A/N: Thank you GuestM Live, fandomforever152, and Buckhunter for reviewing! I'm glad you liked the start of it. ^_^


Chapter 2

Leaves and branches passed in a blur as Lancelot ran through the woods, keeping pace with the pack. His legs pumped beneath him as they pounded over the earth, vaulting over obstacles and winding around trees. His litter mates, now all grown just as he was, yipped and goaded each other on. Lancelot grinned and ran faster.

They burst out of the forest into a meadow and slowed to a lope before coming to a gradual stop at a lake. Lancelot plopped on the grass and lay back to look up at the waxing moon. The night air was crisp and cold, his breath puffing out in white clouds. Winter would be upon them soon. Some of his coverings needed mending—there was a hole in his deerskin trousers and the hems of his pelt shirt were fraying.

A distant howl echoed across the air, and the wolves rose in response. They were being called home, and so they took to running again, back through the forest and up to the mountainside where the pack dwelt. Lancelot was out of breath but invigorated.

The white wolf hopped down from her rock to greet him. "Did you win?" she asked.

He grinned. "It was a tie."

"It was not!" one of the other wolves yipped across the mental bond.

Naia shook her head in fond amusement. "You must be hungry, Cub." She nodded toward two fish she'd already caught for his supper.

Lancelot smiled affectionately and started a campfire to cook them over. Some of the wolves came over to lounge around it for warmth while Lancelot used his dagger made of a sharp slate rock to gut and skin the fish. After eating his fill, he snuggled up among the warmth of the pack and fell asleep under the watchful eye of the moon.

The next morning, none of them rose until the sun was one-third of the way on its journey across the sky. Lancelot set off in search of silk worms he could gather material from to spin thread. He needed to replenish his stores for the winter. Naia accompanied him.

They walked long and far, though that wasn't unusual. The woods were tranquil and their silence companionable. Until Lancelot stepped on a layer of mulch and hit something hard that clicked. In the next instant, iron jaws sprang up from beneath the bed of leaves and snapped around his leg, piercing flesh down to bone. He screamed and fell onto his side.

Naia darted over. "Cub!"

He lifted his head toward the offending object, his stomach lurching at the sight. The metal teeth were buried in his calf. He reached down to pull the contraption away, but it was clamped on tight, and he fell back with another cry of agony.

Naia paced and whimpered in distress, unable to help. Lancelot gave his leg a desperate tug, only to scream again as the iron scraped against muscle and bone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears spilled down his cheeks. Naia licked them away, as she'd always done when he was a small child. But there was no comfort to be had this time, and no rescue from the jaws of death.


Seventeen-year-old Percival and his older cousin Mathias were out hunting when they heard screams resound through the woods. Exchanging tense looks, they went to investigate, only to find a young man caught in one of those heinous animal traps.

Percival cursed under his breath and immediately started forward to help, but a white wolf leaped out over the boy and took up a snarling position, hackles raised. Percival reeled back, while Mathias whipped up his crossbow. The injured man's eyes blew wide and he lunged for the wolf, only to jostle his trapped leg. He screamed and curled in on himself. The wolf snapped a frantic look at him, then back to the hunters with a warning growl.

"Don't shoot," Percival told his cousin.

"The wolf will kill the boy," Mathias hissed.

Percival considered the wolf's posturing. "She's just protecting him." He raised his hands non-threateningly. "We mean you no harm," he told the young man. "We just want to help. Call off your wolf."

The boy looked terrified and didn't say anything as he cast harried looks between them and the animal. The wolf slowly started to back up.

"See?" Percival said to Mathias. "Lower your weapon."

Mathias did so reluctantly.

Percival resumed approaching the young man, who recoiled from him before he remembered any movement would trigger more pain in his leg. "Easy," Percival said. "We won't hurt you. This isn't our trap." He flicked a look at the situation, his jaw tightening. "Barbaric things," he spat before softening his tone at the young man again. "My name is Percival. That's Mathias. We'll have you free soon."

The boy didn't offer his name in return, didn't say anything. Percival frowned at him.

"What is your name?" he asked.

Still nothing.

"Can you understand me?"

No reaction except the same fear.

Percival exhaled heavily. Alright, then. "Mathias, come help me."

His cousin continued to eye the wolf warily as he moved around behind the boy, who tensed up even further. Percival took hold of the iron jaws and began to pull. They were clamped tight, and he strained with all his might and a strenuous cry to prize them apart. The boy screamed as the metal teeth tore free of his flesh, and Mathias grabbed him under the arms to pull him away. Once his leg was clear, Percival let go of the trap, and it snapped back together with a raucous clang.

The young man whimpered and clutched at his bleeding leg. It was ravaged. Percival grimaced at the numerous blood trails oozing out from various jagged punctures.

"I don't know where you're from," he said aloud, "but you won't be walking home on that leg." He looked at Mathias. "We should get him back to the village."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea…" his cousin hedged.

"Why? We can't just leave him like this."

"We don't know anything about him," Mathias hissed.

"We know he needs help," Percival rejoined.

He picked up one of the boy's arms and cautiously watched the wolf for signs of aggression as he pulled it over his shoulder. His cousin nervously did the same. The wolf whined but didn't attack. Percival and Mathias hefted the young man up and turned toward home. He kept craning his neck to look desperately at the wolf, who was trailing behind, and Percival wondered at their curious bond.

When they reached the village, the wolf dropped back to stay in the woods. The boy grew distressed at that, but the wolf yipped, and he stopped fighting them. If Percival didn't know better, he'd say they were somehow able to communicate.

He could tell such suspicion unnerved his cousin, but Percival was determined to help this young man, so he steered them toward his home.

"Mother!" he called as they burst through the door.

She and his younger sister Pryde came hurrying over, alarmed when they saw what Percival had brought.

"He was caught in one of those iron traps," Percival explained as he half carried the boy over to his pallet to lie him down.

His mother followed, dropping down on the floor beside him and peeling the bloodied tatters of cloth away from his leg. "Pryde, get water and bandages." She turned to the young man. "What is your name?"

He just stared at her, wide eyed and chest heaving with anxiety.

"He doesn't speak," Percival said. He hesitated before adding, "There was a wolf with him. She stayed in the woods when we brought him here."

Pryloena frowned at that but went about the business of cleaning the wounds. The boy cried out and thrashed under her ministrations, and Percival and Mathias had to get in there and hold him down.

The door opened and Percival's father burst inside. "What's going on?" he asked.

Percival briefly filled his father in, and Albice joined them in holding the boy down as Pryloena throughly cleaned his leg. With three pairs of hands, Percival was able to move one arm and reached to grasp the young man's hand, squeezing hard in what he was trying to convey as encouragement.

The lad was drenched in sweat and utterly spent by the time the procedure was done. Pryloena had wiped most of the blood away, but fresh trickles were still leaking out of the wounds.

"Pryde," she said calmly. "Please go see if Thomas has any honey to spare."

Percival's sister nodded and hurried out.

Mathias stood. "I should get home." And he left hastily.

Percival's mother got up to get a cup of water, which she brought back and retook her seat on the floor, then tried to coax the boy into drinking. He wasn't lucid anymore and moaned as she plied him with the water.

"Where is he from?" Albice asked.

"He hasn't said anything since Mathias and I found him," Percival answered. "I don't know if he understands us, honestly."

"His leg is in bad shape," his mother commented. "He will have to stay off it for several weeks."

Albice looked uncomfortable, and Percival knew it was because the prospect of having to care for an injured person with winter coming soon was a source of stress; it was difficult enough keeping a family of four fed sometimes.

"He can have my bed," Percival readily volunteered.

His father was not an unkind man, and his expression softened at his son's generosity. He nodded.

Pryde returned. "I told Thomas why we needed the honey and he gave me a whole jar," she said, handing it over to her mother.

Pryloena slathered the honey on the wounds, then fetched some linen bandages to wrap the leg. The lad was practically unconscious by now, the trauma having exhausted him. Pryloena grabbed the blanket bunched up in the corner of the pallet and spread it over the young man.

"Well, looks like we will have a house guest for a while," she said.

"What about the wolf?" Pryde asked.

"What wolf?" their father said.

"There was a wolf with him in the woods," Percival repeated. "It hung back when we entered the village. I don't know if it's still out there, though based on what I saw between them, I'd guess she was."

His father's mouth turned down. "We'll need to be on watch."

"I don't think she intends us harm," Percival pressed. "She seemed to only care about him." He nodded to their guest.

"There's no need to cause alarm right now," his mother interjected. "Who knows, our guest might be more talkative in the morning. Percival, let's find you somewhere else to sleep."

Pryde bumped his shoulder. "I'll make room for you."

He smiled at her. He'd moved out of the loft sleeping space over a year ago when he grew too tall to not constantly bump his head on the ceiling. But he'd make do for now.

They went about their evening business as their patient slept away the hours. Albice went out to search the immediate vicinity for signs of the wolf but returned without having spotted her. It was certainly curious, but they wouldn't be getting any answers tonight. And Percival only hoped their guest didn't take a turn for the worse.