A/N: Thank you Jane parker, SnidgetHex, pallysAramisRios, 29Pieces, and Lauraline94 for reviewing! Anyone seen the White Wolf movies? ;)

Summary: Help comes in an unlikely form.

"Lost"

Aramis tripped and went sprawling in the snow, jarring his broken arm. His vision whited out for a moment under the excruciating pain, and only the bite of ice against his face kept him from passing out. He lay on his side for several long moments, snow dampening his leathers. He was chilled enough as it was; he knew he needed to get up.

Clenching his teeth, he pushed himself upright with a grunt, rocking back on his haunches. He was surrounded by a muted world of white and grey. A flash of black wings through the forest jolted his heart and sent his mind back to another snow-covered clearing splashed with red.

Aramis squeezed his eyes shut and focused on controlling his breathing. He wasn't in Savoy. But he was alone, injured, and lost. The major snowfall had built up drifts invisible to the naked eye, and his horse had had the unfortunate mishap of falling through one. Neither steed nor rider had escaped without broken bones, and only Aramis had walked away. The problem was the renewed snowfall had obscured the landscape and he had no way of determining which direction he needed to be going in. But neither could he stay put and freeze to death, so he'd gotten up and trudged into the unknown.

But he had yet to come upon a road or homestead or any other traveller, and he was beginning to worry. If he didn't find shelter soon, he likely wouldn't make it through the night, or at least not be in any fit state to keep going the following morning. The darkening sky was either the approach of dusk or simply the storm strengthening, Aramis couldn't tell. Either one could do him in.

He wasn't usually one for giving in to defeat, but the bone-deep cold was bringing up sensations he'd rather not remember and overriding his mind with despair. His heart ached to see Porthos and Athos again. He knew what it was like to survive dear friends, the pain almost unbearable at times. He didn't want to cause them that. Especially if his body was never found and they never knew what had happened to him. That would be so much worse.

Gritting his teeth again, he pushed one leg up, then the other, staggering to his feet. He had to keep moving, for them. But after a few strenuous steps, Aramis still had no idea which way he should be going. The forest swirled around him in identical shades of winter thickets, and the clouds were too thick to mark the position of the sun and find west.

He closed his eyes again, praying for God's guidance to lead him home. But no whispering voice or feeling in his gut answered him.

He opened his eyes, only to stiffen as he spotted an animal several yards ahead. He hadn't seen it before, its coat as white as the snow around it. The wolf stood calmly, blue eyes gazing directly at Aramis. His hand drifted toward his pistol slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The wolf didn't move, just kept staring at him. Aramis felt unsettled by its piercing gaze. Then it turned and loped away into the woods. Aramis breathed a sigh of relief. He supposed he would not be going that direction.

He cast his gaze around the forest, praying again for some kind of prompting. When he completed a full circle, the wolf was back, staring at him intently again. Aramis tensed, wondering if it had decided he looked like easy prey after all.

But the wolf didn't make any aggressive sounds. Its tranquil gaze met his, and then it turned to leave again, pausing to throw a look over its shoulder. Aramis faltered, unsure what to make of it. The wolf took a few steps, then looked back at him again, almost as though waiting for him to follow.

Aramis looked around warily again. Perhaps the pain and cold were getting to him and he was hallucinating.

The wolf stood there, beckoning.

Aramis swallowed hard and took a step toward it. The wolf started moving again, keeping its pace slow as Aramis followed. It left tracks in the snow, so unless he was hallucinating those, the animal was real. In which case, following it was also a sign of madness.

Yet Aramis couldn't explain the niggling feeling in his gut that he should. He hobbled through the snow as the white wolf wove between the trees. A few times he lost sight of it in the winter wonderland, but then it would be there, waiting for him to catch up.

It came to a stop in front of a scarp, looked at Aramis, and after a prolonged moment, turned and loped off into the trees. Aramis's heart fell and he chastised himself for his foolishness, but then he noticed there was a gap in the scarp. It was a cave. Shelter.

He swung his gaze around in search of the wolf, but it had vanished like a specter of smoke. Aramis decided to count his blessings and staggered his way into the crevice. Dried leaves packed the ground inside, creating a warm cushion for him to sit down on, and the angle of the rocks shielded him from the wind and falling snow. He gathered up some dry twigs and attempted to start a fire. It was difficult with one arm being useless, but he eventually managed it. Outside was definitely growing darker, so with nothing else to do, he lay down and tried to rest.

The smoky smell of low burning embers greeted him when next he woke, and pale light was filtering through the gap into the cave. Aramis sat up stiffly and rolled his neck to work out the kinks. His stomach cramped with hunger and his throat was parched, but he had no way of fixing that.

He stomped out the last of the embers and then crawled out of his temporary shelter. The world was just as white as before. Aramis scooped up some fresh snow and put it in his mouth. It hurt his teeth and burned his tongue, but at least it slaked his thirst somewhat. He looked around the woods for a long moment. Nothing moved, and so he picked a direction and pressed on. The storm had passed and the sky was smeared with grey and blue. Aramis now knew where west and east were, and he set off in the general direction of Paris, doggedly determined to make it, even if he had to stumble the whole way.

The trees thinned, and Aramis increased his pace, anxious to find the road. He found a cliff instead.

He stood at the top and looked down at the road below. So close and yet beyond reach. Even if he wanted to be brazen enough to attempt scaling the rock face, he couldn't do it with a broken arm.

He sank to his knees, that familiar despair sinking in again. Going back to find a way around seemed insurmountable at this point. And so he sat there, suspended in indecision and defeat.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled with the feeling of being watched. Aramis lifted his head and turned. The white wolf was back, standing at a distance at the edge of the precipice. It regarded Aramis sagely before turning and disappearing into what must have been a hole.

Aramis furrowed his brow in curiosity and forced himself to stand. He hobbled over to where the wolf had vanished and found a cleft in the rocks that looked like it descended into a passage. Aramis leaned in, but it was dark. Still, the wolf had helped him before…

With nothing else for it, he slipped into the crevice and ventured into its depths. The path through the rocks had a downward slope, but not too steep. A few places had a jagged drop, and Aramis did his best to grab for purchase with his good hand. There was no sign of the wolf, which oddly made him feel incredibly lonely and vulnerable in the dark passage. But he kept going. A small voice whispered they'd never find his body now, but another part of him, the part that had faith, resolved to trust in whatever providence this sign was.

Light cracked the darkness up ahead, and the silhouette of a wolf backlit by the day stood in the middle of it. Aramis exhaled and continued forward. The wolf trotted away before Aramis reached the exit, and he staggered out at the bottom of the cliff.

He bowed his head and breathed, "Thank you."

The road wasn't far now.

Aramis quickened his pace, desperate to reach it. But in his haste, his boot caught on a rut and he tripped. He landed on his broken arm which shocked his body into oblivion. He didn't know if it was only for a moment or more, but his next sense of awareness was nothing but agony. His head was aching—had he hit it? He was freezing too, but not shivering. There was something wrong with that.

A snuffling sound came from nearby, but he couldn't focus his senses enough on it. He couldn't even open his eyes. Something tugged at his jacket collar. Aramis moaned as his upper body was jostled, including his broken arm. There was a scritching sound, followed by more yanking on his coat as he was slowly dragged across the ground. Then he came to a stop and his world narrowed to pain and spinning darkness again.

The earth rumbled in his ear like the drums of war. A horse whinny pierced the air.

"Aramis!"

A few seconds later, hands were grasping at his limbs, and he choked on a garbled cry as they gripped his broken bone.

"Careful," a familiar, sedate voice said.

"He's bleeding. Where's his horse?"

"Doesn't matter, he needs tending, now."

Aramis cracked his eyes open as his body was lifted off the ground. Everything was spinning, but he thought he saw a pair of blue orbs watching from the trees. Then everything went blessedly still and silent.

He woke to warmth and heavy blankets, and the feeling of his arm strapped to his chest. He cautiously opened his eyes and blinked blearily at a wood ceiling. The crackle of a fire sounded nearby.

"About time," a voice said.

Aramis lolled his head to the side. "Porthos." He frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"Me an' Athos found you on the road. You probably don't remember. You were pretty bad off."

His frown deepened. "What were you doing on the road?"

"After the storm, we were worried, so Treville gave us permission to ride out and meet you, just in case." Porthos's eyes darkened with memory. "Good thing, too."

Aramis was still having trouble processing. "Yes, good thing," he murmured.

Porthos narrowed his eyes. "How you feeling? You took a knock to the head along with the broken arm and being nearly frozen through."

"Then I'd say I feel exactly how you'd expect someone with all that would," Aramis replied, biting back a moan as more aches and pains made themselves known with increased wakefulness.

"You're incredibly lucky," another, equally familiar voice spoke up.

Aramis smiled fondly at Athos. "Don't I know it."

"It's a miracle the wolves didn't drag you off," Porthos added.

Aramis's eyes shot open all the way. "What?"

"There were tracks around you," Athos explained.

"There were?" he said dumbly. Then, he hadn't hallucinated it…

Porthos was eyeing him carefully again. "You okay? Did you fight off the wolf?"

"No. No, it was…" he trailed off, not sure what to say. "I don't remember," he settled on.

"Not surprising," Athos commented. "You really should stop making a habit of head injuries."

Aramis's lips twitched. "I shall endeavor to do my best," he said, closing his eyes and relaxing. He recalled the image of the white wolf, his savior. He didn't imagine he'd ever see it again, and he felt strangely sad that he didn't even get a chance to thank it.

But perhaps it already knew.