Wolf of War

A Patricia Briggs werewolf fanfiction

Chapter Five:

Choices

He wasn't particularly angry, or even upset, really, but then again, having to try to defend his decisions from someone who was little more than an 'armchair quarterback' to the little slice of drama between Garrak and himself hadn't made for a good start to the rest of his morning.

He was too keyed up, mentally speaking, to simply go back up to his room and grab a book to read—and further, it wasn't as if Tamara couldn't- or more correctly, it wasn't like she wouldn't- simply come to the room and attempt to continue to chide him about how juvenile it was to fight, simply to prove whose balls were bigger, who was the more dominant. And it was too cold for him to go traipsing off along the trails simply because he was irritated. In the end, he opted to head for one of the benches that surrounded the fire pit; he could cool his heels there—literally—and then decide what he was going to do from there.

But simply sitting on the bench—even with a fire going in the fire pit, quietly crackling and throwing off enough heat to make sitting a bearable option in the cold of day—did nothing to soothe the restlessness that seemed to skitter beneath the surface of his skin and his thoughts, and it wasn't long before he couldn't contain himself; with a withering sigh he heaved himself onto his feet and began heading into the trees at the edges of the cleared property.

He blundered through the trees for close to half an hour—it was blundering because he wasn't trying very hard to be very quiet, though he did try not to disturb the silence too much, and it was blundering because he didn't stick to any particular trail; he simply blazed his own trail, following where the notion seemed to lead him.

A bit of movement in his vision ahead of him gave him pause, and he happened to spot what he figured to be a deer, wandering out into a clearing just a few hundred yards away. It was a male, judging by the enormous rack of antlers jutting up from the top of his head, and he was large, though Ares had never been a hunter nor was he well versed on deer in general, so he couldn't tell if the buck was a wonderfully large specimen or just another average buck. Another bit of movement drew his attention as well, to a figure dressed in light and dark tan-colored clothing and armed with a bow and arrow, looking as though he might be hunting the deer. As quietly as he could, and trying to keep the trees between the head of the deer and himself—the idea being that, if the deer couldn't see him, it couldn't be spooked by his movements, and he wouldn't upset the hunter in his efforts—he did his best to approach the hunter.

As he drew closer, he saw that the hunter was wearing what looked like what he imagined buckskin was supposed to look like, almost blending into the forest from the distance. Idly he wondered if the hunter smelled like the buckskin he was wearing, but let that thought slip from his ponderings as the hunter slowly gestured to him to stop where he was. The hunter seemed to know he was there, even though he hadn't yet turned around. 'Perhaps I wasn't being as quiet as I thought I was', Ares thought to himself, as the hunter finally turned around to face him, lowering his bow and taking hold of the arrow in the other hand.

"I claim this buck," the hunter offered in a voice just softer than conversational. "Find your meal elsewhere!"

"Whoa, hold on," Ares returned, trying to keep his own voice low, "I'm not interested in your deer; I was just passing through."

The hunter seemed to give him an appraising look, then gave him a brief, curt nod.

"I offer my apologies," the hunter replied. "There is another in this forest, hunting this same buck."

"Doesn't the buck belong to whoever manages to get it first?" Ares asked.

"In many cases," the hunter answered, "but they do not desire the buck for its meat, but for its fur, and I would not be able to claim the meat before it could become contaminated."

"Well, why not hunt another buck, then?" Ares frowned gently.

"This one will provide myself and those I support with enough meat to get us through the next month, perhaps even a further month," the hunter returned. "I do not want to risk being unable to provide for those in need."

Ares thought for a few moments, wondering if he should bother to involve himself. He wasn't a hunter in any way or fashion, and he wasn't prepared to traipse about the woods in the midst of people who had guns and were prepared to shoot at anything that moved in any way or fashion, either.

"Have you tried to talk to the other hunter?" Ares asked, trying to assuage his growing internal interest in helping resolve the situation.

"I could not get close enough to talk without startling the buck," the hunter stated.

"So where is the other hunter?" Ares sighed, committing himself to some measure of action.

"On the other side of the clearing," the hunter gestured out towards where the buck still stood.

"Fine. Come with me; maybe the two of us can get close enough to talk," Ares suggested, and then began to quietly move about the forest, trying to encircle the clearing. He didn't hear the hunter begin moving behind him, and mentally gave a shrug, hoping that maybe the other man would change his mind.

Nearly an hour later, about three-quarters of the way around the other side of the clearing, he heard the hunter speak—much closer to him than he'd expected. "I will go no further," he remarked in a tone that only carried as far as to Ares' ears. "I will wait for you here."

The unexpected voice startled him, and he nearly stumbled in his surprise. Getting himself back under control, he gave a nod of his head, over his shoulder to the hunter, and continued walking.

Less than five minutes later, he heard a fairly loud ratcheting sound, familiar enough to his ears from hearing similar sounds on television to know that someone had just made preparations to fire a gun.

"Who are you?" a voice sounded; Ares took this person to the other hunter that the first had mentioned. "If you're hunting, you need to go elsewhere; I've claimed this buck for myself!" This hunter seemed almost to not care if he startled the buck, as his voice was only just a bit lower than a shout.

Ares sighed once again, and wondered if this was the way all hunters thought.

"I'm no hunter," Ares replied, keeping his own voice low, just loud enough to carry over the distance. "I was passing along, and saw the buck; I saw another hunter, but I was warned off by him, as well."

The bushes just ahead of him rustled a bit, and then trembled mightily, and finally disgorged a human form. This hunter was dressed in what he took to be the stereotypical hunting outfit of camouflaged forest colors; the alarming part was the rifle held in his hands, aimed at him, the barrel wavering not a bit—but that only lasted for a few moments, before the hunter lowered the barrel and pointed it toward the ground.

"This is my buck," the second hunter responded. "I lay claim to his gorgeous buckskin; he's a large one, and the skin will bring me a considerable amount of money, and his head will make an awesome trophy." The hunter paused, then continued, "That other hunter doesn't want anything to do with the skin, and he'll tear it up and rip it to shreds to get the deer meat out of it."

"Well, why not hunt another buck, then?" Ares repeated his earlier words gently.

"Because the money I can make from that buckskin will keep my family fed for a month or two," the second hunter offered. "Bucks like this one don't come along all that often."

Ares sighed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Have you tried to talk to the other hunter?" Ares asked, and then turned slightly and gestured, hoping that the first hunter was watching him, "Perhaps the two of you can work together to get what you both want."

The second hunter opened his mouth to speak, but then apparently spotted the first hunter coming upon the two of them from behind, and raised the barrel of his weapon again.

"You came to steal my buck!" he all but shouted at the first hunter.

"You cannot claim that which is not already yours," the first hunter retorted.

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold it!" Ares snapped at the both of them, and without thinking stepped between them, putting himself between the business end of the hunter's rifle and the person at which it was previously aimed. "You two can act like civilized people! You don't go shooting someone over a damned deer!" He gave each hunter a hard glare, shifting his gaze back and forth a couple of times. "If you're going to act like children about this, I'll go scare the damned thing away, and then neither of you will get it."

"You wouldn't dare!" the second hunter growled at him.

"Think about it this way," Ares turned back to him, his expression shifting over to one of anger. "You two can fight about the damned deer, and while you're fighting, the wolves can come in and claim it instead of you," he offered. "Or, I can let you to fight over it, and one of you might win, and then you get to try and get your prize, while the wolves close in on you, maybe kill you, and then take the damned buck from you anyway, and then not only have you lost your deer, but your life, too. Those sound like good options?" he snarled the last, and turned to include both hunters in his angry question.

Both of the hunters looked at him as though neither wanted to be the first to concede that he could be right, that they could better succeed together than separately.

Ares shook his head in disgust.

"You two do what you want," he almost hissed through gritted teeth. "I did my part to try and get you two to act like civilized people, and I didn't even have to help! I was out here minding my own business before I bumped into you two!" He gave another shake of his head in disgust, and then turned around to walk past the first hunter, back the way he had come.

The walk back to where he'd met the first hunter seemed much quicker than the initial trek around the clearing, in part because he wasn't trying quite so hard not to make any sound, but also in part because he only paid enough attention to where he was going to note the passing familiarity with landmarks he'd mentally tagged on the first trek, and so it didn't seem like it took nearly the same amount of time to eventually wander back to one of the paths that led back to the lodge.

And standing before him on all fours, then and there, was a bear.

He knew exactly three important things about bears: one, if he spotted one and it hadn't spotted or scented him, his best option was to stand still, and hope that the wind didn't change, since a bear's eyesight wasn't particularly sharp. Two, if the bear did spot him, and didn't immediately charge at him, he could try to appear to be bigger and badder than the bear, as for the most part, they were generally more afraid of humans than not. And three, if the bear did decide to charge at him, he was most likely going to die.

Not that it was impossible for him to manage to not die, if he were attacked, but that was the most likely thing that would happen.

Dying wasn't an option, or at least it wasn't something he was willing to consider. He held himself still, and while he kept his focus on the bear, he quickly looked around on the ground in front of him, hoping to find something to defend himself if he needed to. If the worst was going to happen, he wasn't going to go down without a fight, at least.

And it wasn't as if the bear couldn't see him; he was less than fifty meters away! But the bear seemed to act as though it hadn't noticed him at all. That didn't make him any less wary, but it did give him a bit of pause.

And then the bear began moving towards him, not running, but not exactly ambling, either, and he very slowly shifted into a more defensive stance. Perhaps—

And that was as far as he got in his thoughts, as the bear gently shifted off to his left, and then continued to amble right past him, as if he weren't even there. To say that he was surprised by that turn of events was an understatement, and he turned around, looking after the bear with a frown of confusion, while the bear kept right on going.

He turned back to look in the direction he had originally been facing—and now stood before him, less than ten meters away this time, stood a man.

He was dressed much like the first hunter he had encountered, but the similarities ended there. This man looked very much like the stereotypical Native American, complete with beaded and braided buckskin clothes and moccasins, long, wintry, peppered hair with some feathers seemingly woven in, and a weathered, leathery complexion worn by someone who had seen and done much in a full and considerable lifetime. He stood, seemingly as though he had no where else to be, a very ornate-looking walking stick stood upright in his hand, nearly as tall as he was.

"Your choices do not define you, young man," the older man spoke all of a sudden, his voice a soft-spoken yet elderly tenor, "but they do show your measure." He offered a soft, polite smile.

"What do you mean," Ares frowned again in confusion, and then wondered just where the man had come from; had he been staring after the bear that long?

"You have made choices that show the measure of the spirit within you," the Native American repeated. "Your choices tell the tale; all that has needed to be said or done, has been."

"Huh?" Ares grunted, "Wha—wait a minute; what do you mean?"

The Native American man shifted, and began to turn, as if he were intended to walk away. "All will be clear in time," he said, just over his shoulder as he continued turning. "But for now, you should forget about this."

The crackling pop! of a log of firewood broke him out of his daze, and he frowned, trying to grasp the thought that was just in the forefront of his mind, but it was slipping away, and the only thing he could remember had something to do with a bear, and even that was foggy, and the only reason he could keep that thought was from sheer will to do so.

Gently waving her hand in front of her—and in front of him, seemingly trying to get his attention—was the attractive Mediterranean woman, Diana. She had taken a seat next to him on the bench. He leaned back and blinked, looking at her with a more focused gaze.

"You looked like you were far away in thought," she offered with the ghost of a smile, sitting back herself, now that she had his attention. "Thinking about that challenge? Or about a certain redhead who seems to have a grudge against your 'childish' behavior?"

He snorted softly.

"Neither," he returned. "I don't remember what I was thinking about, but my roommate was definitely not on that list, and Garrak isn't even a blip on my mental radar."

"You're that sure of yourself, huh?"

He shrugged. "I suppose you could say that," he remarked, "but it's more that I'm not worried about what will happen. Whatever happens, will happen; worrying about it just causes me stress, and I refuse to let thoughts about him or the fight stress me out. Besides, I can think of other things more important than either of them."

"Such as?" she tried to tease out of him.

"The Change, for one," he answered, giving her a faint smirk now. "I'm not worried about living through that either, but now that I'm thinking about it, I'm more concerned with what happens afterwards. Another wolf I know decently, he mentioned that the first thing that you worry about after the Change is your food intake. He said that you're ravenously hungry; he said he ate the equivalent of five or six two-pound steaks just in the first few hours of his Change, and that it took a day or two before he didn't feel compelled to eat everything that was put in front of him.

"He also mentioned his… how he and his wolf had to come to a 'meeting of the minds' he said. I'm actually more concerned with those things, than worrying about anything else."

He gave another faint snort. "What about you?" he asked, "What thoughts are running through your mind?"

"Well, I was worried about living through the Change," Diana smirked mischievously, "but now you've got me thinking about what happens afterwards." She paused for a few moments, seemingly gathering her thoughts, before continuing. "I talked with Mr. Cornick a bit yesterday, and he got me a little worried about what our wolf will do to us, specifically, what the wolf will do to our…sex lives."

"Oh?" Ares smirked, seeming to perk up a bit. "How so?"

"Apparently our wolf, being generally more primal than our human selves, will have some basic needs and wants that it'll often try its best to push us into fulfilling, especially in the days and weeks after the Change, until we've shown it who's the real boss."

Ares snickered at the idea, and again at the thought that someone who thought they'd wrestle their wolf into submission to the human side of themselves and how that would actually likely go.

"I can't say I fancy being held prisoner to my own libido like that, wanting to…be with every or any wolf just because my wolf tells me it's feeling horny," she finished, to more of his chuckling. "What's so funny?" she asked, smiling, but he could tell that she was just a touch upset about his amusement.

"Just the idea of trying to get your wolf to ignore a case of the hornies," he laughed softly. "Have you ever tried to pull apart two dogs who're intent on getting it on together? I can only imagine how tough it'll be to stop your wolf."

Diana seemed to think about that for a moment, before a bit of inadvertent laughter slipped from her and she smirked softly. "Like I said, I don't plan to let my wolf get the better of me."

He stifled yet another laugh at her declaration, keeping his thought to himself.

"So what else came to mind?" she asked, "You mentioned that more than one thing to think about, other than surviving the Change."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Like dealing with every day things. Like, will we have to calm our wolf down if ordinary folks look us in the eyes? Will our wolf see stuff like that as a challenge all of the time? And will our wolf feel possessive about others? I guess I'm just wondering how our wolf and the bond we have with them, will affect us after we leave here."

Diana frowned a bit, seemingly caught in the thought he'd expressed for a few moments. "I suppose that's a valid thought," she responded after bit of hesitation. "It's not something I'd given any thought about; now you've got me thinking about it."

"Glad I could be of help," he smirked and gave her a mock-salute, before standing and heading back to the main house.

The smirk on his face fell away as he walked, his thoughts returning to the reason why he was here in Aspen Creek, and the ideas of what he would do after he'd followed through on that reason. He wasn't worried, exactly, and he wasn't going to start worrying, but at the same time, the fact that so much of his thoughts revolved around this decision of his was unsettling, to say the least, and after a few more moments to ponder, he decided to do something about it.

He sought out the Marrok; he happened to be just walking out of his office as Ares spotted him, and he gave a brief wave to get Bran's attention. He didn't keep the other man waiting for what he had to say.

"I want to go ahead and be Changed. Tomorrow."