Wolves do not measure time.

Now that he had stopped resisting, he became one of them quickly. After a while they gradually accepted him walking upright, though he developed a technique of dropping one shoulder whenever Alpha passed him or came close, signifying submission. Every now and then this would have to be reinforced by dropping into the full posture, down on his back, but the intervals between the occasions when this was demanded became longer and longer.

Mentally he shut down. He no longer thought of Starfleet or the Section; he no longer thought of home. He did not think of himself as human any longer. When he caught sight of his reflection in a pool he growled and backed away.

Dorcha's pups consoled him a little. From the day when they first emerged from the den he became their surrogate guardian, freeing Dorcha to go hunting and replenish the weight she had lost since the birth. Unlike the other wolves, who tolerated them because to do otherwise was to court retribution from the watchful parents, he actively courted their company. Maybe it was because their acceptance of him was absolute, and salved a loneliness he was scarcely aware of feeling.

He was allowed to join the hunt sometimes, though at first his lack of stealth earned him vexed nips when a careless footfall alerted the prey too early. He grew leaner and fitter, and forgot that there had ever been a time when he was not one of the pack. He no longer cared about killing. Maybe he had nothing like the ferocious fangs the wolves possessed, but his superior height gave him an advantage as a scout, and he had a calculating brain that made him dangerous in other ways; it was this that stirred one day when the pack got a distant glimpse of a herd of huge, formidable beasts he had not seen before. Alpha glanced and turned away, but Malcolm stood staring hard, and the fingers on his left paw twitched towards the knife at his belt. He rarely remembered these days that he had either, but something in his brain said weapon and trap?

These were not-pack things, however, so he only snarled silently and turned away.

The nights grew longer and colder. Hunting grew harder. Most of the pack went hungry on some days, but there was enough to live on, and the pups thrived and grew. Soon they were rambunctious, and the play-fighting of their early days took on an edge.


Then, one night, there were different cries on the night wind. Alpha stiffened, but his posture did not signal attack.

Late the next morning there was movement among the trees. The pack had been waiting, and even Malcolm had been able to detect the unusual nature of the tension in the air. He had been lying on his side, sheltering the dozing pups in the angle of his body, but as soon as the sentries yipped the alert he drove them into the den. Dorcha followed them. He crouched in the entrance, rigid and waiting.

The strange pack walked warily, but their tails and ears gave no indication of hostile intentions. The two packs mingled, smelling one another.

He watched distrustfully.

A different movement caught his eye.

Hesitating among the trees was another creature. It walked on two legs. He did not recognise it, though something about it tugged at his memory.

Friendly - or at least neutral - relations seeming to have been established in front of the den, he slipped away from the entrance and began stalking the strange animal. The other pack had not attacked it so presumably it was not good to eat, but it might pose a threat to the pups.

He managed to get very close before it realised he was there. Its head jerked around, and it made an odd noise almost like a mew. Its eyes were not blue, but green. It did not have a tail, or indeed any body fur, but it had hair on its head – long, blonde, matted hair that was tangled in the wolf pelt it was partly wrapped in. Beneath the pelt were the remnants of some kind of not-skin much like he was wearing, and like his it was filthy, rank and in places badly torn.

At least the creature behaved properly. It rolled onto its back, showing the appropriate submission.

Snarling a warning, he advanced on it stiff-legged. He might only have one functioning forepaw, but he was fully able to protect his pack's pups.

With a movement that was smooth from long practice, he dropped to both knees and his left hand. His right hand had never recovered functionality, and although the wounds had long since healed and he only licked it these days out of habit, he held it tucked into his body to prevent it from taking further damage.

The new creature smelled …

…different…

…familiar…

…interesting…

He nipped a half-exposed shoulder, eliciting a scared squeal.

For some reason this was intensely exciting. He pawed at the soft hairless flesh, growling.

He no longer thought she was a threat. His body was reacting to messages his brain had not yet caught up with, but he had no way to convey his confused responses. Buried memories were stirring, and remembering was agony. He wanted to kill her, because she was making him nervous, but there were other things he wanted to do to her because of her smell.

Her posture was wrong. It made him angry, frustrated. In one way it was right and another it was wrong. Dorcha had come on heat recently and she had behaved accordingly; he had been unaffected, though he had perceived that the other male wolves had been fractious and Alpha had had a couple of fights to maintain his dominance. This no-tail did not seem to understand what to do.

He glanced around, aggressive and anxious. If the other wolves caught that scent he too would have a fight on his paws. He was only surprised that no-one was already challenging him.

Alpha barked sharply.

Obedience had been drilled into him. He nipped the no-tail up to her paws. The joint pack was on the move, and he must not be left behind. But he was not leaving her behind either. She was too fascinating to ignore, and he might discover more about her as they travelled. Most importantly of all, she might come on heat too. Her smell certainly suggested that she might.

This whole occasion was new and disconcerting.

Perhaps things might become clearer soon.


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