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Chapter Text

the blood in the hay was noticed a week before it all turned sour. a dead sheep lying masticated and mutilated in the gold, its eyes staring grey and unseeing to the roof of the barn.

the hawke girl had pointed it out, ran to her mother shaking a finger and yelling, “mother! the sheep’s dead in the barn! it’s bled out everywhere!”

and the eldest hawke boy had pulled the sheep from within the stinking grave of its own rot, hoisted it over his shoulder and taken it to the abattoir. there was little he could do now but slice off the good bits of flesh and leave them to cure.

the carcass was dumped outside the village borders, fetor scent to the wolves that prowled the forests.

the next morn’, another sheep, twice the size of the first, was sprawled out over the town square in increments. its feet lain at each of the four corners, its guts sprawled between like awful, bloody scarves. every child passing screamed at where the sheep’s head had been left – nailed to the hawke family’s door.

the forest laughed in a way, the wind all came from there, and it came cold and cruel and wicked. the men of the hawke family were told that they should go to the forest, with their bows and with their great coats, and hide out until they saw the beast that was killing the sheep.

malcolm, carver, and garrett were kissed by their mother and sister, and sent into the woods with their bows and with their great coats, frog marching into the dark unknown within the leaves.

when, in three days, the hawke men did not return, the boy named fenris was the one who was pulled into a great coat too big, and given a bow he did not know how to load, and sent after the trail of a family he did not know.

“we send the closest to a wolf to deal with a wolf.” the village had chanted, and fenris had entered the forest with those words as his mantra.

he found carver hawke first, alive, but asleep and bleeding in the foliage. where his bow was, fenris did not know, but his fingers still curled as if trying to find grip on his arrows.

fenris took the youngest hawke boy under his arm, and dragged him back to the village.

leandra hawke and bethany hawke took their time in fussing over the boy, who was bound in bandages and dripping in alcohol in the hope that his lacerations would heal.

on the eve of carver’s return, fenris was ordered again into the woods, to find the remaining hawkes.

this time fenris had to trek further through the woods, past the dark bloodstain in the dirt where he had found carver, and over the stream that ran through the weeds and bracken.

what fenris found next was not a person, but only part of one. a bloodied hand lay half submerged in the soil, a gold band around the ring finger. fenris ripped a strip of his cloak, and wrapped it around the hand. he held it close to his chest as he continued to walk.

he found a cave next, where, once again, only parts of a body lay. a ribcage bared down to the blanched bone, a calf bone on which battalions of flies were feasting, and a skull, where some skin still remained – the splatter of freckles and the scratch of a beard and receding hair line that the beast had thought not to eat.

fenris returned to the village with the hand wrapped in cloth, and handed it to leandra hawke, whose eyes glazed over like the dead sheep in the barn. young bethany hawke was the first to weep against her mother. leandra hawke wept instead on fenris’ shoulder, as he stood, still holding the hand of the woman’s devoured husband. carver hawke was not informed of the incident.

fenris was sent back to the forest, not by the village, nor by the distraught hawkes, but by his own choice.

haunted by the wails of a fatherless daughter and a widowed woman, he walked further than carver’s blood stain, further than the river bank soil where malcolm’s hand had lain, further than the cave where a skull still lay.

garrett hawke, the eldest hawke boy, and now the man of the hawke household, appeared dead on first inspection.

fenris gained no comfort from the idea of carrying this corpse back to the village, nor did he wish to see the hawke women break down again. he leant beside the body to see it move slightly, a twitching of the arm. a lurch in the shoulders of a torso face down in the earth.

a sullied, bloody hand grabbed fenris’ own and the eldest hawke boy gurgled out,

“it’s not a wolf.”

fenris supported garrett hawke under his arm, all the way back to the village with that limp and that groan in his throat.

“don’t take me back.”

the boy said no countable amount of times, his voice a growl.

“i’m not safe.”

“you will not be safe until we return you to the village.”

“you misunderstand. i am dangerous.”

“you are a boy. no older than me. i must take you back to your mother.”

“she doesn’t need me. she has carver and bethany and father.”

“your father is dead.”

fenris did not soften the blow, and garrett hawke remained silent the rest of the limping return to the village.

fenris presented garrett like a hunter does a deer, on the end of his hand to leandra hawke, whose eyes were still glazed like that sheep, still teary and unaccepting. leandra hawke shook her head.

“father is dead.” garrett hawke said to his mother.

“yes.” leandra hawke said to her son.

they walked silently to the hawke house, and disappeared within it.

fenris was given no thanks, no payment, no recognition, so he slunk back to the orphanage with a torn cloak and muddy boots and bloody hands.

three nights in a row, fenris was still awake and watching at his window when he saw someone running into the woods. it was in the very depth of darkness, each night under a sky where the moon barely shone, when someone ran like a hungry beast towards the towering pines.

after a week of watching the hungry sprinter, fenris knocked on the hawke house door, and was greeted by young bethany hawke looking up at him with eyes ringed in red and grey.

“good morning.” bethany hawke said.

“good morning.” fenris said back.

“you saved my brothers.”

“yes.”

“come in.”

the only hawke daughter said that mother was in the living room, and her brothers were upstairs, so fenris could only talk to her on the stairs. so fenris sat on a step, and bethany sat on a step just above his, and they talked.

“was your brother injured when i brought him back?”

“which one?”

“your eldest brother.”

“garrett had bruised his ribs.” bethany splayed her hands over her own ribs. “and the beast bit his thigh.”

“is he okay?”

“he’s been strange.”

“has he been sleeping?”

“i hear his bed creaking at night. and the floorboards too. i don’t think he has been. no.”

bethany hawke told fenris that garrett had been unable to eat the food mother gave him.

“his face goes pale as death and when he snaps I can see his teeth. they’ve never been that white. and his gums have never been that red.”

“has he been outside at all?”

“mother told him to sit in the garden to get some fresh air, but he refused because he said he doesn’t like the bush with the purple flowers or the tree with the white berries.”

fenris left before leandra hawke could realise he was there, and he thanked bethany kindly.

once again, when darkness fell, fenris watched the figure dart into the trees, wrapped in a cloak and seemingly little else.

the next day, fenris wore his cloak low over his head, and climbed the stone walls into the hawke’s garden. fenris grabbed a fistful of the white berries and purple flowers, and stuffed them into the pockets of his tunic. he climbed the wall again, and ran from the hawke’s garden before he was seen.

he tied the plants together with twine, and left the nosegay on his window sill.

he sat at the edge of the woods that night, with the nosegay in his hands, and watched the slow approach of a shadow that crawled from the village.

fenris was not in the least surprised when garrett hawke was who stopped in tracks, wrapped in his cloak and loose clothes. he wore no shoes upon his large feet, and no sleeves in the autumn weather. garrett hawke looked at the nosegay, and then at fenris, as if being betrayed.

“what’s your name?”

“fenris.”

“why are you following me? i heard you talking to my sister yesterday.”

“did you see the beast when you were in the woods?”

“you need to answer my question first.”

“no i don’t. did you see the beast?”

garrett hawke did not answer. fenris raised the plants like a sword.

“it was huge.”

garrett hawke stood with his legs apart and his arms raised in the air and his hands spread like claws.

“and it crept like a wolf but it killed like a bear.”

garrett hawke took three cautionary steps forward whilst his back was arched like the church windows and his teeth were bared like the spiked church gates.

“and it came so close and i thought i was to be dead.”

garrett hawke drew uncomfortably close to fenris, but fenris did not flinch, and he felt the hot breath on his neck and the burrow of eyes to his own.

“and it bit me, fenris.”

garrett hawke reached out whip crack sharp and grabbed fenris’ arm and he ripped the plants from fenris’ grip.

“it bit my leg and i screamed and i screamed and no one came.”

garrett hawke looked as though he may be crying.

“i thought i would die alone in those woods. and you came to get me days too late.”

“had i not come days too late your brother would be dead.”

“had you not come days too late i may not have been a danger to this entire village.”

“…what did it do to you?”

“follow me.”

garrett hawke walked to the edge of the woods and stretched a broad hand out to fenris.

“follow me, fenris, and i will show you what it did.”

and fenris followed the eldest hawke son into the woods, the growl of,

“i’m so hungry.”

leading them into the night.

Chapter Text

the moon shone like a great silver coin in the sky, and fenris followed garrett hawke’s huge back deep into the woods. the world was bathed in a shimmering grey.

the hawke boy changed there, after removing his cloak and loose clothes, that night beneath the clouds of fog and dimming stars. he curled in on himself, only to erupt like a flower’s petals being ripped from the head.

the great black wolf that stood where garrett hawke once had was bigger than any fenris had seen, but he was not afraid as the beast’s ambers eyes glowed and its dagger teeth gleamed. fenris sat in the grass and held his hand out to the creature.

the wolf walked forward like a mere tame dog and pressed its soft, wet nose into fenris’ palm.

“the beast turned you into one of its own…”

fenris gathered handfuls of the wolf’s fur, and it nodded its head like it was still a man.

“…is it still in this forest?”

the wolf shook its head.

“did you kill it?”

a nod.

at some point in the night the wolf stalked into the trees, leaving fenris alone in the clearing. the noises that the woods produced were like whispers and songs, beckoning him into the shadows that surrounded. but fenris did not move. he waited where he sat for the wolf to return.

the wolf emerged hours later from the bushes, a deer between its jaws. fenris watched with a tight stomach as the wolf tore into the deer and ate it bloody and raw.

when fenris yawned, the wolf set aside the half eaten cadaver. it stretched around fenris like a huge black blanket, its soft fur pillowing him as he sunk low to the ground. and slept and slept and slept.

fenris awoke to blue dawn light and garrett hawke dragging on his loose clothes and cloak the colour of blood. he held out a broad, hairy hand and smiled,

“we should be returning to the village.”

on the edge of the forest, in the shrouds of mist, garrett hawke took fenris’ shoulders into his hands and said softly,

“i’m trusting you, fenris. please don’t tell anybody. you couldn’t save me from the beast, at least save me from myself.”

“i promise.”

“thank you.”

that afternoon garrett hawke came to the orphanage, and asked if fenris could come out. fenris was let out with a stern telling from matron to be back before dinner time, and not to return with muddy shoes.

garret took fenris to the barn where the dead sheep had been found, and he bolted the huge doors shut so only a single honey line of sunlight fell across the old wood. he turned to him with some sort of look.

“you haven’t told a soul now, have you?”

“of course not.”

“good. i wanted to talk to you about finding a cure.”

fenris sat in the straw and gestured to garrett’s thigh.

“can i see the bite?”

garrett turned his back, fumbling with the laces of his britches as he shucked them down legs like tree trunks. he turned back with some hesitation, holding the old fabric to his groin and baring the fleshy circle of punctured skin to fenris.

“how would we go about it do you think? curing whatever’s happened to me.”

“exorcism?”

“no. not if there’s a chance it won’t work. we’d have to tell the priest that i was bitten…i’ll be hanged if they can’t get rid of the beast.”

garrett glanced around the barn, holding the britches still.

“can i put my britches back on?”

“yes, garrett.”

fenris looked away as garrett slipped his britches back over his ankles and knees.

“you could just go to the priest without saying who you’re asking for.”

“what?”

“you’re considered a hero of the town now that the beast isn’t bothering us – if you go to the priest saying that you want to know how to cure lycanthropism in case the beast returns, he’ll see you as a smart and brave young man.”

garrett smiled to himself whilst he laced his britches back up.

“i think you’re the smart and brave young man here, fenris.”

“i’d never admit it.”

fenris returned to the orphanage in time for dinner, and ate his lukewarm vegetable broth before retiring to bed. he watched the window when the other boys fell asleep, and he saw garrett hawke running into the woods to eat.

fenris heard the gentle words,

“i’m so hungry. i’m so hungry.”

in his head as he drifted into sleep.

in the morning, matron called fenris again, saying that garrett hawke was here to see him. fenris ate his breakfast with garrett sitting patiently opposite him. once again, matron warned him not to come back with muddy shoes, and fenris was sent away with his moss coloured winter cloak into the morning chill.

“i asked the priest.”

garrett walked fenris to the barn again, and bolted the doors shut again, and watched a long line of light fall upon the door again.

“what did he say?”

“one way to cure a lycanthrope is to say his christian name three times. apparently.”

“that sounds far too simple.”

“exactly why i don’t trust that method.”

“what else did he say?”

“if i can’t be cured, then we can protect the village with bundles of wolfs bane. it will keep me out and i can’t hurt anyone.”

fenris climbed the ladder to the hayloft and sat amongst the straw.

“but you wouldn’t want to live alone in the woods, surely?”

“if it were to keep the town safe.”

“come up here.”

garrett climbed the ladder after fenris and sat hunched up in the straw. fenris took garrett’s hands in his own.

“what’s your full name?”

“garrett malcolm hawke.”

“so i simply say it thrice?”

“apparently so.”

“garrett malcolm hawke. garrett malcolm hawke. garrett malcolm hawke.”

silence fell between the two boys, and nothing changed. garrett hawke frowned.

“was something supposed to happen?”

“i assume not.”

fenris stood and made his way down the ladder.

“we’ll just have to wait till tonight, see if you change back.”

“i see.”

garrett raised his broad, hairy hands and called out,

“would you like to stay for lunch, fenris?”

and fenris did not reply at first.

“my mother makes wonderful pear cider.”

“matron will be expecting me back at the orphanage for lunch.”

“we’ll tell her that you’re staying. you can be back before night fall.”

“alright then.”

matron gave fenris permission to eat at the hawke household, but she held garrett with her steely fox glare and told him,

“if the boy isn’t back before sunset then i shall be having a strict talking with your mother.”

“yes, ma’am.”

“good lads. now off with you, and don’t return with muddy shoes.”

leandra hawke lay out a spread of dry bread, cheese, blackberries and blueberries, and dried, salted meats. garrett piled four plates high with food, and handed one to his sister, one to his brother, one to fenris, and one he kept at his own lap. leandra hawke ate none of the food she had lain down for the children, and stood alone in the small wooded kitchen – hollow, willowy, and her eyes looking at the empty space at the dining room table.

garrett ate little of what he put on his own plate – mostly the slivers of red meat and the crust of his bread – he handed the rest to bethany under the table, and threw his blueberries at a grumbling carver, who continued to sit with many bruises and cuts on his face and knuckles.

they played hide-and-seek until late evening, at which point garrett walked fenris back to the orphanage. garret scratched at his arms – which were growing hairier – and licked his teeth – which were growing longer.

“i don’t think it’s worked.”

fenris said as he stood in the door of the orphanage, scraping the mud from his shoes.

“we don’t know that just yet.”

garrett hawke said and placed a reassuring hand on fenris' shoulder.

they stood like that for a moment, a long moment, until they became aware that the sky was growing darker and the moon was beginning to peak over the tree tops – and garrett’s eyes were shining in the darkness.

he leant forward and kissed fenris on the cheek.

“just in case.”

he whispered and turned back to his house.

fenris waited anxiously that night, sitting in the window seat of his bedroom whilst the other boys snored softly behind him.

in the watery shimmer of moonlight he saw garrett hawke picking his way through the tough grass and weeds on the outskirts of town – barefoot and swaddled in a scratchy red cloak.

fenris laid down in his bed and thought of purple flowers and white berries.

Chapter Text

fenris awoke late that night, roused by the chattering of his own teeth and the chill at his toes. he drew his thin covers up to his chin, realising that, despite his cold fingers and feet, his skin was slickened with sweat, and his forehead was flame hot.

with skin like salt and a dry, heavy tongue, he dragged himself from his bed. he wrapped himself in a threadbare blanket, and quietly made his way down the creaking staircase. he paused briefly outside of matron’s room, his eyes squinting for any sign of movement within. when matron did not stir, fenris continued walking.

the night was crisp and cold, and fenris regretted not putting on his thick winter tunic. his sleep shirt buffeted in the wind, and he held it down as he walked to the well.

you would not be able to tell that there was water at the bottom could you not see the milky reflection of a sickle moon in the blackness below. he turned the crank and watched the bucket descend. he yanked it back up again when he heard the disturbance in the water.

fenris took quick, wide mouthfuls of the water from the bucket. he gasped as its chill hit his throat, freezing the roof of his mouth of and soothing the pit of his stomach. the heat of his skin was subsiding as his stomach was beginning to feel full.

he heard noises coming from the woods.

he stood still as watched. no one emerged from the leaves, nor a beast. he expected perhaps a deer or fox, at the gentleness of the rustles, but no creature stood forth. he thought perhaps the noise was simply very loud and coming from the far distance.

he thought of that wolf that garrett had become – with its eyes like candle flames and teeth like shards of broken glass lining his violent red gums. what a mess he could be making in those woods, killing deer and felling in badger sets and fox dens. fenris fought back a smile as he returned inside.

in the morning, fenris lay for a moment in bed wondering why he’d smiled thinking about the wolf that lurked inside garrett. it was a sort of sickening jovialness, like watching dogs tear apart squirrels or watching the butcher slice meat from the pig’s carcass.

fenris rose finally and pulled his thick winter tunic on, laced up his boots and walked to the hawke household.

leandra hawke opened the door.

“oh. hello there. are you here to see garrett?”

“yes, mrs hawke.”

leandra hawke paled at mrs, her soft, motherly eyes dimming like a candle does in damp weather.

“come inside, dear.”

garrett was in his bedroom, spread out over the hardwood floors with his hands pressed to the bottom of his bed. he was looking into the dark space beneath.

“garrett.”

fenris coughed and garrett hit his head on the underside of his bed.

“fenris…”

garrett replied, nursing his quickly bruising forehead with a broad hand.

“i’m assuming the chant did nothing.”

fenris closed the door with a gentle click and settled on the floor opposite hawke. he crossed his legs to mirror him.

“no. i was even hungrier last night than usual. i killed a flaming great boar.”

garrett rolled up the sleeve of his tunic, revealing a blooming pattern of broken blood cells on his forearm, trailing off in small brown dots up onto his bicep and shoulder.

“i fell into one of the bushes when i was climbing back through my bedroom window. it did this.”

“wolfs bane.”

fenris replied.

“i thought so.”

garrett held his head low between his shoulders, like a sad dog – kicked by his master and left alone in the winter rain whilst the fire crackled inside.

“…i’m going to have to leave, aren’t i fenris.”

garrett sighed.

“i’ll have to live in the woods. alone. feeding off of deer and boar and rabbits for the rest of my life.”

fenris watched the way garrett’s back sloped and arched, his squinting eyes focusing on the knots and grooves in the floorboards.

“i don’t want to be alone.”

he rasped.

“we don’t know that you’re dangerous.”

“then what was the beast? if they were a person before why did they start attacking the village?”

fenris did not know who to answer that, and he sat in heavy silence with garrett for a long while, until the blue morning light that rushed through the window became yellow afternoon light.

garrett asked fenris to leave when it began to rain outside. fenris nodded reluctantly and walked back to the orphanage alone, a haunting chill at his back that seemingly ran in frigid fault lines from the hawke household to his own weary feet.

he scraped the mud off of his shoes at the doorstop and thought of the gentle kiss garrett had planted on his cheek in that very spot the night before.

he slept feverishly, not bothering to check the window for garrett running into the woods.

the next morn’ fenris was sent to the market, a wicker basket thrust into his hands by matron and a sack of coin at his hip. buy milk, eggs, carrots and apples he’d been told, and ushered out at the break of dawn.

salesmen and women were only just setting up their stalls when fenris arrived, and he waited patiently at the street corner for at least on table to have its spread laid ready. he brought the carrots first, from a young girl with a red face and bright eyes. the apples had come harder, from a harsh old man who exclaimed bitterly that apples were in poor stock this year, and he’d have to pay more. fenris bartered them down to their original price. he collected the milk and eggs together, from a milkmaid who was still crouched under her piebald cow as she sold her produce.

returning from the market, fenris noticed something strange on the outskirts of the woods.

bethany and carver hawke, their arms overflowing with deep purple flowers, were pacing the tree line, laying down bushels of flowers every few metres or so. bethany worked quicker, with half as many bundles left as carver. carver’s legs still ached, and a long cut over his eyebrow was still red and wide, like a long slice of veal lain over his skin.

bethany waved when she saw fenris approaching.

“good morning.”

her face was bright. carver said nothing as he placed a few flowers in the roots of a tree.

“what are you doing?”

fenris asked.

bethany held out a bunch of flowers, her smile white and painfully innocent.

“i’m not entirely sure myself. garrett asked us too.”

“he did, did he?”

“yes.”

carver approached with a furrowed brow. his cheeks were ruddy and his eyes hung low with bags. the flowers he held were thin and flimsy in that manhandled sort of way.

“bleeding weirdo sent us out at the sun’s first light. he told us to just scatter these around the treeline.”

bethany scowled at her brother, and slapped his shoulder firmly.

“carver. it’s an odd request, i’ll give you that. but he’s only having us do it because he’s unwell.”

“he’s isn’t well?”

fenris asked.

“no. he looked awful this morning.”

“can i see him?”

“of course.”

bethany and carver lead fenris back to the hawke household as if he needed reminding of where it was. he followed with an awkwardly set frown, tracing the footsteps of two children a head shorter than he was.

they deposited the flowers on the doorstep before bethany thundered up the stairs. fenris followed her. carver headed for the kitchen.

“garrett! garrett, fenris is here. can we come in?”

garrett was no more than a head of curly black hair when they entered. he was rolled up in his blankets like a new born baby, his toes sticking out the end looking like rows of tiny pink mice.

he rose slowly, with a redness in his eyes and a slackness to his jaw. his skin shone with the same sheen of sweat that fenris had awoken with two nights ago, and a sense of wildness withheld in the wisps of his unkempt hair and sleepless face.

bethany left garrett and fenris to talk alone.

fenris pulled out a chair to sit beside his bed and stared accusingly at the sickly boy who lay beneath the blankets.

“first of all,”

fenris sighed.

“you look like death.”

garrett nodded in listless agreement.

“second of all, why did you have your siblings line the forest with wolfs bane?”

garrett groaned in a voice that sounded like a bear’s grunt. he withdrew beneath the covers until only his honey coloured eyes were visible. the intonation in his voice lead all footsteps to guilt.

“i couldn’t do it myself. my hands would rash over.”

fenris frowned and pulled away the sheet that garrett had drawn to his nose. garrett huffed but did not try to snatch it back from him.

“why are you trying to keep yourself out of the village is what i’m trying to say. and you know that you dunce.”

garrett’s eyes concentrated not on fenris, but on the space behind him, and for a second he took on that awful likeness to the dead sheep in the barn, or his mother upon the announcement of malcolm’s death.

“i’m dangerous.”

hawke muttered.

“we don’t know that, garrett.”

“well i do!”

the cry that flooded from garrett’s lips was broken with illness and pain. the throaty scathing of a phlegm racked cough followed the ooh at the end of his words, like the slightly delayed creak of a door.

fenris said nothing as a single tear carved a path through the sweat on garrett’s cheeks.

“since the night you were with me in the woods i … i’ve been straying closer to the village with each turn. i can feel the guts of the creatures i’ve eaten, fenris. i can feel the hearts of the animals that i’ve ripped apart.”

garrett’s chest heaved with laboured breaths. the huskiness of his wheezes made fenris worry that perhaps he’d choke, but he made no move to incline garrett’s head.

“and their … their bones are inside me and it feels like they’re weighing me down and … and giving the beast a way up out of my gut.”

in tandem with his words, garrett’s hand travelled down the expanse of cloth  swaddling his torso and settled shakily on his stomach.

“that’s where it is. it’s in my gut, fenris. and i can feel it trying to chew its way out when i’m alone. it speaks to me when it’s quiet. i can’t tell what it’s saying but it hurts and it scares me and i want whatever is inside me to leave.”

garrett’s entire body was shaking violently. fenris felt as though reaching out to steady him would result in the beast finally chewing through his gut.

“but it can’t. it won’t. i can’t save myself and the most we can do now is protect the people from me instead.”

“…how do you know it’s not just paranoia…”

it was not a question. fenris’ voice did not waver, did not vary. he knew something inside garrett was changing. he just didn’t want it to.

“fenris there’s a reason i told my mother i was ill this morning.”

garrett’s eyes looked a simple blink away from madness, his pupils blown wide and watery, the whites so bloodshot they looked as though they’d been rolled in the abattoir’s waste.

“i’m not, in case you hadn’t figured it out. i’m sweating because i’m scared and my face looks like this because i don’t even sleep anymore but … i’m not ill.”

fenris held his breath.

“are you sure you want to see what i’m about to show you?”

“no. but i want you to anyway.”

garrett grinned mirthlessly as he swung his legs from the bed. the sheets fell away from him, the blanket cocoon shedding as they cascaded to the floor like pouring water. garrett was poorly illuminated in the few strips of light that penetrated the drawn curtains, but fenris could see every sordid detail even in the dimness.

though completely naked, fenris wouldn’t have been able to tell otherwise, with every inch of garrett’s skin covered in coarse black hair. the angle of his shoulders was uncomfortably sloped, the sick protrusion of each shoulder blade like a knife sticking out an animal’s carcass. his legs and arms had thickened – how that was possible fenris couldn’t tell – until he looked no longer like a boy but a bear with a human’s face. there was a rigid pack of muscle teaming and pulsating beneath the hair, as though the skin and flesh beneath was alive and screaming to be ripped away.

the only area of skin not completely buried in hair was the bite, its distinctive pink marks marring his upper thigh. the redness that it radiated spread further from the scar, travelling from puckered fleshy tears to huge irritable clouds painting his groin and abdomen like a sunset.

he breathed like a man on his deathbed.

“i … i don’t know what’s happened to my body but … but it feels like all of my bones are trying to escape.”

they did indeed look that way – pressed to every inch of freckled skin as though being pushed out of him from the inside. his ribcage expanded in a heartbeat pulse, too fast yet somehow not fast enough.

“i feel like any day now i will explode, fenris, and when that happens i do not want to become a wolf in front of the people i love.”

garrett reached out with shaking hands, taking fenris’ own into his hold. his skin was fever hot, as though he’d held his hands above the fire to warm them.

“take me to the woods tonight.”

garret sobbed.

“take me because i know if i can’t take myself … i’m past the point of no return, fenris. take me to the woods and i’ll change and i won’t leave in the morning.”

“…garrett, i don’t want to do that to you.”

“well i want you to do that to me. please, fenris. it’s for the greater good.”

fenris nodded sadly, his eyes locked on the gentle hold that garrett kept on his hands. he found himself moving forward, until he was pressed against garrett’s chest, and a pair of thick, wiry haired arms were encircling his waist.

fenris shed his cloak and shoes, and they curled up into each other within the stained sheets on garrett’s bed. neither boys slept, though they held each other so tight. the heat was unbearable, but even more so would be drawing apart. so they lay there, hot and tired and upset and unable to sleep for hours on end – until the light outside grew red, and then purple, and then black.

garrett put on his loose pair of britches, but his tunic no longer fit over his shoulders, and he wrapped himself best he could in the red cloak. he climbed expertly from his window, and fenris followed, landing alongside him in the dewy garden grass.

they dodged the edge of the wood where the most flowers had been lain, and walked down that long winding path through to the centre of the woods.

garrett lead with a gruff mercilessness – trampling undergrowth with his bare feet as he cut a crooked path through the brambles and bushes.

fenris’ legs grew tired soon, and he was worried to be in the woods so late after dark. he picked out in the silver throws of light in the forest the blood stain where carver had lain some two weeks before. further on he jumped over the stream and his eyes fell on the wet soil where malcolm’s hand had lain.

garrett stopped walking when they reached a dusty clearing – some yards away from the cave where malcolm’s remains lay like abandoned children’s toys – and threw his cloak off as though it burnt him.

fenris sat down, cross legged, as garret unlaced his britches, tugged them off, and sat stark naked in the washed out circle of moonlight that fell through the pine trees. his eyes were growing wine dark – no longer that warm whiskey brown. there was a malevolence in the way he held himself, folding in on himself, readying for the attack. whatever that attack may be.

the moon was at its height when fenris heard the tell-tale cracks and pops of bone and muscle. he covered his eyes, but listened to the way flesh and muscle and skin shifted, until garrett had changed shape completely.

larger than fenris remembered it being, the black wolf sat in the moonlight lain on its back. its belly was exposed to the sky, and it stretched as though relieving itself of some long held secret. fenris watched as the creature rolled over, and immediately ran past fenris, tracing the path they’d already made that night.

it did not return by the time morning light shed.

fenris returned to the orphanage with a sluggishness, more tired than he ever remembered being, and his eyes stinging as though he had been forced to bare clouds of acrid, black wood smoke to assault his open eyes. matron stood fiercely on the doorstep when he arrived, hanging his head low when she frowned at him in that awful way of hers.

he was given a good hiding before he was allowed to eat breakfast – even so, the other children were given larger bowls than him, and warmer porridge. fenris did not care to his anyway.

fenris walked to the village that morning, the meaninglessness of simply needing something to take his mind off of things guiding his every footstep. he stopped halfway there, to look at the hawke household across the field. the coldness was so real, so stiff, and it seemed to be growing with each moment that garrett was not there. the small cottage seemed to radiate autumn, and fenris walked away as quickly as possible to ensure he did not freeze to death.

it seemed, in the village, something strange had happened.

a woman was screaming shrilly when fenris arrived. he recognised her as the woman who’d sold him milk and eggs just a few days ago.

she staggered from the milking barn with a distraught yell. it was that harrowing kind of yell, the one that settled in your bones in such a way that it was hard to tell whether it was you who had screamed or not. the girl fell to her knees as she caught a few people’s attention. some wandered to the barn doors, only to pull away in disgust at what they saw.

fenris fought his way through the crowd until he reached the barn doors – and saw what lay limply beneath the hay.

an entire cow, its stomach torn open in a jagged line, and its innards flowing from cadaver like some grotesque cornucopia was exposed to the harsh morning light. flies festered in its eye sockets and its udders were swollen and red, sucked dry of blood and milk. the smell was enough to bring a man to his knees.

fenris reeled as his stomach threatened to turn itself inside out. he ran from the sticky red stain that soaked the hay on the stone floor. he ran all the way to the woods, and continued running through that path garrett had made the night before.

garrett was, as fenris had assumed, in the dusty clearing. his legs were drawn to his chest and his breathing was so loud, so ragged, that not a single bird flew through the clearing. he held himself like a mad man, and fenris treated him as such in his approach.

“garrett…?”

“i’m so sorry.”

garrett’s voice was a whisper so wretched fenris could barely bring himself to listen to it.

“i was just … i was so hungry.”

fenris crept forward as though hunting a rabbit, and fell gently to his knees beside garrett. he placed his hand ever so gently on garrett’s knee.

“you got past the wolfs bane?”

garrett laughed in such a hollow way it made the emptiness in fenris’ stomach ring out.

“i was foolish to think a few flowers scattered about would stop this … this monster inside of me. i’m so sorry fenris.”

it was to fenris’ surprise that garrett raised his head then, eyes clear and lip steady. no presence of the wreck he had become remained, and even if he still sat bare and shivering in the autumn air, he pinned fenris with a stare that almost made him believe garrett was still there. that the beast had not taken over.

“i know what you have to do.”

garrett would send fenris away, back to the village to busy himself, until night fall, when he must return just before the moon was at its highest. he would find garrett, before he changed, and lead him to the very depths of the woods.

“i can’t tell you yet what i want you to do, just promise me you will.”

fenris nodded, though a crippling uncertainty bubbled in his stomach.

“good … good. thank you.”

garrett cupped fenris’ face with one hand, leaning in such a way that made fenris’ entire being prickle apprehensively. fenris felt the ghost of breath on his cheek, before garrett changed course and pressed a rough kiss to fenris’ lips.

there was a desperate, hazy sliding of lips and tangle of tongues for maybe just a few minutes before garrett pulled away.

looking in a puddle as he walked back to the village, fenris saw his reflection, and how swollen his lips were, and for what it was worth, he hoped they stayed that way.

when it was dark, fenris snuck away from the orphanage in his moss coloured coats and his winter boots lined with fur, and picked his way through the undergrowth. when he was alone the woods seemed even darker, even vaster, even more ready to reach out and snatch him away with dark, cruel claws. but fenris kept walking – for garrett’s sake.

he found him where he expected, and the two trekked – hand in hand – in such a delicate, determined way through the darkness and plant life and ominous night time noise.

they stopped when the trees grew too closely to continue, when the spaces between were big enough only for fenris to fit through. garrett’s eyes were a yellow like poison in the darkness, and he dug fervently in the undergrowth until he found what he was looking for. fenris couldn’t tell what, but garrett placed it in his hands.

cold, hard and sharp, fenris’ throat tightened when he realised what he was holding. even more so when he realised what garrett wished him to do with it.

“i’m just going to…”

his voice shook awfully.

“i’m just going to kneel down here and you … you bring that rock down as hard as you can on my head, alright? i won’t feel a thing, fenris. i promise.”

fenris felt his stomach drop the same way the stone weighed down his hands. he bit his lip as he took a hesitant step forward.

garrett reached out, taking fenris’ hand and guiding him forward. he felt his stomach convulse.

“please. just. just do this. alright?”

fenris found his cheeks wet  as he held the stone above his head, fingers skittering and sliding as though begging not to be used for something like this. this isn’t what he wants to do, this isn’t the right choice, this – this isn’t –

this is the only way.

fenris gasped as though being stabbed when he brought the rock down on garrett’s head. the cold autumn air rushed into his lungs and froze everything inside of him. he stood, limbs shaking, knees knocking, ribcage expanding rapidly. alone in the darkness he felt his hands grow warm with the blood he’d spilt so easily over his own hands. the body that fell over his feet was so limp. so cold and weak.

he could not see garrett’s body in this light, and that’s what scared him, backing away with his mouth agape. he ran back to the village in tears, and thought of all the times he’d taken that path.

the first time to seek a family gone missing, then to return an injured son, a father’s hand, the town hero – soon to become the unknown family burden.

he thought of the glazed over eyes of a dead sheep, the way each hawke had slowly become that creature – scared, alone, torn to pieces in one way or another.

he thought of how he had dragged garrett hawke, limp, bloody and helpless, back to town and offered him up like a hunted creature to leandra hawke. how now he left the same boy in the very woods that ripped holes into his life – limp, bloody, helpless, once again.

fenris lay awake at night for weeks. wishing he could hear the patter of someone’s feet as they ran to the woods. wishing he could walk past the hawke household without feeling as though an icicle was being forced down his throat.

wishing he’d never ventured into those woods to save someone who couldn’t be saved.