Wolf on the Wings

Bog watched in amazement as the amazon warrior in a wolf body toppled. He had known almost from the start of the fight that it was in vain, his pack would lose to the strength of the black witch. They didn't give up, fighting valiantly. Then the little she-wolf had appeared, a bullet from nowhere and did the impossible. The sight of the small wolf latched onto the back of the elephantine bear had been quite the shock. Her colours were nothing like he'd seen before, a bright white belly that changed to black, with vibrant red tones throughout. She was lithe and lean, her fur longer than any of his packs.

It was even more shocking when the black whips didn't throw her like they did all his wolves. They lashed through her fur, cutting deep and drawing blood quickly, but she wasn't tossed away by their magic. Her fighting style was tenacious, if a bit foolhardy and self destructive. Bog had winced in sympathy when she hit the tree, roaring as he rushed forward to protect her fallen form. He had never felt this protective about a wolf who wasn't pack, but she changed things. The sight of her latching onto the bears throat filled him with a savage pride. Fear quickly took over as the shadows enveloped her, but against all odds she returned from the blackness.

Now she was laying prone and bloody in front of him, defiant up to the last moment. Bog approached cautiously, sighing in relief when he saw her chest rise and fall. Looking around at his wolves he was relieved to see none of them dead. A few had serious injuries, but with the pack magic as strong as it was on a blood moon they would heal quickly. The red she-wolf wouldn't be so lucky, packless and gravely injured. Bog shuffled at her, listening to her ribs creak with each breath and how her lungs made an almost whistling noise. She didn't stir, so Bog made a decision.

On a regular full moon some wolves could still return to their human form, if only for a short while. Since it was a blood moon only he would be able to, his Alpha magic giving him the strength. His wolf would not like it, and it would be an uncomfortable experience, but it needed to be done. Taking a step away from the unconscious wolf Bog called on his Change, feeling the magic respond sluggishly. While it was normally a fast shift, the two forms shifting like pouring water, this time was slower. It hurt, pulling himself from the wolf, and he could feel his bones shift, break, and pop into place.

After over five minutes of struggle he was man again, panting with quickly fading pain. He stayed crouched down, preferring to hide his naked form. Wolves in general didn't care about nudity, the need to be naked for a Change kind of forced that out of them, but Bog still felt uneasy showing his body. His pack roamed around him, tired but victorious.

“Ye all fought well. Go hunt, spoil yeselves and get a full belly.” He let his pride show in his words and through the pack bonds, feeling his wolves preen at the praise. He didn't give it often, and it was a rare treat. They ducked their heads, differential to their Alpha, before splitting off into groups and rushing off. Only his mother, Stuff, and Thang stayed behind, eyeing the new wolf.

Releasing a sigh, he knew there would be no sending them off, Bog reached out to the injured wolf. She didn't rouse to his touch, and when he lifted her into his arms only gave a whimper of discomfort. Bog took a moment to enjoy how soft her fur was, at least the parts of it that weren't slick with her own blood, before setting off at a jog towards his cabin.

His home wasn't the closest to their current location, it would be quicker to go to Stuffs place, but only Bogs home had a steel and silver cage in the basement, perfect for locking up injured wolves. When a wolf got injured, especially to such a degree, their control was often lost. They would do anything to get free, away from others and to be weak in private. Only a wolf they submitted to would be able to control them, and even then it could be spotty. Safest option, for everyone involved, was to keep them locked up until the human could take control again. While his pack didn't get that hurt too often, it wasn't bad to be prepared.

It didn't take the odd party too long to reach his sanctuary, Bogs long legs eating away at the distance as easily as the wolves lope. Only when he reached the back porch did he look at his entourage.

“Go hunt. Something for yeselves first, but then bring back something for her. She's gonna need fresh meat.” At his order Stuff and Thang took off, already on the trail. Griselda hesitated, looking at her son with concern.

“Am fine mam.” He sighed out, knowing where her thoughts went. Truly, when his old lover had first shown herself his emotions were in turmoil, but now he had a sense of calm. Finally fighting her had helped, the violence was cathartic, and now he had this other wolf to worry about. His mother sensed his honesty, though would no doubt have some prying question to ask him the next time she could talk, and went off to hunt.

Bog wasted no time in bringing the injured wolf to his basement, laying her out on the pile of blankets in the middle of the cell. They would probably be trashed when she woke up, but he wanted to give her whatever comfort he could. With deft and precise hands Bog checked her over, every moment giving him greater concern. Either her wounds were greater than he originally thought, or the jog through the woods had jostled her too much.

The cuts on her body were deeper than he thought, flaying the muscle away from her body. They all bled freely, even though that should have stopped long ago. Her breathing was even more struggled than before, a gasping sort of wheeze every time she inhaled. He could only begin to speculate on her head injury, assuming a concussion based on her foggy eyes before she'd passed out. A wolf with a strong pack would only take a few days to heal, pack bonds helping them along. From a weaker pack it may take a week or so, but the wolf would still recover. Alone she had no chance at surviving, and it would be a slow and painful death.

While Bog hated the thought of doing this without her permission, he had no other options. He wasn't willing to let her die, and she could leave afterwards. His mind set, Bog brought his arm to his mouth and tore off a small bite of his flesh. Spitting out his own meat he worked his fingers into her jaw, gently prying open her mouth. With as much care as he could he stuffed his flesh down her throat, forcing her to swallow. He felt it the moment it went down, wolf magic twining around her as she was accepted into his pack. He knew his other wolves would feel it happening, and sending out his senses he could tell they were unsurprised, but also slightly supportive. The Dark Forest pack respected strength, and this little wolf had shown her mettle.

Once the binding magic settled, claiming her as pack, Bog let her own wolf magic do its job. Her pull on the ties of the pack would be weakened, considering they didn't know where she sat in the hierarchy, but the general acceptance from the others would help. To help her heal faster he would have to do some first aid, but it wasn't the first time his doctoring skills had been put to the test. On the other side of the room was a large medkit which he quickly grabbed, pulling out what he would need.

With grim determination Bog went to work. Torn flesh had to be put back in the right places, stapled in to keep it in place. In some cases he had to stitch her up instead, unwilling to staple her face. There was a chance she would rip out the stitches, but he hoped she would heal enough to before then that it wouldn't matter. The harder part came when Bog had to cut her open, removing the broken bits of her ribs. Wolves didn't have to worry about germs, and broken bones would soon grow back, but it was still unpleasant. She whined in distress every time he stuck his hands into her, but never truly woke up.

It took him over an hour to get her fully patched up. Once he had gotten most of the bone bits out, any he missed would be rejected by her body and be pushed out, Bog stapled the last cuts together and then wrapped her in bandages. He hoped she hadn't lost too much blood, and in worry sent a pulse of his magic out to speed her healing. Stuff and Thang had stopped by while he was still working on her, he had heard their movements above. When he went upstairs there was a freshly killed deer waiting on his back porch. With a few choice swears he got the carcass down into the cage and locked the wolf up. With his Alpha duties done Bog let his wolf out again, Changing back and running off to hunt for himself.

The first thought Marianne had when she woke up was ‘Hey, I'm still alive. Neat.’ and was quickly followed by ‘Ow shit this hurts, why aren't I dead?’. She let herself wolf take control, knowing the animal would be able to protect her better in this state than she would herself. It took a lot of mental cheerleading to convince herself to sit up, but she managed it with a quiet groan. Looking around she appeared to be in a cage the size of a bedroom, laying atop a mound of bloodied blankets. The blood smelled like hers, which didn't really surprise her. She was wrapped in bandages, also unsurprising, and could still feel the sting of freshly grown bones. Her whole body ached, and part of her wanted to sleep again.

Instead she took a look around her cell. She'd seen the one her father had back home, but never from the inside. A large bucket of water sat in one corner, and opposite lay a deer carcass. Judging from the smell it was only half a day old, but she could also tell that it wasn't the first deer to be brought in. Someone was making sure she had a fresh kill for when she woke up. Her body protested loudly when she made her way towards the food, but quickly shut up as she ate. Healing took up a lot of calories, and she really didn't have much fat to spare.

Once her meal was nothing more than a few scattered bones, the marrow sucked out of most of them, Marianne turned to regard the cell itself. Her magic told her it was made from solid steel bars, coated in a thick layer of silver. While the semi precious metal didn't burn her like it would other wolves it still made her uncomfortable. The steel would be a bit of a hassle to break if needed, but nothing she couldn't handle. She drank from the water bucket, her full stomach going a long way to stopping the pain. Returning to the pile of blankets that served as a bed, Marianne took a few meditative breaths, sinking her thought into herself.

Her magic hummed through her veins. She had never been comfortable with her powers, in fact hated them most of the time, but had long since accepted them. Not liking them wasn't going to make it go away. Checking her injuries gave her something to put her mind on. It didn't take her too long to catalogue her pain, noting which bones felt new and where the staples stung her skin. Something in her magic itched, and taking a closer look made her snarl in surprise, then anger. She was pack! After everything Marianne had gone through the last thing she wanted was to tie herself to others again. Bonds like this only made it easier for her to be hurt, and she had no plans on letting that happen again.

While she let her anger simmer, logic shoved its unwanted head into her thoughts. She knew her injuries had been severe, probably life threatening. The moment she had hit the tree Marianne had known she was in trouble. Hurt and packless, she didn't have a chance. The Alpha, her new Alpha, had only done this to save her. It still made her angry, to be under anyone's dominion again. At the same time her wolf was pleased, finally with a pack again. It had been terribly lonely without, and Marianne could feel her other halfs contentment. She also knew that leaving the pack would hurt, even though the bonds were still fresh, and she was already in enough pain. Once she was healed, then she would leave.

Her mind made up Marianne curled up on her bed to wait. She could break out of the cage easily, her multi-tool had been her jeans when she Changed and she knew it would be back when she turned human again. Instead she decided to wait, get an idea of her new Alpha and pack. There were no windows in the basement, and her inner clock was all messed up from prolonged unconsciousness, so she settled in for a long wait.

At some point she must have fallen asleep, and she was woken up by the heavy footsteps of someone coming down the stairs. She perked her head up, watching as the lanky stranger came down with a bighorn sheep slung over his shoulders. He faltered to an awkward stop when he noticed her conscious.

“Yer awake.” His voice puffed out, and Marianne felt a shiver climb her spine. Not only did he sound actually relieved about it, he also had a Scottish accent. Which was unfairly sexy, all things considered. He smelled of forest and wind, wild and free. In mild annoyance she pushed down her own scent, watching him without giving any indication of her thoughts. He shuffled on his feet, dropping the sheep to the ground.

“A’m Boggart King, Alpha of the Dark Forest pack. Ye were injured from … that bear.” His explanation stumbled, but he pressed on. “A brought ye into the pack to save you, but that's provisional.” Anger slipped into his words, and Marianne felt her lips curl in response.

“Dorn’t give me that look. Ye came into mah territory without invitation, and dinnae greet me. Yer lucky A didn't hunt ye down and drive ye off.” He snarled at her, Alpha magic rolling off him in waves. She could feel the urge to submit, bare her throat to his dominance, but it was easily brushed off. She hadn't truly submitted to anyone since she was a young girl, before puberty hit, instead choosing to in order to keep the peace. Now that she was an adult and free of her old packs constraints Marianne had decided she would bow to no one.

In all honesty she knew Bog had a point, she had been here without permission, but his delivery left something to be desired. Ignoring the dull ache of her pains Marianne got up, a low growl rumbling in her throat as she stalked towards him. She could smell his surprise at her defiance. He'd probably never had someone withstand his influence, he was quite strong. With a growl of his own Bog approached her cell, releasing his full potential. Marianne knew that any other wolf would be on their back in a second under this strength, but she refused.

Knowing this was going to hurt, Marianne prepared herself a bit before calling on the Change. It felt like her skin was on fire, acid running through her veins, but the shift was as fast as normal. She stood on her two legs, glaring up at his face that was unfairly over a head above her. Concern flashed across his eyes, darkening them from wolf silver to an incredible sky blue, and his face showed his shock. Marianne knew what an image she must pose, dressed in her dark jeans and a black crop top, her tattoos on full display and her eyes a bright wolf purple.
“You had no right to take away my choice.” Her voice was hoarse from disuse, and had an undertone of a growl, but her words were strong. Bog backed up a step at her words, his scent a mix of so many emotions she couldn't tell them apart. Anger seemed to win, and he took two steps forward.

“Ye were dying. It's mah right as Alpha to protect those in mah realm, and that includes you.” Exasperation laced his words. Marianne was a bit shocked by the kindness, but pulled on her anger.

“Then let me out.” She retorted, keeping her eyes locked on his. It was a dominance fight, and she had no plans on losing. She would have her freedom, even if she had to take over his entire pack.

“Not until A know ye aren't a danger to mah pack.” He bit out, his face mere inches from the bars. Anger and pain took over Marianne, her hatred of being trapped causing her to lash out. Without a warning she struck, her fist flying between the bars and catching his jaw. Bog stumbled back, nearly falling on his ass from the force behind her punch. Marianne watched with satisfaction as one of his hands reached up to tenderly cup the attacked area.

Her glee was speared with apprehension as he lunged at her, his hand reaching through the bars and grabbing her collar. Marianne didn't fight it as he pulled her forward, her face hissing on the silver bars. With all the pain she was in already she barely noticed the silver burning her. She met his snarl with her own, defiant and pissed off. Marianne refused to be cowed by his aggression, her wolf snapping at the thought of a fight.

An emotion she didn't catch flickered across his eyes before she was shoved away roughly. The bones scattered at her feet tripped her up, and she didn't have the strength to keep her balance. Her whole body protested the rough handling, and she couldn't help the yelp of pain that escaped her as she landed on her hip awkwardly. It took a moment for the world to stop spinning, the deer she had so recently eaten threatening to make a reappearance. When she finally looked up all she saw was his form retreating up the stairs.

Bog felt sick. Part of him wanted to be violently ill, the other part wanting to just be violent. He hadn't planned on getting so emotional down there. The plan was to drop off the sheep one of his wolves had brought him and take out the deer. Probably change her bandages and check her injuries. It had only been a few days since he'd brought the girl here, he really hadn't expected her to be awake.

One of his gifts as Alpha was the ability to take on his packs pain, lessening their burden. Since the battle he had been carrying pain from many members of his pack while they healed, the she wolf in the basement included. Of all his wolves she had the worst injuries. Constant pain didn't help his attitude, the annoyance he had felt during the day was only exaggerated by her caustic attitude. His wolf had raged at her defiance, demanding him to force her into submission. Her punch, strong and unexpected, had snapped his control.

Only the burn of silver on her skin had brought him back. Shame washed over him as he replayed the last few minutes in his head. He was supposed to protect his pack, give them safety and security, and here he'd hurt a wolf who was already vulnerable. The pain he felt from her grew, and Bog took on as much of it as he could.

“You really should let me out now. It's going to be quite embarrassing for you when I break out of here.” Her voice drifted up the stairs, not bothering to yell since he could hear her just fine. She had spunk, Bog would give her that. It appeared his roughness hadn't damaged her spirit, something which gave him comfort. Ignoring her he moved about his kitchen, pulling out some of the meat from his fridge to fry up.

Music drifted up from the basement, an angry rock song that he recognized. Where the hell the music was coming from he had no idea, just knew the woman in his basement was responsible for it. How she had clothes on after her shift? What was her name? Where did she come from? How many tattoos and piercings did she have?

That last question made him pause, so unlike the others. He had noticed how both of her ears she had at least ten rings on the upper helix and three gems on each lobe. Her septum had a small silver ring, snug against her skin, and Bog hadn't missed the flash of black and shiny from inside her mouth as she spoke. He'd seen some of these the night in the pub, but he could swear some of them were new. Not that he was paying attention to that. The glimpses of ink on her skin had been tantalizing, thorny vines snaking about her body, but he hadn't been able to pay them much attention.

Of course the girl who had been haunting his thoughts was also the loner he was so worried about. Bog groaned as he imagined what his mother was going to say when she found out. No doubt she would think it was incredibly amusing, probably be convinced it was fate. Now he had he girl he hadn't been able to stop thinking about in a cage in his basement. Like that wasn't a creepy thought. And she probably hated him. Swell.

Brewing in his self hatred Bog almost didn't hear the familiar riffs of Deep Purple drifting through his floorboards. The song was obviously a cover, but still compelling. Her voice sang along, emotion strong in the words.

“I've been mistreated. I've been abused.
I've been trespassed, and invaded.
And I am not amused!”

The last line was part shout part howl, the unexpected rise in volume making Bog start. A smirk fought it's way onto his face at her dramatics, but at least she had good music taste.

“I've been insulted,
disrespected.
I've been mistreated!”

So went on the rest of his day. Bog kept himself busy upstairs, cleaning his place and reading a few books while his guest sang angrily from the basement. He could tell the singing hurt her, putting strain on her freshly healing lungs, but it also seemed to calm her down. She didn't sing to every song, and after a while only the sound of her music filled the air. Bog had gone down a couple hours ago to give her a plate of cooked meat and mashed potatoes and saw that she somehow had an ipod with her. He didn't question it, and she resolutely ignored him.

It was early evening now and Bog had to make a trip to town. He'd been delaying it to listen to her sing, but figured that since she was probably asleep it would he the best time to go. He didn't bother to mask his steps, grabbing his keys and phone and shutting the door firmly behind him.

His tasks in town didn't take him too long, barely over an hour until he was back at his cabin. The silence of his home brought him peace for all of a heartbeat before unease set in. Bog dropped the bags on the floor as he rushed to the basement, taking the stairs 3 at a time. Though he would have felt it if any harm came to her, his thoughts immediately went to worst case scenarios. It was almost a relief to find the cell empty, the reinforced door wide open. A note was stuck on the bars of the door, Bog ripped it down to read.

“Thanks for the hospitality.
-M”

He nearly laughed, stuffing the paper into his pocket. She had warned him that she would escape, he just hadn't believed her. Slowly but surely he was learning the lesson of never underestimating her. Bog wasn't one to he beat however, so he called his wolf to the front and took in her scent. It was lovely, floral but with the sharp bite of citrus. Months of hunting her on the streets had never given him the full taste of her scent, only hints of it to tease his senses. Now he would never forget it, and his wolf rumbled in pleasure at having her scent in his den.

Bog crushed that thought quickly, shoving his wolf back as he followed her scent up the stairs. It seems she had explored his house, but nothing was taken or moved out of place. Curiosity then. By nature wolves were very curious animals, werewolves no different. Her smell led him to his back door, and with a groan he followed it outside. She had taken off for home, wherever that might be, and avoided the roads to keep herself hidden. A smart move on her part, but annoying for Bog to follow. He sent his mind down the link that connected him to her, checking on her. She seemed okay, in slightly more pain than before and a bit tired, but not in danger.

Using the bond to give him a general direction he followed her scent. After a good twenty minutes of jogging her smell changed, become sharper and more wild. Bog figured she had gotten to tired in her human form and Changed, letting her wolf get her home. He had done the same thing many times. It made her trail a bit harder to follow, wolf scent mingling with the natural air much better than a human smell would. Not that it was much difference to Bog. Another twenty minutes brought him to the backyard of a cabin not unlike his own. Her scent was stronger here, obviously a well visited place.

He made his way to the back porch, shaking his head in exasperation when he saw her wolf body slumped in front of the door. She growled weakly at him as he came up, trying to raise her head. This close to her Bog could tell she had been throttling the bond, preventing him from checking on her or taking away much of her pain.

“Easy there Tough Girl. Yer alright.” Bog cooed gently, opening the door before bending to scoop her up. Her growl turned into a whimper, shoving her muzzle into his armpit.

“If ye had stayed in mah cabin ye wouldn't be feeling like this.” He chided gently, making his way through her home quickly. Being in her den seemed to perk her up. With surprising strength she lifter her head up, opening her mouth and wrapping her a jaws around his throat. Bog froze for a moment, her teeth pricking at his skin but not breaking through.

The throat was a weak point for wolves, used for dominance or submission. To bare ones throat was a sign of the utmost trust, handing yourself over to another. To be offered someone's throat was the greatest gift, someone to treasure and protect with all you had. The last person Bog had let near his throat was the witch he had so recently fought, the one before that his late father. His wolf didn't like the weakness he was showing, but Bog let it happen. For some reason that was beyond him he trusted this fiery little she-wolf, even though he had seen her rip out an enemy's throat not even a week ago.

His inaction appeased her, and she released him with a grumble. Her tongue lapped at his skin in an apology before she dropped her head again. Bog shivered at the affection and took it as his cue to continue, bringing the injured wolf to her bedroom. Her scent was the strongest here, the room obviously her nest. There was a pile of clothes on the floor, with some thrown across random pieces of furniture, and a queen sized bed with black covers in the middle of the room. With more gentleness than he had known he possessed Bog placed his charge in the center of the mattress. Her eyes met his, amethyst fading to honey amber.

“Rest now Tough Girl. A’ll protect ye.” He reassured her, petting her head lightly. She closed her eyes with a huff, sinking into the bed and falling asleep quickly. Bog watched her breathe for a while, pulling away at her pain until she was in a deep sleep. When he was sure she wouldn't wake up he left her room. The couch he had passed on the way in looked comfy, large enough for his impressive height, and he settled in for sleep himself.

For the second time in as many days Marianne woke up in pain and unsure where she was or how she got there. She remembered waiting for Bog to leave before she picked the lock on the cell, and could recall parts of her journey home, but not much else. There was the vague memory of having her teeth at Bogs throat, but she wasn't sure if that was reality or simply a pleasant dream. Her mouth tasted of him, but there was no blood on her tongue, so she couldn't be sure.

A quick inventory told her that her wounds had healed a great amount while she slept, the magic of her den helping out. When a wolf picked a den, specifically a nest, they created a gathering point for their wolf magic. The longer they stayed in one den the more their excess magic built up, enhancing their healing time and giving them a safe spot to rest. The subtle magic would push away unwanted guests, human and preternatural alike. Marianne hadn't had this den for long, but thanks to her reclusive nature she still had a good magical reserve.

With many muttered curses she managed to convince herself to get up. At some point in the night she had Changed back and was now in her human form. She padded silently to her dresser and pulled out a clean band tee and a pair of tights to change into. Once stripped Marianne used the mirror on the back of her bedroom door to take in her body. Marks from the battle covered her, bruises of all colours and lash marks that seemed to be months old crisscrossed her skin. Only once before had she had this many injuries on her body, but she stuffed that memory back into the depths.

Marianne finger combed her hair, trying to make herself as presentable as one could be wearing a Queen shirt and snake print leggings with holes in them. Thankfully most of her wounds were covered, and that's what mattered right now. Declaring herself prepared to deal with whatever lay outside her bedroom door Marianne left her nest. Without making any noise she made her way to the living room and stopped in wonder at the sight before her.

Laying on her couch was one Boggart King, shirtless and with his hair ruffled from sleep. He was laying on his back, one hand trapped underneath himself and the other dangling off the edge of the couch. He still wore his jeans, though they did nothing to hide his morning reaction, and his bare feet were propped up on the armrest. Marianne spent far too long admiring the long lines of his body, enjoying the way his broad shoulders tapered into a slim waist, and the way his numerous scars shone pale white in the morning sun. She felt strangely drawn to him, her hands itched to run along his stubble and explore the bulge in his pants.

That thought woke her up quick, and Marianne made a hasty retreat to the kitchen. She wasn't really sure what to do about the whole ‘suddenly in a pack’ thing, but now that she was on familiar grounds she could accept it a bit. His reasoning was sound, and Marianne could smell the truth on him when he had told her it was the only way to save her. She didn't really like the idea of her choice being taken away, but it was an emergency situation and she would just get over it.

As quietly as she could, which was damn quiet, Marianne pulled some ingredients from her fridge and started making breakfast. 2 pounds of bacon, half a loaf of toast, and 2 dozen scrambled eggs with around 3 pounds of ground hamburger mixed in would be a good enough meal for the both of them. She set up two places on the small dinette table, bringing the meal along with her. She had seen plenty of coffee at his cabin and so set her Keurig to brew a cup, grabbing a glass of chocolate milk for herself. Others had called her childish but she'd never gotten the appeal of bitter coffee. Her cup of brown joy was so much better.

Maybe it was the sound of coffee dripping, or the smell of food finally broke through his dreams, but Bog woke up with a start. Marianne watched over the lip of her glass as he looked around in confusion, his gaze finally settling on her and widening. She hid a snort and pointed towards the table.

“Food.” She ordered him, placing her glass down and walking towards the coffee machine.

“Food?” He parroted, his accent thick with sleepiness. The sirens call of bacon made him get up, and he shuffled over to the table awkwardly.

“Coffee.” She placed the steaming mug in front of him, watching as the lanky man sat down in a chair too small for him.

“Coffee?” The echo was actually endearing rather than annoying, and Marianne barely resisted rolling her eyes at him. Instead she dropped into the other chair, grabbing the bowl of yellow scrambled goodness and poured out half onto her plate. When she pushed the bowl into his hands he did the same, albeit with a bit of hesitancy. She took half of the bacon and broke it up, spreading it atop her eggs. Then she grabbed the ketchup bottle she had brought out and squeezed an ungodly amount over her breakfast pile. Looking up Marianne saw his eyes were locked on her plate with a mixture of amusement and horror.

“What?” She snapped at him, but he only shook his head mutely. A wise response. “Shut up and eat.” Her grumbled lacked force, and a ghost of a smile played on her lips. Bog matched the look as he prepared his own meal, and Marianne scooped up some of her food pile onto a piece of toast. They ate in companionable silence, Marianne focused on eating as much as she could without looking like a pig and Bog slowly woke up as he inhaled the food and coffee.

The food didn't last too long, both wolves were quite hungry. Marianne gathered up the dishes quickly, bringing them to the sink. To her surprise Bog nudged her out of the way with his hip.

“Ye cooked, A’ll clean.” His Scottish brogue was ridiculously attractive, and Marianne let herself be bumped over. She still grabbed the dish towel that hung from the cupboard below, snapping it out. He took the hint, passing her a freshly scrubbed plate to dry.

“A think we got off on the wrong foot Tough Girl.” He began, almost sheepish. Marianne hummed in agreement but didn't say anything. Secretly she was pleased with the nickname given to her. It tugged at her memory of last night, but she let that thought pass.

“A dinnae mean to take away yer choice, but it was the only way to save ye. A owed it to ye after ye saved mah pack.” His explanation made sense, and while they were both happily fed it made the conversation easier. Marianne could smell the truth on him, the honest regret at how it all went down.

“Marianne.” Introducing herself was long overdue, but she didn't regret that. Bog stiffened slightly beside her, then nodded in acceptance.

“Bog.” He reintroduced himself. She felt the need to point that out.

“I know. ‘Boggart King, Alpha of the Dark Forest pack.’” Marianne did the best she could to imitate his gravelly voice and accent, thumping her chest with a fist in exaggeration.

“What was that?” Bog asked incredulously, his eyebrows raised.

“You. Duh.” The little wolf nodded as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Was not.”

“Was.”

“A dorn’t sound like that. And A’ve never done whatever that was.” He sounded grumpy, but Marianne could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“That was the macho man gorilla chest beat. It's a staple move of all Alphas.” She informed him. A new goal of her was to see him smile. So far she had managed a smirk.

“Ye pull it off very well. Still nothing like me.” Sassy Bog was apparently lots of fun. Good to know.

“Yeah, it's hard to get my voice to do the whole ‘deep and gargling marbles’ thing you pull off.” That earned her a snort, but not the actual laugh she craved.

“Would you prefer if I talked like this instead?” His voice changed completely, losing the Scottish accent and instead picking up a Texan drawl. The familiarity of it made Marianne shudder involuntarily, dropping the last dish into the cupboard before moving away. She was too close.

“God no. You sound terrible now, makes me want to knock some teeth out.” To make her point she waved a fist in his direction, knowing that she had just ruined the mood.

Thankfully she was saved from whatever his response would have been by her cat. The large feline jumped onto the counter between them, rubbing against Marianne before butting his head against Bogs shoulder.

“What on earth is that?” Bog snarled, backing away from the small animal. Marianne knew her cat was a bit different, a mix between a giant Maine coon and a siamese, but he didn't deserve that reaction. With an angry huff she scooped all 20 pounds of white fluff into her arms, holding him to her chest and glaring at the large wolf.

“He is my cat. Bog, meet Imp. Imp, try not to scare the poor wolfy.” She cooed, rubbing her head against the cats. Imp responded in kind, a rumbling purr sounding through the kitchen. The cat kept his black eyes on Bog, unimpressed by the apex predator in his home.

“Ye have a cat?” His incredulous tone was actually a bit comical, and well deserved. Most other animals were afraid of werewolves and refused to be near. They recognized the predator and would either react with hostility or fear. Dogs were the only ones that could be trained otherwise, being close the the natural cousins of werewolves. Cats tended to be a bit more violent in their hatred, and would attack a wolf if they felt like it.

“Imp is special.” Marianne put the cat down on the bar counter that Bog had retreated behind. Said animal walked towards the anxious man, presenting his head for pets with a demanding meow. He was rewarded with tentative fingers rubbing his chin.

“I found him when he was a kitten. Hadn't even opened his eyes yet. His mom was a stray, her owners moved away and didn't take her. Some of the boys in the pack, they just had their first Change, thought it would be fun to hunt her down.” Marianne paused in her story, reaching out to pet her cat as well. Imp was in heaven, presenting his tummy for more scratches. Marianne didn't miss the chuckle Bog gave at the felines antics.

“Assholes didn't even kill her. Left her on the edge of death like it was some fucking game. She crawled nearly 5 blocks to get back to her kittens. I followed the blood trail.” Her anger coloured her voice, and she could smell it radiating from her.

“I was too late to save her, or any of her other kittens. I thought they were all dead, but Imp is a stubborn one. He was so cold, could barely move, but he still asked me to help. Crawled right into my hand. No fear.

“So I brought him home. Fed him by hand, kept him warm by hiding him in my shirt. Didn't tell my dad or Dawn until I thought he'd survive. Didn't want to get her hopes up for nothing, y’know? And he's been with me ever since. Doesn't like being too far from me.”

As if to emphasize her point the cat placed his two front paws on her shoulders and butted his head on her chin. Marianne gave him a kiss, then remembered her audience. Bog had been silent the whole time, watching her with his damnable blue eyes. She fought the blush creeping up, instead pushing away from the cat and turning to prepare his food.

“So he grew up around wolves. So many came in and out of our house he never learned to fear us. Don't think he knows how to fear anything really.” A couple cans of cat food enticed the fluffy animal from Bogs hand and to his breakfast. Marianne turned back and watched Bog pick hairs from his shirt.

She couldn't get a read on his scent, but it wasn't because he was masking it with cologne like Roland did. It seemed like he just bottled up his emotions, not betraying anything. A skill which Marianne was trying hard to master, but her fiery temper often thwarted her attempts.

“And ye named him Imp?” Bog questioned, almost a grumble under his breath. Marianne giggled at his fruitless attempts to rid him of the white cat hair.

“Yeah. He's impulsive. Impossible, impatient, impaired, imperfect. Dawn, Sunny, and I made a whole list. He's also trouble incarnate, gets into everything and loves causing a mess.” She glared without heat at her cat, who was spreading his food off his dish and around the floor. He flicked his tail happily, knowing she was talking about him.

“Dawn?” Man, he was all like questions. Marianne couldn't begrudge him that too much, she would return it soon enough.

“My little sister. And before you ask, Sunny is her best friend, kind of like a brother to me.” A sudden thought made Marianne swear, rushing into her bedroom. She didn't even notice that Bog followed her, worry apparent in his face.

Part of her agreement for secrecy with Dawn and Sunny meant regular check-ins, proving that she was still fine and hadn't been killed in some tragic accident or something. She normally texted them at least once a day, asking how it was going back in the prairies, what Dawn was taking in school, how Sunny was dealing with his new job. Marianne wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious, and thus ignoring their increasingly frantic messages.

Sure enough, when she grabbed her phone there were triple digits of missed texts, and nearly the same amount of missed calls. With only a slight groan Marianne dialed her sisters number, putting the phone to her ear.

Bog had never been more confused in his life than he was that morning. He had honestly expected to be attacked by the angry little wolf when she woke up. That she hadn't, instead choosing to cook for him, had his brain all muddled up. She was much nicer than he thought she'd be, a definite step up from their previous reactions. And the way she teased him, her dry with and sarcastic jokes made his wolf do a happy dance. Which was very disconcerting, considering Bog hated dancing in any form.

Now that he knew her cursing hadn't been any sign of danger Bog retreated to the couch that had been his bed, trying to give her some sense of privacy. The silent house was no match for his wolf hearing, and there was no doubt he would hear every word from both parties. Still, it was only proper to give her some space.

The giant pile of fur called Imp wasted no time in climbing onto his lap, demanding attention once again. Bog responded readily, combing his fingers through the animals fur. He'd never had a pet before, though he always wanted one. Animals never seemed to like him, scared of his wolf and his hideous appearance. Imp didn't seem to care, sprawling on his lap and spreading his fur everywhere.

“MARIANNE WREN KEELIN SEBILLE!” The shout that came from the phone made Bog wince, sympathy for Marianne's ears making him shake his head. Now he knew her name though.

“Where the flip have you been!? Do you know how worried I was? I've been going out of my mind wondering if you were okay! I could feel you were hurt, even when you tried to block it.

It took me forever to convince Sunny to tell me where you were. He's been just as worried you know! Even daddy could tell something was wrong. And now I've been in this car for hours, you better be at your place when we get there.”

Bog didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he had no choice. He heard Marianne try to interrupt her sisters tirade, her tired ‘Dawn’s completely lost. Her shrieked ‘what!’ finally made the other girl stumble, and made Bogs ears ring.

“You're coming here? Who's with you?” The raw panic in her voice made Bog start to stand, but he sat again when she prowled into the living room and started pacing.

“Of course we’re coming there. You drop off the radar for almost a week, and you're hurting.”

“Dawn! Who is ‘we’?” It sounded to Bog that Marianne was running out of patience, but her scent reeked of anxiety. He couldn't say anything though, not without alerting the younger she-wolf of his presence, and something told him Marianne would not appreciate that.

“Relax, it's just me and Sunny. I told daddy we were going to Winnipeg for some shopping.” Bog saw Marianne droop with relief at her sisters lie. He was surprised when she flopped onto the couch beside him, sinking slightly towards him as she joined him in petting Imp.

“Sunny told you were I am huh?” Her voice was resigned, and a faint ‘sorry Mari’ could be heard.

“Of course he did. He was just as worried as I was. Probably would have come out here by himself if I hadn't come to him. Which would have been useless. If something got you there's no way Sunny would be able to help.” There was an indignant yelp.

“What? It's true. Marianne's like the strongest wolf ever, you're human. Not only is she wickedly strong, she's also got”

“DAWN!” Marianne cut her sister off, the sudden shout making Bog jump. He glared in response to the smirk she sent his way at his reaction.

“Whatever. We’ll be there in like 6 hours. You have a guest room right? Oh what's it like there? Are the mountains as beautiful as they look in pictures? Have you climbed any yet? Are there any cute boys?” Dawns bubbly voice had questions going a mile-a-minute, completely ignoring her older sisters groan.

“Yes I have a spare room, Sunny can have the couch. It's amazing here, the mountains are awesome, I went to the peak of Mount Assiniboine a couple weeks ago, and I'm going to ignore that last question.” Marianne ticked her fingers as she answered, dropping her phone to her lap. Bog could have sworn he saw a blush cross her cheeks, but he only dared to look from the corner of his eye.

This was the closest he'd been to a woman in years, not including his mother. He could feel her heartbeat where her shoulders pressed against his, could hear the slight rasp in her lungs while she breathed. Every nerve in him was attuned to her presence, taking comfort in the closeness while simultaneously panicking about it. He knew that beautiful girls like her didn't want to be with something like him. She was only this close so she could pet her cat, who absolutely refused to leave his lap.

“Look Dawn, I've gotta go. Got some things to take care of.” She shot a glance his way and Bog twitched his fingers nervously. “I'll see you in a few hours. Love you, bye!” Marianne rushed out, hanging up over her sisters protests. Then she gave a groan that shot straight down Bogs spine, giving him pleasantly unpleasant thoughts and making heat pool where it shouldn't.

He didn't know what to say, and was interrupted by his own phone going off. The surprise made him jolt, frantically trying to stop Megan Trainor from singing about her mom while Marianne burst into giggles beside him. He snarled, not really putting any effort to it, smushing her face with a pillow as answered the call.

“Yes mam?” Bog didn't even bother with a hello, fighting his smirk as he glared at the elvish girl sitting beside him. She responded by sticking out her tongue and pulling her cat from his lap to hers. Bog found he missed the warm weight.

“I'm at your place and you're not here. Neither is that little wolf.” Griseldas tone was suggestive, and Bog let out a groan himself.

“She woke up yesterday and went home.” Bog specifically didn't mention where he was, or where he spent the night. His mother was enough of a matchmaker, she didn't need him adding fuel to the fire. Marianne seemed to notice this and gave him a wicked smirk as she stood up, dropping Imp on his head. The cat didn't mind, instead taking the chance to groom his hair. Granted, it was probably a right mess from sleeping on a couch, but Bog didn't need to smell like cat spit. He shook the cat off, watching as Imp jumped from the couch and left the room.

“She went home? And you let her? Was she cute?” Bog dropped the phone in favor of rubbing his temples. Talking to his mother for any length of time always gave him a headache. He could hear Marianne rummaging around in the kitchen, but didn't pay her any mind.

“A dinnae let her. She broke out from the cage when A was out.” He admitted with a grimace, both his mother and Marianne gave a snort in humour at it. Bog could only sigh.

“And?” The prodding was well meant, Bog knew his mother well, but it was still annoying.

“A followed her scent. She's fine. We had a talk and BLOODY HELL WOMAN!” Bog cut himself off with a yell as a handful of ice cubes were dropped down the back of his shirt. He leapt from the couch in a desperate attempt to get away from the invasive cold, but to no avail. Marianne had managed to get the ice into his undershirt, which was still tucked into his pants, and Bog felt the icy water dripping below his belt line.

He was dimly aware of his mother calling for him through his phone, which he had thrown away in his haste to get up. Marianne was bent over laughing, clutching her sides in amusement as he danced around. His flailing caused more than once cube to drop into his pants, one even managing to get into his boxers. Bog yelped as he shook his legs, trying to get all the ice out while he cursed the she-wolf in Gaelic.

It didn't take him long to be free of the cold, and he glared at the little wolf who had buckled to the floor in laughter. Bog took a moment to delight in that sound, even at his own expense it was absolutely beautiful. He grabbed the offending ice from the ground, stalking towards her.

“Marianne.” He growled out, giving her fair warning before he pounced on her. More than she gave him. She shrieked, trying to duck away, but Bog wrapped one arm around her waist as he dumped the frozen weapons down her shirt. Her writhing and squealing were ignored completely as he held her tight, not letting her pull away and get the ice out. Instead he walked back toward the couch, lifting up her small frame and tucking it against himself as he returned to his phone. He didn't bother picking it up, knowing his mother had heard everything and would be making her own assumptions.

“A have to go mam. Got some trouble to deal with.” Marianne struggled extra hard at that, her elbow jabbing into his stomach and making his breath huff out.

“Trouble named Marianne?” Griselda sang, her glee evident.

“Bye mam.” Bog blurted out, using his toe to hang up on his mother. He turned his attention to the fairy dangling from his arms and was suddenly struck by how close they were. Her chest was pressed against his, slightly off to one side with her hands trapped between them. She had grabbed fistfulls of his shirt, holding on as she wriggled. Which was absolutely not helping him keep his thoughts out of the gutter.

She seemed to notice the closeness as well, stopping her struggles and staring up at him. Bog was captured by her golden eyes, watching with awe as flecks of bright purple dotted her iris. When the blush rose on her cheeks again Bog realized he'd been staring and quickly dropped her, taking a couple steps back with an awkward cough. With almost practiced symmetry they both began to pick up the dropped ice, cleaning to hide their embarrassment. Once the weapons of cold disruption were cleared, Bog fidgeted uneasily.

“A should, ah, get going now.” His words were mumbled, and he couldn't quite meet her eyes. It was a bit annoying, how Bog could strike fear in the strongest men but was reduced to a stuttering mess by this woman.

“Oh yeah. I've got to get ready for Dawn too. Um.” Marianne ducked around him, grabbing his discarded phone from the ground. She fiddled with it for a few moments before handing it to him. When Bog looked down he found that she had entered her number into his contacts and texted herself. His surprise must have been plain on his face when he looked back up at her.

“In case you need to contact me. Or whatever.” She explained, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Bog had the unbidden thought of running his hands through her hair and decided it really would be best if he left right now.

“Right. A’ll be going. Now. Goodbye.” He tripped over the words, tucking his feet into his shoes quickly as he made his way through the back door. He was off before she could reply, not running away from her at all. He completely missed her own whispered goodbye, or the fact that watched him disappear into the woods.