Prologue
"The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why." -Mark Twain
2486 CE
Faint moonlight graced the waste dunes of Ceres, illuminating the crests of wind-formed ridges of snow and deepening the shadows to chasms creating the illusion of dozens of dorsal spines breaching the surface of a pale ocean. Tenan, the lesser moon, bared her dark side while Welkin, the larger of the two sister satellites, waned. A bitter halo ringed Welkin and the stars glittered like specks of ice.
I licked my muzzle, acutely aware of the snarl creeping upwards to bare fang to the pale light. An unforgiving chill in the air raked claws of ice through my fur. The wind's mournful cry like a thousand lost souls carried a scent message that left my hackles standing. My keen olfactory connects each marker to a certain memory and commits the rest. Hot metal, ionized air, and-
-Yautja.
It had been a long time since I scented a Yautja, though not one this werewolf would ever forget. Sensory memory burned across my left flanks, a subtle reminder that even as a werewolf, I'd be hard-pressed to kill a Yautja. And this time, I had more to lose than just my life-
-Devika-
-thinking of my daughter, I couldn't risk the hunter catching wind of me...
...but this scent...
Ignoring the biting chill, I stuck my nose directly into the blast of icy wind. The chemical trails... there were three of them. One a female, so gravely wounded the wind itself bled the rich, vibrant thickness of her life essence; the other two Yautja were male and...
A shocked whine curled in my throat before I could check the reaction. Hormone levels suggested that the other two were young. Very young. Pups, though I would have to verify with my eyes to be certain. Anxiety fluttered through my legs, jerking me to and fro in a sudden dance of indecision. Predatory animals have the innate ability to sense vulnerability. And this pack of Yautja was very, very vulnerable. However, mortally injured or not, I had no doubt the Yautja female would react aggressively to my presence. Nevertheless, the sour gangrenous stench of pre-death, a distinguishable odor all animals seem to give off right before they expire, and the vulnerability of her pups overwhelmed my human consciousness and spoke directly to the wolf. I took a step-
-what about Devika?!
I sat on my haunches and angrily pawed at the snow. Curiosity warring with the newfangled sense of caution I'd developed since becoming a mother. If the Yautja female perceived me as a threat... I did not wish to hasten her end. Moreover, a Yautja female protecting her pups was likely to be even deadlier than the male I fought off all those years ago. And thinking of him brought back unpleasant reminders of the Yautja and the extremes they were willing to take to protect their secrets. And while I wasn't sure a Yautja who hadn't lost a fight would commit suicide using an incendiary device, which would, in turn, kill her pups, the risk of my presence compelling such a reaction squashed all inclination to interfere.
Shaking the snow from my fur, I put my daughter at the forefront of my mind and turned away.
Mother nature was indeed red in tooth and claw. She was the keeper of balance. Cruel? Maybe. Though, to be fair, a wolf, be it Canis lupus or Lupe Garu might be tempted to track down the injured hunter and eat her pups. But mother nature had other ideas for this wolf.
Still, I had to think of my own pup and the repercussions of meddling in the affairs of the Yautja.
One foot after another, I fought against the surf of chest-high snow.
This is right. Interfering could've caused irreparable con-
Every muscle seized, my ears alert and swiveling. A cry. So tiny, so far away I almost mistook it for the wind. That sound, that pathetic plea was like a punch to the heart; awakening a primal instinct any mother or empathetic being would be hard-pressed to ignore. The scientific term might be oxytocin, but I like to think of it as the Bad Bitch Syndrome. It's what gives grandmothers the strength to lift vehicles off their grandchildren. Or the strength to rend a Xenos chitinous armor from its bones-
-like when I rescued Devika-
-and this overwhelming sensation was every bit as potent as that time.
Mother Nature's cruelty can reach beyond death. No one's better. Nor more creative at inciting us into action.
Trudging through the snowdrift, I made my descent, heading in the opposite direction of the Endeavor where Devika waited for me. As I got closer, I circled a small craft, too small to be a space-faring vessel, and no way it could've made it to the Hellmouth system without a deep space transit. It might've been an escape pod but it had been so badly mangled by the magnetic storms in the atmosphere that it was hard to say for certain. Steam still rose from the ground where it rested, indicating the interlopers hadn't been here long. Aside from the hiss of rapidly cooling metal, no sounds of life came from within the powered-down vessel. I sniffed around the exterior making absolutely sure there was no one else. There wasn't.
I left the vessel behind. Driven by several hundred thousand years of honed instinct. My ears flicked as the compact snow scarcely crunched beneath my sizable paws. Blooms of fluorescent green blood steamed off the snow; the smell of it clotted the air.
Shadows began to cut trenches in the snow. Walls of sheer rock pierced the white banks, providing a shield from the worst of the wind. And that's exactly where I found them.
Dark eyes peered from lids encrusted with emerald shards of frozen blood. She saw me. A faint growl scattered on the wind, the sound tinny and brittle as shattering glass.
Two pairs of eyes, a witch light of orange flame in the shadow of the fallen warrior peered over the shoulder of their mother. A snarl more urgent and demanding sent the curious eyes scurring deeper into the dark. But not before my nose identified a troubling marker in their chemical signatures.
The fallen warrior realized that my kneen nose had divulged her greatest love as well as her greatest fear. Threatened by the knowledge I now knew, the mother Yautja double-downed on her ferocity and willed her head up, unveiling the extent of the damage to her body. A grisly chandelier of shrapnel and frozen gore shimmered ghoulishly in the moonlight. Her chest had been nearly bisected by a blade of metal longer than my limbs, her left arm ending in a stump of glacial meat and bone.
I lowered my body mass, making myself as small and non-threatening as I possibly could. Not wanting her to move anymore. It was clear she was dead no matter what, and her heart beat out of the sheer refusal to leave her pups alone.
She stared me down, unblinking. Unwilling to let her guard down for even a moment. Fresh blood oozed from the wound in her chest, freezing almost instantly, cracking with each breath she dragged into her lungs, only for the gaps to freeze over with more blood.
It occurred to me then that in my wolf form, she would never see past the predator. And she would fight me.
Paws tingling, I'd already begun to shift shape before fully realizing my own intentions. Shifting should never be done out in the open, much less in the presence of a lethal killer such as a Yautja, but there was no time to consider my own preservation.
Bones broke and reformed. Ligaments tore and were repaired. Muscle mass shrunk to accommodate my smaller human size. Shape changing was painful, and I howled more than once, but because I'd been born a were, the transition lasted seconds instead of minutes.
Mercilessly, the icy chill gnawed at my bones. Claws of wind tore at my skin as if it were little more than paper. Shaking from the fridged deadly air as well as the change, I struggled to get to my feet.
If I hadn't been freezing my tits off, I might've laughed at the Yautja mother's perplexed look. I'd never seen a Yautja look anything but angry and determined.
Her mandibles worked oddly, one broken and hanging from threads of skin. She seemed to be trying to work air into her throat, the shock of seeing a human standing before her in place of a great wolf.
Werewolves had faded into myth centuries before humans branched out into the solar system, so this was obviously her first encounter, and she didn't know what to make of me.
Hands ceaselessly trying to chase the chill from the skin of my arms, I stood before her and shook.
"I-" Knifing cold air stabbed at the back of my throat, ending the sound in a squawk and cough.
She tilted her head, indicating she was at least listening.
I tried again, this time speaking to her as a mother with the tongue of a wolf. "I will protect them."
I don't know why I said it. But it was true.
Her eyes narrowed. She'd understood me. I hadn't been sure she would but I knew the Yautja studied the language of their choice prey in order to improve their knowledge as well as their hunting skills. Still, there are countless dialects in the human tongue alone and I wasn't sure she'd understand.
But she does. And she knows I am their only chance.
Eyes heavy with the weight of death, she held my gaze, and in it, chose my fate as well as that of her offspring.
I swear...
Dear readers, I started this project in the middle of hurricane Ian. Even as the lights went out, I switched on a flashlight and kept on writing. I don't know why I felt I needed to write this story but I decided to give it a try. A lot has happened in the span of a year, interrupting my work on Twinkle Twinkle it's A What?. I'll admit, I'm hesitant to write again, but I've been encouraged to continue writing by those closest to me. Anyway, thanks for reading. And if you have a moment, please give me some feedback. Let me know if this story seems at all interesting. Also, to the readers of Twinkle Twinkle, I sincerely apologize for leaving the story where it is. I'm hoping to rekindle my interest.
P.S. as I post this page from a cafe's wifi, understand I am personally without power and uncertain when I'll be able to post again. Also, if there are any mistakes, I'll correct them later. And keep in mind it's been a while since I've written anything.