Lovers Meetings

From the Story Arc: Hunting High And Low

Previous Story in the Arc: We Three by Victoria Victrix (Thursday, January 22, 2009)

Next Story in the Arc: Firefight by Victoria Victrix (Thursday, January 22, 2009)

(posted Thursday, January 22, 2009)

Red looked down at her, his eyes suddenly gone soft and forgiving above his signature scarf. "Hey," he said, the coldness gone from his voice. "You... you can't get rid of me that easily."

Words Vickie had never expected to hear. She looked up. He stood mere inches from her, looking down intently into her eyes. "Red?" she said, voice breaking.

He held her face, and sighed. "Can't give you up..."

She flung herself at him and held him, and held him. And his arms went around her again, as she shook and tried not to cry. "....oh Red...."

"Shh..." he said, one hand on the back of her head, keeping her face held to his chest.

" can't....just love the good parts...." she faltered, around the tears she was holding back.

"I love you," he replied, quietly.

"...and if that was....what you were in love with...."

"I love YOU," he said, with emphasis. And she knew then that somehow, she had been given a gift she in no way deserved, but needed the way she needed air.

The she-wolf’s own crying woke her. She was encircled protectively by the he-wolf, like a cub. The strange vision faded from her mind immediately, leaving behind only that bottomless sadness. She laid her head back down on her forepaws, and closed her eyes. She didn’t understand the dreams. She didn’t understand the sadness. But she felt a terrible certainty that the latter would always be with her now.

She did understand that this he did not have a pack. And that was wrong. He was young, strong, healthy, canny. He should have a pack.

So when at last he woke, and rose, and went out to hunt for her, she waited, and went out on a hunt of her own.

Her nose was good, and the Wild Hunt was too far away to be a threat, although just to be certain, she gave herself a good roll in what was left of a carcass. Then she went looking for a pack, a big pack. When she found one, it did not take her long to also find a young she who was restless, and by her scent, the daughter of the alpha. She would not mate this year, probably not the next or the next, not unless a wolf other than her father dared the wrath of the alpha to try. She was old enough, more than old enough, to have pups, and she wanted them. When she trotted off alone to the creek to drink, the she-wolf was waiting for her.

Alpha-daughter’s hackles rose, then dropped when she saw it was another she that waited for her. There was ritual sniffing, then the she-wolf made the lead-on motions, and looked back over her shoulder.

Alpha-daughter paused. Her head swung between the she and the location of her pack. Once. Twice. The she snorted. Alpha-daughter made up her mind.

Shoulder to shoulder, they loped back to the hidden den.

When the he-wolf returned, he found two shes waiting for him. The new one was all tail-wags and flirty-playfulness. The little one stood back and watched them.