Once upon a time, there was a Godly valley with mountains that could touch the sky and trees that cast long shadows. The people who live in the small mountain town are hardworking and happy, so long as they never stray into the forest where the wolves lurk in the darkness. Adults brave the trees in groups to hunt the vicious pack as they have for decades, the conflict is deep with no sign of victory for either side. But wolves are not the only threat, nor the village's only secret - and the link connecting them is a simple cloak of Red ...
Every night, from the highest peak of the uninhabited mountains, a single Wolf howls to the good folk of the valley – as a warning, as a message, and as a reminder of what they did:
"Beware, beware, the Path where the Witch once stood. Beware, beware, of the Wolf in the Wood."
Genesis locked the door to the storage shed, having checked the barn again in preparation for their village guest. He rubbed his brow and forced a slow breath from his lungs, Hojo was slowly driving him insane with his constant plans. A plan for the shed, a plan to decorate the church early, a plan for this, a plan for that. As if the villagers didn't have enough problems. There was food to be gathered and prepared, wood to be chopped, blankets mended, roofs fixed- the list was unless in the face of the winter struggle.
The good Father's sudden obsession with Witches made Genesis damn the book Hojo was revering as a new bible. It was taxing his patience and valuable time, winter was on its way and the entire village was nowhere near as stocked as it should be on valuable resources.
He pressed a hand to his temple, head aching at the thought of all the wood, meat and fur that still needed to be gathered. Group efforts would have to be coordinated at this rate, what a bother …
Speaking of problems. He looked up into the trees and forced out another slow breath. Originally, there was a hunt to be had at dawn, the last one of the winter season before the men lost their courage along with the sunlight, and not one man was prepared to face the wolves now that Hojo had the entire community doing menial, useless tasks.
Up until his meddling the wolves had been a growing concern. The wolves had been howling every night for months, Genesis's nerves were on edge. In his time as a hunter, he had noticed their presence once or twice a week as they eerily moaned to the night sky. However, this wolf was howling close to nightly.
The only times the wolf wasn't howling were Genesis's quiet nights. His breaks. No wolves or watches for their appearance, no guns needing oiling and no Leon-cursed-child causing a stir.
He looked at the young man's hut as he made his way to the tavern for some mead. It was empty again. The boy had been vanishing left right and centre this summer and autumn, always into the woods. Genesis looked at the rusty door hinges and raised his brows. It was almost as if Edea's child had abandoned the place.
The redhead cast a suspicious eye over the treeline again. Whenever that boy was gone it was a blessing for the village, whenever he returned he was noticed more than ever for his absence. More than that, Genesis started walking again, the boy hadn't been helping their efforts but neither had he been causing a chaos in storms or in wolves.
He recalled how, in times of conflict where Leon was involved, storms would build afterwards. It may have been days or weeks, but it was always after an argument with Leon. Villagers swore by it, and Genesis believed them. He had seen first-hand the boy call for storms in moments of emotion, the ice storm that had come when the child was sick with a fever all those years ago, was the worst in living memory.
Genesis briefly considered a thought he'd entertained before, but dismissed it. Though good may come from asking the unlucky youth to leave their community and live somewhere else, he was sure that Edea and her family would never forgive him. Besides, Genesis recalled the traces of wolf that the boy had attracted in his youth and the storms that reared in wake of his anger. If the boy were to be turned out he wasn't so sure that there wouldn't be a retaliation. So here he was, as always, in a tough middle ground of tolerating the young man despite his reputation.
Alienating him just enough to appease the people, to protect them from him and Edea's child from them.
The child he'd saved years ago … Genesis could reminiscence carrying him with vivid recall. Every sin that boy had committed since then had been on his head, he had brought Edea's child home, he had done his duty but he had brought back the curse too. He worried that his people would blame him for it.
He elbowed open the tavern door and marched to the nearest barman to order his drink. At least, when the boy was absent the nights were quiet. He sipped the bitter liquid and sent a relieved smile towards Quistis who was once again helping to serve tables. In any case, he had good company for the evening.
Angeal looked up when Zack scrambled up the last ledge to the top of the mountain that served as their barrier between men and wolves. The young wolf shook himself and sat before the larger wolf with a yawn. "They're safe tonight, Angeal. Sound asleep just half a mile from here. Under the rocks."
Angeal peered where Zack was looking and hummed, pleased. Thank you, Zack.
The pupish wolf huffed, "You have to stop leaning down their backs all the time, hasn't Cloud had enough tailing for a lifetime?"
The Alpha snorted, "It was just for tonight. I grew concerned when a scout mentioned that the men in the village were considering a hunt. If Cloud were to be found by them … or that boy." It wasn't a time to grow careless. But if Zack said they were safe then they were safe, and he wouldn't do more than worry in his mind.
Zack's ears perked, "What did you think of the hunter?"
Angeal turned away, gesturing with his head to their home and Zack following obediently after him. The large black wolf with flecks of white down his left side led the way in deep thought. He turned into a man and settled himself into his bed, Zack waiting as patiently as he could in a bed of his own.
Their home was a shared low cave towards the top of the mountain, they had ended up sharing through ways Angeal wasn't sure how to pinpoint. Zack just fell asleep here one afternoon and never left. Not that he objected to the company, nor to tutoring such a fine youth in how to become a strong leader, he just honestly wondered when he'd stopped minding when Zack stepped into his space.
Zack's question was one that had been on his mind all day, one of many. Angeal honestly had little to think on Squall, he had discovered some unexpected good points and his perception of what he was had been challenged, but that only made his opinion of the young man even more difficult to put into words.
Angeal breathed and gave his best answer. "Squall was not what I expected, nor what I was prepared to face today. For all our pack's worrying, he is just a youth in love and looking for acceptance." The youth had no scents on him, not like Cloud or Zack who had the smells of their entire pack on them at any time or in any form, it was like no one was close to the young hunter at all. Cloud's scent was there, very strongly, but no others. He smelt lonely, he looked small, and the panic attack unexpectedly summoned a concern Angeal never expected to feel towards the stranger.
Cloud was right, Squall was alone. He was vulnerable and unloved for the most part, and yet he loved Cloud, completely. Angeal could tell. He loved Cloud strongly enough to take these leaps of faith and risk his people's anger, to overcome his people's prejudices, he even looked unfazed by his task.
He rubbed the necklace he wore, teeth from the previous wolf Alpha, and tried to swallow the slight guilt at the thought of the challenge before the pair. He might as well have bitten them for the distress he inflicted with words alone.
Each had looked devastated at the news. The two were small and sad when he had left them to think. It was something he took no pleasure in.
His thoughts continued: "He's not a bad person. I can see that now. He means well, and though he is faced with many unknowns he's determined to succeed … I like that."
Zack titled his head against the paws he rested upon, "I knew he was trouble when I saw that determination in his eyes." With a snort for a laugh, he added: "He matches Cloud very well."
Ah, so that was it. That was why the young man was both so unexpected and so endearing.
Grunting in agreement, Angeal smiled. "They're very devoted. It is a relief that their mating bond sealed as it would with another wolf-wolf pair, we do not have to doubt the hunter's intentions nor his loyalty to Cloud. He is new to our culture but open to it." He sighed, "It is a shame I must treat them with iron gloves until they've proven themselves."
Zack's tail wagged. "What plans do you have for them? You met to talk but, what about?"
Laughing at the curious wolf, Angeal waved his concerns aside, "Don't you worry, Zack, I'll announce it to the pack once I have their answer. I'll need your help with Cloud afterwards, he may be inconsolable for a time."
Zack whined and tilted his head, curious and apprehensive over what Angeal was up to, and what could cause Cloud to need some help.
Angeal said no more and went to sleep.
Hojo sealed another self-imposed report and folded the information carefully into his desk. He rubbed his hands over the candle, the flame turned his white hands pink again. The stone Church held no heat and would have frosted inside if there had been any moisture, the Father's breath misted on every exhale.
He coughed a few times and got to his feet, reminding himself that he still had to record his observations of the Tavern owner, and Genesis and check his notes of the Heartilly family. He had not spoken of the days they missed church, nor of the day Heartilly's daughter come to church wearing a blue bow. Thinking about it now, he quickly retook his seat to note those memories in concise writing in the document of the family.
Should God smile upon us, perhaps these notes and my toil will aid the witchfinder in locating the witch in our midst. Bless me with a good memory, my Lord, that I won't overlook a thing. Another suspicion recorded in clear ink and Hojo forced himself to leave the quill upon the table, any longer in this cold and his words would become eligible. "That would be unfortunate," he muttered as he religiously paced from his chair to the altar and began evening prayers before bed.
His Church had never felt colder before tonight. "Is this a sign of change, my Lord? Or a sign of warning … witches fight your enemy's fight and so great is this village's sin that we were unaware of this for over a decade."
He spared the reports he had made a dirty glance. Now he thought with an open mind, now he saw the world and the war for what it was he could see how these people were scum. Each one had a list of sins as long as his robes, how despicable, he prayed that God would strike down upon them all! Any one of them could be the traitor in their midst.
What he had once thought was an open and shut case was turning into something troubling and deep. When I rid the village of this witch, the curse of the wolves will be lifted and salvation will follow- for it is the Devil's slave who brings this scourge of misfortune upon God's people, God willing we will be free yet.
Hojo prayed for fear. For the people to be wary, for the good to speak their minds to him and for their saving grace, the Vatican's Witchhunter to be the avenging angel they desperately needed.
"Amen."
Wedge served the men of this city day in and day out with beer and stories, and food for those who could stomach Biggs' cooking. He knew them all by name, he knew their families and he knew all the town's gossip. However, those four, in the far corner illuminated purely by the firelight, were new.
He had tied their carriage, had Biggs tend the horses, and accepted the gold for two rooms at their inn … though, Wedge thought, their presence was draining his pocket of gold when regular after regular opted to leave early than sit at their neighbouring tables. Odd bunch of blokes, Wedge made his way over at the beck of a hand.
"May I help you?"
The leader, a head and shoulder's taller than the tallest man Wedge knew, said to him: "We travel to Winhill at dawn, innkeeper. Have you anything to say about the village?"
"Not much, sir," Wedge acknowledged. He knew the village, a tiny place where the moors ended and the mountains began, a valley full of nought but trees for miles. He said as much when describing its appearance. "It's an old place, the people there are as hardworking as they come, they rarely buy food from outside their farms, and they're familiar with everyone else who calls that place home. Tight-knit, all of them."
The gentlemen did not look remotely interested. Wedge told them their most famous story, convinced by the steel in their eyes that it would not frighten them from their visit. "I don't envy those Winhill lot, they're besieged by wolves near yearly, God have mercy. I have no idea how they deal with such a threat on their doorstep every day."
Still politely disinterested, the lead gentleman dismissed him back to his innkeeper duties. Feeling small, Wedge eagerly left.
"… We leave at noon, brothers. This mission seems hardly worth our time …"
OMG did I see more plot advancement? (*whispering* who am I and what did I do with the real me?)
Story is also available on Ao3 for those who prefer it there. Updates & Art available on my Tumblr: Thequalityrunaway