Reluctantly Rogue Pt. 01 Ch. 010

(Note: This is a long, ongoing story. It is a story with sex. It's a sexy story. It is in many ways a story about sex. But, it is not strictly a sex story. Many chapters may even be SFW.

This chapter is SFW!)

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CHAPTER TEN

Wolf

No fever blackened Atyr's mind, no dreams of green women in the water tormented his dreams, no trio of sexually indiscreet bedmates breathed heavily beside him. He woke feeling rested and at peace for the first time in a week. Sitting up on the ground and unrolling himself from his cloak, the only odd thing around him was the small sprite, who had managed to roll a sweet apple out of his bag, and was now attempting to maneuver his knife, the blade of which was half as long as her body, to cut into the red skin of the fruit.

She looked at him as he sat up. "If you don't mind?"

Atyr blinked, sleepily. Pesky let the knife fall and plunked herself down upon the apple. She pointed at the knife and said again, "If you don't mind."

The young man found himself smiling at the sprite in spite of himself, the annoyance with which he generally held her slipping for a moment.

With a shake of his head, he picked up the fallen blade and cut her a thin slice, taking the rest for himself. No thanks were offered, but she happily sat down to begin munching at the slice of fruit she held across her lap.

Atyr was beginning to eat the remainder of the apple, when he heard a quiet movement in the undergrowth across the road. It sounded large. He paused, peering at the brush. Nothing.

"Pesky," he said. "Did you hear that?"

She was still gnawing contentedly at the slice. "Hear what? And no, I didn't."

Atyr took another small bite, his eyes scanning the opposing treeline. There was a dark flash of movement through the dense leaves.

"Pesky, stay still, and quiet," he whispered. She did.

He kept his gaze fixed on the shadows between the trees. At first he saw nothing more, but then a dark, low shape crept out of the brush on the far side of the road, barely a dozen strides from him.

Wolf.

Fear swelled in him now, and he quickly scanned the trees again. He relaxed just slightly; as far as he could tell, it was only the solitary animal. A lone wolf could be dangerous, he knew, but they were skittish creatures who would run in response to a good shout. A prickle on his neck kept him quiet though; he felt this particular wolf wouldn't be so easily frightened. The posture, the way it sniffed the air, the intent behind the way its head swung from side to side. It was stalking something, searching for something. For him?

Cautiously, slowly, he picked up his pack and stood. He looked up, and finding a low branch, grabbed ahold and pulled himself upwards. As soon as his feet left the ground, the wolf's head snapped up and its eyes fixed on him. Though the sun was up, they glowed with reflective light. The animal sped forward in a blur, reaching the base of the tree just as his feet swung up onto the branch. The wolf leapt, a howl and a snarl in its throat, jaws snapping shut a hairsbreadth from his ankles.

He scrambled to a higher branch, heart drumming a double beat in his chest.

The wolf settled back and stared up at him, as though appraising the situation. It sniffed his cloak where it still lay at the base of the tree, circled twice, and then sat, shining eyes fixed on Atyr where he perched, just out of reach in the branches.

For a while, the two of them stayed that way, staring at each other, the young man unwilling to come down, the wolf unwilling to leave. Atyr pulled himself up one branch higher. He had no plans aside from staying well above the reach of those drooling jaws.

After a time, the wolf curled up on his cloak, and appeared to sleep. Pesky flitted down to Atyr's shoulder. "Well. That was less exciting then it might have been. You plan on just sitting in this tree like a dummy all day?"

Atryr hissed back at her. "If you have any intentions to help me find a different solution, I'm eager to hear about it!"

She seemed unfazed by the situation. She sighed. "Rangers."

Atryr stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"I prefer the Rogue side. But it's your Encounter. You figure it out." She flitted up higher in the tree, and settled on a branch, apparently planning on watching.

Atyr spent a long moment wondering if there was a way to sacrifice the sprite to distract his furry captor below, ideally getting rid of both problems at once. He discarded the idea.

Balanced awkwardly on the thin branch, there was no hope of stringing and drawing his short hunting bow. He looked at his small belt knife, and the hatchet blade, still without a handle. He hefted the knife in his hand, and stared down at the curled up form of the wolf. He heard an excited rustling from the branches above.

There really wasn't anything else he could think of. The wolf seemed to have no intention of letting him out of the tree, and he had no way to attack it from the safety of the branches. Gripping the knife, he breathed deeply once, twice, a third time, and launched himself from the tree.

The reaction was immediate. He had hoped to surprise the beast, hurtling down upon it from above, stabbing in a frenzy, but as soon as he leapt, the beast sprang upwards at him.

They met in midair, flailing arms and snapping fangs and scrabbling claws and wildly slashing blade. The two bodies crashed back onto the earth. Something hard jammed into Atyr's back as he landed, chasing the air from his lungs. The writhing beast was on top of him, saliva spraying across his face, long jaws lunging at his throat. He stabbed blindly at its flank, wherever he could reach.

The wolf yelped and snarled, rolling off of him and circling warily. Atyr scrambled quickly back and away, knife brandished towards the slinking predator.

It lunged at him again, biting deep into his ankle and ripping side to side, worrying the flesh. Pain blasted through Atyr's leg, and he felt something tear, and the bone crunch.

He flailed and kicked with his free leg, but the wolf dragged him roughly across the roots of the tree. He tried to sit up as the beast shook him back and forth. It released its hold on his brutalized ankle and leapt again at his face. He thrust up his arm and the bloodied fangs sank into his wrist. Pain shredded up his arm. His hand sprang open, and the knife fell free of his fingers. Blood gushed forth, splattering down onto his face.

With his remaining hand, he scrabbled in the dirt for the lost blade, the hot wetness soaking him as the wolf ground its jaws on the bones of his wrist, shaking him now by the arm.

He found the hilt and grasped it, slamming it frantically upwards, at the monster's face, mouth, throat, he wasn't sure. Whatever he could reach, unthinking as he stabbed again, and again, and again. At some point, the writhing weight stilled and drooped heavily across him, the jaws slackening on his forearm, but he didn't notice. His blade plunged again, more, deeper.

The wolf was dead.

He gradually became aware it was over, and his arm stopped its violent motion. Rolling the furry body off him, he tried to stand. His savaged leg gave out, and he fell to his knees. Blood soaked him and the wolf, still pulsing from his wrist and ankle, and leaking from the stabs and slashes in the animal's pelt.

He swayed where he sat, staring at the body. Then he jerked back, dragging himself on his elbows away from the mass of darkened, soaked fur. A blurry, colorless mist was rising from the body. It held the vague, distorted shape of a wolf, hovering briefly, then in a flash, the faint cloud rushed at Atyr, vanishing within his chest.

He gasped. A slight warmth rushed through him, a bit of something pleasant and rewarding and indescribable. He felt ever so slightly... fuller? More complete? His forearm pulsed faintly with the same colorless glow, and he saw the symbols there clarify for a moment, before fading back, almost invisible once more.

Staring at his arm, he noticed that the bleeding had already stopped. He looked down at his leg. There as well, the ripped flesh was, miraculously, no longer bleeding. He realized with amazement that the pain, instead of swelling and intensifying, was dulling. Within moments, it was more of a strong discomfort than the agony he should have expected. He stared at the wound. It looked horrific, but...

Cautiously, he stood. It was still highly unpleasant, but it was bearable. He took a few steps. He flexed his fingers. He was-- he was ok. Looking at the ripped and shredded flesh, he didn't know how, but he was really ok.

"Arytr?" A tiny, worried voice sounded above him, and he spun and stumbled in a panic. "That went... much worse than I thought it would."

His breathing was hard and his heart pounded as he looked up at Pesky. He had entirely forgotten her existence over the brief moment of his struggle with the wolf. He wobbled on his feet, pain now throbbing in his ruined ankle from the sudden motion.

"Wow, sit down ok? If you're going to react like that." The sprite's voice had regained its typical mocking tone. "Only a true dummy would leap around like that with his foot half torn off."

Even if Atyr's mind was still flailing and wild, his body seemed to recognize the common sense of the statement, and he collapsed slowly against a tree. "I've... I've never seen a wolf act like that. Like it was hunting me, like some tale about the Oldwood. Especially a lone wolf, they go for... squirrels. Rabbits. Sick animals. Not people." He remembered the wolfish cloud that had rushed into him. "Pesky. I think it may have infected me with something."

"Infected? Ew. Gross. Well, maybe we'll have to go back and visit your true love at the Healing House after all." Pesky turned sideways in the air, as if swooning. "Only she can cure you now."

Pained and exhausted, Atyr still managed to roll his eyes. "About that. I'll be... fine? Tomorrow?"

Pesky looked at him and nodded.

"I'm having trouble actually believing that, right now."

She shrugged.

"Pesky, you said it could depend, that not everything could heal overnight, or something?"

She shrugged again. "You'll be fine after you sleep."

He nodded several times, slowly, wanting desperately to believe it.

"Pesky, just now a shadow, no a grey cloud leapt out of the wolf's body at me, and I felt it go into me." He paused, and looked at his translucent companion, needing answers now more than he had even before. "Pesky, its eyes shone. It's day, but its eyes were lit with night glow. It wasn't a normal wolf."

"It was a normal wolf. You're just really seeing it now."

"But it acted-- wolves don't act like that. They don't hunt like that. It wasn't normal."

"It was." She flew very close to him now, and with a deadly earnestness, stared into his eyes. "You're not normal anymore." An intensity was on her features, and she held his gaze for a long moment. Then she swatted him briskly on the nose and flew up in a dancing spiral. "Dummy!"

"I never know what to think with you, if you're telling me the truth or not."

"I cannot lie." He felt her gentle weight settle on top of his head.

He sighed, breath shaky with lingering fear and the frenzy that comes with violence. Then, looking up at where her feet dangled just in front of his brows, he tried again. "Ok. If you cannot lie, then will you please tell me--"

"But I can deceive."

"Ok, we are definitely looping back to that point. But first, will you please tell me what the cloud that flew into me was? Do you know?"

"Which question do you want answered?"

"... What?"

"Do you want to know if I'll tell you what the 'cloud' was, or do you want to know if I know?"

"Do you know?"

"Of course, dummy."

"Pesky, everything hurts, and I just want to know if I'm going to be crippled the rest of my life, or if I'm poisoned with some sort of wolf-ghost." He looked at his shredded wrist, shaking in front of him. "So what is it? Is it bad? It, it actually didn't feel bad. I think it maybe healed my wounds, now that I think about it. Did it heal me somehow?"

"I already answered the question you said you wanted answered. That was three more questions. That makes five."

He shook his head in frustration, eyes closed. "Well, why can't you answer all five?"

"Oh, that's a sixth question." She drifted idly across in front of him, just out of reach.

"Pesky. I am hurt. I am lost. I don't know what's going on. Will you please just explain this to me, if you can?"

"Seven."

"Please." He chewed his lip slowly and raked his fingers slowly across his palms, staring down at them. "I'm afraid."

Only silence answered. He looked up. Pesky had landed on the forest floor in front of him. She took a few steps forward, and looked up into his face.

"Number seven. Yes, I will. Six. Bad question, I can answer all five. Five. No, it didn't heal you. You already know that you heal up fast now. Also a dumb question. Four. No, it isn't bad. Three. I'll come back to three, which honestly should have been your only question; the others were all pointless. Two. I already answered number two. One. Yes, I will tell you."

She hopped up onto his knee. "Back to number three. Simple, it's Experience!"

"What's experience?"

"That's eight."

He pushed himself up higher against the tree, hissing harshly as he stressed his mauled wrist. "Please," he growled. "Answer question eight."

"Experience means when you've done something or been a part of something, especially when you learn from it."

"I know what the word means."

"Good! Maybe you're learning from experience."

"I don't understandwhat that has to do with the ghost wolf that is currently inside me."

Pesky laughed at him. "Oh, it's not inside you. And it's not a ghost, those are very different." She shook herself, as though revolted by the thought of ghosts. "Ghosts are very boring."

He stared at her, face sour. "I never feel that I learn anything from your explanations."

"Well, I suppose all I can do is explain. It's up to you whether you want to understand." She flitted away, the 'dummy' not needing to be vocalized.

After a little while, Atyr realized that, though he still hurt, he didn't actually feel all that bad. Weak, maybe. A little ill. But stable, and ready to continue on. His wounds had, in apparent direct disobedience to Fate and the rules of the world as he understood them, healed over. They still looked fearsome, and they were agonizingly tender, but he looked as if he'd already been several weeks in recovery from the vicious encounter. The scars were going to be horrific though, that was obvious.

He walked a bit back and forth, testing the leg, and then worked his wrist around. Everything seemed to be working, though he had half expected the bones to be crushed.

He looked down at the body of his attacker, and drew his knife. That pelt, at least, would be worth taking. He might have uses of his own for it, but if he could get it off cleanly enough, it would be fit for trading in town as well. He walked to the blood soaked mound of fur, and rolled it over.

Shock hit him.

The whole left side of the wolf was mutilated. He hadn't realized just how many times he had struck it. The muzzle and face were gashed and torn, and all along its chest and flank were darkened holes and slashes. It was... he wasn't sure it was worth skinning and carrying with him. Actually, he was sure. It wasn't.

As he let the body of the wolf flop back to the earth, he felt something warm and hard fall into his palm from somewhere in the blood-soaked fur. He pulled his hand away and looked at it. It was a banner, the silver metal shining in his hand.

"That's... strange." He rolled the wolf back over, trying to figure out where the coin had come from. It had felt almost as though it had just appeared in his hand. "I suppose it was stuck in the fur, somehow?" He looked around for his fae companion, wondering if it was worth asking her opinion, but she was nowhere in sight. Well, among the long list of odd events in recent days, this was likely the least of them. And perhaps the most fortunate. Which wasn't hard. Luck in unlucky times, and all that.

He slipped the coin into his pocket to join the small kip there, multiplying his current wealth twentyfive-fold. He patted the two coins. A banner and one. Almost worth heading back to town with, to really stock up. He considered, and decided against it. He wanted to be home to the cabin site, in his own shelter, by his own little pool. His thoughts darkened somewhat. The pool was something else he was going to have to figure out. Or, not so much the pool itself, but his apparent neighbor within it. He looked around again for Pesky, but she was still gone.

"Not like she would have had any intelligible advice anyway," he muttered.

He collected his cloak and his pack, making sure everything was accounted for, and set off briskly down the road, ignoring the twinges from his ankle. Even with the delay of the wolf attack, he should still make the turnoff to his rough-marked trail by late afternoon, and be back to the build site before full gloom had set.

He stopped walking. He really wasn't so sure he wanted to be near that pool just as the gloom was settling in. Remembering the green woman's strong fingers, and the water over his head, and the darkness closing around him as his breath left him, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be by that pool at all.

He wasn't sure of a lot of things. He wasn't sure if his wounds would continue to heal at this fae-like pace. He wasn't sure if that fate-spurned sprite would continue harassing him, though he suspected she would. He wasn't sure what the cloud wolf had been, or what Pesky meant by calling it "experience." He wasn't sure what the difference was, to her, between lying and deceiving, and he wasn't sure if she'd been attempting either with him. He still wasn't sure what a Class was, or how it pertained to the symbols on his forearm: "Ranger, Rogue." He really wasn't sure about anything right now.

He felt in his pocket and drew out the two coins again, the small bronze kip and the larger silver banner. A banner would make a more substantial donation. And he really should have paid his thanks again as he left town. And, fae healing or no, shouldn't wounds such as the wolf had left him with be treated by a real healer? And Bird seemed to know a bit about this whole fae quest business, or adventure or whatever it was. Of course, Pesky surely knew far more, but talking to Pesky was fruitless at best. And Kella was there and-- He couldn't come up with a reason he needed to see Kella, but still, she was there...

Atyr dropped the coins back in his pocket, turned decisively, and headed back the way he had come. He was barely a half day from Woodstead; he could be there before full dark if he was swift.

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As always, it's so great to know you guys are reading this thing as I write it. Enjoy! Chapter 11 will be out in a few days. :)

-ScryBells