Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

39. True Wolf

"I'm sure." Akrum seemed to struggle to keep his face solemn. "Tonight's rites come from the old order of the world. They bring back what we have lost, the gift of the First Children, born to the Great Foremother without a mate."

Her arms flew up, stopped before reaching for him, then her fingers curled and her arms dropped back to her sides. They dangled like ropes.

"I know all this," she said at last.

"Then why do you ask again?"

"Because I know it from you. You've recited this tale to us throughout the winter. Every night you've repeated the same thing."

"Exactly as my father had told me."

The argument was over for him, but not for Naktim. She blew stray hair out of her face. "You've said again and again that on the first full moon of the summer, the boon will be granted. That the rites are our hope."

"Yes."

"But do you believe it? That the new generation of Walkwe would quicken tonight in the women's wombs, fatherless?"

"Yes."

Naktim's eyes blazed from an argument she was about to make, a killer argument, but Volya couldn't bring himself to care. Blood pounded in his ears as the pieces of the puzzle fit together, but he couldn't see the whole picture. It was there, right in front of him, but somehow it slipped to the edge of his awareness. He was a fatherless boy, sure, but the fatherless fatherless? What the heck could that mean?

Desperate, he looked to the sky, where the mist-wolf spread out thinner, coating the entire sky, covering even the moon.

You were born fatherless. Fatherless-fatherless, the whisper wafted on the wind.

Naktim harrumphed, pulling Volya's attention back to her.

"If the boon is granted, if the ancient magic embraces us, if it happens, it would be because of the healing and magic of the Sanctuary you had opened to us. You should be there." She pointed at the bonfires.

The chant paused, broken off by laughter, then silence. A fire-lit figure soared over the bonfire, to land on the other side safely. Whooping cheered the next woman on. The chant resumed, speeding up in time with another runner's acceleration. It vibrated the mighty oaks and cut off when she leapt.

Both Akrum and Naktim turned their heads to watch the dancers fly over the flames. It seemed to Volya that Akrum sighed in relief at the distraction.

Two more women leapt, cheered on by the chant, before Akrum cleared his throat.

"I only did what I was born to do." His voice was barely audible over the festive noise. "And now, I'm more useful for scouting and planning the raid."

"So am I," Naktim argued. "Like you've said, some of us will become mothers, some of us will fight. I've always wanted to fight. I still do."

"You will," Akrum promised, without a trace of condescension. "You will."

"Then let me come with you."

"Whenever I leave the Sanctuary, I wish I didn't have to go alone, but..."

"But?"

"I have to go alone."

Naktim pursed her lips. For a second it looked like she was ready to huff and stomp away.

Akrum couldn't hold back a self-deprecating smile. Probably because of this sad smile, Naktim didn't stalk away.

"Tell me why you have to scout alone," she demanded.

With nothing except the trees and the night sky behind his back, Akrum managed to look cornered. He took a deep breath in, checked over his shoulder, and almost pressed his lips to Naktim's ear. The two cleaved so close, that Volya didn't think he'd hear Akrum's secret.

However, by some miracle he did.

"I scout in the true wolf form," Akrum whispered.

Her eyes went wide. "A true wolf? Do you mean, as a wolf, not as a werewolf?"

Naktim reminded Volya of his scientist friends who always asked him to confirm and re-confirm every little thing.

Akrum's face flushed with embarrassment. "A werewolf is a warrior's form. I'm not a warrior."

"True wolf is a shaman's form," Naktim said flatly.

"And I'm not a shaman either. It's perfect for an outcast chased away from the tribe, and so that's what the Spirits had bestowed on me."

"Your father—" Naktim started, then cut herself off. "Gah, what does it matter now! What matters is that you have a shaman's form."

"It's also perfect for a stalker of the Walkwe's mortal enemies. A stalker, not a warrior nor a shaman. The Spirits help me to fulfill my destiny and help the Walkwe to find the Old Way."

Naktim chewed the inside of her cheek, considering. "Your destiny as a Sacrifice?"

"My destiny, whatever it is," Akrum said firmly. "Please, don't tell anyone about my gift to avoid doubts. When the new shaman awakens to her role, she should be the only one."

"I won't tell them," Naktim promised—and didn't move an inch.

"You don't believe me," Akrum murmured. "Of course, you don't believe me."

"Oh, I believe you, Akrum," Naktim replied. "And I want to see it with my own eyes."

She even touched them, her eyes, huge in the shadows of their sockets.

Without another word, Akrum's body went perfectly still. The little shifts and twitches and whatnot of any living body disappeared. The steady rhythm of the breaths' intakes silenced. He no longer blinked.

The appearance of a statue was deceptive. Under Akrum's skin, Volya could sense the frantic work of the bio-matter. The cryptic commands of the mind overwrote reality, breaking down the human shape and building something different.

With a whoosh, the rigid bipedal shape gave way. Akrum folded, stretched, sprouted hair, extended bones of the jaw and the spine... everything at once... until a wolf stood in his place.

His fur was jet-black, offset by smoky-gray on his jaw and chest. Yellow eyes shone with frightening intelligence.

Akrum-as-a-wolf raised his snout to the moon, sending forth a howl that echoed for miles. Curved fangs flashed in the moonlight, eager to tear into flesh of his prey. If Volya was corporeal, he'd have goosebumps running up his forearms.

In response to Akrum's howl, the pack appeared out of the shadows, in ones and twos.

Volya had thought them larger than they ought to have been, when he'd seen them for the first time. Akrum was larger still. As a man, he wouldn't turn heads on the streets. As a wolf, he was an alpha predator, a direwolf, no question about that.

Once the echo of his howl died down, the merrymaking at the bonfires resumed. Cheers for the gathering wolves flew into the sky along with the sparks.

Led by Akrum-as-a-wolf, the pack melted into darkness.

Naktim watched the shifting mist over the river for longer than Volya could watch her. His overwhelmed mind fought to stay in the past, until the vision faded to black.