"Jessica!" He called from behind me, "where are you going?" I didn't know exactly, so I pointed down a small path that caught my eye winding through the trees, just beyond the hot house. "That way, I'm going that way."

"Do you even know where that leads?" he said, much closer this time. In fact I was nearly across the yard, a rather large one at that, when he called from the door. He shouldn't have been able to catch up that fast, or so noiselessly. I felt my skin prickle with fear at the realization, which in turn compelled me to stop. I slowly turned around, and found myself within touching distance from Bran. I saw it then, the thing he was hiding from me. Looking back at me was not Bran, not wholly, but something more and I knew in that moment, without doubt, that particular something could utterly destroy me. I also knew that I had officially lost my mind, because there has never been an instance in my memory that I have felt so safe. It was a moment of decision for me, a moment where I had to choose, and I was fearful that I was too laden with grief and exhaustion to be able to do so. Should I run, or stand my ground and see what happens?

Of course I was too stubborn and foolish to ever run from something, so I stood up a little straighter, took a deep breath, and listened with my ears, heart, and that other sense. What I could hear was wind rushing through pine needles, and dead leaves. It rushed towards me bringing with it, a bitter cold that stung the tip of my nose, and ears. It smelt good, fresh, and clean. The wind found a gap between my coat collar and flesh, sending a freezing chill down my spine. Small birds were chatting away, annoyed with Bran and I for disturbing them so early in the morning. The trees were swaying too and fro in a slow dance with one another, and I liked that. I smiled up at their branches, and squinted at the brightness of the morning. That drew my memories to the mountains, and I looked over towards them. Heaven itself was looking back at me, winking with a spill of glorious light over the side of the deep purple cliffs. It settled me a little so I turned my attention to Bran, who was the picture of calm, but that was only an outward appearance. Inside, where only I could see, was turmoil. He was in pain, the kind of pain you have when your heart breaks and you feel utterly alone. That feeling I know well. He was confused, and his other was hunting. Currently I was its paramount interest. I learned to pick the flavor of the hunt out while deployed, and mostly it kept me and the troops in my care, out of the weeds, so to speak. I trusted it, and reluctantly I confessed to myself that I trusted this man, who was more than a man. I was fead up with secrets, either we were going to agree to disagree, or he was going to explain to me what's going on. It was his choice, but there are consequences to actions, this choice was no different.

"Maybe it leads right here", I said, "It leads to truth." I looked at his face grow hard. He knew exactly where I was going with this conversation, and didn't like it. I was afraid I might not like it either.

"That's a good face, Bran, it almost worked." I crossed my arms. I was mad as hell all of the sudden and I didn't know why. To my shock, he furrowed his eyebrows, let out a huff and started to tear off his cloths. "What are you doing?" I was scrambling to grab his pants from the snow, and afraid to look up, for fear of what I might see. His little impromptu strip tease totally diffused my angry bubble, and I wasn't sure what to do about it. I held my arms out with all the cloths, face averted, when he spoke.

"Look at me, Jessica, look at me and see your truth." He said with bitter satisfaction. So I looked at him. I found his eyes, and there was fury in them, spawned from what he thought was the one thing that would cost him all my trust. Why should he assume that? What did he think I was going to see? He was literally shaking with anger, and I threw open my connection with him. I was being careless in my anger and allowing a more open connection with Bran than I should have. In a split second, ungodly pain ran through my body. I dropped to my knees, clutching my stomach; I fell to my side unable to balance myself. I was gasping for air by the time I was able to shut the connection down. I never took my eyes off Bran, despite the white hot points dancing in my peripherals. He was completely nude on all fours, his body moving and shifting as though there were no natural boundaries. His skin pealed back, and reformed in a thick silver coat, but that took a long time. The wet pops and sickening brittle snaps his body was making didn't make sense to me, and I blinked hysterically trying to put into focus what I was seeing. I will never forget the horror of a body with no skin to hold it together as it moved and reshaped itself. It took a long time, for everything to finish. When it was over a small, quivering wolf was before me. I had managed to sit up long before Bran finished his transformation, and was perched near a tree for support. I don't know why I wasn't scared, but I wasn't. Maybe I was in shock? I just sat there, and stared. He was beautiful and terrible all at once. A force of nature bottled up into a creature that looked as though it could be kicked and quelled into submission. I took a deep breath, and relaxed back into the strength of the tree. It was solid and true, the ground beneath me cold and ancient, reminding me I was indeed still in reality. The birds however were silent. They knew that death was looking at me from less than ten feet away. I felt a small, tired smile creep across my face, accompanied by one hell of a headache, which caused me to pinch the bridge of my nose. Was that me or Bran? I couldn't tell, and I was really really cold now. I tried to stand up, and found my legs were as good as Jell-O. I wasn't too far from the house so I chose to ignore the hungry look on the silver wolfs face, gathered up Bran's cloths, and started to crawl. I heard a whine behind me, followed by a sharp nip on my butt. "Ouch!" I said as I turned to look at the offender. I was rubbing the sting away, when Bran trotted up and dropped a pair of lavender boxer shorts in front of me. I would have carried them for him, had he not bitten me, but I was pissed now. "You seem to have that totally under control," I bit out, "you carry those." I grabbed my bundle and continued on. By the time I got to the house, I was shaking from the cold. Certainly Montana had taught me to give it a little more respect. The heat inside was merciful, and I simply collapsed onto the floor once we were both inside. After a moment, I realized, I was too cold, and it was because I was starting to succumb to hyperthermia. My clothes were soaking wet, they needed to come off and fast. I rolled over to my back and wiggled my feet out of my boots with my toes and unzipped my coat. As I was doing that I pulled my sweater over my head and had to wait a moment after that because the effort left me so tired I wanted to sleep. I felt my eyes fluttering shut, as a soft nip on my stomach brought me back to. I managed to unbuckle my pants and push them down to about my thigh, but that was as much as I could do. I turned my head when I felt something soft brush against it and found a blanket on the floor next to me. I took it, and wrapped myself in it. I needed to get warmer, and fast. The fear produced from the danger of this situation translated into adrenaline, and as I had trained my body to do so many times before, I put myself in check. Forcing my upper half upright, I kicked off my pants, which was difficult due to the shivering. Then I crawled over to the furnace on the other side of the room and collapsed. It was wonderful, and I was safe, because Bran would watch over me. I let myself fall asleep, cognizant that a warm furry body was tucked up next to me.