“You just told me you died for a man,” Gideon laughed.
“I was the… I did the…”
“Ah,” Gideon sighed his wisdom. “You were the one who penetrated, and now you balk at the notion of being the one who lies beneath, the one who must soften and yield. You want to be hard and dominant, my fledgling.”
“Yes.”
“Then you shall find a mate to match. You are handsome and of the oldest bloodlines. You will find no end of suitors across time. Remember, it is always best to mate with our kind. Humans and others pass before our eyes, and it is a pain that once felt, is not easily forgotten.”
7
In a modern forest…
Will was at full sprint, his lithe, furry body moving through the wooded undergrowth with a natural flow he had rarely, perhaps never experienced before. He couldn’t really think about how he felt. All he truly knew was that he did feel. He felt himself. His true self. He felt powerful, but more than that, he felt correct.
Their prey was ahead of them, only just. Henry had flushed her first, driven her toward Will’s position in a panicked dash. Then Will had taken up the chase, curving her back toward Henry. It was an elegant trap, one that exhausted their prey and left her at their mercy.
Not a word had been spoken. Not a word could be spoken. Their wolf tongues were incapable of language, but there was a silent understanding between them.
The deer faltered, tripped, and lay panting on the ground. Rays of sunlight lit her final resting place, her great round eye expressing little besides a kind of cosmic resignation as the wolves came upon her.
She gave her life up with an elegant turn of her neck, an act that surrendered her jugular and released a burst of calming hormones. The wild doe, unburdened by any of the concepts of gross humanity, passed with little pain as Henry made the killing bite, dispatching her swiftly. It was an act of mercy, and it too was correct. Will stood slightly back, panting, drinking in the scent of prey and basking in the conclusion of the hunt. They had killed, and they had provided, not only for themselves, but for innumerable wild beasts besides.
The two feasted in their animal forms, it being easier to eat the raw, freshly slain flesh of a creature like a doe than to haul her back through the woods. Already natural wolves were circling in the rear. They had gained a certain following among the local pack. The real wolves regarded them with suspicion but were happy to finish feeding from their kills once Henry and Will were sated.
* * *
Lorien looked up miserably as the two naked men came striding out of the undergrowth, laughing and talking as if they were old friends. There had been a time Will was the outcast, but now Lorien felt as though he was the third wheel. It was not a pleasant feeling.
“Nice hunt?”
“Excellent,” Henry said, coming to sit beside him.
“Wonderful,” Lorien deadpanned. “Well fed, are we?”
“I couldn’t eat another bite,” Will declared, lying down next to the fire still completely naked. He closed his eyes and proceeded to go to sleep without a care in the world. Henry was similarly exhausted after the hunt, and though he tried to stay awake for Lorien, it was not long before his eyes were closing, and he was snoring. In the depths of the forest night, Lorien was alone.
8
The argument between Maddox and his maker had yet to end. It had grown louder at times, quieter at others. It had gone silent altogether, and then flared up again.
“I am doing this for you, Maddox. You will hate me in the short term, but in the long run I am saving you much heartbreak. It is better not to become attached to these ephemeral creatures. You can keep them as pets, but you cannot entrust your heart to them. They can only break it. If you had chosen a human, you may have been able to turn him. But you have chosen a dog, one of mortal, incompatible blood. You can never spend eternity with this creature. Tragedy is built into your association by default. I have seen you suffer this way before, and I have no intention of watching you suffer the same way again.”
“I do not need to be protected from my feelings.”
“I disagree. You have forgotten how you mourn. I remember how destructive you can be.”
“Me!? Destructive!? Gideon, you destroy nations.” Maddox allowed his veneer of respect to drop for a second, and Gideon’s smile grew a little wider as the older, and younger version of Maddox emerged to be seen by his maker.
“Yes, but I do it for good reason, or at least with a certain logic. I am not a monster. I tend humanity for its own good. Sometimes wild animals need to be culled. But what you do when you are grief stricken is the most brutal cruelty I have ever witnessed.”
A long time ago…
Madis quickly grew in strength. Gideon taught him how to hunt, how to drain human blood, how to take just enough to allow a person to survive, and how to take so much they would turn cold and stay that way. He also taught him his own worth, what it felt like to be cherished and treasured, how it was to be regarded with pride rather than shame.
As the night waned and the day began to intrude upon the beauty of the perfect darkness Madis now inhabited, Gideon would curl up with him and tell him stories of the old world, times before the ones Madis knew. He was an educator and a lover.
“What have I told you of the flood?”