~ A Dangerous Friendship ~

SAPHIRA

It's a new day, a new chance to try to put the past behind her and leave it there. It isn't quite as early as she would normally be out in the woods, but still early enough to be able to do what she wants to do and return home to camp before it's late. Saphira supposes that one upside to Olympian politics and Lady Artemis' absence is that it allows for her freedom, something some of the other girls are also guilty of.

The forest is filled with the whistles and chirps of songbirds, lively and active with the morning sun. In the distance, Saphira can hear the calls of elk echoing through the trees. Perhaps she'll go on a hunt later today. An elk would keep the hunters well fed for quite a long time.

She goes along a path she has not walked before. Should any of her sisters get suspicious or happen to come across her trail, she doesn't want them to have a direct path to the ravine. She occasionally stops to alter her tracks now and again, kneeling to the soft pines before continuing on her way. She wants to make it seem as if she's had been stalking prey on a hunt, should her tracks be discovered by a patrol.

Saphira prides herself in remembering to bring a pack with her this time. The task of carrying the meat is so much easier having been able to place it in the pack and sling over her shoulder. She doesn't know if the wolf would even still be at the ravine, but she hopes that he will be there. Gods... she's hoping to see him again? Oh, if any of the other girls- no, if Artemis could know her thoughts! A soft shudder runs up her spine at the idea of what punishment she would endure.

Pushing the thoughts away, Saphira clears her mind and continues onward, soon finding herself at the entrance of the passage that leads into the ravine. She squeezes in between the boulders, carefully travelling down until she reaches the opening. The bowl-ravine is mostly shaded from the light of the morning rays, but it is more than bright enough to easily see any which way. It's a rather beautiful setting, making her wonder if the wolf chose it for the peaceful scenery as well as the shelter it offers. He must have known about this place beforehand, remembering how he had ran straight to here.

Speak of the devil.

She spots the wolf on the far side of the ravine, drinking from the lake. He raises his head at her arrival, water dripping from his muzzle. Saphira offers a small wave, and the wolf narrows his eyes. He seems to be glancing past her and up around the edges at the top of the ravine. Saphira frowns and wonders what he's searching for, then realizes... he's checking to see if there is anyone else here. He's still suspicious of her.

When he's confirmed for himself that they are alone, he begins to approach her. He's still cautious in his approach, but she's glad to see that he's not slowly stalking towards her like yesterday. Instead, his approach is straightforward, patient, but still not entirely trusting. He halts when he's within ten meters of her, seeming to frown as he sniffs in her direction. He must be smelling the gift she's brought.

Saphira feels a little pleased that he does not growl or glare at her when she unslings the pack from her shoulder. In fact, his eyes seem to brighten at the sight of the hefty hindquarter of deer that is presented. He licks his chops and takes a few steps forward. Saphira backs away a few feet to give him his space, and he eagerly comes forward to set upon the meat. He's seems to be so delighted by the meat that he momentarily forgets she's even here until his eyes flick up to her.

Saphira tries for a small smile, wanting him to no longer be suspicious. The wolf appears satisfied by this for now and returns his attention to his meal. She continues to give him his space while he eats. The timber wolves of the Hunt sometimes are a little defensive over their food, to other wolves or to girls who are not their mistress. Saphira has no desire to see if he's defensive of his food as well. She can hear his teeth grinding against the bone, ripping large chunks of flesh as easily as she would rip a paper in half.

Remembering the injuries he had sustained, Saphira carefully walks around at a distance to get a view of the shoulder and leg that had been lacerated by her arrow and the netting. What she sees is not what she expected nor hoped to see. His wounds are still as open as they were yesterday, which is most definitely not normal. A wolf's healing capability is supposed to be rather extraordinary. Minor wounds such as these lacerations should have healed almost completely by now. She frowns at the sight of the wolf's injuries that are still present. This isn't right.

She shifts her gaze back to the wolf's. He's watching out of the corner of his eye, though most of his attention appears to be on finishing the last of the hindquarter.

"Does it hurt?" Saphira asks him with a soft voice.

The wolf pauses in his eating long enough to turn his head towards her and nod once. It still astonishes her that he can understand her perfectly. Saphira nods back and takes a single step forward.

"I can take another look at your wounds, if you'd like," she offers.

His response is a soft rumble from his throat. It's not really a growl, but more like a low groan. He clamps his jaws over the hindquarter and picks it up, trotting away from her to eat closer to the lake's edge. Saphira can't help but release an annoyed sigh. He's so difficult!

Soon, he's already stripped the meat clean and settles for crunching the bone. Saphira heaves a sigh and decides to settle for tending to herself for now. She heads away to the ravine wall, taking a seat on of the large smooth boulders. She removes her bow and quiver from her shoulder and lays them out beside her. With a start, she realizes that she's had her weapons on her the entire time, yet, the wolf did not growl or refuse to approach until she had dropped them. That has to mean that his trust for her has grown at least a little.

There may be hope for this yet.

This? What is this? What is she trying to accomplish here? What does she hope to find with this wolf? An ally? A distraction? A friend?

Saphira looks up from polishing her knife to see the wolf having finished with the bone, padding away to the other side of the lake. She can see he has a slight limp on his wounded leg. It may be slight, but as a hunter, Saphira knows all too well the importance of being in peak condition, how imperative it is for both a hunter's and an animal's survival. For that reason, all hunters are expected to make a clean kill, and if the prey manages to escape after being shot, then they must track it down and finish it. It would be cruel to allow an animal injured by their arrows to carry on, unable to properly fend for itself or die a slow, painful death.

The wolf allowed her to tend to him once already. There's no reason to believe he won't allow her to do it again. It'll just take some time to have him get used to her presence again.

Saphira returns her attention to her knives. One of the few things that she has not neglected ever since her poor state of mind kicked in, along with her bow and quiver. They have become as much a part of her as her own very limbs. Especially her knives. She is as skilled an archer as any other hunter, able to shoot a fast-moving target from great distances or nock and fire multiple arrows at once... but knife-play is where she truly shines. Praised by the moon goddess herself for being one of the few girls who can come close to matching her in knife-to-knife combat, something that Saphira takes great pride in.

The thoughts being mulled over her knives appear to not be hers alone.

The wolf has made his way to her, having climbed up and sat on the boulder just opposite of her. He's intently watching her tend to her knives, gazing with those icy yellow orbs. He doesn't seem afraid or suspicious this time, merely curious, as if intrigued by the way she almost affectionately runs the cloth over the blades. Saphira takes a deep breath and decides that since he understands her, she might try having a conversation with him.

But what to talk about...?

"I received these knives when I joined the Hunt a millennia ago," she begins, keeping her voice soft. She continues with her task of polishing her knives. "They are more than just weapons to me. They hold more value than that. They represented the start of my new life, a new future."

The wolf continues to stare at her, maintaining his focused, but relaxed composure. Saphira gazes back into his yellow orbs, and that theory once again makes its way back into her mind. He understands her, so why not?

"Your eyes are different from those of other wolves," she points out. "There is a theory that newly-turned wolves do not gain red eyes until they have eaten mortal or demi-mortal flesh. Are you a newly-turned?"

The wolf gently waves his muzzle, first to the left, then to the right. She figures out that he's shaking his head 'no.' Her hunch is wrong.

"So, the theory is false."

To her surprise, he shakes his head again. The theory is not wrong? But then it doesn't make sense. How could he still have the eyes of a newly-turned if he isn't a newly-turned? That doesn't sound plausible, unless...

"Then you haven't tasted mortal flesh and blood yet," she says. This time, he dips his head in a nod. Hades... just how can he confirm the theory is correct when-

It hits her. To taste is one thing. Consuming is another.

"You've tasted it, but you haven't consumed it."

Now, he confirms she's correct with another nod of his head. He's not a newly-turned, and he's already had the taste of mortal flesh and blood... but he has not, and does not, consume it... which means he doesn't kill mortals or demi-mortals to eat. Saphira recalls how he had been attempting to avoid the battle before she had shot him, and pieces it together.

"You only kill because you have no choice, don't you?" she asks.

There is a brief moment of pause. Then, he once again, nods his head as his ears swivel back. His eyes convey it all. He doesn't kill humans or demigods for food or for pleasure. He kills because he has to, be it for self-defense or under command by the Pack. She realizes her own error in labeling. He may be a wolf...

But he is no monster.

"My name is Saphira," she declares. The wolf recoils slightly as if in surprise. "I was born in the Garden of the Hesperides, to a mother who did not want me."

With a deep breath, she continues.

"Do you have a name?"

The wolf looks stunned by the question. How long has it been since anyone asked him for his name rather than try to kill him? For a split second, he opens his mouth as if to reply, but no sound comes out. Saphira can't help but feel a small pang in her heart upon realizing what happened. He had wanted to speak, to answer her, but briefly forgotten that he cannot. He drops his gaze to the ground, seeming to be saddened and instead shakes his head in reply.

Saphira doesn't think that means that he doesn't have a name. He is not a newly-turned. He has been living this life for a while. No... it's not that he doesn't have a name. He's forgotten what it used to be.

"I understand," she assures him with a soft voice. He lifts his gaze to her and she offers him a small smile. He seems to know what she means by that. His ears fall back. It's almost unnoticeable, but Saphira doesn't miss the single, small tear that escapes the corner of his eye.

"I think we can fix that. What would you like to be called now?" she asks him. His ears perk forward again and he blinks in puzzlement. Saphira racks her brain for a name. What would be an appropriate name? Then it comes to her. It's a Greek translation, but she finds it to be fitting for who and what he is.

"How about... Lykos?"

The wolf tilts his head, his eyes flicking up as if in thought. After a few seconds, he returns his gaze to her with a nod of his head. There is a new gleam in his eyes that Saphira can't quite pin an emotion to, so she settles for appreciation.

"Very well. Lykos it is," she declares. Lykos seems to like his new name, his muzzle lips slightly curving into what Saphira can only imagine to be a smile, albeit a very wolfish smile that reveals his fangs. But she's no longer really afraid of them, as he is not revealing them to threaten her.

Saphira has no idea what force or god could have possibly compelled her to do this, but her next move is one that would surely make any other hunter become paralyzed with disbelief if they were to see it.

She leans forward and reaches out to him.

The wolf frowns at this, slowly recoiling and shifting his expression to a very subtle, but clear snarl. She withdraws her hand almost completely, but stops herself. This is no longer the moment to simply rely on patience and time. This is a moment for courage... and faith. She has to show him that they can trust each other. She tries again, but this time, she does not look at him. Instead she turns her head away, closes her eyes, and waits.

For a moment, nothing happens. There is only silence and the veil of darkness by her closed eyes. Then, she feels something softly brush against her hand and press gently into her palm. Her heart skips a beat and her breath hitches, before opening her eyes and slowly glancing towards him. Lykos has leaned forward and pressed his forehead to her palm, with his own eyes closed. Saphira can hardly believe it. He's allowing her to touch him, with her weapons beside her. He did not growl or watch her intently for any sign of a threatening move.

He closed his eyes and trusted her, just as she had done for him.

The gesture is brief. Lykos opens his eyes again and withdraws from her hand. His ears twitch and he frowns as if not believing either that he had just done that. With a huff, he stands up and shakes his pelt before trotting away. Saphira isn't disappointed this time. Her heart is still racing from their shared moment and can't help but feel almost elated by this. She's managed to connect, for the first time in years.

She's not so excited as to forget the other side of what this ordeal can mean for her, and for him as well. She can never tell anyone of this and must guard the secret closely. Saphira may have just begun to forge a bond with Lykos and proven that he is nothing like his brethren, but that most definitely would mean nothing to her sisters. The Hunters would not only not believe her, but brand her a lunatic and a traitor. She would be cast out... or worse, and they would surely hunt down the wolf as well. The risks are extremely high, the consequences, even higher. Yet, Saphira doesn't find herself dissuaded from this new friendship.

This very, very dangerous friendship.