Renegade Wolf

Erm, this IS my first story and I know it doesn't have any sex in it. But we'll work up to that. :P

Faerie_Queene_31

*

The weather was warm even though it was nearly dusk. Sunlight filtered through trees as Gabriella walked through the woods reflecting on nothing in particular. She looked up at the forest canopy, her dirt blond hair shifting back over her neck. It was always so peaceful being in the forest. Being in the country. All you could hear were the sounds of insects and birds and the occasional large animal.

Gabriella loved being on the ranch. Her aunt and uncle owned a large acre farm, miles away from any city. She would miss it when she went off to college. At least I have a few months before I go away, she thought. She was always kind of uncomfortable in the big city. Where people never smiled at strangers and everything was so big. She had been in many large cities, but she could never get over the feeling that they were too big.

A noise like an animal in pain rent the air suddenly. Gabriella stopped and stared in the direction that it came from. It scared her. She didn't have any weapons if something like a cougar or wolf had something in its jaws. She bit her lip indecisive, when the cry came again, higher in desperation. She started running toward the noise, crashing through the bushes and foliage desperate to find and help whatever was making the awful screaming.

She barreled into a small clearing. There in the middle of the ring of trees was -- well, she didn't know what it was. If she had to describe it, she would say it was darkness. Just pure darkness, but alive somehow. As if sensing she was there it seemed to look up, but it didn't have any eyes -- any features for that matter. It was just like someone had drawn over the scene with black sharpie. Alive black sharpie. She gaped at it, and then noticed that the darkness wasn't what had been screaming. It was what the darkness had been encompassing that had been making the awful inhuman noise. When the darkness had raised its, well, head, it showed half of a human face. Without meaning to, Gabriella took a step forward. The darkness hissed and then hesitating just a moment, it turned and disappeared into the shadows.

After staring after it for a few minutes, Gabby turned to the man lying on the forest floor. He was covered in blood. And a fine black mucus substance that's smell made her gag in disgust. But as she moved closer to the man, she realized that his chest rose with the faintest hint of life. Taking in the size of his frame, she bit her lip and then dug in her pocket for her cell phone. She had just barely enough reception.

"Uncle, you need to bring the four-wheeler down here. There's -- " She cut off when she realized the man's eyes had opened. He looked at her with pain filled eyes. They were brown with the slightest tinge of yellow.

"No --" He gasped with the pain of speaking, but steeled himself, "No hospital." He ground out, painfully. She stared at him, faintly hearing her uncle getting agitated on the phone.

"You don't want to go to the hospital?" She asked incredulously. His lips quirked, but his eyes still had the same note of supplication. She was about to refuse. He probably noticed because he half-sobbed out a single word.

"Please."

She stopped with the refusal on her tongue. She didn't think he could live without hospital treatment. But her aunt had been a nurse. Maybe she could help him. She sighed. And nodded. As if this was the response he had been waiting for, he relaxed and his eyes closed. Suddenly recalling her uncle, she pressed the phone again to her ear. She could hear the rumbling of an engine. The four-wheeler, she realized.

"Uncle?"

"Gabby, where have you been? Where are you? It's almost dark out! Has something happened? Are you hurt? Why do you need the four-wheeler?" She waited for him to take a breath and told him about the injured man.

"Shall I call the police or have you already?" Uncle asked.

"He said he didn't want to go to the hospital," She paused, "He seemed quite adamant."

"Sounds fishy to me, but let me come find you." He replied. She gave him the best directions that she could and then kneeled next to the man, observing him more closely.

He was covered in injuries. There was a gash on his head and several others down his arms and on his chest. His shirt was in shreds from what looked like claws. She thought of the darkness and shivered. She hadn't thought it was really doing anything, but apparently it had done more than she thought. She was almost positive that he wasn't a criminal. Unless he robbed a designer store. He did have a lot of scars though. And a few tattoos. But these were mostly -- Celtic or something like that.

She heard the roar of the four-wheeler and her uncle drove headlong through the bushes, braking suddenly when he saw her and the body lying on the ground. He got off the vehicle and walked up.

"Hmm." He said, as he looked the man over. "Looks almost dead to me. You sure we shouldn't call the police?" He looked at Gabby. She shook her head at him.

"We'll take him to Aunt first." She said.

He turned out to be quite hefty, she thought, as she and her uncle lifted the man onto the four-wheeler. He didn't resurface until he was fully onto the vehicle. He gazed uncomprehendingly at her uncle and then turned his dazed eyes to her.

"It's going to be alright." She reassured him. "I swear."

"It's going to be alright. I swear."

Those were the last words he heard and they had almost seemed as if they were coming from underwater.

He remembered something attacking him from behind as he had debated which way to go. His first thought was that it was one of the Achai clan. But then he realized this was no human or lycan. It was something completely -- wrong.

After it had attacked him, he lost sense of everything, although he had the faint memories of making noise. And then it had left. This had confused him and although he didn't want to, he rose out of unconsciousness. He had opened his eyes to see a young woman, dark blond haired, and her voice like a bubbling stream, talking on a cell phone. Then she had looked at him. Her eyes had been so blue. He thought he had been looking into the ocean's depths. She had a face that showed every thought that she had. Surprise, concern, and curiosity. He had just enough time to relay his fears, to tell her not to take him to one of those hospitals, before his strength failed him. She could have said no. In their world, most people would've taken him to the hospital anyways. But she had looked into his eyes, hesitated and then agreed. And then he had sunk into darkness until they had moved him. He had barely surfaced, seen an older man, and then focused on the girl again. His life source. His strength. She had smiled and spoken, words ringing in his ears.

"It's going to be alright. I swear."

They had brought him back to the farmhouse. Her aunt had taken one look at his bloody frame and had hurried off, leaving Gabby and her uncle to carry the man into one of the spare bedrooms. Her aunt had come back bristling with antiseptics, bandages, painkillers, and an expert nurse's opinion.

"He really ought to go to the hospital, dear." Aunt told her. But she read the look on Gabby's face and sighed. "I'll do what I can."

And she did. She found even the smallest cut and put antiseptic on it. She stitched his forehead. She washed him, getting the thin, black mucus off.

Only the deep gash on his head was truly worrying. The rest of his wounds were bad but not that bad. His ribs were a little bruised and he had small gashes all over his body, but none were life threatening. There was an odd mark on his shoulder that Gabby's aunt really couldn't understand.

It was a perfect circle.

Despite all these wounds being stitched and cleaned the man did not wake up. It worried Gabby's aunt, who thought maybe the man had a concussion. To the astonishment of Gabby and her aunt and uncle, the day after they found the man lying in the woods, they walked into his room to find that his wounds were already almost healed.

Many of his abrasions and cuts had disappeared, leaving only slight red marks. And the gash on his head had become smaller, less red. Gabby's aunt had been flabbergasted and perhaps -- a little afraid?

Gabby helped wherever she could. On the second day, sometime during afternoon, he developed a high fever. Gabby would spend hours holding a damp cold cloth to the man's head. He would open his eyes and look at her uncomprehending. The first time he did this, she shrieked in surprise, causing her aunt to come bursting in. He didn't seem to recognize her though. And he would talk. He would talk in a language that she had never heard before. It was deep, guttural, and rumbling. At first she thought it was German, but she wasn't too sure.

Gabby wondered about the creature of darkness. She would sit and watch the man as he panted softly and she would wonder where exactly a creature so frighteningly alien could've come from. She hadn't told her aunt or uncle anything about a darkness. She was half certain she had imagined it. But deep down she knew that she had seen. She just didn't want to admit that she'd seen it.

There came a day when her aunt and uncle were gone from the farm. It had been perhaps a week and a half. She was cooking soup in the large kitchen, when she heard a knock from the front door and heard the dogs howling and barking in alert.

She wiped her hands on a towel and walked over to the door, reassuring herself that the large rifle, which always hung by the door, was still there.

Two men were standing at the door, waiting. They wore non-descript clothing and one had shades on. She looked at them warily and opened the door. At the farm, they rarely had visitors and were wary of anybody they didn't know.

"Can I help you?" She asked, addressing the one not wearing shades.

He smiled. His smile set her on edge for a reason. His teeth seemed...too sharp, for some reason.

"Ma'am." He said, and there was a smooth sliminess to his voice. "We're from the FBI." He flashed a badge. This only made her more suspicious.

"What can I do for you?" She said, attempting to be civil.

"We've had," He paused, "intelligence that a known criminal may have been seen running into this part of your land."

Gabby raised her eyebrows. A know criminal?

"What does he or she look like?" She asked, almost as smoothly as the man. He frowned.

"He," He emphasized, "is about my height, my weight and he has dark hair and brown eyes."

She sighed.

"Look," She said, "We don't get many people out here and I'm outside all the time. There's no one of that description except for you and you have blond hair." She raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you further." She made to close the door.

"Ma'am." The man said with a frozen voice, trying his hardest to be polite, "Would you mind us taking a look on your property?"

She fixed him with a look.

"I rather you wouldn't, now if you'll excuse me, I'm burning my soup." She said coldly and then shut the door. He seemed startled, but she walked back to the kitchen and gave the already scorched food a stir. She frowned, she'd have to scrub the pot.

When she heard the sound of an engine she went to the window and looked out. They seemed to be driving away in a unmarked SUV. She scowled. FBI agents her ass.

On the third week, the man awoke and was actually sensible. He looked at her and tried to talk but his throat rattled. She ran and got him water, helping him drink. He watched her, unnervingly. She smiled at him, trying to get him to relax. He watched her lips and a line appeared between his brow.

"Hospital?" He rasped.

"No." She said, "You told me no hospital, remember?"

He stared at her.

"You told me no hospital, remember?"

He did remember, but he was having a hard time taking it all in. She looked at him, with those eyes, and he knew she was waiting for an answer.

"What is your name?" She asked, a small frown on her face. He debated giving her a fake name, but then abruptly, decided to trust her.

"Dominic." He said. His voice was raspy and he felt as those he had eaten a load of sand.

"Dominic." She repeated, trying it out on her tongue. He watched her lips. They were very pretty lips. They almost always seemed to be upturned in a smile when he saw her.

"There were two men here looking for you, Dominic." She said abruptly. He stiffened. Achai. He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised that she hadn't turned him in.

"They said that they were the FBI and that you were a known criminal." She smiled. "I was almost certain they were lying. They were too slimy to trust anyways." She looked at him sidelong. "I did google it though."

He looked at her confused. Google?

"It didn't say anything about escaped criminals running around Idaho." She laughed, "But I guess even the internet could be wrong."

His expression cleared. Ah, the internet.

She rested her head on her hands.

"So?" She asked.

"So what?" He asked, rasping.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" He looked at her startled. He hadn't even trusted his own brother enough to tell him the reason he was running. He decided that perhaps he had told her his name, but he could definitely not tell her his true purpose. He had only known her for a few minutes after all.

"I was running," He lied, "From some men who wanted to, uh, collect some gambling debts that my brother hadn't paid." She looked at him doubtfully.

"In Idaho?" She asked suspicious. He sighed.

"It's a long story, but suffice it to say, my sports car broke down on my way to Seattle and I was trying to find a nearby town when I stumbled into your forest." He said.

"Why didn't you just follow the road?" She asked, frowning at him. He sighed again. He could almost hate smart people.

"Because apparently I'm not that clever." He snapped and then abruptly regretted it and slumped. He was way too stressed. Thankfully, she seemed to understand this.

"I'm sorry." Was all she said. And then she left the room. He thought he had offended her, but a few moments later she came back with food for him. And the sight of the steaming meat and vegetables on the plate in her hand made his fangs come out and his stomach howl in hunger.

She handed him the plate her expression almost -- amused.

He was obviously lying to her, she thought. There were way to many holes in his story. She was initially rather hurt. I saved his life and now he's lying to me? She had thought incredulously. But then when she saw the gash on his head and thought about the men 'FBI', she realized he must have something larger to hide and after all, she thought, he didn't know her that well nor she him.

He ate the food she gave him like he was eating his last meal. It was kind of funny watching a grown man's eyes go wide as saucers when he sees a mere plate of stir fry and steak. He also ate four servings. And with farm helpings, that's a lot.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" She asked, looking at him. He shrugged.

"Would you like any books to pass the time while you're healing?" She probably shouldn't be pressing him. He most likely wanted rest. After all, his eyes were closed. But now they opened.

"No," He said, softly, "No books, but would you maybe bring me a sketchpad?" He asked wistfully.

She stared at him and then when he squirmed self-consciously, she smiled.

"I can do that." She said. She took the dishes out and left him in his room.

She came back a bit later with a large sketchpad and a bunch of different writing utensils. She laid them on the bedside table next to him and then leaned down over him. He started in surprise. She kissed his forehead and her breasts brushed his chest. His breathing quickened slightly, but she was leaning away already.

"Rest well." Was all she said.