fade into the dawn

Ashe

I’m having a blast—gods, I haven’t done anything like this in years. Every muscle in me is alive, firing on instinct, my paws moving before thought has time to catch up. I’ve snatched several already, and I haven’t missed once. The growl in my chest is low and pleased, breaking into sharp yips of delight, my tail wagging hard enough to send sprays of snow into the air.

It isn’t unusual for me to give myself over to the wolf like this. The part of me that lives for the chase, for the chaos.

I whirl at the rustle of wings and catch sight of two ningos, braver—or stupider—than the rest, charging straight for me. My lips pull back into a lupine grin, fangs flashing in the pale light. I wait until the first leaps, its body silhouetted in the air, and I catch it mid-flight, jaws closing with the satisfying crunch of bone. I shake it hard and fling it to the side.

The second hits the ground running, leaps, and clamps its beak on my ear in a flurry of wings, trying to peck the top of my head. I snarl, twisting sharply until it loses its grip, and then another shadow drops from above. I spring high, teeth snapping, and snatch it out of the air, the weight of it thrashing before going limp.

The flock is thinning now—many have fled to the trees—but there are still a few stubborn ones, a small knot flapping toward Deimos. One large bird plants itself in front of me, head low, stance wide, and I swear it’s like facing down a miniature bull. I bark at it, sharp and warning, but it only digs its talons into the snow and launches into a flapping run straight at me.

I meet it head-on, catching one wing in my jaws. A single, vicious shake sends its body swinging sideways, and I snap again, harder this time, until my teeth close on its spine. The fight leaves it instantly, and I let it fall still in the snow.

inside my blood and bone

and their network of tendon and meat

you and i, our histories of hunting

and being the beast.

this is the reckoning

Deimos was made of many aspects, but lately it’d been hordes of control – keeping himself from unraveling at the various quandaries throughout the world, or his region – no time to do much more than action and war and shield, protect, guard, as legions depended on it. Now though, with repose distinguished and finally listlessly poised against his mind, he could turn to the chaos, the release of all that mayhem, bloodshed, and ruin. The ningos simply happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. For their perspective, anyway.

The white fixtures were nothing more than mauled components in his wake – teeth clamping, tearing, ripping, as they screeched, shrieked, and fell apart. Two more flickered to the ground on death spirals or his own motions pummeling them into the ground – his eyes sharply glanced towards Ashetta to see how things were going in her wake.

When it appeared she was holding her own just fine, he could attend to the remaining bluster of buffoons, coming inward towards his skull. Jumping on an extension of muscle and power, he snagged the flying dullard midflight, crunching over spines and bones and fragile aspects until it was still in his maw.

The rest seemed to have received the message loud and clear; either blustering from higher canopies or taking off for elsewhere entirely – gaze following the sound of wings or the desperate zeal of their calls. Only thereafter did he snort, taking in the sight of their zeal. He’d have enough to feed several families in the Citadel, and started collecting them in his jaws, not saying anything to the other wolf as she finished up in her amusements.

DEIMOS

wolf image credit

Ashe

I snap down on the next one that comes flapping too close, the sharp crunch of its hollow bones breaking under my teeth followed by the hot flood of blood across my tongue. I growl low in my chest, satisfaction rolling through me as I shake it once and let it drop.

The small clearing is nearly empty now, only drifting feathers and the stench of blood left in the wake of the chaos. Most of the flock has scattered, and what’s left are the bodies—so many of them, more than I expected. Enough to feed quite a few, and I imagine at least one vest lined with the feathers. My chest heaves with the exertion, breath puffing in the cold as I stand panting, tail up, ears pricked sharply forward.

My grin is wolf-wide, the expression equal parts feral and amused. That’s the most fun I’ve had in a while, I admit through the Attuned bond, just for the hell of it. My gaze sweeps the carnage once, feathers still drifting, snow churned and bloody underpaw, before turning back to him.

Want help carrying everything back to the Citadel?

inside my blood and bone

and their network of tendon and meat

you and i, our histories of hunting

and being the beast.

this is the reckoning

The words melding through the Attuned bond are amusing portions; mostly because he’d felt the same. Seasons and years before had been about survival for his entire community, and Caido at large; taking moments to just unfurl and unwind, within ranges of violence, hadn’t been at his disposal. Others would’ve told him to do so, or to at least stroll in something leisurely, but the modicum of responsibilities pressed across his shoulders would’ve been far too heavy to keenly dive in amongst ningo and maul just for the sake of it.

Likewise, he murmured in return, teeth clenching over the ningo, then snagging at the pheasants. Not with everything else going on. He could presume she’d had her own things to work through and commit to – given the only minor bits of information he’d been privy to.

As it was though, they’d clearly been enthused in their pursuits, and he wouldn’t be able to carry all the birds on his own. The offer caused his canine brow to arch briefly, but he segmented that downwards immediately, learning to accept assistance and help. If you want. Saves me another trip.

DEIMOS

wolf image credit

Ashe

I lower my head to the snow and start gathering the limp bodies into my jaws, pulling as many as I can manage. The metallic tang of blood lingers, feathers sticking to the roof of my mouth, but I don’t mind—it’s grounding, almost. As I work, I realize Deimos might’ve needed this just as much as I did. The way he’d cut loose, fast and unrestrained, not as the Warden, not as the Sword, but as something feral and free. It mirrors something in me, and the thought makes my chest ache with understanding.

The last time I did something like this… the words slip through the bond as I grip another bird and drag it closer to the pile, was before my husband fell to his death. When the world fractured apart. We were in the Fangs then.

I pause, ears twitching, a furrow in my brow. I don’t know why I tell him that. Maybe because he’s an Outlander too. Maybe because he’s lost people he’s loved. Maybe because we both stood behind the barrier, survived with everyone through the horrors that nearly broke us all.

I shift the weight of another ningo in my jaws before speaking again. This is a good break from grief.

Inside, though, the words carry a sharper edge. The chasm Kalt left in me yawns wide even now—an endless hollow carved out when he vanished over that cliff. Theea is my whole heart, but even her light doesn’t fill the space where he should be. Something in my very soul was torn, and I’ve known all along it would never mend the way it was.

But slowly, painfully, I’m learning to live again. Since stepping out of the shadows, since returning to the public eye, reconnecting with family, with friends. Even making amends with my mother at Remi and Ronin’s party—a thing I thought I’d never have the chance to do.

I’m not sure I’ll ever heal right. Some breaks are too jagged, too deep. But maybe I’ll learn to live with it.

inside my blood and bone

and their network of tendon and meat

you and i, our histories of hunting

and being the beast.

this is the reckoning

There were some days where Deimos had wanted naught more than to be residual things that had once made him whole – ruthless, conniving, barbaric, colossal, terrifying. Lacking in control and confinement, in decorum and compassion, just reckless and abandoned from anything but those feral tendencies. A rarity and a scarcity, which was a plausible advantage for everyone else’s sake, but sometimes he was so confined and restrained that he was just a coiled, entangled knot of imminent destruction. Unleashed torrents upon ningos had been a satisfying measure; purposeful in multiple pursuits, and enough to have him no longer clawing at the edges of the Citadel walls, striving for something to wrench and break apart until there was naught below his wake.

That Ashetta, and several others in their midst, was the same was somewhat less disconcerting and more of a notion of camaraderie. Perhaps it was all the predacious instincts layered and contorted; he didn’t care to look too far inward at all the lines of carnivorous pursuits. He knew what he was, and when the situation called for it.

What little he’d known of the Kalt incident had been miniscule scraps from Theea, and even then, he didn’t pry. He knew the heavy weight of loss and the overbearing toil it took, how far one had to go to strive and rise above the surface of all the grief. Sometimes they were small steps, head barely along the water, and other times it was as if they’d been pulled down into the fathoms, already adrift and drowned. To hear it had been in the Fangs earned a slight nettling behind his ears, bothered that another had been taken in a part of his own region. I am sorry for your loss, he gave instead – they’d experienced a litany of such ends in the same threshold. From dragons to shifting lands to pools and springs gone – Halo had never been short on casualties. There might’ve been so many more, had they not made a horde of other efforts.

Taking hold of another ningo, he sighed, but let it filter and flicker elsewhere, in mere puffs of warm air from his hound nose. Agreed. A notion crossed his mind, the same sort he might’ve granted to Theea, but he was uncertain how far families might have discussed such parameters – given how many ghosts hovered over their lives. Have you talked to Remi about trying to reach him? An idea; maybe, in the fine line of things, knowing the Lullaby’s capabilities, to let her linger upon as they made their way towards the Citadel.

[FIN]

DEIMOS

wolf image credit