2. Salt and wolves

Peter longed for the salt of the sea. His crib and plate.

He was running through a cold inferno. The flames of winter burned through his coat and dug at his shoes. Salt was thicker than frost. The ocean had rocked him asleep and had fed him from her belly. Clams drenched in bitter water. Salt.

Snow was water, when it all came down to it. That's what Peter thought, at some point between his decision to pass through the gates and the moment he executed said decision. He was running on water. Sliding through the streets like a blade through ice. His black hair was by that point thick with sweat. He could taste salt on his lips. The moisture pooling under his nose and armpits.

He was exhausted. He wanted to lie down. Wanted to scream. Everyone else was screaming. The sharks. All in black, well-sheltered from the white hell around them. All moving together, a flock of vultures, hunters, dark wolves who howled amongst each other. Voicing out the excitement they felt during the hunt. They were enjoying it.

Even then, Peter Lake felt that tug at the depth of his throat. The desire to join their howling. Let his rags spike into fur and the pain between his lips turn to fangs.

He had been a wolf before. A shark. He was a thief. He was a danger. People looked at him in morbid wonder. They either ran… or froze in place. Admiring the fear as it crawled up their legs and arms. Feeling the prickle of goosebumps on their bellies. It was in his blood to strike fear.

But… no.

Peter Lake's hands had no claws, no sharpness to spoil their magic. He didn't scratch, he caressed. Leather and rubber and gold. He stroke the money, seducing it, causing it to fly without hesitation into the palm of his hand. He was a good thief. But he was not a wolf, not a shark. He had once tried to be either of them. And he had never been. He had hidden well for a while. Worn their furs and their claws and their jaws. But now he was in rags, running.

His was thieving blood. But only humans were thieves. Animals didn't steal. Animals took. Life and meat. When their property was threatened, they didn't steal it back. They killed for it. Paid for their meals in blood. Peter Lake was a human thief, not an animal. Only now did he fully acknowledge this.

Because that's exactly what he had gotten himself into, the reason why he now found himself pushing open a fence and desperately sealing it shut. A pack of wild beasts, dressed in black. He had stolen from them: he took their lessons and their advice and, most importantly, he took their trust. They may have called him a friend at some point. They had believed he was one of them. And he had humiliated them for making them think so.

And they had no plan to steal these things back from him. Peter knew. They were animals. They wanted him dead.


Author's Note: In the end I uploaded two chapters today instead of one. That's gonna be it for today.

Again, I don't know when I'll upload because this is mainly a thing I decided to do for fun and I have other priorities. But if you like the story let me know. I know this isn't a very large fandom but I'd love to know your thoughts about this movie.