The Wolf You Feed
Chapter 17
Daryl watched Rowan toss the last chunks of dried meat into the large pot she had suspended over the fire. The time he had recently spent hungry had made him acutely aware of their food supply. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He could always go hunting. And they were not that far from home. Where they had plenty of food. A whole community garden full. Plus their own garden, which now took up their entire backyard. They were not going to starve if Rowan made soup out of the rest of the dried meat in her bag.
Rowan waited until the pot started to bubble, then she moved it carefully away from the fire and put the lid on. It could simmer slowly all night and in the morning she would have a thick stew full of venison and tender wild turkey meat from the bird Daryl got on his short hunting trip. It was important to her to bring enough food for the people of the camp. Not just because she knew some of them were very hungry. But also because she wanted to teach them a lesson.
She was trying to prove a point. What could be accomplished if they worked together instead of against each other. It was their own fault they didn't have enough food. Those women wasted far too much energy guarding people that were locked in a cage. And the people in the cage were forced to sit around and do nothing. They could not contribute to the community. It was such a waste of time and energy.
At the very end of winter, food sometimes got scarce. Even before the outbreak. But this was springtime. Almost into summer. There was no reason for anyone to be hungry now. Why if any of them even bothered to check, Rowan knew there were gardens full of strawberries just one housing group over that she would be ripe this time of year. Instead of picking fruit, they were worried about keeping men and little crippled children locked up. Rowan pushed the thoughts of the little children from her mind. Thinking about them made her angry and upset.
The sun was getting low in the sky. It wasn't dark yet, so much as it just was not as light anymore. Rowan sunk down next to Daryl and rested her head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulder. She closed her eyes and thought about Carl and Enid, trying to see if she could get a sense of where they were or how they were doing. She could see both their faces. Long enough to know they were unharmed and alive. But the images were quickly drowned out by the roaring in her ears. Rowan was not expert on engines. But she had ridden with Daryl enough times to know what a motorcycle sounded like. The roaring she heard sounded like a whole pack of motorcycles purring at once.
When Rowan opened her eyes, it was pitch black out. She was lying on the cold ground beside the dying fire. Daryl was gone. She could feel the panic rising in her chest. Tank and Morgan were on the other side of the small campsite growling at something. In the pale moonlight, they reminded her of the little ceramic dog shaped salt and pepper shakers that Olivia had given her and Daryl as a wedding present. Without realizing that she had climbed to her feet, Rowan found herself standing between the two dogs. Barefoot with her hair whipping around her face.
The dogs stopped their barking, sitting still as stone. In the clearing ahead Rowan saw her spirit guide. The huge black wolf that spoke to her in her mother's voice. Except this time it wasn't speaking to her. It was lying dead on the ground. A trickle of shiny red blood that sparkled like the ring on her finger ran from it's mouth. Like liquid diamonds. Leaning over it was the big black and orange cat she had seen back at the women's camp.
She knew what the cat was. The name for the animal was hovering on the tip of her tounge. Rowan had seen one the time her father had taken her to that strange place where the people that lived there all dressed the same and had many different animals locked up in cages. After Rowan climbed in with the elephants and the people that owned them had to come and get her out, her father had taken her by her little freckled hand and drug her all the way out to his old beat up pickup truck and driven her home. Scolding her in sioux the entire way. I only turned my back for a minute. What were you thinking Rowan? She had been thinking that while her father was laughing with that pretty lady with the long blonde hair, she was going to ride herself an elephant. Just like Tarzan rode Tantor in her book, Tarzan of the Apes. Don't you dare tell your mother about this.
But before the elephants, Rowan had seen the big cats. Pacing back and forth in their tiny cement boxes. She had pressed her little pug nose to the glass and stared at the big orange and black one. It had come close to the glass and stared back at her with it's wide green and gold eyes. It had big sharp teeth and lon pink tounge. But she was not afraid. Her father had leaned in close and whispered into her ear, telling her what it was. A tiger.
The crystal necklace her spirit guide wore was crushed under the tiger's massive paws. And on top of the it's shoulder Rowan saw the one eyed raven. But before it could open it's beak to speak to her over the loud roar of the motorcycles, she heard another voice.
"Rowan, wake up! Rowan, it's just a dream." Daryl's voice. It cut through the roaring motorcycle engines. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders. Shaking her gently to try and wake her.
The last thing she remembered was making soup. Now it was pitch black and she could tell from the stuffy feel of the air around her that she was in their small tent. He must have carried her in after she fell asleep by the fire. And taken her jeans off so she would be comfortable while she slept.
"I'm awake," she said, her hand coming up to grab one of his wrists. Daryl fumbled for the small lantern and flipped it on. Rowan shoved the covers off and pushed her hair out of her face. She was drenched in sweat and her heart was thumping hard in her chest.
"You alright?," Daryl asked her. She nodded, even though she wasn't sure how she felt. The small lantern cast ghostly shadows on Daryl's face and for a moment, she thought she was still trapped in her nightmare.
"You were screamin' in yer sleep." He leaned forward, cupping her face with one hand, the rough pad of his thumb brushing back and forth across her face.
"What were ya dreamin' about?" He didn't ask the question out of curiosity alone. Daryl noticed everything. And it had not escaped his attention that Rowan had been dreaming about crying children the whole way here. Then he had run into two children that had been hurt and tortured and were no being slowly starved to death. It seemed like a pretty big coincidence. After the whole Knight of Wands turning out to be Morgan thing, Daryl found himself believing in things he might have laughed at before the turn. Not anything too crazy. Rowan's father described her as just being more sensitive than other people. That made it sound less like magic and more like something Daryl could except as a normal part of his strange new life.
"I was dreaming about the time my dad took me to the zoo," Rowan explained. That was not the whole truth. But it wasn't a lie either. She could feel her breathing returning to normal. Since she had gotten pregnant, her dreams had become more and more scattered and intense. She wasn't even sure what they meant anymore. The raven always came to warn her about something. But the tiger. Had it worked it's way into her dream because those women had one tied up at their camp. Or did the big cat have another meaning? Big cats in a dream often represented a fight against a tyrant, or some other sort of unjust ruler. But dream symbols are different for everyone.
"Musta been one hell of a zoo trip," Daryl said. The shadows on his face shifted as he raised his eyebrows at her. She knew what he said was Daryl's polite way of telling her that he didn't believe what she said. Rowan let out a sigh and smiled a little. Daryl could always tell when she was lying. He was like her father in that way.
Rowan flopped back down on the sleeping bag, grateful that her heartbeat was returning to normal. She held her arms out for Daryl. She wanted to be held. Chase the last bits of her dream away. He leaned over to flip the light back off and then lay down in her arms. His head was resting against her breasts and she stroked her hands over his hair. Twisting pieces of it between her fingers. Twining a long strand around the first knuckle were her tattoos circled her finger.
"Not going ta tell me what the dream was really 'bout then?," he asked. Her chest rose and fell with a long slow breath.
"I saw the raven," Rowan told him, her voice quiet and dreamy now. She was wearing the oversized t shirt she slept in and nothing else. And her heart was starting to beat harder again for another reason. She could feel Daryl's breath through her shirt. Ghosting across the sensitive skin of her breasts. And the weight of his hand on her hip, sliding down and then back up without her shirt between her skin and his.
"What'd he tell ya," Daryl asked. Rowan had told him about the raven before. Cassandra's bird, she called it. After the greek myth. The bird came to warn her of the future, but sometimes she woke up unable to remember what it said.
"You woke me up before he could tell me what he wanted." Her words were coming out in hot panting breaths now. She bent one knee, giving him access to the soft skin on the inside of her thigh.
"Next time he comes back," Daryl said, his mouth sliding lower, kissing and breathing on her belly through the thin cotton fabric of her shirt, "Ya outta shoot that damn bird and cook 'im." Rowan giggled at the mental image of Daryl shooting and cooking the one eyed raven with his bow. Freezing time and stopping the future from coming. When they got back home, maybe she would make up a story about it.
Her giggle turned into a low moan that caught in her throat. Daryl's hand moved further up her thigh, his thumb finding the sensitive spot above her opening. She felt his breath. And then the wet flick of his tounge, replacing his thumb before he shifted the postion of his hand and slid the tip of one thick finger inside her. Missed you. What he was doing felt so good, she wasn't sure if he had the words out loud or if she had plucked it from his mind without meaning to.
Her hands that had been mindlessly twirling his hair a moment before, fisted into it now. Pulling gently at the roots. He slid his finger out and added a second one. Moving them in and out until he felt her walls close in and flutter around him. Missed you too. I know it was only a week but it felt like longer. So much longer. His fingers slid out of her and then his hands gripped her hips. She let his hair slide out of her grasp as he lifted his head up. A few stray hairs caught on her ring and hung there.
"Don't wanna put too much weight on ya," he rasped, "flip over baby." She rolled, letting him guide her body with his hands. Once she was on her stomach, she felt him pull her hips up until she was on her knees. The last spasms of her orgasm were still pulsing through her body, making her arms and legs feel weak and shaky. She locked her elbows to keep from flopping down onto her face. He was sliding closer to her, nudging her knees apart. His hands roamed over her, like he was using them to see her body in the dark.
She felt his finger first, then the tip of his hard length pressing against her opening. As he pushed in, he pulled back on her hips. She gasped, feeling the amazing stretching sensation inside her that always happened when he first pushed in.
"Y'alright," he asked. Rowan nodded her head. Then realized he couldn't see her in the dark.
"Don't stop," she murmured. To make sure he knew she meant it, she arched her lower back, pushing him just a little deeper inside her. That must have broke through the last bit of his self control, because he started moving. Slow at first, but finishing each thrust with a hard pump. Then faster. Her head fell forward, her hair falling down of either side of her face like a curtain. She could feel the swing and jiggle of her breasts as he moved, his hips slapping against the round curve of her ass in his attempt to get as deep inside her as possible.
The postion was not new to them, over the long and rather boring winter they had done some experimenting. But they both usually preferred being able to look at one another. Rowan decided they had been a little hasty about that. This felt better than great. He was rubbing hard against the spot inside her that always put her over the edge. Rubbing hard against it. She was ready for her climax when it came and she found herself fighting for control over her own body. Her legs and arms wanted to buckle. She felt like she was melting.
Daryl's hands dug into her hips. And then she felt the soft rush of warmth that always came when he spilled inside her. He usually came with a moaning grunt, but this time he was silent as he finished off with a few more gentle pumps into her. Once she felt him slide out of her, Rowan collapsed on the sleeping bag. She was glad it was dark in the tent, because she doubted she looked very sexy flopped there like fish out of water. Daryl cuddled in behind her and held her close.
They must not have been as quiet and Rowan thought they were. Because the next thing she knew, Tank was shoving his large body inside the tent. She could hear the little whosh sounds of his nails on the synthetic fabric of the tent floor. He turned himself around in a circle and then settled down next to Rowan. Daryl's hand lifted from her hip and she felt him lean over her to give the big dog a friendly scratch behind the ears. With the body heat of her dog on one side, and the heat from her man on the other, Rowan drifted into a much more peaceful sleep. One where tigers and ravens did not exist.
