There are few creatures as trusting as children. They must be, by necessity, trusting of those who are older and more experienced. Sometimes their trust is ill-placed, but to a child, most beings are innocent until proven guilty. Likewise, there are few creatures as patient as a wolf; not only must they cooperate in order to ensure everyone is fed, but they will endure after prey for miles, wearing them down to be certain of their course and strategy before moving in.
These two instincts are not exclusive, the trust of a child and the trust of the wolf are both good; when they are combined, however, it can lead to trouble, especially when one is new. Eventually, one may overtake the other; as the need for a pack grows, the childish human instincts may decrease in favor of the stronger urges that ensure both safety and survival.
Instincts to protect are as important to the wolf as the drive to hunt together. The young wolves are never involved in the danger that may befall an adult wolf on the hunt. A stray kick from a large animal can kill even the hardiest of predators. The young are there to learn; watching their elders and staying out of trouble. They know not to allow themselves the luxury of curiosity. What happens when a child's curiosity overcomes the knowledge that one should stay, and do what they've been told?
Everything comes in balance; though not always using the scales we were looking for.
Trusting
Three weeks later, Fenrir was practically tearing his hair out. The alpha werewolf was irritable, snapping at his packmates for no real reason. There was a crawling anxiousness that had taken root in the back of his skull, and he knew it had everything to do with the bushy-haired girl he had bitten. He itched to run after the pull of her bond and find her; he knew she was fine, he could feel it, but the werewolf did not like being so far away. Yet another way the girl was different. Fenrir growled a sigh, clenching his jaw to keep from escalating the noise and startling yet another poor unsuspecting werewolf. The whole pack had been on tiptoes for weeks, and he knew it was his fault. Fenrir knew he was being irrational, and yet couldn't bring himself to care. She had been distressed about something the day before, but he had no idea what about. That was the way the pack bond worked, no matter how much more she stood apart from the others; it was a pity it didn't relay more than a few feelings.
The large werewolf paced back and forth, wearing a path in front of Geira's door. She was the one who had asked him to come sit with her in the first place, and now she was making him wait. He growled when she finally opened her door.
"Good morning to you too, Alpha," she said cheerfully, like he wasn't glaring daggers at her. Her grandmotherly face sported a knowing smile, which only served to irritate him further. "Care to sit?"
Pressing his lips together, Fenrir reluctantly took a seat next to the woman's cheery fire. Holding still turned out to be harder than he expected. He watched the old werewolf putter around her hut, taking her damned time.
"Tea?"
Fenrir snorted impatiently, which earned him a sharp look.
"Don't be rude, Fenrir. You may be Alpha, but I've still got years on you yet. Sit down and have some tea."
It wasn't until she had told him to sit that he realized he was standing once more. He grunted and returned to his seat, grumbling in his native tongue. His whole body was tense, like a coiled spring, just waiting to snap. The old woman tsked at him as she finished making her tea; she handed Fenrir a cup before taking a seat herself.
"What do you want, Alpha?"
Fenrir sighed, taking a sip of his tea. He let his shoulders drop as the hot drink seemed to soothe him slightly. He knew what he wanted, he just didn't understand why.
"I want her here," he said quietly, staring into the fire. Geira was one of the only two he had told about the girl. The other was his beta, Andor, who had thought the whole thing a great amusement. They were the two who might begin feeling the pull of the bond before they met her, but Fenrir was not truly certain about anything about the girl, even such a simple thing.
"Why?"
"She confuses me," he admitted reluctantly to the elder.
Geira smiled once more, "Perhaps a puzzle will do you good, Alpha. You've been too idle these last few years."
Fenrir knew that tone. "What do you know, woman?" he growled quietly, knowing she would not give in to the quiet but blatant threat. This woman had been putting him in his place since he was fifteen, and that was not liable to change.
"I can't tell you what to do, Alpha. She's still a child, and you've already said what you're going to do. So leave her be as you choose. I'm sure you'll figure out why she confuses you, in time." The older werewolf smiled, "and make sure you finish that tea."
Fenrir sighed, the woman hadn't said anything he hadn't already thought of, and yet he felt somewhat better. He glanced into his cup and finished what was left, having drunk it quicker than he thought.
Hermione sat happily in the garden, reading her new book. Alongside her textbooks for the upcoming school year, the young witch had acquired a few choice texts on werewolves. All of which she had put down in disgust more than once; every single one of them told the same horrid, biased opinion of lycanthropy that Fen had warned her of. She growled quietly at the tomes; it hadn't been much of a curse so far; in fact, she had more energy now than ever. With the one exception being the new moon; her sleep had felt completely useless that night, but that had passed quickly. Everything was so much more colorful and alive; she could smell everything, which sometimes was not so much of a blessing. As the moon grew larger in the sky, so did the girl's excitement. It was a week away from the full moon and she was understandably nervous, but her excitement nearly swallowed her anxiety. Fen would be there to help her through, and she already had so many more questions.
A strange feeling washed over her. Something had been eating at her all day; something was changing, and she hadn't been able to put her finger on it, but now it seemed to still once more. She let the feeling cover her, a half-remembered sense of safety and warmth. Home. She looked up from her book, allowing her gaze to scan the forest behind the garden. Her eyes fell on a particular spot amongst the trees and stuck. Nothing seemed to have changed, but she knew something was there. Something good. Leaving her book, she walked toward the trees, sniffing the air subtly. As she approached, she began to smile, she knew that smell. She was not surprised when Fen's icy blue eyes met hers.
"You're early," she said quietly, but could not keep the huge grin off her face; she was so happy to see him.
"I couldn't resist checking in on my favorite new cub," he replied casually, but his scent said there was something more than that. There was a hint of what Hermione was beginning to recognize as relief in his scent.
A thought occurred to her. "So...do you have a pack?" she asked him, "Am I in your pack?"
Her question did not seem to faze him, in fact, he gave her a small grin. "I do, and you are. Does that bother you?"
The girl shook her head, "I like that. It— It's nice to belong somewhere." She could feel his eyes on her and his scent had changed as soon as the words left her mouth. Not wanting to talk about it further, she quickly changed the subject, "Do I get to meet them?"
Fen chuckled, "Maybe when you're a bit older. Let's handle one moon at a time, yeah?"
Hermione nodded. "Can—" she hesitated, she wasn't certain how he would react to her knewest thought. She really had been craving physical attention, to the point where her parents had been getting slightly concerned.
"What is it, pup?"
Sheepishly, she nearly squeaked, "Can I have a hug?"
He laughed once more, opening his arms slightly in invitation.
Smiling, Hermione bounced happily towards him. She was a little confused about this development, but Fen was not surprised.
"It's easier to tell scents apart when you're close enough to touch," he said quietly.
"That's not the only reason, though?" Hermione knew if that was simply it, it would not be such a craving.
"No, but the other is not easy to explain. Wolves need each other, pup," the older werewolf sighed, "Your time around humans may make it worse."
Hermione nodded, only half-absorbing what he was saying. "You're very warm, Alpha," she murmured quietly, not thinking as the words left her lips.
She felt Fen chuckle as much as she heard the sound, "You keep listening to that intuition of yours, pup; it'll serve you well."
As Hermione realized what she had said, her eyes widened. She hadn't meant to say that; she wasn't even sure where it had come from, but Fen had praised her for it. She quite liked the idea of his approval.
"Alright, kid," his deep, comforting voice rang out above her, "You want to run?"
She looked up at the werewolf who was swiftly becoming her friend as well as her mentor. It suddenly clicked in her head; he was her pack leader, the Alpha. That had to be why she trusted him so much. She nodded excitedly, remembering the last time they played.
Fen's eyes brightened and he crept back into the woods.
Hermione smiled and darted after him. If anything, her senses were stronger than when she had first been bitten. She ran after Fen gleefully, chasing his scent around the trees. They ran together, playing their game of chase for much longer than Hermione thought she could run for. She was hardly winded when Fen caught up to her for the third time.
The larger werewolf pulled her into his arms, laughing quietly. Hermione let out a squeal of delight and hugged the other werewolf, reveling in the safety of being with not only her own kind, but her protector. She had missed his scent and the feeling of home he brought with him. She felt so comfortable and peaceful. "It's because you're my Alpha, isn't it?" she finally asked him without voicing the rest of her thoughts.
"Which part, pup?"
"I trust you," she said simply. "I don't really know you, so that must be it."
"Don't underestimate your instincts, little one," Fen said quietly, taking a moment to lift her to sit on his shoulders.
Being up so high should not have been so comfortable for Hermione, who had never been a fan of heights, but she had no fear on Fen's shoulders. More trust.
Fen took the two of them back to her garden, setting her down near her book.
Hermione had the feeling he was going to be leaving again. "Would you come in for dinner?" she asked, not really wanting him to leave.
She watched his eyes dart up to the window of the house, "I appreciate the offer, little one, but I'm not certain I'm a welcome guest."
Hermione turned to see her mother's resigned face frowning at the larger werewolf through the kitchen window.
Fen quirked a smile and knelt to her level. "I'll see you in a week," he said quietly, and then he was gone.
"Hermione," her mother called her from inside the house.
The girl cheerfully made her way inside at her mother's behest.
"I don't like that man," Jean said quietly to her daughter when Hermione shut the door behind her.
"I trust him, Mum," Hermione said plainly.
"I know you do, darling, but he makes me nervous," Jean said, "I just want to be certain you know what you're doing. What if he's dangerous?"
Hermione lowered her head slightly, she honestly hadn't thought of it. It hadn't even occurred to her. She deliberated for a moment. "I— I don't think I have a choice, even if he is. He cares, Mum."
"How do you know, Hermione?"
"I can smell it," she said, eyeing her mother cautiously.
Jean gave a resigned sigh and nodded, "Alright, Hermione. I know you'll tell me if anything changes."
Hermione nodded, "I promise."
A/N: Full moon next week! Stay tuned!
~Rev