Chosen by the Fates

A Brief Moment of Quiet

Sol~

I sit between Skoll and Hati, legs folded under me and eyes closed. The steady rhythm of our collective breathing settles my nerves. My wolf stirs within me, still asleep after our multi-day run, but that will not last.

Our pack met this morning to discuss the scent my wolf discovered on the boundaries of our territory. We will be running tonight to scout it out. It has been about a day and a half since I woke. I still have not texted Aisling, nor do I intend to until I can be reliable enough to see her.

Skoll and Hati have asked me to join them in meditation this afternoon. This is more than just for relaxation, but a way in which the knowledge of our ancestors can be shared. Each of my breaths in is filled with the scent of incense. Cedar, pine, and something else I do not recognize. Likely some rare herb gathered from Skoll’s personal garden.

“The mate bond is sacred. It is the beginning of a new pack, and the end of ties to your past family.” Skoll’s voice fills the room we meditate in. Reverberating off the wooden floors.

I feel my body fall away, even as my wolf remains asleep. I can see the room in my mind’s eye first. The walls are filled with ancient artwork inspired by wolf myths around the world. Then my mind is filled with images and sounds, the shared memories of our pack, and all those which came before.

“Our wolves are born from the wind, the rain, and the hunt in the Beyond. It is the Beyond that informs your wolf of your mate. It is the beyond that ties her to you. The very essence of your wolf is as natural as the dawn and dusk. You can no more refuse it than you can the moon from rising. It simply is.”

Skoll’s voice speaks with the weight of words borne from our ancestors.

“Our bodies are born from Midgard. Even we are not meant to understand the Beyond, your human mate less so.

To deny the bond is to deny yourself. To lose yourself, which leaves only the wolf.

The difficulty you face is not in resistance. One cannot resist a storm.

So do not resist your wolf. Instead understand the bond which challenges your humanity.

Time, touch, affection while your wolf is awake will empower your wolf.”

Even when I sleep, my wolf runs in my dreams. In my centuries of life, I’ve known my wolf would become quiet. How had I never thought that my wolf actually might be sleeping during those times?

“You must wear your wolf down before these interactions. This will allow your mind to remain yours, and give your mate the space she needs to understand her connection to you.”

Then it’s time to test the limits of my Wolf’s energy.

The scenes before us fade. When I open my eyes, I feel the weight of Skoll’s gaze on mine.

“There is one more thing.

I know this need not be said…” Her voice is gentle.

I already know what Skoll is about to say, it is why I ran when I realized I was losing control of my wolf.  

“…She must accept the mate bond before you mark her. The change destroys the unwilling. It is critical you keep your wolf too exhausted interfere.”

I’d seen only a few humans marked who did not want the change, or who were conflicted about it. But it only took one failure for the images to be burned forever into my memory.

Wolves rarely mark humans. I had never marked a human, nor did I ever intend to. And because the mate bond is rare, the most common reason for a wolf to mark a human is love. It makes a failed mark that much more painful for those who have witnessed it.

Hati places their hand on my shoulder. The graceful lines of their features perfectly illuminated by the afternoon light. Hati has always been sensitive to the feelings of others, more so with our family. I lean into the comfort of their reassuring touch.

“Until this is resolved, I give you leave of your duties. For your sake, and your mate’s. I look forward to meeting her one day soon.” Skoll’s smile is the weathered expression of a woman whose body has been shaped and molded by thousands of changes of the seasons. She is the wisest woman I know, and I am thankful to have her as my Alpha and mother.

I bow my head, baring the back of my neck in thanks to her blessing. I hear the rustle of movement, followed by another hand joining Hati’s on my shoulder. When I lift my eyes, I am met with the loving gaze of my pack leaders.

I know I will succeed because of their wisdom and guidance.

My eyes are drawn to the windows. The sun has already crossed its zenith, and this time of year it falls swiftly. It will soon be time for the Pack to gather.  

I should run before that.

***

Aisling~

Ashleigh sets my backpack down beside the love seat, then pauses. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

It’s dark out now, and I am reminded of the wolves. Wolves don’t hunt people. I nod. He smiles, grabbing his coat and scarf. I do the same. I’m still pulling on my second glove when we step outside.

It has been several days since the last snowfall, and the sun has melted a lot of it into a firm crunchy consistency that is loud to walk on.

We walk down into the clearing around the house. I hear him intake a sharp breath. When I look over, his eyes are on the sky filled with stars.

One of the advantages of living where we do, and of our home city being more remote, is the lack of light pollution. It makes everything in the night sky more vivid.

I smile, watching the delight dance across his features, “Haven’t been to many rural places?”  

“Not since I was a kid.” His voice is soft.

We stand together in a comfortable silence for a while, just looking up at the stars.

When he finally speaks, his tone is thoughtful, “When I asked about your dreams, whether you think they are real… we were interrupted.”

We start walking again as we talk.

“I was sort of hoping you’d forget my dumb question.” I sigh.

“Why?” He studies me.

“Because that’s not how dreams work. The world isn’t like that.” My voice sounds wistful. I wish it was. Is my unspoken thought.

“What if it was?”

I assume he is being philosophical, until I glance sideways and catch how intensely he is looking at me again. We’ve walked until the light of the house is obscured by trees, but the moon light reflected of the snow brightens everything in a strange monochromatic cast.

A pressure builds at my temples as I consider his question. He wouldn’t ask that if he remembered that night… I feel heat rushing to my cheeks just thinking about the dream as I look at his beautifully ardent features.

I laugh, “You wouldn’t need to ask that if you had been in my dreams.”

His reply is so earnest sounding, “And if I have?”

My heart stops when I look up to see his face inches from mine, his bright eyes searching mind as they have so many times. He’s so close… and unmistakable serious. My heart does a flip. The entire dream fills the forefront of my mind, bringing a flush to my cheeks.

I want to know why he’s saying that. But I have no way to ask without giving away how intimate the dream had been. I’m conflicted, caught between common sense and the pull of something that can only be considered irrational.

It’s not possible. Is it…?

The pressure at my temples reaches a crescendo of sharp pain. I wince, closing my eyes and rubbing at my temples in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

“Aisling?” His voice breaks with worry. Warm hands take hold of my shoulders, steadying me. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

I nod, mumbling, “Yeah, it’s just a headache. I think I didn’t drink enough water.” When I open my eyes, Ashleigh’s features are writ with worry.

He rubs my shoulders, “Lets head back then, and get you some water?”

“I’m fine.” I take in a deep breath of cold air and feel just a small bit of the pain subside. “Besides, the fresh air is nice.”

We walk for a bit longer, but he doesn’t bring up the dreams again. He remains quiet, casting worried glances my way every so often.

“So you’ve had dreams of me?” I mean it to tease him little for all his questions. But he regards me with an unexpectedly vulnerable expression, only nodding in reply.

I am struck to the core of my being. I recognize that look. His lips are drawn into an off-center frown as he fights to maintain his calm. His bright eyes are shining with uncried tears.

I’ve seen that same look on my own face in a mirror so many times since the loss of my dad.

“Woah… woah.” I whisper comfortingly, reaching out to offer a hug. He casts his eyes down, nodding but still not speaking. I take him up in my arms, falling back a step as the weight of him leans into me. His arms fully engulf me.

His whole body is warm against mine, even in the stiff winter coats we are wearing. He buries his face in my neck, and I feel as quiet sobs wrack his shoulders.

My headache sharpens, but I ignore it. Every part of me is pulled by Ashleigh’s pain. I don’t know why every wall dropped away, I just know that it feels entirely right and familiar to hold him as it happens.

I’m afraid to speak or ask anything. The man I’ve gotten to know has been so cautious about being open with me. Alternating between a cold front, frustration, and our comfortable banter. I worry that anything I say could slam all of his walls back into place. So I sit with the aching of my own heart in response to his pain, I hold that space for him in silence, even as he cries into me.

I don’t know how long we sit like that. When his body finally stills, headache has mostly subsided and I am looking up at the sky. A blue green haze has begun dancing across the stars.

He sniffs and awkwardly takes a step back, eyes downcast. I see him slowly rebuilding his walls as his expression empties.

I point up, whispering softly, “The Aurora is out.”

He follows my hand to the sky, a sad smile pulling at his lips. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m sorry if I said anything insensitive…” I have no clue what it could have been, I just know intrinsically that I never want this man to hurt. Somehow, something within me considers him as familiar as family.

He keeps his eyes on the sky for a long moment. When he looks back to me, he nods as if deciding something for himself.

Instead of answering, he steps close to me again. His bright eyes hold my own as he slowly leans in close. He hesitates just before my lips. The fog of his warm breath mingles with my own.

My breath catches in my throat. If I lean forward even in the slightest, our lips will touch. My heart hammers in my chest.

“Perhaps if I just…” His voice is hushed and slow, “…show you our dream…?” He says that last as if speaking more to himself.

As if my body has a mind of its own, I lean in. My lips firmly press into his. He stiffens in surprise, then relaxes. His mouth opens, tongue gently parting my own lips. We press into one another as our kiss deepens.

The dream comes flooding back. His kiss is the same, everything about him feels the same. How is that possible? His arms enfold me, pulling me into him. My own hands reach instinctively for all the same places I’d touched him in my dream. Our dream.

And then several things happen at once.

First, it feels as if my entire mind suddenly crashes into itself. The pain of my headache spiking, drowning out the dream, his touch, even the kiss. I stumble, but even as he catches me the wind around us picks up in a shrieking wail.

The sound of the wind almost drowns out another sound. A deep snarl resounds through the forest as something bodily slams us, knocking me to the ground.