There were many things that scared Ze'ev Kesley. The nightmares of blood and laboratories that tore him from sleep every so often. Scarlet, when she was so angry that her eyes sparked. That one particular cow that always, always managed to kick him no matter how fast he dodged during milking. But the one thing that frightened him above all else was…a phantom. The faint ghost of a scent that floated through his nostrils from time to time, never quite enough to confirm and never quite close enough to follow, but just enough to worry him. A heavy, musky odor, tempered by hints of piney wood and metallic tang of blood. Not quite wolf, not quite man. His scent. Or at least the scent of someone like him.
There were only a few left on Earth that he knew of. A few other wolf soldiers who had found they liked the wild spaces Earth had to offer over the restrictiveness of Luna and chosen to immigrate following the revolution…and others who had refused to give up the life of blood and death and carnage they had been fitted for. The former had settled into life on Earth well enough, though they kept well away from its Earthen inhabitants, while the latter—the unfortunate majority—still headlined the newsfeeds with brutal attacks from time to time. Wolf had no way of telling which was which by the scent.
And, while it always raised the hairs on the back of his neck when he caught a whiff of a fellow wolf soldier while out in the village or working with the androids in the fields, it didn't turn his blood cold like it did now. The only time it did concern him was when Scarlet and Missy were with him because it meant that they were in the vicinity of something he might or might not be able to protect them from. And it concerned him now, because he was working in the farmhouse kitchen, while Missy was playing in the yard outside, alone, and Scarlet was washing the hover, alone. Alone with the source of that scent.
"Missy!" Wolf barely heard the crash of the pan he had dropped as he slammed through the back door and tore out into the yard where she had been rolling in the grass a few minutes earlier. He turned in the direction of the hangar and bellowed again, tone going a touch more frantic. "Scarlet!"
All three scents were fresh, strong over the muddle of farm smells, but difficult to isolate. Scarlet's was still drifting from the broad doors of the hangar—as was a stream of muffled French swearing…something about making her spill the rinse water—while the other two seemed to be wafting from the woodlot sprawling along the back fence. Wolf let out a huff and burst into a sprint. Of course it was the woods. Missy loved them. So did he. And so, most likely, did the other soldier.
He leapt over the low wooden fence without breaking stride and settled into a silent, easy run with his nose to the wind to better trace both scents. He tried to focus on the tracking. On the running. On anything but the possibility of arriving too late.
Wolf burst into a clearing-Missy's clearing, they called it, since the kid found every opportunity she could to sneak off to it- panting hard. She was there, cross-legged in the tall grass and smiling up into the face of every nightmare Wolf had ever had. There was no fear in her eyes. Why should there be when the creature in front of her was so like her own father? She giggled and reached up a chubby hand to wave hello. The wolf soldier, a few inches taller than Wolf himself, but with a gaunt, underfed look about his wiry frame, was staring down at the child. His head was cocked, eyes narrowed with curiosity. His lips parted as if to speak, revealing the familiar long, gleaming fangs, and he lifted one clawed hand to stretch it toward Missy. Wolf didn't let him get any further, spurred by a stab of panic in his side as he barreled into the other man at a dead run.
They went down hard, slamming into the grass in a snarling tangle of fur and claws and teeth. The other man was faster than Wolf, his strikes like lightening against the reflexes made rusty by Wolf's years of domesticity, but Wolf hit harder thanks to the corded muscles afforded him by farm work. Missy shrieked and skittered out of the way of the flailing limbs and snapping jaws. An instant later, and Wolf had the trespasser pinned.
A sharp report boomed from behind them. Wolf turned his head a fraction of an inch to catch a glimpse of Scarlet standing with a hand tight on Missy's shoulder and her gun pointed skyward, still smoking from the warning shot. She'd taken to carrying one all the time after they returned to Earth, and Wolf had been more than happy that she was that much safer. He was even happier about it now. His grip loosened unconsciously at the rush of relief and got a sucker punch in the jaw for the mistake. The man beneath him slithered away, scrambling to his feet and loping into the shadows of the forest. Wolf rolled onto his back, rubbing his jaw as he stared in the direction the man had gone. That was…unusual. He briefly considered lunging after the other man, but the sound of Scarlet striding across the clearing with Missy in tow stopped him.
"Are you alright?" Scarlet holstered her pistol, sharp eyes flicking between him and the woods as she offered him a hand up. She promptly flung an arm around his waist as he staggered to his feet and hugged Missy closer, drawing the three of them into a tight knot. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest as they leaned on one another, and shifted forward to brush a shaky kiss to her forehead. Apparently, it had dredged up bad memories for the both of them.
"Fine." Wolf breathed, wrapping his arms around Missy and Scarlet as his bunched muscles went loose again. He was fine. They were fine. Even the other soldier—with the possible exception of a few scratches—was fine. They had been lucky.
"Daddy? Why did you hit him?" Missy, the only calm one of the trio, had curled both arms around his leg since that was as high as she could reach and now stared up at him with wide, inquisitive green eyes. Wolf brushed a hand over her bushy mop of auburn hair, swallowing the lump of relief in his throat. At least she wasn't frightened. He'd been afraid of that, given that she'd never seen the ferocious side of him before now, let alone at such close range. "He was like us."
"That's the problem, pup." Like them, indeed. How could one be sure? He looked down at his own clawed fingers, resting tenderly on his daughter's curls. Even if he was like them, Wolf barely trusted himself, let alone another, less invested, soldier. Wolf glanced up at the tree line again, wondering again whether he should've followed the other man or not. Perhaps they could have…talked. Or perhaps he would've torn Wolf's throat out. It was a gamble he wouldn't take with his family. At least not yet, when the mental scars of the revolution had only begun to fade. Maybe someday, but not yet. "That's the problem."