Naked and Bleeding

The forest seemed to enshroud me as I pushed deeper, following tracks that grew fainter with each new flurry of falling snow. The trees leaned in menacingly, their branches clawing at the sky as if trying - and failing - to strangle out what little light remained. A thin breeze wailed through the undergrowth, its whistle unsettling, like a warning carried on the wind.

But I cared little. Confidence is easy to come by when you’ve got a loaded rifle at your hip, swinging with every step. My rifle was an old friend - one that fed and clothed me, guarded me, kept me alive. As long as I could feel its familiar wooden grip under my palm, I was safe.

Great Wolf or no Great Wolf.

The tracks were convincing enough anyway. Livestock had been disappearing all season, and now, at last, I was confident I was on the right trail. Fresh snow crunched beneath my boots as another layer settled over the world. My thick clothing warded off the cold well enough, but the day was fading, and I knew I couldn’t go much farther before I’d need to turn back.

The tracks veered left. I followed. I had spotted small game, but I’d ignored it - no point giving away my position. Not that I was fooling myself; a Great Wolf would have heard me miles ago, if it was even still anywhere near here.

Another left. I exhaled, a pale cloud forming in front of my face. I wasn’t exactly eager to return home. The house was warmer than the forest, sure, but “warmer” didn’t mean “welcoming.” It was just a place I happened to sleep.

Another left.

Was I being led in circles? That would be just like the Great Wolf - if it even existed outside folklore. Who am I kidding? I thought as I rounded a cluster of trees. There’s nothing out here. I should just-

My breath hitched.

I raised my rifle instinctively.

There, lying on its side against the trunk of a towering spruce, was a Great Wolf.

Much larger than any normal wolf, its sleek silver coat shimmered faintly beneath the snow. Its ears were sharply pointed, its tail unusually long and thick with fur - almost unnervingly elegant for a creature of legend. It lay half-curled, its massive chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths.

I aligned the iron sights with its ribs, ready to fire if it so much as twitched. But it didn’t move.

Only then did I notice its hind leg. A deep gash carved down the length of it - but instead of blood, a sickly white substance seeped from the wound, solidifying into ice the moment it touched the ground. Its breaths were ragged. Weak. The creature looked harmless in a way that didn’t make sense.

Cautiously, I stepped closer, keeping the rifle trained on its heart. I wasn’t sure why - maybe I wanted proof, undeniable proof, that a Great Wolf was real and right in front of me.

At six paces away, it lifted its head.

I froze as its glowing grey eyes locked onto mine. Its snout pointed toward me like a blade. A low snarl rumbled from its throat, and I shuddered beneath the weight of its gaze.

But the snarl faltered - crumbling into a thin, pained whimper it tried and failed to hide. The Wolf laid its head back down on the snow.

And then it did something I could never have imagined.

It spoke.

Its voice, unmistakably feminine, was strained but clear.

“Kill me, hunter. I am at your mercy.”

My breath caught. The Wolf could speak human language? I frowned and eased my finger away from the trigger.

“You can speak.”

A soft, breathy laugh escaped her - more exhale than amusement. She didn’t lift her head.

“Of course I can speak. I am an Amarok.”

I lowered my rifle slowly, studying her properly now. She was magnificent, even in her wounded state - sleek silver fur, powerful limbs, the kind of creature hunters would trade fortunes for, even if only for a scrap of pelt.

She growled low in her throat.

“Staring is considered rude, you know.”

Her voice sounded thin, strained. I frowned.

“You’re injured.”

She didn’t seem remotely bothered. “So I am.”

I sighed. This was going nowhere. I was supposed to kill her - everyone said you should kill a Great Wolf on sight - but something held me back. Maybe it was the obvious pain in her voice. Maybe the fact that she could hold a conversation. Maybe something else entirely.

“What am I supposed to do?” I muttered.

“Kill me?” she offered.

“Apart from that.”

She shifted her massive form, snow sliding off her flank, though she barely moved. A heavy cloud of frost rolled from her mouth as she sighed.

“Then have your way with me, I suppose.”

Before I could even be shocked by the remark, her body erupted in a sudden flash of light. I flinched, blinking the glare out of my eyes.

When my vision cleared, the Wolf was gone.

In her place lay a woman.

She was sprawled on the snow, a deep gash running along her thigh, completely naked save for the sweep of her long silver hair. Her figure was elegant - almost divine - but her expression was drawn tight with pain. Her glowing white eyes stayed locked on mine, waiting. Testing. Daring me to react.

Words slipped out before I could think them through.

“You’ve given up on life, haven’t you.”

Another sigh, quieter this time. She nodded. “That I have.”

Then, with a faint tilt of her head, “You’re taking my transformation surprisingly well.”

I shrugged. “I’ve stopped thinking about it.”

A shiver rippled down her arms. Instinct urged me to step back, but something else pushed me forward. I removed one of my outer layers as I approached. Her eyes narrowed; she growled.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m… having my way with you,” I said dryly, “like you asked.”

I draped the warm fur coat over her, covering the elegant lines of her body, then knelt to examine her leg. The bleeding had stopped - frozen solid - but the wound was deep. She wouldn’t be moving well for days.

She watched me with a predator’s suspicion, eyes sharp and unblinking. She expected cruelty. Or fear. Or a knife.

She did not expect me to slide my arms beneath her and lift her gently off the ground, my rifle bouncing against my back.

She growled but didn’t resist. “What are you doing?”

I met her gaze. Up close she was even more beautiful - terrifyingly so - with her pain and ferocity etched into every line of her face. I tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“I’m trying to help you.”

She barked out a weak laugh. “Help me? I kill and eat lone humans like you. You should run, hunter.”

At last, a tiny smile broke through - barely there, but real.

“If you were going to eat me, I’d already be dead. If the tales are true.”

She grumbled, but fell quiet. Because she knew I was right.

Wrapped in my fur coat, she let herself be carried - slowly, awkwardly - back through the forest toward my home.

It didn’t occur to me then what a monumental choice I had made in that moment.

But it would. Soon enough.