap. His face twisted in pain. Sango marveled than she considered his face twisted when he was trying to help her, and not in mid-transformation from wolf to human. The metal teeth dug into the flesh of his hands. He pulled his hand back when he suddenly felt it rip his skin, stricken. He stared at the blood pooling in his palm, as if terrified by it. He glanced up at Sango and then continued, bravely, beginning to open it again.
After a few moments, he had pried them apart enough for Sango to slip out her foot from between the deadly jaws. He released the jaws, and they slammed fatally shut.
Sango reached for her injured ankle, tears rolling over her cheeks. Miroku quickly wiped the blood off of his hands, using his forearms as a sheet. Red streaks coated his arms, but he cared not. He took her hands before she could reach her injury and accidentally make it worse. His hands were gently as he folded her arms over her stomach. She flinched at his touch, knowing what he was now, and she tried to tell herself that the painful neutrality etched on his face was not because of it. Miroku reached out and grasped the hem of her skirt. This time, Sango jumped. He pulled, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the feeling of the wind on her skin and Miroku's hands pawing at the flesh of her legs, mauling her. Where had her knife gone? Where…
She felt cloth wrapping around her ankle, cutting off the blood flow and staunching the bleeding. She looked down to find a strip of her hem missing and tied around her foot. She felt guilty for ever having thought that he was going to assault her.
He scooped her up. His body was lithe and smooth, but he held her as if she weighed nothing at all. From there, Sango could see thin white scars meshing across his chest and arms, as well as the injuries the old grey wolf had given him, still fresh and wet. Sango didn't think about them. It was too much already. Her whole body was shaking. She felt sick and weak, and more than anything, she was cold. Miroku began to walk back towards town. Sango began to struggle against him when she realized where he was going.
"N-No! Mir-Miroku! The medi-i-cine! I have to get the-the med-medicine!" she said between chattering teeth.
"Don't worry, Sango. I'll collect this medicine. You need to go back and get yourself healed." He looked so honest and good, so stoic and righteous, that Sango wondered if maybe she had been hallucinating everything. He was too princely to be some mangy wolf… However, when he looked down at her, his eyes were full of such bright intensity and single-minded predatory nature that Sango had no doubts what she saw had been real.
"You're a werewolf," she said, frightened. If Sango was so frightened, than why was his stride putting her to sleep? She kept curling more and more against him, seeking the warmth of his body. "Werewolves aren't real…"
"They are, Lady Sango, I assure you of that fact. I was bitten when I was ten years old. Ever since then, I was an outcast. Trust me," he said bitterly, "they are real."
She felt herself succumbing to sleep, worn out by the situation. "That wolf," she yawned, "the one I heard howling the day before I met you… it was you, wasn't it? So… so lonely. All I can remember was that it was so lonely…"
His eyes turned gentle and paused to nuzzle her head affectionately. "Yes, Sango, that was me."
When they reached the village, Sango was fast asleep. Miroku stopped on the outskirts of town to retrieve his clothes. He had left them there before he had changed shape. He donned them, picked up Sango, and carried her to the doctor's. The doctor saw Sango and looked at Miroku questioningly; then his eyes slipped to her ankle and he became simply worried. The cloth had soaked through with her blood. It slowly dripped on the floor.
"What happened?"
"She was in the woods, looking for herbs, and she got her foot caught in a hunter's trap."
"Place her on the couch, Miroku, on the couch." The doctor fetched his things and knelt by Sango. He glanced at Miroku and noticed the blood seeping into his shirt. "She's not the only one who's injured, lad."
He seemed honestly surprised to see blood. "There was a wolf, attracted by the scent of her blood. I killed it, but I guess it managed to get me with a paw." He paused, worrisome. "You'll be able to heal her, won't you?"
The old man nodded. "She'll have to keep off if it, but I'll be able to stitch the wound. Then I'll look at your… son, where are you going?"
Miroku glanced over his shoulder at the doctor as he stood in the doorway. "I have to go find these herbs for Sango. She wasn't able to get them. She needs them, so I'll collect them for her."
The doctor watched him go. That man was a strange one.
The doctor healed Sango. No one was home when she arrived there. Kohaku was still in quarantine, and Miroku… he seemed to have vanished. Sango sat down in a chair and picked up a pillow, clutching it tightly. She buried her face in the pillow, sobbing.
How long had it been since Miroku had been rooming with them? Too short of a time; too short of a time to feel this pain. It was too soon for his absence to make her heart ache and chest hurt! She was scared, frightened, remembering his transformation, and her skin felt cold at the memory. But she pitied him! He was so lonely. There had been such warmth, such love and compassion within Miroku while he had stayed with them. He had smiled and told jokes.
That last time she'd seen him, he had been every bit as scared of her as she had of him.
She began slowly adjusting to the world of magic. Sango purposefully ignored all logic and reason, because they wouldn't fit magic into the world. But things like faith, hope, they could. She clung to them. She wasn't doing it for her sanity, but for Miroku. She wanted him back. She wanted his presence, his warmth and his stories. She even missed his snores. They had needed each other, both for the same reason. Both of them needed someone else in their life.
As Sango reclined on the chair, recuperating, many times did she laugh to herself. The company of a wolf! All this time, a wolf!
But it was the best company…
Try as she might, hope as she might, she couldn't ignore his absence in her small house, and what it meant. He didn't trust her. He had run away because he'd been afraid that she was going to wake up and tell everyone what he really was, causing them to hunt him down.
That made her cry the hardest.
The next morning, Sango hobbled down the stairs and found a package laying on the windowsill. She recognized it immediately. It was Miroku's handkerchief. Wrapped carefully inside was handfuls and handfuls of the herb she had been looking for. Close, carried by the wind, she heard a wolf's howl. Sango dropped the package and rushed outside, her leg throbbing with each step.
"Miroku!"
But no answer ever came back.
Kohaku came back. The house was again filled with another person, but Sango wasn't happy. Constantly, she found herself coming downstairs and looking at the hearth, wishing to see Miroku.
A week after she had learned his secret, she was making herself tea, in the midst of pouring it, when she heard a wolf's familiar howl. The tea cup fell from her hands, shattering on the floor, but she rushed to the door.
Standing on the edge of the forest, barely visible, was a black wolf with piercing blue eyes. Sango stopped when he backed away from her as she approached. Sango's heart felt like it was bursting with happiness, even when he turned and ran away.
Twice more she saw him. Her neighbors always asked if she had seen Miroku, but she always lied and said no. Then they asked if she knew a way to get a hold of him, and she still told them no. But Sango began to plot. She read her brother's book on lycanthropy, reading it as her leg finished healing.
The next time he came, Sango brought out a plate of food. The book said they ate raw meat while they were in their wolf form, so Sango had caught a chicken and had plucked it for him. She placed it down on a plate, and then back away, so Miroku could eat in privacy. The next time she looked out the window, Miroku and the chicken were gone.
Her plan had been to weed him in more and more, until she could talk to the human Miroku, but it was cut short when her neighbors, trying to protect her, vowed to hunt down the wolf that had been circling her house.
When Sango heard this, she knew she didn't have the time she honestly needed. She woke up early the next morning, hoping Miroku would come that day, and she tacked a note for him on the tree her normally stood near. She returned to the house, leaving the door wide open as a gesture of good faith. If he worried that she was still going to turn him in, he could smell and see that she was the only one there.
Within the hour, Sango heard the door close and she turned to see Miroku standing in the doorway. His clothes were wet from the melting frost and snow falls. His hair was unbrushed and wet, clinging to his forehead. His clothes were more tattered than ever, full of holes that hadn't yet been patched. Being in a wolf form meant he hadn't shaved. His wore a thick beard that didn't suit him, but Sango didn't mind it.
"I didn't get a chance to thank you," she said, forgetting everything she had so cautiously planned out. "Why did you stay, Miroku?"
He took his time answering. "I didn't know if my blood had mingled with yours when I helped you. I wanted to make sure that you didn't start to change, and if you did, I wanted to be here with you." He paused, but the words he withheld seemed to burn them. He let them out, painfully. "And I… I don't want to go."
Sango picked up a bundle of clothes she had placed on a kitchen chair. She tried to give them to him, but he moved cautiously away from her. Frustrated with his avoidance, Sango shoved them into his hands. She let her hand find his, touching it gently and running her fingers over his. She felt like sparks were jumping between them.
"There's fresh winter clothing there, and summer clothes in the knapsack." She watched the pain and shadows meld on his face when he thought she was trying to get rid of him. "Inuyasha's been asking about you. Hr wants you to keep working for him. You don't have to go Miroku. Everyone likes you, Miroku. You're strong, smart, loyal… come spring, we can put another room on the house, so you can have your own room. We can give you your own exit, so in them idle of the night, if you feel like… like hunting or something, you don't have to sneak out."
He shook his head. "I can't stay here."
"But you want too."
"I know, but I can't."
Sango was confused. "But why? If you want to stay, then stay!"
He shook his head again. "I can't stay here because of you, Sango."
It was like a physical blow. Sango staggered back, as if she had been struck. "Wha… what did I do?"
"Nothing, Lady Sango. It's nothing you did. Well," he smiled, a little bit amused. He put down the small pile of clothes so that he could take her hand, patting it reassuringly. "You kept my secret. You could have had them hunt me down, but you didn't. I was a stranger, and you gave me shelter, out of the kindness of your heart. You fed me. You were my friend. You helped me get on my feet and find a job. Now you've even clothed me, Lady Sango." He paused, and again Sango felt as if his words were painful for him to say. "Sango, I've never met anyone like you, and that's the problem. You're kind and nurturing, but at the same time, strong and determined. You understand me, without words, sometimes. You understand the things that I hold dear, that my nature tells me is right. You value family. You know what it means to be a cooperative unit. You understand loneliness, and isolation. You approve of monogamy." He smiled dryly. "Wolves mate for life, you know. Yes, you do know. You're intelligent too, Sango. And you're beautiful." He ran his fingers, stained with dirt as they were, through her unbound hair. "God, you're beautiful. And that's why I can't stay. I'm a danger to you. I'm not always in control of the wolf. Sometimes it breaks loose. If that ever happened, Sango…"
He couldn't say it. Sango watched his eyes drift close, and he pulled his hands away. When he opened his eyes again, they were deep, and filled with haunted images. Sango understood now. He was afraid of hurting her, afraid of forcing himself on her, maybe even afraid of eating her. She smiled. She was nobody's food, least of all his.
Miroku turned to leave. Sango reached out, touched his cheek so lightly, it was enchanting. Miroku needed no other excuse to turn to face her again than the feminine guiding of her right hand. Sango's face was smooth, like a poetic statue.
"Miroku, nothing you could ever do would hurt me more than you walking out that door."
He tried to protest, but there was no way to protest to Sango. She drew him closer with that single touch. Sango would not listen to reason or logic, and Miroku, when her warmth enveloped him like welcoming arms, didn't want to listen to them either. She smelled of apples and flowers. Her body was warm and shapely. Her eyes were hypnotizing, and he felt like a vile beast in her presence. She placed her other hand on his other cheek, her skin barely touching him. The simple contact was enough to make him follow wherever she would lead him. Sango's lips brushed his, his chin, and his lips again. Miroku felt like he was in agony. Her hands fell, and she pulled his shirt off, flinging it into the fire. He would never need such tattered clothes again.
He would marry her. He'd bed her and take her all to himself, burying himself in everything good and thriving in the nature dwelling inside him. He would call Kohaku brother, and he would love Sango, be loyal to her, even after the trees around their house had forgotten her name and the earth was sundered. He would bite her, if she wanted. She would make a beautiful wolf. Then, the world would be theirs. They would run, hunt, and play together. He made all these plans and more when she allowed his lips to cover hers, kissing her so deeply he felt like her soul was his. He kissed her with the desperation of a starved animal, because, for the first time, he was finally home.