Chapter 8
(Hope)
As soon as her teeth pierced the monster's throat, she knew something was wrong. The taste was all wrong—there was something acidic and foul about it. It's what she imagined battery acid would taste like.
Underwater, the monster had thrashed and struggled in her grip, but she refused to relent, pouring all of her anger and frustration into the bite, tearing flesh and crushing bone.
Clarke had woken up at the worst possible moment; she had planned on luring the monster closer to the shore before going for its throat. Deep water was definitely enemy territory.
Somehow, she had managed to kill the beast without drowning herself in the process, but she had let the victory go to her head.
She dug deeper into the flesh when she should have let go. She relished in the kill when she should have retreated.
Now she was paying for her carelessness.
It was always like this when she was in wolf form—something inside her was set free, something wild.
Her senses were undeniably better; she could hear, see, smell so much better than when she was a human.
But it came at a cost.
She often lost herself in the change. She supposed all werewolves felt this way to an extent. However, she couldn't help but think that her wildness came from something deeper— something she usually tucked away.
She was the reason her parents were dead, she had brought that heartache upon herself, and worse, upon those she loved.
As Hope Mikaelson, she had to be controlled, careful, guarded. But as a wolf, she was free. Those moments when she ran through the woods she belonged to no legacy but her own.
Now she was lost—adrift somewhere between sleeping and awake, all because she let the wolf have a little too much control.
She knew she was still in wolf form, her senses were too strong for it not to be true. However, something was wrong… She couldn't see anything—she couldn't find her way to the surface.
Suddenly, she felt something— someone was pulling her, dragging her across a rough surface.
She let out a whine.
God, everything ached, ached and burned.
Then came the water, it pushed and forced its way into her mouth, choking and gagging her.
She was drowning! She tried to pull away.
"Someone...help…"
"You know, this would be a lot easier if you just changed back," a male voice said.
Change back? Oh, yes, she was still a wolf.
"Can't..." she thought. It was impossible; she felt like she was drowning in her own consciousness.
"You can hear me? Understand me?" The voice asked anxiously.
"Hope?"
She felt a warm hand stroking her fur. The gesture was calming—she didn't want it to stop.
Who was this reassuring presence?
Landon. It must be him.
The soothing gesture stopped.
"No. Not Landon," the voice returned tersely.
She was confused.
If not Landon, who could it be?
More than anything, she wanted that hand to reach out to her again. Everything felt cold... She needed that connection, she craved it.
She tried to call out, but it was no use; she was utterly exhausted. And without that hand to tether her to reality, she felt herself slipping back into unconsciousness.
When she awoke, it was dark. For a terrifying moment, she feared that she had fallen back into the pit of quicksand.
But slowly, the world came back into focus. She was laying at the edge of the woods, the river bank still visible several yards away. It was nighttime, at least, this dimension's version of nighttime.
It was then that she realized she wasn't alone; Clarke was laying next to her, sleeping on his side with his head near hers.
There was something open about his expression in sleep—there was no mask, no animosity, just Clarke. Her wolf vision let her see easily in the dark, she could make out each detail, each curl, even the stubble growing on his chin.
Just then, his eyes blinked open, a brief flash of panic crossing his features.
She laid her head back down, leveling her gaze to his.
"Hope?" he asked tentatively. "Are you...alright?"
"Yes, I think so," she answered automatically, aware that he wouldn't be able to understand her in wolf form.
"Good," he said.
Wait, what? Her ears perked up in interest. Had he been able to understand her?
"Yes, I thought we established that already," he said, quirking an eyebrow at her.
Impossible. "How is that possible?" she asked, watching him warily.
"I was hoping that you could tell me," he said. "Is this not a special tribrid power?"
"No. Not that I've ever experienced."
He eyed her with interest, "Do you think it's this?" he asked, gesturing between them.
Oh, God.
She hadn't thought of that; their odd connection had been growing stronger, but this was beyond strange. She had never heard of a wolf being able to communicate like this before; she wasn't even trying!
"Really, you're not trying to talk to me?" he asked, clearly fascinated.
Crap. How was he doing this?
"I don't know," he said, edging closer to her.
She let out a low growl.
He flinched. "Hey, relax," he said.
"I would," she thought, "If I knew you couldn't just read my mind."
"Maybe this is a good thing," he countered. "If you weren't able to understand me, you may have bitten my head off when I was trying to get that poison blood out of your mouth."
"That was you?" she asked.
"Who else would it have been?" he asked. "Couldn't you feel—" He paused, his eyes shifting away from hers, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.
In her semi-conscious state she had thought it was Landon... but it was him. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.
"Anyways, maybe we should keep moving," he said, inclining his head to the woods behind them.
She got up, stretching her legs and back. She wasn't used to sleeping in wolf form, it was odd to wake up like this.
"Why don't you change back? I left your clothes in a pile over there," he said pointing behind her.
Indeed, her clothes were in a neatly folded pile at the base of a nearby tree. Glancing back at him, she saw a glint of something around his neck, her pendant.
Following her gaze, he reached to pull it out from beneath his shirt.
"Oh, yeah. You, uh, must have given it to me before you…" he trailed off, gesturing to her vaguely.
"Saved your ass?" she asked.
He let out a laugh. "Let's just call it even."
She did her best to roll her eyes in wolf form.
"I'm going to go change back. You better not look, Agent Clarke, or I'll tear you apart." She bared her fangs at him, relishing the look of genuine terror that crossed his face.
"Noted," he said as he moved several paces away, back turned to her.
Satisfied that he intended on keeping his word, she made her way to where her clothes had been tidily folded.
Sheesh, this was even nicer than how she usually kept her clothes at home.
She took a moment to call her human self to the forefront of her mind; she focused on closing off her wolf senses, pulling on the thread of her human soul.
She anticipated the change and coaxed her breath into an even rhythm. She was ready...but...nothing.
Something was wrong; she wasn't changing back! The realization struck her with a jolt of dread, icy and paralyzing.
No, that can't be.
She pushed the panic aside and refocused her energy. She envisioned the feeling of soil between human toes, the sound of human laughter, the softness of a kiss…
Nothing. She was still a wolf.
Snarling in frustration, she called out to Clarke.
"Clarke! Something's wrong!"
She heard him coming up behind her, seemingly still cautious from her earlier warning.
"I can't change back," she said, unbiddeningly tucking her tail between her legs in shame.
"How can that be?" he asked. "You're unlike other werewolves...you're special, right?"
"Yes. This isn't normal, I've never been trapped like this before," she finished quietly.
"Hey, it's okay…" he said. "I mean, we'll figure this out."
"We?" she asked skeptically.
"I mean, our truce is still in effect, right?" he asked.
She watched him carefully. He gave her a crooked little smile, out of place as always.
"Maybe you just need a little time, we can try again later," he suggested.
There was no other option.
"Fine, grab my clothes and let's keep walking."
He tucked her clothes under one arm and began walking along the treeline. She trotted beside him, but kept a healthy distance between them.
She was frustrated and angry, and right now she didn't trust herself not to lash out.
"Are you really going to bite me?" he asked with a chuckle.
"Get out of my head," she growled back at him.
He just laughed.