by Alex Kidwell
Victor shivered as he transitioned from the warmth inside the Gray Lady’s house to the chill air outside. Off in the distance he could see Jed and Redford standing by their cabin. Going by Jed’s gesticulations, they were having a rather spirited conversation.
Anthony bumped Randall’s shoulder with his own. “Morning appointment with the doctor,” he said. “I’m heading over, and I’m told I’ll probably be a few hours, so go do something fun. You too, Victor.”
“Ah, yes. Fun. I think I’ve forgotten what that is,” Victor said dryly. More likely he’d be attempting to do more research, or figuring out how to approach this Leonard O’Malley person and get him to stop this encroaching war. “Good luck with your appointment.”
Edwin was tugging off his shirt almost as soon as they’d gotten out of the cabin. “I’m going for a run. I’ll be waiting for you after, okay, Ant?” He shifted, a graceful leap forward, lean muscle and smooth skin changing to fur. He barked at them, tail wagging furiously, weaving between their legs before taking off like a shot toward the woods.
“I have fun,” Randall told Anthony, hands in his pockets, watching Edwin as if to make sure he was all right. “How about I stop by and meet you after you’re done at the healer’s?”
“All right.” Anthony fondly ruffled Randall’s hair and smirked when Randall scowled and tried to duck away. He glanced between Randall and Victor, his expression lighting up. “Hey, so I heard some of the younger kids talking yesterday. Apparently there’s a waterfall in the northeast of the camp that feeds into the river, and it’s a real romantic spot for a picnic or a swim.”
There was a beat of silence, Randall so deliberately not looking at Victor it was almost painful. Victor, for his part, merely stared at Anthony, dumbfounded. “Did you meet someone?” Randall asked Anthony, overly casual. “That’s great. About time. Why don’t I pack you a lunch to take?”
In all his life, Victor had never met someone he could accurately describe as having a hearty laugh. Anthony, he discovered, now fit the bill. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Randall,” he said. “I’m covered in stinky goo, and none of the healers—who are pretty much the only people I see, by the way—are my type.” A brief tenseness crossed Anthony’s face, a tilt to his lips that didn’t seem to match his casual tone. “Besides, I don’t have the best luck, waterfall or no.”
Victor didn’t miss the flash of emotions over Anthony’s face, though he didn’t know how to begin interpreting them. Randall’s expression immediately fell, and he reached out and squeezed Anthony’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to his brother, lips etched downward into a regretful frown. “I didn’t think. That was incredibly rude.”
Anthony just gave a shrug and looped his arm around Randall’s shoulder to pull him close. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his smile genuine. Just like that, the indescribable emotions on his face had gone, replaced with cheer. “Now seriously, have some fun so you can tell me about it later. I need to live vicariously through you so that my sole experience here isn’t smelly ointments and being poked by a healer.”
Hugging Anthony close, face pressed into his neck, Randall’s shoulders shook slightly. But his voice was painfully calm when he spoke. “I promise. Lots of fun. And we’ll go swimming together later, okay? You’re going to be fine, Ant.” It was said so fervently, as if his words invoked power.
It pained Victor to be a witness to a moment so emotional. As a man not normally inclined to be overly demonstrative himself, he felt more than a little awkward standing around while Randall desperately tried to reassure both himself and his brother that Anthony would be fine. In some small nod to courtesy, he turned aside and pretended to be intently studying the pack of wolves near the constant bonfire.
“Of course I am,” he heard Anthony say. “I’d better go; they’ll get annoyed if I’m late.”
And then Randall was left standing there alone, watching his brother make a slow, agonizing shuffle across the camp toward the healers’ cabin. It was worse in the morning, Victor had observed, particularly on chilly mornings such as this. The tense line of Randall’s shoulders, the way he was leaning forward, clearly spoke to how much Randall itched to go help Anthony. But he held himself still, jaw so tight it looked like Randall might shatter.
Victor wished there was something he could say that wasn’t pithy platitudes. Telling Randall everything would be okay felt like a farce, because he couldn’t promise that. Telling him that Anthony was a fighter would just sound ridiculous out loud.
Then again, some people did feel reassured by such empty sentences.
In normal circumstances, he might ask if Randall wanted to hear some of those platitudes, because Victor was perfectly capable of saying them if it might help. But Randall didn’t look to be in the mood for such a discussion. Instead, Victor said, “So. We’ve been ordered to have some fun. Have you any ideas, because I certainly don’t.” He peered into the distance. “Perhaps we could sidle up to Jed and Redford and listen in on their argument.”
Randall snorted faintly. “That’s your idea of fun?” But he didn’t disagree. Shooting Victor a sidelong look, he nodded toward where Jed and Redford appeared to be very much absorbed in their own conversation. Jed was gesticulating wildly, pacing back and forth, clearly still upset.
“I’m not going to get a bunch of fucking ass sniffing furry hippies killed, Red!” Jed’s voice was decidedly louder than necessary. Victor and Randall had hardly needed to get within ten feet before every word was heard crystal clear.
“But it’s their choice!” Redford replied. Victor struggled to recall a time when he’d ever heard Redford speaking at a volume above a hushed murmur, and couldn’t think of one. “You wouldn’t be getting them anything, Jed.”
Jed stomped away, all of a few feet, before turning back around, waving a finger at Redford. “I’ve been here before. I’m not doing this, not here, no fucking way.”
Even from ten feet away, Victor could see Redford’s eyes nearly cross as he attempted to focus on Jed’s finger, looking faintly offended that he was getting it shaken at him. “They’re not asking you to lead them into war,” he said. “They’re not actually asking anything of you, just your opinion. And you saw what happened back there. You advised them to run, and they might pick the war. Nobody’s death will be on your head.”
“Yes they will!” Jed actually turned and threw the laptop at the side of the cabin. Randall flinched as it smashed against the wood. “Jesus fuck, it’s going to be on me. If I stay, it will be my fucking fault if they die.”
Randall moved closer to Victor, their arms pressed tight together. Randall was watching Jed and Redford worriedly. This was his life they were debating, Victor realized. His future. Victor would go home and back to his house, his classroom, but if the wolf pack decided to run, it would mean the Lewises picking up and leaving with them. If they fought, it could be Randall who died.
“Actually,” Redford said softly. “It will be on me. I’m the one Randall hired, remember? I’m the one in charge of our business presence here. You said it yourself.”
“We are so far beyond that, Fido, and you damn well know it.”
“We’re not idiots.” Randall’s voice was so quiet, for a moment it didn’t seem anyone had heard him. Jed dragged his gaze from Redford over to Randall, scowl deepening. Victor gave an awkward half wave, attempting to look like he wasn’t hiding behind a bush and listening in. “We are wolves. We might not know this fight, but if you think we don’t know what hunters mean—”
“This ain’t your business, kid,” Jed muttered. “You and the professor go back to making kissy faces at each other and leave us alone.”
“Jed!” Redford’s eyes had started flickering toward yellow, even as his shoulders rounded in embarrassment at Randall’s presence. “That’s exactly his business. That’s his life, the future of his people. Don’t you think he gets a say in that?”
“I’m not talking about him.” Jed had dismi
ssed Victor and Randall again, moving forward toward Redford, voice lowered to a desperate hiss. “Jesus, Red, come on. I’m not talking about what they do, I’m talking about us. You and me. I’m not going to stand around here and let you get turned into me.”
Victor was glad nobody was looking at him, because he gave such a momentous roll of his eyes that he nearly permanently flipped his eyeballs.
“Jed, that’s….” Redford sounded like he was struggling to catch up with the new topic. “I don’t care about me right now. This pack is facing a war, and we need to decide if we’re going to help or not.”
“That’s what I’m telling you. I don’t care about one damn thing but you.” Jed’s hands landed on Redford’s arms, gripping lightly. “I’d help them relocate, but—”
“Us.” Randall interrupted again, this time with a low growl. Jed’s fingers immediately slid away from Redford, the distance between them all that much more obvious. “You’re talking about us. And fine, you don’t want to stay around here, you want to take off, fine. I’ll find someone else. I’ll get someone in here who will teach us how to fight these men. Or we’ll figure it out on our own. But, Jed, I don’t want to run. We shouldn’t run. And you know it.”
“Where the fuck do you get that idea?” Jed bit back.
“Because you’re fighting it so damn hard.” Randall squared his shoulders, meeting Jed’s eyes boldly. “If you really just thought we were idiots and it was a bad idea, you’d insult us, get in your van, and go. But you’re actively arguing for the other option. You’re scared.”
“Fuck you.” Jed folded his arms tight across his chest. But he also didn’t deny it.
“I’m scared too,” Randall murmured. “I don’t want to fight. That’s not who I am. But it’s the logical choice. Running will only prolong this.”
Redford only had eyes for Jed right then. He took Jed’s elbow, getting his attention. When he spoke, it was so low that Victor barely heard him. “I know why you don’t want to do this. I know it’s hard. But if we leave without helping them, they will die. By being here we can help make sure they survive.”
Head bowing, Jed let out a slow breath. “What are you going to do when they die, Red? How am I going to look you in the eye when I force you to kill someone? That’s what I do, babe, not you.”
“I’ve already killed,” Redford said gently. “And it hurt. And I felt bad about it. But then I remembered that I did it for us. Because I love you, and because I’m not the guy stuck in my grandmother’s basement anymore. I’m free, and I chose this, because you showed me a better life.”
Once again, Victor was starting to feel supremely awkward. Did he have a talent for walking in on intimate conversations?
“And when these wolves go to war,” Redford continued, “some of them will die. And I’ll be upset about that too, but at least I’ll know that we tried.”
“It’s not better,” Jed muttered, stare firmly fixed on the ground. “Doesn’t matter how right it was to kill those guys, there shouldn’t ever be blood on your hands. Not yours. Jesus, Red, it’s not better. It’s a cage. I’m keeping you in a goddamn cage, just like….” He broke off, rubbing a hand across his face, all but biting back the rest of that sentence. “Fine,” he sighed, louder, refusing to look at anyone. “Fine, I’ll fucking train the Lassie squad.”
“We’ll train them,” Redford corrected. Victor noted that he didn’t bring up the cage comment again.
“Yeah, great. We’ll train them.” Jed’s arms were crossed tightly across his chest, brow furrowed.
“Thank you,” Randall attempted, only to have Jed growl under his breath and stomp off in the direction of his and Redford’s cabin. Randall looked a bit deflated, but he turned to Redford, sincerity in his voice, and tried again. “Thank you. For what you’re going to do.”
Redford looked uncomfortable at the praise, but he did smile slightly. “We’re all wolves, right? Wolves should stick together.”
The first time Victor had met Redford, the man had practically hidden behind anything bigger than he was to avoid seeing other people. The fact that he was smiling at Randall and tentatively including himself in a group was a rather big improvement.
“Although I don’t know how much gun training would really help,” Redford admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everybody here would rather fight as a wolf.”
“Then you and Jed can teach them that.” Victor nodded over at the group of wolves lazing around near the fire. “See them? They may have hunting instincts, but that isn’t knowledge of what to do in a fight against someone with a gun.”
“You are going to save us,” Randall said, so fervently, so absolute in his belief. “Think of the security, the patrols, all the dozens of tiny details that no one here considers. Those are what’s going to be the difference between survival and being wiped out.”
Redford seemed even more uncomfortable now, his gaze firmly fixed on the ground. “It’s… um. Just—it’s nothing,” he stuttered, unable to get words out. “You’re welcome? It might not even be an issue. The Gray Lady still hasn’t decided what she wants to do. But if she decides to fight, we’re, um, we’re glad to help.”
Randall took an awkward step forward, arms going half out, almost as if for a hug. Redford gave him a startled glance, and Randall wound up patting Redford’s shoulder, looking highly uncomfortable and very much like he wasn’t sure what to do with his body. “Yes, well. Right. Just in case. Thank you again.” A beat and he sighed, shoving his glasses farther up on his nose. “I’m sorry. My brothers are so much better at this sort of thing.”
Victor rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide his amused smirk. This was the third awkward thing he’d seen so far today, but this one was actually quite endearing.
“It’s okay,” Redford told Randall. “I’m not very good at, um, hugs either. But you are welcome. I don’t think I could stand by and do nothing to help. Even if I have to drag Jed, kicking and screaming, with me.”
“Redford!” The dulcet tones of Journey Walker came floating back toward them. “Come on. I ain’t doing this alone. Let’s look at some goddamn maps.”
Redford ducked his head, but Victor could see the curve of a pleased little smile tug at his lips. “I’ll see you two later,” he said and took off at a quick pace toward Jed.
Victor still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on between Jed and Redford, but as long as they were willingly working together and not gouging each other’s eyeballs out, he frankly didn’t care all that much. He watched Randall as Randall’s gaze followed Redford, a small tinge of what might have been longing touching his expression.
“I should probably let you get back to… well, whatever it is you were going to do today.” Randall didn’t look at Victor, purposefully keeping his eyes anywhere but Victor’s face. “I’m sure that watching paint dry would be more interesting to you than following me around.”
“I rather think following you around would be the highlight of my day.” Victor said the words before he really thought about them, and was surprised to find himself genuinely meaning them. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
Blinking rapidly, Randall fumbled off his glasses to clean them aggressively on the edge of his shirt. “Uh. No. I haven’t yet.” Shyly, he glanced over at Victor. “I suppose I did promise Ant to have fun. And I don’t think that counted.”
“Awkward hugs don’t count as fun?” Victor lifted his eyebrows, pretending to be surprised. “I’m shocked.”
“Yes, well, I am out of practice.” Randall’s mouth twisted up into a half smile. “Usually I leave the emotional displays to my brothers. I’m a sorry excuse for a wolf, I’m afraid.”
“Who said that wolves have to be emotionally open?” Victor wasn’t entirely sure where that particular myth had come from. “Is there even a basis in reality for that stereotype?”
They’d fallen into step beside each other. Victor couldn’t remember if he’d moved first or if Randall had, but their gaits we
re in easy sync. “Not really.” Randall rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I suppose the idea comes from the fact we’re all supposed to be wild creatures, howling at the moon. But in my limited experience, wolves are pretty much like people. We have personalities. We have different opinions and emotions. We feel things… more intensely than humans, I think. And there are certain things, like the idea of mates or pack, that I think might be unique. But not being rough and tumble doesn’t make me any less wolfish, no. At least, not in my opinion.”
From anybody else, Victor would—rather hypocritically, he was aware—get bored of the lecture. From Randall, however, he found himself listening intently to Randall speak, wanting to ask him for more information. “Not in any opinion, I should hope,” Victor replied. “It does make me feel thankful that medusas are quite rare. We have no stereotypes.”
Other than eventually going crazy, but that was less of a stereotype and more of an absolutely certainly. And this conversation was rather pleasant. Victor didn’t want to make it morbid.
“I have observed that you wolves do seem to feel things rather intensely,” he then agreed. “But I must admit I’ve never understood the ‘mates’ thing. Isn’t that just… falling in love, the same way everybody else does?”
Randall huffed out a little laugh, as if amused by Victor’s assumption. He didn’t answer straightaway, though. They climbed the steps to the dining hall, slipping in easily with the last stragglers of the breakfast rush. The room was nearly empty when they found an out-of-the-way table to sit at, their trays filled with tea, muffins, and bowls of fruit. Randall had a small plate of sausages, thankfully cooked, but he ignored them in favor of sipping his tea first. He kept glancing at Victor, as if trying to decide how much he should say.
“It’s like….” He paused, taking off his glasses to fiddle with them, long fingers twirling the earpiece like he needed something to do with his hands. “It’s the difference between a paper cut and breaking your arm.” Randall cut a quick look over toward Victor. “Both are injuries, yes, but the degree between them is enormous.” Again that little huffed out laugh, almost embarrassed, and Randall took a sip of his tea. “I think, from my interactions with humans, that wolves feel things so much more intensely. We hold onto them so much more tightly. My brother, for example. Anthony fell for this guy who used to live near us. Vilhehn. God, Anthony was head over heels. Never knew he was into men, and maybe he isn’t. Maybe it was just Vil. But then Vil’s family moved away and him with them. This was something like eight years ago? And Anthony still isn’t over it. Sure, he’s dated a couple of times, but nothing… nothing at all like that again. Maybe not ever.”