Winter In The Wolfs Den

Thomas sighed, breath condensing in the cold air and trailing behind him as he walked briskly through a quiet neighborhood. Blocks away, he could still hear the booming music of the house party he'd run away from. The alcohol in his system hummed in tune with the distant rhythm, beckoning him back.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He grumbled to himself, sniffling and rubbing tears from his eyes with his reddened fingertips. The flickering yellow light of street lamps led him onward as he trudged aimlessly through the fallen leaves on the sidewalk. Thomas didn't care where he was going, as long as it put distance between him and that god forsaken party.

Maybe it was his fault, maybe he was in the wrong for wanting to take a breather. Maybe he was to blame for staying a minute too long in the kitchen when he went to grab another beer. Maybe he just shouldn't have gone looking at all.

The bodies, clumsily grinding against one another. The air, humid with sweat and the scent of alcohol. The music, blaring from speakers loud enough to shake the whole house. It was a lot.

When he found the bottom of the bottle of a shitty, cheap beer, he leaned into his girlfriend's ear and told her he was going to grab another. She giggled, the smell of her perfume and vodka leering in the air around her as she turned and placed a sloppy kiss against his jaw.

"Okay baby."

And then he stepped away from her swaying hips and waded through the crowd. Costumes of every sort, normal clothes and lack thereof, it was like he was invisible in this horde of people who moved like they were possessed by the resonant base. The kitchen was full, but quieter. The murmur of conversation was dissonant to the music. Next to the fridge, two vampires were making out. Thomas tried not to pay any attention as he grabbed another beer from the case. He took a deep breath as he used the edge of the counter to pop the top off, a preliminary swig of the bitter liquid rolling down his throat before he stepped back into the fray.

This had never been his scene. It was too... sticky? Sure, the free drinks were nice and it was great to see his girlfriend in a costume that hugged her figure in all the right ways, but he could never seem to fall into things like everybody else.

"Where's Katie?" He began to ask around the crowd when he returned and his girlfriend was nowhere to be found. Answers were slurred here and there until upstairs became a cognisant consensus.

Upstairs he went, weaving around people who were all but fucking where they stood upright as he navigated the labyrinthine house. He asked around as much as he could, not quite able to work up the courage to open any doors that didn't need opening. Just like the crowd below, he followed drunken sentences until he found himself turning a golden doorknob and stepping into a bedroom.

"What about your boyfriend?" A man asked, laid topless on the bed.

"He'll be fine. He's probably hiding in a corner somewhere anyhow, too focused on his wittle feewings to even realize I'm gone. What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Katie purred from where she was straddling him. The two chuckled, Katie lowering her face to press a kiss to his lips. They didn't notice Thomas in the doorway until he dropped his beer on the ground. He didn't shout or make any move to stop them. Instead, he apologized and backed out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he heard his girlfriend curse.

Thomas didn't think about much of anything when he ran down the stairs and out the front door. He pushed the image of Katie on top of some random guy out of his brain, cramming the echo of her words somewhere far away in his mind as he fled into the sharp October air.

He didn't care where he was going or that he'd left his jacket, phone and keys in some stranger's house. He just needed to put as much distance between himself and those feelings as he possibly could. So, Thomas did what he did best, ran away from his problems.

Hot tears grew cold, stinging where they sat in his eyes as he chastised himself. Thomas was a coward, he had been all his life. He knew that Katie was his opposite, pretty and popular, but he wanted to believe that what they had was real. It was a childish ghost of his high school dreams and their parents' wishes that made him cling to her, regardless of how poorly she treated him. He knew that this was the last straw, though. It had to be. Still, he berated every aspect of himself, wallowing in the ache that masked the freezing wind and hauntingly dark sky.

In his stupor, he wandered the streets for hours, lost in his mind. He passed inflatable halloween decorations and festive lights, circled the paved drive of a community park until the smooth asphalt stifled into the dirt path of a branching walking trail through the woods. Thomas had always been fond of the forest, even if he was often too nervous to go hiking or camping or anything of the sort. With several shots and two and a half bottles of beer in his system, he didn't fear a thing. In truth, the silence was welcome.

Thomas walked the trail for a while, until the alcohol caught up to him in its entirety. The good news? He was too drunk to remember what had upset him. The bad? He wasn't great at holding his liquor.

He stumbled off the trail as the contents of his stomach churned. His head spun as he clutched onto a tree and retched. He heaved and heaved, tears rolling down his face until he was empty. Completely, utterly empty.

Catching his breath, he suddenly realized that he was maybe a foot away from a cliff. He gripped the tree a bit tighter. Even so, when he tried to step away, he stumbled. This time, there was nowhere behind him to help him catch his footing, nothing to prevent the weight of his body from tearing his grip from anything to hold on to. Thomas rolled down the cliff, unconscious by the time he found the bottom, unable to feel himself being lifted and held in strong, steady arms beyond the cold that had sunk into his skin.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a little while. The swaying motion of being carried haunted his nausea-addled mind but never quite enough to produce the relief of any sort of result. The next time he was blinking awake he was being set on something soft and a cold nose was roaming his body, sniffing intently. From there, he ebbed and flowed around what remained of his cognisant mind long enough to parse the crackling of a fire and mellow voices before going out cold entirely.

Thomas awoke in a delirium, rushing to sit upright but struggling against an invisible weight that pushed his body downward. A hand was quick to settle between his shoulder blades, holding him upright as he heaved into a bucket that was guided into his hands. He had no clue who was helping him, but he was in no mind to care. His head spun and his body ached and his throat was raw with every dry heave that rolled through him, drawing nothing but stinging bile by the time it was done.

"That's it," Crooned a husky voice. Thomas spat into the metal pail and wiped his face with his sleeve before turning to look at the woman beside him. Even in her diminished stature, he could tell she was tall. A thin linen dress hung loose on her body, its wide neckline showing her clavicle and strong shoulders. Long, black hair fell around her, catching the warmth of the firelight and shining copper. She rubbed circles on his back and swayed slightly where she knelt, searching his body with wide, silvery eyes. He could tell she was older, even if her face hardly held any indication of age. There was something so mature, so regal, so commanding about her presence alone.

When he opened his mouth to speak, all he could produce was a dry wheeze. The woman was quick to shush him, lifting a glass of cold, clear water from the ground next to her and raising it to his lips. She did not hand it to him, opting to tilt it into his mouth instead. Thomas was rather grateful, as he was quite sure that keeping hold of the bucket in his lap was the only coordination he could muster. As his eager sips grew more fervent, she pulled the glass back and tutted quietly.

"You need to drink slowly, dear, you'll get even more sick if you don't," She explained. When she offered the glass once more, Thomas did his best to take smaller, more cautious sips. "Very good," She praised softly.

As she popped the top off of a glass water jug, he tried to take in his surroundings.The floors around him were cold and rough against his palms, but they did not crumble in the way that their muddy texture suggested they would. On top of them, where he sat, was the hide of some large animal. If he were to hazard a guess, it would be moose. The hair was long and coarse as he ran his fingers through it. In front of him was a fireplace made of misshapen stones that towered beyond the ceiling. The walls were a combination of thick, wooden supports and the same material as the floor. A rounded doorway was carved on either side of him, the one to his right hidden behind woven curtains and the one to his left made out of wood, he assumed that to be the entrance. Next to that were small hides in the wall, covering what he assumed to be even smaller windows.

"Are we in a cave?" Is the first thing that Thomas managed to croak out. He winced as he spoke, his voice startlingly rough against his throat.

"Yes! My mate and I built it together many years ago," The woman answers with a smile, presenting the water to him once more. If he wasn't for the ache of his esophagus to be soothed, he might have asked her about the word "mate." Instead, it slips his mind as he accepts the water from her once again. Together, another glass is down and she insists he give his body a moment to let it settle.

"How did I get here?" He asked, watching the fire flicker before him.

"Victor found you at the bottom of a cliff while he was hunting. He brought you back here three days ago and we've been trying to fix you up ever since." Her voice was gentle as she explained, as though she were afraid Thomas would break all over again.

"Three days..." Thomas mumbled in disbelief. It would explain the dryness of his throat, but the knowledge still seemed so farfetched. "And Victor? Is he your... Mate?"

"Oh yes! He'll be back soon, you'll get to properly meet him then. We'll be able to make you something to eat, too. I'm afraid all we have right now is jerky and I don't imagine your body is up for anything of the sort. It's been so long since I've made a good stew, I should get that going now that I think about it. If you need anything, please do ask," She tumbles eagerly over her words. Thomas can only nod in response. As she's turning to leave, he catches hand. Her attention is on him without a second thought.

"What's your name?"

She chuckles and places a hand on his face gently. It is a soft, nonchalant gesture, but it sparks something within him so flustering he can barely hear her response.

"I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner, dove. My name is Ada, and you? What's your name, little one?"

"Thomas," He answers, heartbeat stuttering as her voice sinks into the hollow of his chest.

"It's nice to meet you, Thomas." She smiles, and before he can commit to a response, she is stepping across the room towards the wooden counters and cabinets in the corner. He tries to be respectful as he watches her leave, his genuine curiosity towards the space around him guiding his gaze. Even so, he is captivated by where the hem of her dress falls against the back of her thighs. Her legs are long and lean, like that of a runner, and dark hair lays against her honey-colored skin. He finds himself more fascinated than affronted by it.

Ada paces around the cave, collecting stored vegetables, rinsing them in a metal water basin, chopping them with precision. The air around her is warm, tender. Still, there is something in the back of Thomas' mind that bristles in her wake. It is a voice, small and quiet. Danger, it murmurs, and Thomas shushes it.

"Well that didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would." Ada huffs, propping herself against the counter and turning to face Thomas. "Do you mind if I check your bandages while we're waiting on Victor?"

"Sure," He agrees, having hardly noticed any of his injuries in the first place. Everything hurt so much that he couldn't tell the source of one pain from another.

Ada takes her time in inspecting Thomas. She runs gentle fingers over the bandage that wraps around his head, delicately lifts each of his arms and unwraps them to reveal his pale skin mottled with angry reds, blues, purples and greens. Ugly gashes are clotted and scabbed over, but Thomas grimaces at their appearance still. Soon she is pulling the woven blanket from his lap. He finds he is in only his boxers, and quickly turns his head as far away from her as he can to avoid showing his flushed cheeks. Thomas swears he hears the softest of chuckles, but for his own sanity, decides to ignore it. He feels her long fingers, hears the soft rustling of bandages being unwound. It is her touch against his leg that causes his head to snap to her again.

For a moment, he is dizzy, a combined result of the sharp pain and moving too fast. When the world settles, he is able to see the source of the problem. A nasty cut, right down to the bone. Nausea threatens to creep back into his system as he watches her navigate the outline of the wound with her fingertips, a small frown pinching her features.

"It's not infected, but it's due to be cleaned again. Will you let me do that?" She asks. Thomas can only nod, too enraptured by the carnage of his right leg. His left is bruised and scraped, but that's practically nothing in comparison.

Ada removes his bandages entirely. They are thick with the metallic scent of his own blood. She dips a cloth into a bowl of water and dabs it on his wound. He hisses and she is quick to mutter praise and assurance. To his surprise, it soothes him. Every sweet nothing she whispers serves to dilute him beneath her hands. The pain does not subside, but it becomes almost bearable by the time the wound is clean and the water is a murky shade of brown. She rinses her hands in the water before unscrewing a jar. She scoops a salve, pale green in color, and applies it to his leg. Thomas whines at the newfound ache this elicits, unable to fight the tears that bead in his eyes.

"Oh darling, you're doing so well for me. This will only take a few seconds longer. I've got you, Thomas. We're almost done," She soothes. And sure enough, she is quickly wrapping his leg in fresh bandages once again. As soon as she's gotten rid of the soiled bandages and returns the bowl to the counter, she takes Thomas in her arms and holds him to her chest.

Thomas works hard to avoid crying. He leans into her embrace as he collects himself. It does not occur to him that this woman is little more than a stranger. She is earnest in the way that she cradles him, pouring every ounce of emotion into her touch in a way that leaves no room for worry or second guessing.

When the pain fades and the two separate, cordial conversation fills the open air. Hours later, Ada's head perks up. "He's home," She says. Her smile is so bright it's contagious. She makes her way to the door, opening it to reveal a man just a few inches taller than her.

They greet one another with a kiss. It is more than a chaste peck but performed with the same nonchalance. Their lips crash into one another with enough force to elicit audible gasps from the both of them. When they pull apart, they press their foreheads to one another and speak hushed hellos.

The man shrugs the large buck from his shoulders and offers it to Ada. She steps out the door and takes the buck that looks as tall as her and double her weight as though it were nothing. Victor steps inside and closes the door behind him.

"She's going to prepare it," He says with a small laugh. Thomas realizes that he must have been staring at the door after her and looks to the large man sheepishly. He wore a pair of brown woven pants that hung loosely on his hips. He all but gawked at the older man, never having seen somebody of his stature.

His arms were huge and covered in black hair. While his stomach was not chiseled, it was latent with muscle. His salt and pepper hair curled where it met his shoulders, strands slicked to his face from sweat. His features were sharp, his eyes golden-brown, and if it were not for the smile he offered, Thomas would be too intimidated to look at him for longer than a second.

"It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?" Victor asked, sitting down on the floor next to him.

"Not great..." Thomas answered honestly, trying to manage a lighthearted chuckle. The older man frowns and reaches to him, pushing the hair from his forehead and pressing the back of his hand against his skin.

"It looks like your fever's almost gone. Did Ada explain everything?"

"She told me you found me and brought me here and then she changed my bandages," He replies. A downturned smile takes Victor's features.

"I thought you were a deer when I found you, you looked so small. You took quite a fall, I wasn't sure you would even make the trip back. Do you remember anything that happened?" His eyes searched the younger man, looking for something Thomas had yet to parse.

Stifled memories begin to swarm Thomas' mind, and he quickly place's a hand against his heart. It does not soothe the new hurt that comes. He remembers the party, the alcohol, Katie. He bites his bottom lip to postpone a second wave of tears, simply nodding his head in response to the question. Even so, they fall, streaking his skin.

"Hey, you're safe now. Everything that happened is behind you now. I've got you, kid. I've got you." Victor swipes the tears away with the calloused pads of his thumb. His compassion isn't soft like Ada's. It is so clearly in his nature to be brutish, but the cautious state of his touch is welcomed. Thomas finds himself leaning into his hand with the same trust he found in Ada. The older man assures him with patient touch, cradling his face in his large palm as Thomas calms himself down.

By the time Ada is stepping through the door, he has sorted himself out. Victor had stepped through the curtained door to clean up. He returns in a similar but less muddy pair of pants, still shirtless. Together, the couple work to make dinner.

Yet again, Thomas finds himself with their back toward him, and it stirs a new curiosity in the depths of his belly. Ada's shirt sways as she moves, revealing the lowest curve of her rear. He sees this and averts his eyes, only to land his gaze on the muscle's that flex in Victor's back as he busies his hands at the counter. His eyes flit between the two as a heat creeps into his face. Finally, he manages to find something else to entertain his gaze. The shadow in the fire pit wavers against the dancing flame, lulling his mind at last.

When the stew is ready, Ada and Victor sit on the floor in front of Thomas, instead of at the small table by the front window. The three each have their own large bowl to themselves. At first, Thomas' efforts to eat are clumsy and shaky. Though the two are eager to offer assistance, he manages to find a rhythm in bringing the spoon to his mouth. His stomach beckons him to devour the nutrients as quickly as he can, but Ada narrows his eyes at him when his movements grow faster. He is quick to obey, wordlessly focusing on one bite at a time as they passively enjoy the food together.

"I've never had venison," Thomas notes thoughtfully.

"Is that so?" Victor asks. "How do you like it then?"

"A lot... It tastes really good," He answers, a timid grin on his downturned face.

"I'm glad you think so," He grins, leaning against his arms and lolling his head back to look at the ceiling. There is a comfortable quiet that takes the room as the three lounge together, bellies full and warm.