Disclaimer: whatever.
A/N: ! I think there's a limit on how many times you can scream "crap," and I think I've broken the limit . . . a long time ago. I have so many stories to update and I have to go to bed early (I'm dead serious) 'cuz I have to wake up at six to go to Busch Gardens with my friend and I really need to get Celtic Wolf squared so I can work on Phantom . . . and I have to organize all the DVDs in the house, as well as clean my room and pack for an overnight. HOLY F***ING CRAP! If you hear about a girl whose head exploded, know that you won't be reading any more from Iris Musicia.
A/N2: I just got back from BG! I saw Eclipse too, and they were both amazing! I fainted on the Griffon, though…. I'm a wuss, yeah. So cool! I spent most of my day in the German section, and The Curse of DarKastle reminded me sooo much of Kurt in Nightcrawler's Shadow's Blood Passion. It was sooooo awesome!
A/N3: time jump of about 8 years here, FYI.
The Wolves
I am not the prey. I am the huntress. I am not the prey, I am the huntress. I am not the prey I am the huntress. I am not the prey I am the huntress I am not the prey I am the huntress !
That phrase ran through Rahne's mind in a continuous stream, speeding up until it was just a whisper of noise at the back of her head.
At age thirteen, Rahne still played hunt with the village boys, but she dressed in pants (much to her mother's disapproval and her father's amusement), and she wasn't the prey so often. Many times, she would take one of Prasutagus's dogs, one day the deerhound, the next day the hound, the day after that the wolfhound. Well, not the wolfhound. Rahne was fine with the deerhound (which was not the one that had chased her eight years ago) and the plain old hound, but the wolfhound . . .
Prasutagus's pride and joy was his tall, muscular, silver wire-coated wolfhound, named Andraste, after the war goddess. Andraste wasn't mean to Rahne, but just looked at Rahne like she was the prey. The girl had asserted her dominance over the bitch, but it was still unnerving to be around the wolfhound. Wolves, the top predators of the area, were Andraste's prey, thus making her the top predator of the area. Nobody else had a wolfhound, or was permitted to have a wolfhound. Though deerhounds, by breed, were bigger than wolfhounds, Andraste was taller and much more muscular than the other deerhound dogs. Rahne was scared of the bitch, but didn't let it show.
During the hunt game, though, Rahne never used Andraste, because before Prasutagus made the pact with the Romans and became allies, he would charge into battle in his chariot with Boudica swinging her sword and Andraste galloping by the side, biting and felling the Roman soldiers as she swept past. Rahne hadn't been born when Andraste was a battle-tough bitch, but hunting wolves had kept her tough as old nails, sharp as Prasutagus's sword, sly as a fox, and swift and strong as the wolves – and Rahne. Still, Andraste scared Rahne.
Rahne wiped the sweat from her brow and held her long, flame-red hair off the back of her neck. It was summer, and Boudica insisted that Rahne wear a dress, not Prasutagus's old pants, which were actually cooler than the heavy wool dress.
The girl had just finished her chores, and slipped off to the horses. In the field, out of sight of her roundhouse, Rahne took the pins out of her dress and let half the skirt fall to the ground, removed her shawl and took the pins out of her sleeves. Her dress now came to her mid-thighs, and the sleeves of her dress ended a few inches after her shoulders. Boudica would have a cow if she saw Rahne like this.
She wound her way through the herd, feeling down each horse's legs, checking for the heat of lameness. Rahne gave each a pat and moved on, then came to the center of the herd, where Pillia, her father's favorite broodmare, was laying down, her muzzle resting on the ground, her eyes glazed. Rahne dropped to her knees and stroked Pillia's forehead, ran her hands down her spine and barrel. Rahne gasped and stood, walking quickly out of the herd, then sprinting to find her mother.
She burst into the center of the village, to find Boudica chatting with the other women.
"Pillia's foaling!" Rahne burst out. Boudica looked up in surprise.
"What?"
"Pillia – father's broodmare – is foaling! Hurry!" Boudica stood and swept over, following Rahne to the horse's pasture.
By the time they wound their way to Pillia, she was standing, nuzzling a little wet thing to stand. Rahne cooed at it, and the little foal cocked its head and squeaked at her.
"Aw, Rahne, it seems you have a new friend," Boudica smiled. Rahne reached out to touch it, but Pillia moved her body slightly to block Rahne's hand. Suddenly, Pillia whirled around, facing the woods, ears pinned back. Andraste slunk out of the woods, head low, shoulders rolling smoothly, blood on her jowls, trailing down her neck and chest. Rahne smelled the blood and scrunched her nose. That wasn't deer blood, or even wolf blood. It was human blood.
"Mother! Andraste! Blood!" Rahne said quickly. Boudica looked confused, then saw the wolfhound.
"Shush, Rahne. She might have found a deer or boar to hunt. Calm down, you're scaring the horses." Boudica scolded. The horses did look nervous, and started converging on Pillia and her new foal, protecting them from the bloody Andraste.
Rahne looked back and feigned interest in the foal again, but was watching Prasutagus go up and catch Andraste on a leather thong, shaking the thong harshly, obviously scolding her. Rahne looked back to the foal, who was now suckling Pillia.
"Excuse me, mother." Rahne said quietly. Boudica nodded and went to talk with her woman friend about the foal. Rahne slunk over to where Andraste had appeared from the woods. It was cold and dark over here, and Rahne shivered slightly. Her sharp sense of smell caught the tang of fear and blood. There was a tuft of dark hair caught on a briar. Rahne picked it up and smelled it. It was a strange, alien scent, that of a male human, but it smelled just different. It was a dark color lock of hair, but strangely blue, a darker blue than she had ever seen, darker than all the woad.
"Who are you?" Rahne murmured. She followed the scent trail deeper and deeper into the woods, and it was not only the male scent, but Andraste's, and blood, and fear. Rahne realized eventually that she was on all fours, loping easily through the brush, then her ears pricked as she heard low voices.
One voice was male, the other was female. Rahne froze, listening hard. They (the voices) had strange accents, harsh and alien.
"Kätzchen, leise." The male voice said. Rahne didn't know what a "kätzchen" or a "leise" was, but she kept listening. There was a slight rustle, and Rahne's eyes widened as a heavy weight landed on her back, four points of extreme pressure on her shoulders and hips, pinning her flat on her stomach. She growled and tried to twist her head around to see her attacker, but recoiled as a pair of jaws snapped closed centimeters away from her face. The same male scent that Rahne had followed was clinging to this man on her back, along with the blood.
"Kurt, it's a werewolf!" the female voice said. Rahne barely understood her, and had no idea what a "werewolf" was. She assumed that "kurt" was a swearword. The man grasped her hair, roughly hauling her to her feet.
"So it is." He had a deeper, rougher accent that the lady. "A Celtic wolf."
"I'm not a wolf. Let me go. I'll set Andraste on you again!" Rahne growled viciously. The man responded with a sharp yank on her flame-red hair. Rahne growled again, rolling her eyes to see the man. He was standing directly behind her, so it was impossible.
Rahne refocused on the lady, who looked normal apart from the fact she was as small as a pixie – and looked about as strong as a light breeze. She had long chocolate hair and bright blue eyes, both rather strange but not unheard of features.
"Who are you?" Rahne bared her teeth in defiance, earning another tug on her hair. Rahne didn't like the pulling on her hair, so she kicked backwards like a horse and felt her foot connect solidly with the man's leg. He let go of her hair, but some sort of tendril wrapped around her ankles and she fell on her face. Rahne kicked the tendril off and leaped up at the man, but was hit down by a brutal punch to the face.
"And zat's not even as hard as I can hit, Hündin." The man growled in Rahne's ear.
"What did you do that for, Kurt? She's got to be only thirteen, she doesn't know what's going on." The lady said, but when she moved to help Rahne up, the man blocked her.
"She can do it herself." The man said. Rahne pushed herself up, taking a good look at the two. Her left cheek was swelling from the man's punch, making her squint, but she was pretty sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. The man was blue, like he had jumped in a pot of woad. He had gold eyes and pointed ears, he was tall and had a tail, and doglike legs. Yet the lady was comfortable with his arm around her waist.
"You're hideous," Rahne spat at the man. He glared at her.
"Try taking a look at yourself," He replied icily. Rahne pushed herself onto four legs and loped toward the sound of running water. She looked down at her warped reflection and shrieked.
Her face was almost completely covered in auburn fur, her ears were pointed almost on top of her head, her nose and mouth had formed a short muzzle with dull canine teeth. She had that auburn fur on most of her body, as well as wolfy legs, but still normal hands. She had a stumpy, brushy tail.
"What did you do to me?" Rahne yelled, sprinting back into the area where the man and lady were.
"We didn't do anything. You're special." The lady said, stepping forward, out of the man's grasp.
"You're witches. And you're a demon. I'm glad Andraste got after you." Rahne said venomously, spying the bloody strips of cloth around the man's chest.
"Zat dog vas yours?" the man asked. Rahne nodded.
"I'll call her back if I want." She bluffed.
"I don't think so." The lady called her bluff. "I saw a man put her on a leash."
"How did you see him?" Rahne tensed.
"I followed the dog."
"Why didn't she bite you?"
"Kurt, should we tell her?" the lady asked over her shoulder. The man nodded, closing his bright gold eyes.
"Okay, look. We're foreigners, here for Boudica. There's more of us, and we're all special. You see Kurt, right there? He can teleport, one place to another. I'm Kitty. I can walk through solid objects, and people. That's why your dog couldn't bite me. She went through me. Boudica knows one of us from when she was young, and asked if we could come help fight a war. She knows a war with the Romans is coming, and she needs backup from special people like us. Will you come help? Our camp's just a little farther in the forest." The lady, Kitty, explained. Kurt, the man, nodded again.
"Sorry about attacking you. You scared us, especially since you look like a dog, and, vell, you know." Kurt said.
"What do you say? Will you come meet the rest of us?" Kitty asked. She held out a small hand, and Rahne took it, standing up on her back legs. "Take us home, Kurt."
Kurt wrapped Rahne and Kitty in an embrace, and there was a moment of searing heat before they appeared in a clearing in the heart of the forest.
"Hello everyone."
Ok, ja, so…. Celtic Wolf…. More Kurtty-ish stuff next chap. Just FYI Hündin means "bitch", so, ja, stuff…. Now on to Through the Eyes of a Killer…. God, I have to wake up at six tomorrow for a trail ride… Busch gardens put me sooooooo behind schedule! I hope I can make it!
