A/N: All right, I know I said I was on hiatus with this, but I got inspired. I hope you enjoy this chapter, as it may be rather short, being somewhat of a transition chapter. So, returning to Kar and Nadya. Please review! …I love you if you review? And gives you cookies…?
Atrocious grammar aside, on with the story.
Kar resolved from the start to avoid this strange and disturbing new arrival. But as the days passed, he found himself very hard pressed to do so. She seemed to be everywhere – looking over his shoulder, padding beside him when they hunted, watching him as he told the pups stories. Her eyes were blue, he realized very soon, as ice blue as the ocean or the sky, as though she were blind or still a pup. But he could tell from the intensity of her gaze that she was not blind, and the smoldering in her eyes as she watched him made it clear that she was no pup, and she was interested in him.
Once, maybe, he would have been interested in her, but that was before Larka. Before that beautiful white wolf had torn a hole in his heart and left his soul to fly loose and tattered on the wind. Before he had known what the pain of accepting another into your life was, and the sound of a broken heart. Everything was Before, now. She was pretty, but Khaz had his eye on her – that much, at least, was clear. He never looked at Kar when the she wolf sat close to him, her eyes half closed in a lazily seductive manner, but he could feel the leader's hostile gaze as if it were teeth tearing at his throat. He would always meekly excuse himself on those occasions, and flee into the woods to be alone, away from Khaz's burning eyes. And yet, when he watched the Dragga stand with his shoulder almost touching hers, his entire stance projecting intimacy, Kar would feel an angry burning in his heart that made him want to sink his teeth into Khaz's flesh.
Whenever he found that angry creature clawing at his heart, crying for Khaz's blood, he would pad into the woods alone, chanting a litany to himself. Larka is my only love. Larka was my only love. Larka will be my only love. Until I die I will desire no other mate but her. Larka, Larka, Larka. Each repetition of her name was a stabbing in his heart, and he would cry bitterly, whining for his long-dead mother and father, and his brother, Cal. But he would return to the pack with new resolve to defeat the she wolf, to resist her advances. She belonged to Khaz. She would be his Drappa, and she would forget him.
Oddly, that made him feel angry and sick all over again.
Yet stubbornly he resisted the temptation to show interest in the she-wolf's advances. He would not. He would be faithful. He would be loyal to Larka.
Why be loyal to a dead wolf? Why be loyal to a love that is dust? Dust, dust, dust. The word echoed like a drum in his ears, sorrowful and bitter. Kar fought the voice, struggling to recite his litany.
Larka is my only love. Larka was my only –
A love that is dust. She cannot see you.
No! Larka will be my – mine –
Nadya is beautiful. You could take her away, far away, she would be your Drappa. You could start a new pack
Larka. I cannot forget Larka, must not desert Larka. Larka will be my only love. Until I die I will desire no mate but her. Larka, Larka, Lar –
Nadya, Nadya, Nadya. Why be loyal to a dead wolf? Why be loyal to a love that is dust?
Dust. Dust. No! Larka is my only – my only – only…
Larka is dead. Larka would want you to move on.
-love – my love – my only – Nadya! No…No, Larka, Larka was my only – love. Love. I love her.
She would want you to move on.
"Until I die," Kar insisted. "I will desire no wolf but her. But Larka. Larka is my only love. Forever." He was struggling to convince himself, the trees, the air, anyone, but no one was convinced. Not even himself.
His sleep that night was fitful. Fragments of speech drifted in and out of his dreams; fragments of memories. Larka fell, became Nadya, was dead. He cried out, but then he turned and Larka stood there, but she became Nadya, then became Khaz, snarling, his eyes wild. "She is mine," he cried, and leapt for Kar's throat. With a cry he stumbled backwards and slipped into the ravine, but then he looked up and saw Fell outlined against the moon, howling. He looked at Kar, and he could see clearly the sliver of bright green in his eye. "Wolfbane," he whispered. "Are we ever free of the past?" And Fell – or Wolfbane, perhaps – threw back his head and laughed.