“I’m tired of this. I want a real life. Real home. Real friends. Real man.”

Logan just sat there, staring at the flickering flames. Minutes stretched, until he rose and walked to where they had left their bags and Marie’s horse. He had discarded the cloak he wore earlier. Now he picked it up and pulled it over his head. Put on boots he had made to hide his hind paws.
“What are you doing?” Marie asked when he slung the scabbard and the sword sheathed to it over his shoulder and secured them to his backside.
*I’m leaving.*
“Wait, we have to put out the fire and…”
*I’m leaving. You can do what the hell ever it is you want to do,* Logan spat, shouldering his knapsack.
*You can keep the silver. I have no use for it anyway…* He said and walked in to the woods, leaving her alone and stunned.

*Real man? Go. Go in to town and get yourself a real man. What would a filthy animal know about anything…* He felt strangely calm and collected. Numb. Small animals scurried hastily away from his path. He paid no attention to them. He was focused on getting away from her. Away from Marie. He had to stay calm. Otherwise he would turn back and force her to stay with him.

Knapsack slid lower from his shoulder and he growled, adjusting it. He wanted nothing more than to throw away everything. Discard restricting cloak and boots, leave behind everything. Calmness. That was the key. To stay calm. Not to listen the small murmur at the back of his mind whispering about freedom and pleasures of flesh and blood. Not to give in. Not to give up any more than he already had given.

Moon was high on the sky, just a thin silver sliver. As cold as silver on his bones. It didn’t hurt anymore. He was quite positive that he was immune to it already. It would take much more than silver bullet to stop him. Garlic made him nauseous. Holy water? Burned like acid. Both hurt him, but not enough to kill. Iron was the only strong enough material to slow him down, and they had discarded chains log ago. He would have to stay calm, because nothing in their arsenal was enough to stop him if he turned back and went after Marie.

So he walked. Tried not to think about her, or words she had thrown at him. Of course she had been right. There was very little he had to offer for her, next to nothing. He had trained her well, she wouldn’t need his protection, and truth to be told, that was the only thing left he could do for her. He wasn’t exactly perfect husband anymore. Incapable to physical relationship. It was a miracle that she had stayed with him this long.

Of course physical aspect, cuddling and lovemaking wasn’t all there was, but they both needed that. It was nice to share life with somebody, but when all you could do at the end of the day was to bid good night before you closed your eyes… It wasn’t enough. If he left, at least she could get a chance for normal life, with normal, loving husband.

He kept walking. Walked almost a week before he found the perfect place. Small cave far away from everything, surrounded by thick old forest. Entrance was narrow, more crack on the wall than actual opening, but he managed to squeeze in and found spacious cavern, bottom of it covered with soft sand.
*This’ll do.*

He dropped his knapsack. Sword and cloak followed. Boots he had discarded few days ago, they had been chafing. Stretched his back and breathed deeply. Listened small cracks and creaks from his vertebrae. He had taken on the habit of walking slightly hunched, to disguise his enormous size. It felt good to be able to relax and breathe.

He spread the cloak over the sand and curled on top of it. He didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was going to do next. He had achieved his goal. He had gotten away from her. He had let her go. Marie. He could only hope she would be safe and happy.

He closed his eyes. Burrowed to a better position, digging his hip and elbow against the sand under the cloak until he found comfortable position. Right now there really was nothing else to do, but to sleep. He’d found something later.

He woke up shaken and disoriented mere moments after he had fallen asleep. Last echoes of his own whimpering drove him out to the night. It was wrong. He knew he wasn’t supposed to follow his instincts, not charge after the deer he found standing just outside of his new home, but it gave him a plausible excuse not to analyze what exactly in the dream had made him feel so utterly helpless and terrified.

It was equally wrong to sink his jaws to deer’s stomach and tear out huge, steaming chunks of still warm flesh right after he had managed to bring it down. For the past year he had eaten only cooked meat. Waited patiently, drool dribbling from the aroma, when it sizzled and crackled above their campfire. What was the point doing it now? It was wrong, but who the hell would care if he ate his meals raw?

His hunger sated, what ever demons from his dreamscape driven away he was able to turn away from the carcass and walk to a small stream nearby to clean off the gory evidence of his banquet with cool water, rather than just lick it off.

His own reflection on the sparkling water mesmerized him. Generally he had avoided reflecting surfaces. Now he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of it. Hunched on a rock, head lowered. Moonlight giving eerie glow to his silver streaked fur. He wiped off small speckle of blood from the side of his snout. Bared his teeth. And promptly fell from his haunches on his back. First instinct telling him to run from the creature staring back from the black water.

Marie had trusted him. Had trusted the creature he had become. It had been easy to push away doubts and insecurities when everything she did gave him the impression that it was okay. He was a little different from the outside than most people, but with her it didn’t matter. Now, alone, every nagging thought and doubt came back tenfold.

For the past year he had kept telling himself that the beast was gone. Real beast was as good as vanquished. Purged from his body and mind. Silent whispers he kept hearing every now and then he had put away from his mind, dismissing them. After everything he had been through, it wasn’t strange if his thoughts strayed every now and then.

He slinked back to the cave. Emptied his knapsack to the floor. Revolvers, few silver knives and bullets. A map. Plate. White shirt and black trousers. Huge shirt and equally huge trousers. Marie had made those after he had nearly gotten caught. He didn’t like to wear them. She had done her best, cloth was soft, and both shirt and trousers sat on him, but they had felt somehow wrong. Now he put them on before he curled back to sleep.

He woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside. Werewolves were nocturnal creatures by nature, but it had been easier to avoid getting caught when he stayed on the same rhythm with Marie, so he slept through the night and traveled with her during days. His cloak was thick enough to filter off most of the sunlight from his face and sensitive eyes. He shook off the sand from it and pulled it on before he walked outside.

Immediately forest around him fell silent. Beast had woken, and animals could sense it.

He trailed his path from previous night through thicket until he found the shredded carcass of the deer. He almost managed to lie to himself that animals, probably a bear or pack of wolves had been there after he left. He hadn’t left it torn in half, sticky entrails hanging from surrounding trees and bushes. He hadn’t. Really.

*Keep lying, buddy. You’re getting pretty damn good at it…* He huffed. Grim task waited. He would have to move the carcass further from the cave before it really drew unwanted attention. He had no intentions to challenge any beast, natural or supernatural, over this lot of land. All he wanted and needed right now was a place to settle in and decide what to do next.

He managed to sniff out a fox cave not too close of his own. He dragged the carcass in front of it. He could smell fox inside. Several of them. Mother and cubs.
*Dinner is served. Don’t choke on it.*

He waited next to the carcass for a moment. Small head, covered in brown fur appeared to the entrance of the cave. Mother. Small, needle sharp teeth bared, high-pitched wailing murmur rolling from its throat. He could smell hot urine. Fox was scared out of its wits. Yet it kept up a brave façade, challenging him. He retreated, and watched from the distance when fox, after long careful moment came out. It approached the carcass, small, delicate snout wiggling, and collecting scents. Instead of digging in to offered meat it urinated on it before dusting it with generous amount of sand and retreating back in to the cave.

*Okay… Does that mean we can’t be friends?* He murmured scratching the back of his head. He had known that most of animals feared him, but he had thought that applied only to game, not predators. Well, he had more pressing issues right now than the state of the neighborhood. He had to find something to do.

He hadn’t even realized how boring life could really be. With Marie he had had always somebody to talk to. Somebody to do things with. Now, alone, it was hard to keep himself occupied. He couldn’t very well find the nearest tavern and drown his sorrows to beer. He couldn’t find an understanding ear to whom to pour out his heart. All he had were himself and his two hands. And entirely too many thoughts running through his mind. All of them about Marie. Where she was? Was she alright? Was she happy and satisfied now? Had she already found what she was looking for? Or was she in trouble? Lying in some ditch, torn and beaten because he hadn’t been there to fend off attackers?

*You are one sick fucker… Stop thinking about it,* he grunted when image of her, clothes torn and bloodied, face distorted and broken floated to his mind. If he kept thinking about her, nothing would keep him here. If he kept thinking about her, the urge to go to see if she was okay would grow until he had no choice but to hunt her down and latch on to her like eel.
*Of course she’s alright. I taught her. Taught her to be tough. How to survive. And she knew a lot to start with. She’s okay…*

She was okay. She had to be. Because he wasn’t. Silence around him, lack of her scent and sound of her voice was eating him alive. Like small, sharp-toothed animal gnawing at the pit of his stomach. For the past year she had been the one constant, the anchor keeping his base urges and instincts at bay. He had reveled in the power wolf had left in him. He had been able to do it because she had been there, reminding him constantly to which side he belonged. Now there was nobody to pull him back if he fell. Nobody to guide him through the darkness to the light. Nobody but himself.

He sat heavily in front of his cave and leaned his back to the rock wall. It was warm, facing the sun for the most part of the day. He lowered the hood of his cloak carefully, squinting his eyes against the brightness of the day. Small breeze ruffled the peaks of his ears. Almost like a touch. Just almost. He snapped his jaws, taking a bite from the invisible caress, suddenly angry and annoyed, and pulled the hood back on.

Irony? Poetic justice? Gift from above? He really didn’t care. It gave him immense satisfaction to beat the living daylights out of a wolverine that had wandered to fox cave. Slowly rotting carcass of the deer had drawn it there. Fox had attacked. Ruckus had woken Logan up.

He had gotten there when wolverine had already maimed the mother. It was trying to fit through the narrow opening of the cave, all attention turned to the whimpering cubs inside when he grabbed it and threw it several meters. He had to give some credit. Instead of backing away wolverine had charged straight at him. It had gotten in some good, solid bites and scratches before he managed to snap its spine.

Fox had been still alive. In poor condition. There had been no way it would have been able to take care of the cubs.

*Would you cut it out? I’ll throw you out, kids or no kids if you don’t stop bitching every time I move or breathe.* His new companion was less than satisfied. Fox was downright horrified, and angry as hell. He was sitting in front of the entrance, blocking its way out. Fox was growling and whining in the furthest corner of his cave, cubs tucked behind and under it. Its left front paw was limp, torn mess of bloodied fur and muscle. Several deep gouges marred its back and sides. Right ear was torn in half.

*Look… You don’t like me that much. I get it. But those kids of yours will fucking starve if you die on me. Calm down. Let me look at you. I won’t hurt you…* He crawled closer to the fox, keeping the entrance behind his back, trying to appear as small and harmless as possible. Fox curled down, shielding the cubs. He grabbed it carefully and lifted it to his lap for closer inspection. Row of small but sharp teeth sunk to his thigh. He resisted the urge to retaliate, only small warning murmur rolled from his throat.

To his amazement there were no broken bones. It didn’t change the fact that fox was lame, alone it would be as good as dead. Same faith would wait its cubs.
*What the hell do I do with you?* He muttered, letting the fox back to cubs. It limped to the corner, collecting all three little furballs at its feet, fixing fiery eyes to Logan. Hard stare told him that the animal would never trust him.

*Hell… You decide. It’s your life,* he huffed and moved out of the way. Fox fell silent, eyes darting between him and now open entrance. It took few careful steps, then turned towards the cubs. It was torn. It couldn’t leave the cubs here. It couldn’t stay here with them.

Blood trickled from the wounds, dark red splotches on the sand. Fox looked about ready to keel over. It probably would be for the best if it died. It was clearly in pain. He rose from where he sat and picked it up. It struggled a bit, then settled down, all fight and fire from yellow eyes gone. He walked out from the cave, little further to the woods.

*I’ll take care of those little critters of yours. I promise.* He knew his words most likely meant absolutely nothing to the fox, but they made him feel marginally better. He knew he would never forget the sound the fox’s neck made when he snapped it.

He buried the carcass under a big fir before returning to cave. Bravest of the three cubs had already wandered outside, and he picked it up and carried it back inside, placing it to the company of the two others.
*Okay, kids. Daddy takes a small nap. Play nicely…* He laid down in front of the entrance, blocking it with his body to keep his newly acquired litter from running away.

Week later only one of the cubs was still alive. Only one of the three brave enough to try and eat the meat he offered. They had been too young to start eating solid food, and he really didn’t have any knowledge how to teach them to eat. He had buried the dead cubs under the same fir as their mother.

Last of the cubs was a lively critter, getting on his nerves constantly. When it wasn’t trying to sneak out from the cave, it was chewing on his clothes or his toes. And his whole cave reeked of fox droppings. He tried to keep places clean, but it was impossible. As soon as he managed to throw out wet batch of sand, or small turds the cub kept producing, new ones would appear.

*Keep that up and you end up six feet under…* He growled. Cub looked up from where it sat hunched slightly forward. He could have sworn it was smirking. Unmistakable scent of urine wafted to his nose and cub yipped, sounding quite relieved, before it bounced off, probably to chew on the leather straps of his knapsack. He sighed tiredly, scooped up the soiled patch of sand and threw it out. It would probably be the best for both of them if he moved the cub back to fox cave before it wore down his nerves completely.

*Time to go, kid…* He murmured and scooped up the cub. It settled to the crook of his elbow, nuzzling against the thick fur and closed its eyes, falling to deep sleep before he had the time to step out from the cave.

At first each and every one of the cubs had been afraid, squealing and whining whenever he got close enough to touch them. Eventually the one on his lap had developed courage enough to actually explore his cave and finally even defend the other two cubs. Only female from the litter. It would probably make a good mother for her own cubs some day.

*Does it look familiar?* He asked when he laid the cub in front of the fox cave. It yipped and started bouncing around, taking in scents and sights. Suddenly it froze and high-pitched murmur bubbled from its chest. It was staring in to the night. Logan inhaled deeply. He couldn’t find anything out of place.
*What is it?* He asked, crouching next to the cub. Its whole body was stiff, every small muscle coiled and rigid, ready to bounce. He tried again. Nothing. Leaves, moss, pine… Small critters, insects, a deer little further from where they were. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Yet the cub kept spitting cusses and scraping the ground with its hind paws, ratty tail raised high up in the air. Suddenly it fell silent and crouched, back raised high up in the air, bottom jaw nearly scraping the ground. It took a giant leap in to the darkness. He bolted after it, dead on sure it had seen something threatening.

*Oh… Good cub. Good cub,* he grunted, feeling strangely proud. Cub was again growling, gigantic beetle trapped between its front paws.
*Need a hand?* He asked and reached for the beetle. It was just a beetle, but it was huge, and it had dangerous looking appendages jutting out from its jaws. Cub growled at him and crouched over its prey, eyes narrowing. He backed away. Watched when cub rolled the beetle upside down and crushed it by stepping on it before eating it. Cub would survive. Most likely it would survive.

For a moment he allowed himself to wallow in melancholy. Cub had been with him a week, out of necessity. He wouldn’t abandon it. It wasn’t skilled enough hunter yet; he would have to bring some food to it every day. Out of necessity. It had given him an escape from his own thoughts and doubts. Somebody to take care of. To keep him busy. He let out a low whine before he even realized it. Cub tilted its head and answered with a whine of its own.
*Yeah. This is your place now. I’ll come and see you tomorrow. Take care…* He murmured, resisting the urge to pet the cub.

Back at his own cave he cleaned up the cave and the entrance of it from the last traces of soiled sand and droppings before going down to creek. During the time he had spent with the cub he had kept his clothes stashed away to his knapsack after noticing how sharp teeth cubs had. His skin would heal, but he had no way to repair any damage they did to his only pair of trousers and shirt.

He could still smell the scent of fox on him. He walked to the shallow creek and lay down in the middle of it. Water was cold, but it felt good to scrub off muck and filth. Water got in to his ears and nose, and he bolted up, growling and sneezing, shaking off wetness that clung to his fur.

It didn’t take long to shake off last droplets of water. His fur was waterproof. He returned to the cave and took the shirt and trousers from the knapsack. Time to return to humanity again.

Cub had filled a void in his life momentarily. Now the cave felt empty and cold. He had growled and cussed, tired and annoyed when he had to look after it constantly, but now that it was gone, starting a life it should live, it felt like he should go and bring it back.

*Just face it. You don’t need that fox. You’re missing her.* Words echoed in the cave. Tone was bitter and tired. Marie. Fox had been a nice distraction. Now that it was out of his fur, his thoughts started to run in circles, from Marie to Marie.

*You can’t go to her. Not like this. She doesn’t need… She doesn’t want this.* He stared at his gnarled paws. Sharp, sturdy claws. Perfect for maiming and shredding. Ivory fangs jutting out from his jaws. Perfect for crushing bones. Hard and heavy muscles, and coarse, fur covered skin. Body built for battle. Perfect weapon. And what she wanted was a man. It was what they both needed.

He reached for his knapsack and rifled it through. Found small leather bound book from the bottom of it. His journal. Last entry he had made few years ago, the day he met her for the first time. He skimmed through the pages, something nagging at the back of his mind. Something he had written long ago. A possible solution.

It was a long shot. A rumor he had heard when he had been tracking down a vampire. A rumor about a real cure. Way to remove the curse of the werewolf. But it was more than he had had earlier. Suddenly he couldn’t get on his feet fast enough. He slung his belongings, cloak and sword over his shoulder. Knapsack followed suit. At the entrance he hesitated. He had a responsibility. He couldn’t very well just abandon the fox.

*Get over here, runt!* Small head peeked from the cave, curious yellow eyes taking in his changed appearance. He reached for it and grabbed it before it disappeared back in to the cave.
*I’m leaving, and you’re coming with me…*

He couldn’t trust the cub enough that it walked by his side. He stuffed it to his knapsack, and let it open just enough for the cub to push its head through to get some fresh air.
*Pee in there, and I’ll have your hide…*

*We’re in trouble, Buddy…* He whispered. Fox seemed to agree, curling against his feet. They were crouching behind a thicket. On the other side of those bushes was a large clearing, one he distinctively remembered not being there few weeks before. Group of five men were working on that clearing, chopping wood.

Out of a habit he had been traveling during day, avoiding roads and villages. Up until now it had worked, he had seen people only from distance, and he was quite sure that they hadn’t seen him. Now he had stumbled too close. If he tired to go round the clearing, men would see him. And they would become very suspicious if he didn’t answer to their greetings, or join their company for a moment to share news from the road.

*What the hell do we do now?* He muttered silently, letting his fingers slide through silky fur of the fox. It had already started shedding the puppy-fur, and he could practically tear it off in large chunks. Buddy didn’t much appreciate it. Loose fur was itching.

Suddenly decision of what to do was taken off from his hands. Buddy decided it had gotten enough of his pawing, yipped loudly and leaped over the narrow bushes to the clearing, drawing attention of the men working there.
*Shit. I kill that critter…* He huffed, standing up and making sure that the cloak covered him from head to toe before following the fox.

*Don’t touch it.* One of the men was approaching Buddy, axe raised high up in the air. He stopped and all five of them turned to look at Logan.
“It’s yours?” Old, chubby man with grey hair asked. He appeared to be the leader of this small group. Logan nodded, then realized that they couldn’t see his gesture from under the thick cloak.
*It’s mine. We’re just passing by.* He spoke with a hushed tone, trying to soften sharpest edges and slurs from his words. Old man nodded.

“Never seen a man travel with a fox before. But have seen weirder companions. Where are you heading?” He asked. Rest of the men dismissed Logan and the fox as something unimportant, and continued working.
*Nowhere in particular.* He didn’t feel like sharing his destination with these men.
“Need a job? I was supposed to have five men crew working here today, but one of them didn’t show up as promised,” old man asked.
*I’m… I don’t have the time…*
“Sure you have. Big ox like you, you could easily fill up the space of three men. I’ll pay you good. Just for today. How about it?” Man asked, clapping his shoulder for good measure. If he noticed something strange, and Logan flinching, he didn’t let it show.
“And there’s a warm meal and soft bed waiting tonight every man in my crew. You look like you could use some food and rest. Have you been on the road for long?”
*I really don’t…* He was starting to get nervous and stutter. Suddenly old man gripped his arm hard. His eyes narrowed and peered straight at Logan’s, flashing briefly yellow.
“How about it, brother?”

“We could smell you for some time already. Lurking in those bushes. But I can’t understand why you choose to walk around like that. Don’t you understand that anybody could see you? People don’t like us, you know,” old man, Matt spoke. He was sitting with the men, sharing their meal. Still shaken. They were all wolves.
*I… Uh, it’s complicated…*
“How complicated it can be? You’ll put all of us in danger!” Younger man he had heard Matt calling Alaric huffed. Matt raised his hand to silence him.
“We were all born to the pack. Our parents taught us how to behave. It looks like our youngest forgot his manners momentarily…” Matt said, casting an apologetic glance to Logan’s direction.
*Born?* Logan asked. It felt like these people were talking some strange language. None of what they said made any sense to him.
“Born. Just like anybody else. We were born just a little different. Just like you,” matt tried to explain. Logan shook his head.
*I wasn’t born this way. I was made.*

Suddenly it became very silent. Men stopped talking. He could see their hands reaching for axes they had earlier discarded.
“Filthy mutt!” He couldn’t see who shouted those words, but every man bolted up from where they sat. He could practically taste the fear and loathing that floated in the air. He scrambled hastily to his feet. Buddy sensed that something was wrong, and fled to the forest, just as he had tried to teach it to do earlier. Axes rose. All but one of them. Matt threw his weapon away and sat down again.
“Sit down, boys. Just because he doesn’t follow the way of the pack doesn’t mean that he’s a rebel…”

“There are two kinds of us. We’re Lycans. We live most of our lives as men. We belong to the pack from the birth. It’s our way. Then there are our wilder… Brothers. The ones who follow the call of the wolf. Wander around night and day, maiming, killing, and spreading the curse. Raising their ranks by biting people. Rebels. You could say that us Lycans are the good wolves, and Rebels… They’re misguided,” matt explained.
*Only good wolf is a dead wolf…* Logan whispered. Again tension in the group surrounding him rose. Matt scrunched his forehead.
“You were bitten. What were you before you were turned?”
*What does it matter? What ever I was, what ever I wanted, the mutt that bit me took it away from me. I’m looking for the cure. You seem to know a lot about these things. Have you heard about it?* Logan asked. Matt shook his head.
“I know about two kinds of cure. A potion made of silver, garlic and holy water. Then there’s ‘the cure’ hunters have to offer. Silver through heart. I’m afraid there’s nothing to take away the curse from you.”
*There has to be! I can’t… I can’t stay like this for the rest of my life!* Logan growled, throwing back the hood from his forehead.

“What is that?” Alaric asked stepping closer and poking his silver speckled cheek with his finger, then hissing from agony when metal burned him.
*Don’t touch! It’s silver!*
“I think it would be for the best if you came with us, my troubled friend. You’d be safe among your kind. We live in Salem, not too far from here. Alaric could take you there now,” Matt said, rubbing his chin.

Salem? Wasn’t he awfully close to Salem when he last saw Marie? What if she was there? Living the life she couldn’t have had with him? Could he cope with that? Seeing her happy and well without him? Perhaps with another man?
*I’m not so sure if it is a good idea. Perhaps I could come there later, if I don’t find the cure…* He started. Matt huffed.
“There is no cure! There never will be a cure! To you this may seem like a curse, but once you get control over it, you’ll see… You’ll see it’s more of a blessing. Come with us. We may be able to help you. You seem like a decent man.”

*There has been only one person in my life I have trusted. Trusted with my life. How can I be sure that you’re telling me the truth?* Logan asked. Something in the way Matt kept eyeing him, almost hungrily, made him suspicious.
“You can, and you should trust me. Why would I lie to you? Our village is small. Crops we grow on our fields are equally small. They’re enough for us. But we have neither food nor roof to spend on to drifters and slackers. Come with us. See for yourself. Spend some time with us, and then decide if you stay or leave,” Matt said.
*And if it feels like it isn’t the place for me?* Logan asked, trying to gouge the feelings of the men surrounding him.
“You’re free to go. We won’t try to stop you,” Matt said.

Scent assaulted him first thing when Alaric opened the door. Marie. Strong scent of herbs, candle wax and something that was just Marie. Yet he couldn’t sense anybody in the small house.
“This place has been empty for few days. Woman who lived here left us,” Alaric explained, urging Logan to step in.
“You can live here for now. For free. We’ll see later… If you want to stay, I’m sure that owner is willing to sell this for you…”
*Where did she go?* Logan asked.
“Who? The owner? She still lives in here, but she bought herself a smaller house after her husband died.” Logan huffed and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t completely sure if the boy was really an idiot, or just acting like one.
*The woman who lived in here before me! Where did she go?* He asked. Alaric threw him a hasty sidelong glance before going to the fireplace and wiping off imaginary speckles of soot from in front of it.
“She just left. We didn’t ask her why. Perhaps this wasn’t what she was looking for, who knows? But enough of her. As you can see, you have most essentials in here already, bed, table and chairs. Pots and pans. And everything you need you can get from your neighbors, and merchants from the marketplace.”
*When did she leave?* State of his new home wasn’t the top priority for Logan now.
“Couple days ago. Uh… Look, uh, sir…”
*Wolverine. You can call me Wolverine.*
“Wolverine. I have to return to work. But my mother and father live right next door. My dad, he’s a blacksmith. If you have any questions, or if you need anything, don’t hesitate to visit,” Alaric said before bolting out of the door.

He crouched next to the fireplace, resting his elbow against the cool stone. Marie. Marie had been here. Surrounded by a pack of beasts. Had she really left? Just left?
*Oh, God…* He hadn’t turned to God in ages, not after he had been cursed. Now he bowed his head to a prayer. While he had been wallowing in his self-pity, she had been living among beasts. He couldn’t smell blood anywhere nearby, but that didn’t mean a thing. They could have dragged her outside.
*I’m not one of Yours anymore. She never was… Shouldn’t mean a thing to you… Just keep her safe. She may not swear in Your name, but she’s… She’s my salvation…*

Blasphemy? Would God reach out and strike him down now? And for what? Sins he had already committed before were far greater in Logan’s eyes than the plea he had uttered. He had nothing left to loose. If God chose this moment to extract His revenge and decided to rain down His wrath upon him… Let Him. There was every possibility that Marie was still alive, and just on the road, but even greater was the possibility that she was already dead. Sure, his new ‘friends’ seemed like a decent people, but they were just a pack of wolves.
*What do we do now, Buddy…* He muttered, scratching the fox that had followed him inside.

Buddy had no answers. Actually, Buddy wasn’t all that interested about him right now. It was sniffing around in the house, checking corners and neatly swept floors. Buddy had no care in this world.
*Maybe we should go to see our new neighbors…* Logan grunted standing up and shouldering his knapsack again. He wasn’t going to leave his belongings alone. Not in here.

House and the store downstairs looked empty and silent, but he could hear noise from behind it. He walked past the front porch to the backyard. Noise was coming from a small shed. He could smell burnt metal, coals and water. He knocked on the door of the shed. Banging and clanking noise stopped, then door flung open. Tall, muscular man wearing a leather apron, carrying a heavy looking hammer stood in the doorway, looking at him expectantly.

“Good day, my good sir. What can I do for you?” Man asked. Logan stepped past him in to the shed, away from the sun, and pulled down the hood from his head. Man didn’t even flinch, but his smile got even wider.
“You must be Wolverine! Alaric stopped by and told us you’d be moving in today! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mick,” he said, extending his hand. Logan hid his paws to the sleeves of his cloak.
*It’s not a good idea to touch me. But it’s nice to meet you, too. Alaric told me to stop by if I had any questions,* he murmured. Mick looked little taken aback for his refusal of a handshake.
*Silver. It’s all over me,* Logan explained, uncovering his paws and revealing gleaming silver claws and silvery fur. Mick nodded, then turned towards his forge. Picked up the rod he had been smiting and shoved it in to the furnace to heat it again.

“So… What is it that you wanted to know?” He asked, tone of his voice still conversational, but his whole posture rigid.
*The woman. The one who left.* It was probably best to be honest.
“Rogue? What about her?” Mick asked.
*I know her. And I’m worried.*
“Worried? I would be too. Small and nice girl like her… She’s one of a kind. What is she to you? Daughter? Sister? Friend?” Mick asked.
*Wife. We parted ways little over a month ago. She… She might be a little too trusting because of me…* Logan spoke, starting to ponder if it was truly him that was being too trusting for his own good.
“All I know is what Alaric told me. He had seen her when she was leaving. Everything packed and ready. She didn’t even know who we are. Didn’t know about the pack. Alaric told me she had been crying. She had told him that she had made some horrible mistake, and that she was going to rectify it. Then she had just left.”

He couldn’t smell a lie on Mick. Just sweat and hot metal. Man was telling the truth. Yet he couldn’t discard his suspicions.
*Who is this Alaric, anyway?* He asked. Mick stirred glowing coals in the furnace.
“He’s my son. He helped Rogue a lot while she lived in here. Repaired the house. Made a garden. Talked with her. He was even going to go after her when she left. Just to keep her safe. It’s not a good idea for a lone woman to wander around…” Mick said.
*It’s not. Especially around here…* Logan murmured.
“Alaric told me that you were bitten. I can understand why you don’t trust your kin. But believe me, your wife was safe as long as she lived in here. We’re wolves just like the Rebels, but we do not hunt man.”
*That’s what Matt told me. I find it hard to believe. Of course you would tell me that.*
“And why would we lie to you? You’re no different from us!” Mick huffed; taking the rod he had been heating and placing it to anvil. Deafening sound of iron against iron drove Logan out from the shed.

*No different? Really?* Buddy had waited patiently outside. Now it yipped, trying to draw his attention. It was hungry. So was he. Confused, angry, and ravenous. Lately it hadn’t mattered how often, or how much he ate. Hunger was his constant companion. Yet when the scent of freshly baked bread and stew wafted over where he stood from the marketplace he felt only nauseous.

He had been a good man. Hunted? Yes. But just small animals, rabbits mostly, and prepared them over fire before eating. Even Buddy had adapted on eating cooked meat instead of raw. Now mere thought of red meat, still dribbling with blood the beating heart kept pumping made his mouth water.

*Stop it,* he whispered quietly and shook his head, donning the hood of his cloak again. Made his way over to where a woman was selling smoked and dried meat. He bought generous amount of it with few copper coins he still had left. Meat was dark brown, nearly black, and tasted nothing but salt. He chewed on the leathery strips and flushed them down with water he drew from the well, wondering what to do next. Buddy had discarded few scraps of meat he had thrown for it and left. It was probably hunting for mice. Small, pliant bodies flowing with life. He wanted to join to its company. Feel the thrill of the hunt. Taste the warm blood. He forced himself to stay on the porch of his new home. Salt was bitter on his tongue, but if he imagined enough, it was almost close enough for the real thing.

Everything seemed to be so normal. Just an ordinary village, filled with ordinary men and women, doing ordinary things in the light of the day. Everybody was friendly. Complete strangers passing by nodded him their greetings. Children played at his feet, just few meters away. Scent of Marie was floating in the air, faint, but traceable. It hadn’t rained for few days. He could follow it. He could follow it as long as he kept close to the house. The further he got the more jumbled the trail got, until he lost it completely. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Marie. He would have to find her. He would find her, eventually. He was sure of it.

*Maybe she really just left. Maybe she’s out there looking for… Me?* Yes. He could see her, on her horse. She had her herbs and weapons with her. She was fine. She was better than alright. She was very alive, just slightly worried. Those brown eyes scanning her surroundings. Hand clutching the hilt of her sword. Shrouded in silver from head to toe.

He felt only marginally better when he opened his eyes. But better enough to actually take a good look around him. These weren’t hideous beasts. These weren’t animals he had sworn to slay. People surrounding him were just people. Men and women with children, trying to get through their lives, just like anybody else.

Realization made it even harder to comprehend Marie’s actions. Why she had left? Everything she had wanted she could have found from here. Even husband. Logan snorted and narrowed his eyes. Alaric. From what his father had told him, boy had become quite close with Marie. He would have to talk with him as soon as he returned with Matt and the rest of his crew. Judging from the position of the sun being quite low on the sky it wouldn’t take long.

He had left his new home without really taking a good look around him. He decided it was time to snoop around. Maybe he could find something, anything that would clear the situation for him.

House was small. First floor was organized to some kind of store. Small pot hung in the cold fireplace. There was something in it. Hardened tallow. She had been making candles. To sell them? Probably. There was only one room upstairs. A bed. Dressing table. Small stool in the corner with pail and pitcher placed on top of it. Small lump of soap next to them. He opened the drawers from the dressing table. They were all empty except the top one. It held her hairbrush. The one she had gotten from Claude. He pocketed the brush. She would want it back. She had loved those combs and brushes.

Her scent was strongest here. He walked to the bed. Caressed the sheets with one clawed paw. She had slept on those. Pillow was saturated with her scent. He lifted it up to his face and inhaled deeply. Tears. Sweat. Marie. Herbs. He buried his face to it. He felt like crying. He felt like tearing in to the pillow. He felt like reaching out, she was there, had been there just days ago, and if he tried hard enough he could catch her before she disappeared and everything would be okay.

Except nothing was okay. She was skilled candle maker. She wouldn’t have left tallow in the pot. The thing was nearly full of spoilt tallow. She wouldn’t have left the hairbrush. And she would have probably found a way to take several of the items still left in the house with her.

Knock on the door interrupted him.

*What the hell happened in here?* He snarled, his teeth bared and grasped the front of Alaric’s shirt, pulling him in and closing the door. Alaric fought against his hold feebly, trying to avoid touching him with his bare hands. Logan slammed him against the door and curled his free left hand around young man’s throat. Scent of burning flesh and blood made his mouth water.
“Let go… Let go… Burns…” Alaric’s face distorted to a pained grimace.
*Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck, runt…* Logan purred, leaning closer and flashing rows of silvery fangs for Alaric. Man paled and fell limp.
*One good reason, that’s all I’m asking…*
“I know where she is…”

“You have to understand. We’re not bad people. Most of what Matt and my father told you is true…” Alaric spoke with hushed tone, rubbing his throat carefully. They sat face to face on the floor. On the second floor they could have been sitting on a chair and a bed, but Logan didn’t want Alaric anywhere near Marie’s bedroom.
*Not bad people?* He snorted and grimaced.
“Would you at least listen to me before you judge us all?” Alaric asked. Logan shook his head, thick tendrils of drool falling to the floor around him. He wasn’t really in a talking mood. Whispers were getting louder inside of his head. He swallowed the murmur that tried to squeeze through his gritted teeth.
*Talk.*

“Every one of us is born Lycan. And for my knowledge every one of us follows the way of the pack. We do not spread the curse. Hell, many of us have already forgotten what it is like to answer to the call of the moon. And lately… Children are born and after every generation wolf in us is weakening. You have seen those kids that play outside? Wolf is still in them, but they can’t let it out. They can’t transform.”
*Isn’t that a good thing?* Logan asked. Alaric chuckled.
“Most of the people would think so. I think so. But elders of our pack… They’re worried. Afraid that if we let the wolf in us die, Rebels will take over.”
*That’s not a good thing…* Logan grunted. Alaric shook his head.
“No. It’s not.”
*What’s killing it? The wolf?* Logan asked.
“Age. And closed gates of our village. For past five decades nobody has moved in to Salem. No new blood to strengthen the line. When Rogue came… She was supposed to be the savior. Mother of the new line. New beginning.”
*What?*
“She was supposed to become my wife. Give birth to my children.”

It was hard not to tear in to the boy sitting in front of him. When his enraged snarl made him shiver and lean back slightly Logan was able to suppress the sudden urge to sink his jaws to his throat. At least the runt was submitting.
“We didn’t want that. Rogue and I. She doesn’t want me. I don’t want her. I helped her to escape and told everybody that she had left. At first they were going to go after her, but I told them that I had seen a band of Rebels going after her, so they gave up.”

Logan stood up and started pacing back and forth, rubbing his arms and cracking his knuckles nervously. Silver under skin, covering his bones, was itching. He was itching all over. Marie was somewhere out there. This pathetic runt in front of him knew where she was. And kept yapping his jaws about something he couldn’t have cared less. Why wouldn’t he just shut his mouth and take him to Marie?
“I hid her nearby. I have been taking her food and other supplies. She won’t leave. I have tried to tell her that it would be safer for her if she left, but she keeps telling me that she’s waiting for somebody…”
*Shut up.*
“I guess she’s waiting for you.”
*Shut up.*
“Must be you. You’re her husband, right?”
*Shut the fuck up!*

He couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed the younger man’s shirt, bunching it around his fists and yanked him up, slamming him against the wall, pushing him there with his body, his own body vibrating from the suppressed howl, bared teeth hovering only inches above Alaric’s face.
*I’m sure that I would appreciate your ability to tell stories if we had met under different circumstances… Right now you’re the only thing standing between my wife and me… And that’s not a good place to be…* Alaric’s eyes narrowed, and to his surprise he leaned even closer to him, nostrils flaring.
“What have you eaten?”
*None of your concern… Right now I’d be more worried about what I’m going to start eating if you don’t take me to Ma… Rogue soon…*
“I can’t take you to her…” Alaric managed to mutter just before Logan’s paw curled around his throat again.
*Think again…*

He squeezed almost gently until Alaric had turned nearly black and blue from his face before he let him go. Young man slid to the floor, coughing and gagging. Logan didn’t even try to resist his instinctual reaction. He kicked the boy to the side. He’d be tearing big chunks out of Alaric soon if he didn’t obey. Alaric curled on his side, trying to crawl away from him.
“I can’t take you to her… They have poisoned you…” Poison or no poison, the punk was keeping him away from Marie.
*You will take me to my wife!*
“No! I’d rather die! She doesn’t deserve…”
*Rather die? I can arrange that…*
“Kill me and you’ll never find her… She’ll die. She’ll starve to death...“
*Take me there!*

He was holding Alaric up, shaking him, trying his best not to tear him up yet.
“I won’t tell you where she is.” He backhanded the boy, breaking his nose and splitting his lip.
*Insubordinate whelp…*
“Poisoned you… You’d rape her as soon as you see her…”

He lay on the ground shivering, muscles tingling and cramping.

***”Two herbs, to draw out the wolf…”***

He had no idea where he was.

***”Accident… They’ll burn you up… Leave…”***

He had no idea what had happened.

***Young man, pale face. Running. Running and screaming.***

He crawled on his hands and knees, trying to stop the trembling.

***”You have to stop!”***

He fell on his back, and blinked twice. Sun was high on the sky.

***People screaming. Red haze. Pure rage. Power. Wolf tearing forth.***

He sat up slowly, breathing deeply. Shook his head to clear off the cobwebs covering his mind.

***KILL***

His skin felt cold and clammy from laying out here naked. Skin. There was something wrong with it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it right now. Somebody was coming. He was all alone, completely naked and somebody was walking to his direction. A woman. She was carrying some sort of weapon. He recognized the shape vaguely. A… A sw… A sword? He tried to stand up again, but his legs refused to cooperate. He started crawling towards the thicket lining the path he had woken on. There were cuts and bruises on his hands. Huge, jagged tears still bleeding all around his body.

“Logan…” Too late. Woman was standing in front of him. He shook his head to throw back thick mop of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. Lifted his gaze. Woman was kneeling. She had discarded her weapon.
“Logan… I missed you…”

Logan?

***”Wolverine. You can call me Wolverine.”***

Woman helped him up. Again there was something wrong. Something wrong in the way she supported him so easily, small hand wrapped around his waist, other holding his hand in place where he had slung it over her shoulder. She was small. He could tell it by comparing her to their surroundings. She shouldn’t have been able to drag him up so easily.

***Running. Sun setting in the horizon. Leaping forward. Jaws locking around the thick neck of his prey.***

He tried to warn her. Of what, he didn’t know. He could feel the soft mound of her breast through her shirt under his palm. Sharp. Something sharp. His hands.
“Careful… They’re sharp…” Except there was nothing sharp. His fingernails were blunt. Little jagged and torn from places, but not sharp. As blunt as his teeth.

***Tearing in to warm flesh. Blood.***

“It’s not far. Just hang on.” He couldn’t have let go of her even if he wanted. Her grip from around his wrist was like an iron manacle.
“We have to stop that bleeding soon…” Stop it? Why the hell was he even bleeding? What the hell was going on?

***Screaming. Sound of tearing flesh and skin all around him. They were transforming. All of them. He had chased down one of them, right in the middle of their lair.***

“Alaric! Open the door! I found him!”

***”Wolverine! Stop! You have to stop! Wait!”***

“He’s in bad shape…”
“Help me get him in to bed…”
“…coming soon. You have to get him out…”
“He can’t even walk!”
“I’ll see what I can do…”
“And throw that fucking fox out! It’s getting in the way!”

Buddy. She was screaming. Somebody was cursing. Loud thud. Buddy. He had to get up.
“Let go! Let go! Buddy!” Fox lay in the corner. Unconscious? He struggled free from their hold and stumbled to it. It was still breathing.

***Small cub, curled on top of his chest. Sleeping. Easy prey for him. Nothing but a mouthful of fur and bones. Sick, but it was getting better. This one had better stay alive.***

“Hands off…” He tried to stand taller. His size was usually enough to scare them off. It wasn’t working. They subdued him easily and pushed him back to the bed. Bed. Last time he had been in here it had been too small for him.

***Marie. Screaming and struggling. Kicking him. Standing up and striking him with a branch.***

Weak. He was so fucking weak and alone. Completely alone and empty. Why couldn’t they just let him be? He’d be all right. As soon as they left he’d be all right, just him and Buddy. They’d rest for a while, then they could continue searching her. Marie. She was out there somewhere.

***”I know where she is.”***

As soon as he got back his strength he would take Buddy and leave. For now it seemed that he had no choice but to obey his captors.

“Logan, you have to stay awake. I can’t carry you…” Marie. She was talking to him. Putting clothes on him, trying to be careful. He cringed when her jostling stretched the tender wounds. Marie. She was here. Talking to him. Touching him. And she sounded scared. He tried to take in her scent, but found his sense of smell, as well as all his other senses strangely dulled. And he felt sick.
“Alaric has been gone for too long. Something has happened. We have to get out of here before they come after us… Come on, lets see if you can stand on your own…”

It was a brief struggle but finally he stood on his two feet, swaying slightly. Marie was still shorter than him, but something wasn’t adding up. Something was wrong with the way she could so easily push him around. Something was wrong with the way he could feel his clothes against his skin where it wasn’t covered with thick bandages. How he could slide his tongue over his teeth without getting nicked. And how the skin at the back of his hands looked, light and hairless… It was too much. He shook his head and grunted in approval when Marie grasped his hand and pulled him after her. His trust in her hadn’t been misplaced before; it most likely wouldn’t prove otherwise now.

A horse was waiting outside. Black and sleek, strong looking animal. He could hear Marie muttering a silent praise to her Goddess. She climbed on to the saddle and stretched her hand.
“Come on. We have to hurry.” He shook his head. This wasn’t how it was done. He’d crush the horse under his weight or it would throw them both down and run in fear of him. But Marie urged him to climb behind her.

He settled down carefully, wrapping his arms around Marie’s waist and trying his hardest not to scare the animal under him. He could hear shouting and loud howls from the distance, then it took all his strength to hang on to Marie when she urged the horse forward.

They rode through the night. He couldn’t hear anything threatening from anywhere close, but apparently Marie knew better than him about what was going on, because she kept up a steady pace, allowing the horse to rest only short periods.

When first rays of sun appeared to the horizon he hid his face against the back of her neck, whimpering, expecting the sun to scald his eyes. Without his cloak he’d be blind after few minutes. He scrunched his eyes tightly shut, letting the cascade of her silky hair cover his face from the threat looming at the sky in front of them. He felt Marie’s hand on his thigh, squeezing comfortingly.
“It’s okay, Logan. It’s okay. Look.”

Look? Why on earth would he… He raised his head hesitantly and opened his eyes, just a small crack to let the light in, not daring to open them completely.

There was no pain. Only slight buzzing inside of his skull and exhaustion in his bones, both born from fever that was burning in his veins, but the first small glimpse from the sun made him gasp and open his eyes properly. And it clicked.

The Wolf was gone. Gone for good.