FSE

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Relating

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by To'Vark

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Two survivors form an unlikely bond in the harshness of the Palaeolithic era…

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She didn't know what the strange creature was, encroaching on her territory. He walked like her, yes, on two legs, but he was not a wolf like her, oh no. He was strange, so very strange, with fur restricted only to his head and face, though the rest of his body did have a very light coating of it. It was so different from her, with her grey fur tapering to brown across the back of her head and down her spine, her hind paws toughened from running so much, always travelling, ears pricked on top of her head.

Hidden behind a rock, she crouched, an animal hide draped over her thighs where it was tied at the waist, though the clothing left a big slit up the side. Her chest was left bare, for there was no reason for the mammary glands to be covered up in her pack, before she had struck off with the other young wolves for fresh pastures and hunting grounds, but the slit ensured that she still had range of motion. It was not necessary, of course, for wolves like her to wear anything over themselves, but she had come to appreciate the warmth of it.

Especially after her pack… She sucked in a breath, ears slipping back flat to her skull. No. That was not something that she wanted to think about, no. That was too much, too painful. Still, regardless of the time she had spent on her own, she longed for the companionship they had provided, never wanting to be a lone wolf. However, that was exactly what she had become, spending cold nights on her own, with no warm body to help keep hers from the chill of the night.

Ah, yes… For the wolfess lived alone, though it seemed that the strange creatures that walked on two legs, just like her, were nomadic too, solitary and travelling. Dimly, she remembered seeing them back when she had been no more than a wolf pup, suckling at her mother's breast, but her mother had hustled her away from them, delving deep into the undergrowth.

She didn't understand them, not at all, wrinkling her muzzle curiously as she watched him, all from a safe distance. He was furless, that much she could see – though there was something on him too, something that smelled like another animal: a deer? He smelled like other animals, even though he was not like the ones that she hunted.

What was she to do if a human was in her territory? Her nose twitched, questing, sifting through the scents in the air. She didn't remember much about what she had been told about humans, but there were rumours of them. Some said that they killed without question. But some wolves did that too, however rare that was. Another wolf had once told her, a long, long time ago, that humans had some fur on their bodies, but it was only on certain parts of them. He said that he had found one deceased, but that the meat was foul. She didn't blame him. Eating another predator was only for truly hungry wolves, for they were not natural scavengers. In times of need, however, scavenging would get them through another long cold…

She watched carefully, her tail stiff. He didn't seem to be doing anything too unusual, not as he paused by the edge of the water, his eyes cast out, though he didn't see her. In passing, she'd heard that they could see more smaller details, from a distance, than wolves like her, but didn't know much what to make of that. She could rely more on her other senses, which seemed far more natural and comfortable to her. Perhaps he was like a bat too, able to move around easily at night, though she wasn't sure if she'd heard anything about humans being more active at night, not having direct experience. It was strange.

In all honesty, with a shiver, she had to acknowledge that she knew little about humans at all.

Knowing the will of another predator, after all, was one of the ways that a wolf stayed alive in such a time…

He couldn't smell her, she knew that much, though the wolfess would never know quite what incited her to crawl down the slope, keeping her long, lean body hunkered down to the ground, on her paws and hands, fingers curling around rocks for stability. Slow and stealthy, she crept closer, lips slightly parted as if to keep a snarl on the edge of her lips.

The river curled around the rocks, a safer place to drink for one would most often hear a predator coming, though she was within three paces of him (a wolf's pace) before his head shot up and he reached for his spear – though all she knew it as was a long stick with a sharp claw on the end.

That was enough warning for her. Their eyes locked and she shuddered, though repressed the outward display as much as possible.

A human was so strange… His face was so dull and flat, not without the smooth lines and curves of a wolfish muzzle. Why did he have a flat muzzle like that? And the fur on his head was thicker and coarser, like the tougher hair of an elk, though she wouldn't have liked to wear it on her body. And the downward facing nose… That was strange, so strange, enough so that she pulled back a fraction. She'd been interested in his vision, from what she had heard before, but he didn't seem to have ears either, not even sticking up out of his hair. Where were his ears?

But his eyes were bright, boring into her, eye contact forced from her in challenge. There was life in there…intelligence in those eyes, so blue, they were just like the sky. But how? She knew they were clever, yes, from what she had heard, though the wolfess had no idea of how much she knew was true. But no more than that, no. She hadn't gotten close enough, not ever, to learn more.

But there was something more as she peered, her own gaze steady and level, was the emotion there, the fear, the wariness, reflecting her own. His lips twitched, another expression that she could not read on a flat muzzle like his, yet her sensitive ears caught the pounding of his heart, listening intently as she matched what she could tell of his body to the emotion in his eyes.

She knew so little about them.

What she did know, as they stared at one another, the human crouched and the wolfess with one leg stretched behind her, down low, preparing to flee, was that he was male. His shoulders were broad and she scented him to be a male, something in his aroma similar to that of wolves, his rugged features appearing to speak to her more of male wolves. With what she knew of humans, however, she could have been wrong.

Perhaps her curiosity would get the better of her, the human softening a little, some of the tension slipping from his shoulders. He stepped back, giving her space, and picked up something that smelled like animal skins, something that she had used to keep herself warm on cold nights during the long dark of time. The long dark had come many times in her life with little light during the day, when it was so much harder to find food. Prey was scarcer then.

Yet the human did something very strange indeed, picking up the skins and slinging them over his shoulders, wrapping them around him…and then he looked a lot furrier, hairier, as if he was putting on a body just like hers. It seemed perfectly normal to him, though he kept a wary eye on her, as if he thought she was about to attack. When he grunted and pointed, she could not have possibly known what he meant, too busy staring at him, how he covered himself practically from head to toe.

Her eyes widened, incredulous. Was he…putting on his hide? Like she'd heard that the furless ones had to do to keep warm? She shot back with a growl.

He approached her softly, slowly, extending his hand to her as if to touch, though she showed her teeth to him. No, no, no… No, that was too much, she didn't want him to touch her, but he understood her and backed off, hand dropping away.

They were predators in a world that was dangerous to them, though the human seemed to have less interest in her than she did in him. Or perhaps he was just scared of her? She inhaled, tasting a drop of fear in the air, though not as much as she might have thought. The air clawed at her, hot and dry, though the summer heat was not something that always bothered her.

When the human pulled a sling of wrapped something, something that smelled divine into his arms and moved off down the river, following the bend of it into the shade of the rocks, she followed. She didn't know what she was doing or where she was going, yet it was not as if her travels had led her in any particular direction so far anyway. That was not the way of a nomad, following the seasons and the prey, making her way in a dangerous world without any sense of direction.

He glanced back occasionally, perhaps to check if she was still following, though she kept her distance, ears pricked and turning back and forth, ensuring that it was not a trap. Her mother had told her that humans loved to make traps and were very skilled at it, a long time ago. She had said that they were difficult to get out of.

The sun moved across the sky as she paused at the entrance of a cave that the human had slipped into. It was open enough for her to see the back, even as her eyes adjusted to the light, the human already sitting cross-legged on an animal's skin.

Before him was the source of the delicious smell, meat laid out from a fresh kill, though she had known that it had been there already. How strange! He didn't seem to have the scent of young on him, so he didn't have other mouths to feed. In fact, there were no other human scents on him at all. She couldn't understand any wolf carrying food when it was not being taken to the elderly or young or even the injured.

He grunted and moved his lips in a strange stretch that made her wrinkle her muzzle. He seemed to be baring his teeth at her, but…where were his fangs? The rest of his body did not look like he meant to be hostile either, though baring one's fangs was seen as aggression, of course, to wolves.

Slowly, he got her to enter the cave, though she noticed that he kept the long stick with the sharp claw on the end close to him, one eye on her at all times. The cave had a large overhang where one could rest at the front, nice and open so that she could see what was coming, her natural wariness keeping her on edge. She still didn't want to find any of those traps that her mother had warned her about, sniffing carefully.

Yet there was no danger there as she settled, curiously, half on it and half off it. He made a face at her, not understanding why she'd chosen to take that position, though offered his food to her, the meat that smelled so good. It would likely go bad if it was not eaten soon, but there were berries too and other foraged foods, things that the human had brought back or along with him from hunting and gathering.

He grunted and made a weird smacking sound with his lips until she reached for the meat, picking it up between her fingers and sniffing it delicately. It smelled fine, though he made that weird stretching motion with his lips, something that the wolfess would later learn was a smile, again when she ate.

Together, they sat and ate, filling their bellies comfortably as the afternoon slipped into twilight, watching the stars appear behind the cave, stretching down into a rich meadow and forest beyond. There, prey lay and she pricked her ears to the calls of elk: tall, towering beasts with antlers that could sweep a wolf off their feet and into the cold grip of death. They were prey best taken down with a full pack, their teeth and claws at the ready. If the dam had grown across the river to the east of the forest, there would be giant beaver to be found there too. Although her language was not as refined as she would have liked, she drew a picture of the beaver in the dirt, making sure to show off the giant teeth. The human seemed to understand, nodding his head.

They rested, even if she sat up watching while he merely took more distance from her to sleep, setting a fire that warmed her fur. There had been fire, of course, back with her pack, but it was not something that she had continued with on her own. With someone there with her, a companion, it felt more soothing, less of a reminder of all that she had lost,

Together, they would survive.

The days that followed were interesting, at least for the wolfess. Having someone there allowed her to relax a little more, knowing that she didn't always have to be on watch, and they bonded swiftly. Heading down to the forest was a mutually agreed upon decision, though they would have to leave his cave, which extended further back into the rock face than she had expected, a narrow tunnel protecting them from predators. He showed her how to carry food that would not go bad too quickly with her, though she scoffed at it. She had already eaten – why would she again need to eat food so quickly? Still, she brought it with them, carrying the food as he showed her.

Yet they were so different. Walking on two legs was about the most that they had in common, but he carried more with him than her, while she was content with her elk-hide skirt, something that smelled of her old pack still, however faintly. There were long poles too, tipped with much sharper stones than she was used to, though she recognised it, even if wolves did not use spears too often. As they were strong, they didn't need to make them as sharp as possible, except when they were hunting more challenging, larger prey. She tilted her head, perplexed by how much time he spent sharpening the sharp claw, the sharp stone or wood or tool he had tied, tightly, to the end.

Maybe he did it because he was weaker? That was clever. Her sense of admiration grew.

His sense of smell, however, was pitiful at best and she had to steer him away from the reek of animal dung as they hunted, which wasn't something that they wanted to trek into their trail. It could lead predators to them and, even together, they were weaker than bears, beasts that hungered for meat. She shuddered, tail stiff behind her as she scented the air, the thick forest wrapped around her.

It was hot there, though the river and the dam where prey would be found too could not be that far, not as they carried on.

As they perched by the river, the human set something thin with lots of holes in it in the water, putting his finger to his lips. She didn't know what that meant and grunted, but he put his lips together, quiet, not making a sound. That made a little more sense to her and she settled back with him, the coolness of the river soothing her, making things a little softer, lighter and easier. She didn't understand why they weren't trying to chase the beavers that had moved away from the water and the protection of the dam, but resolved to wait, at least for the moment, at least to see what the human had in mind.

She'd let her curiosity and want for companionship lead her so far, after all. Though, truth be told, the wolfess had not even realised that she missed her pack so much, the softness of other furry bodies pressed against hers.

The beavers themselves were not aggressive creatures, even if the force of their teeth, used to carve and gnaw through trees for their dams that blocked rivers. It was the ease at which they slipped away into the water that was the real problem, though they had been known too to band together to run off smaller predators. Flight, however, was the first instinct of a beaver when faced with a predator and had served them well down through many generations.

The meaning of the strange tool that he had cast into the river became evident when a beaver swam right into it and he pulled it to the shore, even though the beaver was huge, enough to feed both of them for a good many moons and suns. She wanted to run in and clamp her jaws around its neck, to stifle the frantic life from its body, but he stopped her from dashing in, jamming his sharp tooth on the long stick deep into its guts as the giant beaver cried out and weakened.

It was a harsh way to live, but it was the cycle of life and death that had to be appreciated, one creature feeding another. Predators did not think or care so much for the family and relationships of those that they ended the lives of, seeing it as the chain of life. They didn't see it like that, not as they took the meat back to their young or led their young to it, after all.

And yet there was compassion in the heart of the wolfess too, wanting to make it a quick kill as the beaver struggled faintly, weaker and weaker. With a snap of her teeth and a crunch of her jaws, she locked her teeth around the front of its neck – it was too large for her to get around all the way. But that was more than enough as she crushed the windpipe and then used her bone-crushing jaws, while the creature was weakened, effectively ensuring her safety in a quick kill and ending its life. Its passing, at her jaws, would allow them to eat and take what they wanted from it.

She ripped into the beaver's flesh while it was still warm, no longer seeing it as a living being but taking her fill from the body. It was not longer a creature but solely meat that she needed to devour, to let slide down her throat without barely chewing to renew her body with the energy that it needed to live. Yet that was the harsh way of the world and neither wolf nor human could see anything wrong with that.

The beaver was too large, of course, for her to devour whole, so she allowed the human to take her place, sprawled happily on the grass with her legs kicked off to the side. With the buzz of insects in the air and her stomach comfortably full, so full that she likely would need to sleep off a bit of it before making the trek back from a successful hunt, she was as content as she had ever been. Though the wolfess did not think all that much about her past, not wanting to go back to it, to a time that was less comfortable than her present.

It didn't do her any good, even if the memories were there.

He, however, took charge with a small tooth on a stick, chunkier and thicker than the long one that he had used to spear the beaver. Curiously, she half propped herself up to watch as he carved the beaver open, separating organs and slicing off meat. It was as if he was seeing something that she wasn't, though it was not something that she could see through his eyes, in the light of his mind.

He folded the meat and organs that they were to take back with them into leather animal skins, wrapped up and put in a sling-like contraption that could be carried on his back. Her nose twitched. That was the gatherer in him, though he was not at all like the squirrels that she had chased as a pup, filling their cheeks with nuts and other forage that would last the long dark. No, he knew how to make places to put the meat, ways to carry it, more so than either he or she could ever have done in their arms alone.

And it allowed them to eat and feast for longer, even though it did mean that they left less behind them for the scavengers of the forest, which the wolfess frowned upon. The temptation of having meat and forage to last them longer, however, was tempting, so very much so, and he even cooked the meat over the fire, after impaling it with a long stick.

That had been interesting, even hypnotic, to sit there and watch him turning the stick, around and around, his little fire pit surrounded by stones. Even more so, the smell of charring, warming meat scared other animals away from them, as much as it made her drool.

Cooked meat! She had not had that for some time, though never in a strange, liquid form, delicious hunks of meat making her regret eating so soon when something so mouth-watering was waiting. She devoured it voraciously, nodding her appreciation, though he laughed at her again and did the same. There was no time to eat delicately, eating for purpose and function, even though it had been made even more delicious by the process of roasting it over the fire.

It was one of many things that she had to learn from him, even though there was so much she could teach him too. She could tell he was absorbing things from her, trying to scent the air as she had, though it had been the wolfess who had followed the beaver's tracks straight to the dam. She had shown him how to move quietly, silently, folding a foot over a twig or a pebble so that it did not make a single sound as one moved and stood, as quiet as an owl in the dead of the night, silent on their wings. Yet they could hunt during the daylight hours as well as at night, or any time of day that they pleased, finding different ways to tackle different prey.

They worked together, using their strengths to their benefit, the wolfess chasing a herd of small, nimble deer towards him, letting his long stick with the tooth fly, one after the other. He didn't get all of the deer that they would have wanted, but he impaled two, which was more than enough for them on a hunt. The human seemed a bit standoffish when she used her strength to move some of the larger rocks around the cave, helping clear the ground, though she noticed too how he went out of his way to show what he could do too.

He didn't have to move the rocks or show raw feats of strength, but he did it anyway. In a way, dimly, she was reminded of her time with the pack, when male wolves strove to prove their strength to a potential mate. So that he would not appear so despondent, making that funny expression with the corners of his lips turned down, she nudged him lightly for help in moving some of the rocks, even if she could have moved them on her own.

One night, as they lay there in quiet companionship, reminding her of the single wolves that she had curled up with when she'd struck off on her own, she looked curiously at the human. Well, she did that a lot, but it was different that time when he wasn't even looking at her. He was sleeping and yet…surely he had to be cold? He had skin, just skin, not her thick coat of fur, and she shifted over to lay next to him, all to keep him warm. He was her only packmate, after all, and she did not want him at all catching a chill.

He grumbled, however, rolling against her, pushing her away, his lips and expression contorted. It was not a wolf's snarl and yet it was a sign of displeasure as he grunted and pushed until she was back giving him space, though not quite where she slept usually in their cave. Of course, the human was merely too warm with both the fire and her fur, comfortable as he was, yet all she saw was a packmate who was being ungrateful – she was only trying to keep him warm! After all, he ran during hot days without fainting, his stamina beyond hers in that weather, so he had to need to keep his body temperature much higher than she did.

Didn't he?

There were many questions and impressions in her mind, but not everything was meant to be answered, not even as they grew closer, the distance between their sleeping spots decreasing, day by day. When they were not hunting or gathering food, especially for the human as he needed to eat a lot more frequently than she did, they rested, relaxing together, though he also showed her a little of what he did.

Wolves, of course, rarely needed to make teeth to hunt with, not when they had their own. And yet the human had shown a canny, cunning ability to make his own teeth and claws, sometimes even one at a time. The long stick had a single, large tooth at the end and he showed her how he carved it from rock, sharpening it with another, harder rock again and again until it came to a point, then lashing it to the stick with tough foliage or parts of an animal they had killed. He had learned how to take more than just the meat of animals, for which she was impressed, other parts of them suitable for other things. Yet the knowledge of that, when their interactions were devoid of a common language, piecing together things through body language and grunts and drawings, would only come in time to her. Especially when she was so much less dependent on tools than he, as a human, was.

Wolves knew how to make fire too and yet she was forced to huff and grunt and lift her tail stiffly out at him when he tried to show her. With her fur it was not something that she had needed all that much, though he diligently lit a fire every evening, which did, at least, serve to keep wild animals away. Some would be brave, coming up to the glow of the fire, sparks leaping and dancing, but they would easily be chased away with a blazing stick, leaves flaring up to show them what fire could do to them. Animals, more so than the wolf or the human, had a respect for the danger of fire, whereas they could both control it and use it as they willed.

She tried to show him how to light it, tired of him trying to show her, repeatedly, but it took her just as long to light it herself. Not needing to light a fire meant that her skills were rusty, rubbing the sticks together over a certain little rock that she had learned, long ago, that was good at setting a spark. But the main part was increasing the friction of the sticks until they set a spark of fire into the nestled tuck of dry leaves and sticks beneath, to feed the growing flame.

Even though she was trying to show him that he didn't need to tell her how to do something so simple, he still crowed and threw his arms up, startling her, when she succeeded, tossing the sticks at him triumphantly. A bark of laughter burst by her lips when the sticks hit him in the face, the heat of one startling him, but no harm was done, not as she fed her fire. Her body warmed through with contentment, though she would soon have to move away from the fire itself as it grew, too warm for her comfort, happy where she was for the moment.

Yet sleeping was difficult for her in a time when she always felt as if she had to be alert and on edge, always looking out for danger. She should have been more comfortable with the human after some time together, though she still woke frequently in the night, turning her gaze from him to the open air, reassuring herself with a few quick sniffs of the air that all was well and that all was just as it should be.

They did not hunt every day, much to the human's discontent, though the wolfess became quite good at fishing. It was even something that she came to find relaxing, learning how to cast nets into the water and sitting on the bank, watching the fish come by. Before, she had fished by splashing through the water as a younger wolf, grasping at fish in her jaws, though it was something that had only ever been successful when the fish were returning to spawn, leaving the rivers teaming with many, many fish. With so many all leaping and squirming and flapping, as they leapt out of the water, against one another, even the most foolish of hunting wolves could not fail to return with a mouthful.

She appreciated the quiet of it, however, how she could access a supply of fresh fish whenever she wanted it, though some fishing days were, indeed, more fruitful than others. Learning from him but putting her own learning into play, she took the long stick with the long tooth, his spear, down the river some to where the water was clear and she could stand as still as a fishing bird, copying their style. For there was much to be learned from the animals around them and, of course, from the human too, even if the wolfess could have turned it into something that better suited her style of hunting too.

Standing still at the edge of the water, or, sometimes, even in the middle of it, did not impinge on her stamina, though it did test her patience. And a wolf had plenty of that, perhaps even more than a human, for he sat on the shore sometimes to watch her, quiet, as still as a stone that had not been worn down by the passage of time. A wolf pack, after all, could follow a wounded deer or elk or other large prey for days on end, sometimes even weeks if needed, taking them down the course of the injury or sickness that would, ultimately, fell them. Sometimes it was the wounded or injured prey that was easiest for them to pick off, for wolves held no pride about them when it came to taking down the largest or the strongest. The only thing they were concerned about was feeding themselves and their pack. There was no place for bravery when it could have just as easily been termed stupidity. Fighting bigger animals without due cause was not how the wolf packs survived.

She lunged suddenly, the clouds overhead muddying her figure from the fish in the water, the sharp tip of the long stick striking true. It pierced the water in a shattering spray of crystalline droplets, glinting in the moderate light, and pulled back with a squirming, desperately flapping fish on the end, impaled clean through with no hope of escape.

Of course, all the other fish were long gone by the time she stepped back out of the water, but her strategy allowed her to choose the fish that she caught, more easily taking the plumpest and the juiciest so that they may feast on readier flesh. The human stood from where he had been watching, showing his teeth in a grin that she no longer found off-putting. Not being a wolf, she had come to understand that he didn't know that showing his teeth like that was not something that wolves did, other than when they intended to be threatening or intimidating. It was too ingrained in her instinct, for her to return the expression to him, instead panting happily, her tongue lolling out.

The spear was his, but perhaps a little thick and a little heavy for what she wanted to use it for as she practised and honed her fishing skills. He helped her refine it, for the sharp head did not need, really, to be a separate piece to the spear for fishing. A long stick with a whittled down, sharp point would do her even better, lighter to wield and positioned such that she could lunge and strike with ever-greater precision, her skill growing and growing. Even though the wolfess tried to show him how to fish in that way, she was still learning and improving herself and it was not something that the human seemed to have a particular aptitude for.

Still, it was good for them to both benefit, the wolfess doing more than her part of hard labour, clearing a route for them to reach a good hunting ground more easily so that they did not have to go through a narrow canyon in the rocks. Predators could have lurked there and clearing a path, which was swiftly becoming increasingly well-trodden for them, though they had to be just as careful about walking over the same routes again and again. That was something that the wolfess knew and not him, not all the time, though he seemed keen to find a routine, a path that worked to reach a certain spot and not worry about anymore.

However, with her sense of smell, she was easily able to lead them where they needed to go without even marking a route, only ensuring that the way was clear so that they did not need to expend more energy than needed when hunting and gathering food. There were some especially fantastic berry bushes, flooding a copse of trees, that were highly desirable as the hottest time moved into a cooler time, fruits ripe but not for long.

To her surprise, the human didn't seem to need to give the berries a sniff before gathering them: some were poisonous to wolves and she assumed humans too. It was strange to her how he consumed more fruit than wolves, a lot more, though she was content to assist him in foraging and gathering, enjoying the quiet companionship.

They gathered the berries into carriers that they had woven with reeds and grasses, carrying them back so they may eat them for longer, though the human would not have been able to get there by himself. It was not as if she could direct him there alone either, for the way was snarled with vegetation and that was one time that the wolfess didn't want to clear a path when it was so well guarded by thick, dense vegetation. If she opened it up, other animals, larger animals, would make their way through, meaning that they would have more competition for the berries than merely small mammals and birds.

With the weather hotter than ever, the wolfess could not afford to drag out a hunt for deer while she sweated from the glands on the pads of her paws, panting to cool herself down. She had hastened him out in the early morn, but the day was swiftly growing clammy around her and she frowned, hunkering down in the bush to wait for the right moment to strike. That time, she had learned from him and taken a spear, learning to hunt with it. However, the need to feed surpassed, sometimes, her desire to learn.

The sun shone down, patterning the ground with shadows through the leaves of the trees, concealing her further as the pattern broke up her image. However, to her annoyance, the human moved too quickly, snapping a twig that startled the deer before she was ready for them.

She grunted as they both gave chase, though it was a futile one. They were too quick! Her lungs swiftly burned and she barked at the human, admonishing him in her language for breaking cover and leaving them with empty bellies for the night. The deer streaked, as one being, across from the trees, streaming down a hill, and she slowed to a halt, panting heavily.

Yet, while she tired, the human continued running and she shook her head at him. What was the point of wasting energy? Her stamina had failed her at a sprint, her muscle serving her better as she sat down, waiting for him to tire.

And she waited…and waited… Until, to her shock, the human returned with one of the smaller deer, one that was a size that he could carry, even as a dead weight, slung over his shoulder! She leapt to her hind paws and barked, though he only laughed at her, an expression on his face that she had learned over time.

It was a face that meant that he knew he could do it anyway: she should have believed him.

Panting softly, the wolfess parted her jaws lightly and shared in his joy at a successful hunt. Even if it had not been quite the hunt she had been expecting!

Some things he could not do without her and some things she did not think she could do without him, for their skills greatly complemented one another as they grew. The cave became home, decorated with paintings, though they relied more on body language as time went on, from the flick of one of her ears to the downward turn of his lips. The tiniest twitches of muscles and even the stiffening of her tail were all a means of communication when language was still so very rudimentary, finding different grunts and sounds that meant different things. In a way, they built their language between themselves, though most of it came simply from being so in step with each other, always paying attention.

Sometimes, they left their cave entirely, ensuring that there was no food or anything there that would attract animals, though they did not travel for long. She was the kind that might have travelled without stopping, a true nomad with no home, but they had made something of a home for themselves there. The human had shown her that he had been there for one long cold so far, the hardest time for hunting prey and finding food.

They always wanted to return to the cave, however, no matter how far they travelled, even if they did create other camps further up into the mountains, places that would be fruitful for them for gathering bird eggs from the cliffs in months to come. The highest slopes would not suit them when the snows came, so they advanced further down the plains, where the river became slower and more undulating, weaving back and forth across the land. There was less cover there, though some trees did line the river in places, taking their moisture from the most dominant water source. They allowed them some cover to hide and use throwing knives, even small snares, to trap the smaller animals that came down to the river to drink, letting a basic need bring their prey directly to them.

Where he showed her how to make the tools that he found most useful, lacking her teeth and claws, the wolf showed him how to braid animal hair into strong lengths of rope, things that could be better used to lash shelters together, expanding their cave a little. There was more than enough space in there for the two of them, but they made it their own, even if they were only their little pack of two. And, still, the cave paintings expanded, even if they were no longer purely direct communication between them, painting their lives, their hunts, their tools, the different animals that they encountered.

She still did not sleep as easily as before, whimpering in her sleep, in the grip of nightmares. The fire might have danced, but it could not ward off the darkness that plagued her mind, rolling over, clawing at the air, fighting off an invisible attacker that had assailed her pack, but, alas, not one that she could force back. She had been a few miles away, hunting for the young of the pack, when the attack had come, though the only evidence they left behind, amongst the bodies, was that they had used spears and arrows.

Yet she was brought back to the waking world, whimpering and blinking rapidly, in the arms of the human, who had crossed the space between their sleeping areas, the soft hides and furs that they bundled themselves in for the night (she had fewer than him), to wrap her in his arms. At first, the wolfess fought, struggling, thinking that she was still fighting off an attacker, yet his scent reached her just in time for her to relax into his arms, the strength of them, even though it was still less than hers, soothed her.

It was good to be held, like she was back with her pack. But he stroked her, rubbing her head and pressing his forehead to her, murmuring and soothing as he called her to breathe in time with him.

She showed him that night, wanting to reveal it all for him, drawing on the ground what had happened to her. It was the best way to convey the story, drawing herself first with a circle around her and then the rest of the pack with her parents at the top, signifying their position. The murderers… They were harder to draw, thicker lines adorning them, adding in the bows and arrows.

He watched intently and she shuddered with breath, pressing on. Then, she erased all figures…except for herself. Only her.

He took her drawing stick from her, showing his history, for she saw it clearly in the picture story, taking away the tail from her figure of a wolfess to show himself. Then, he drew a figure next to him to represent what she assumed was his mate, another couple of smaller ones. Cubs? Other figures followed: they must have been his family.

Like her, her heart pulling for him, he drew a second set of figures, all brandishing weapons – and erased every figure except for himself.

Like her, he had been left alone.

She drew him into an embrace, arms tight around him, their foreheads resting together. Long, deep breaths, holding one another tightly, brought her back to the world of her new pack and her heart tugged for him, knowing that he knew where her mind had gone in sleep, that he was just the same as her.

Their relationship changed after that night, choosing a new animal hide to sleep on and setting up a shared sleeping space, for she wanted to be close to him and he chose to be close to her when they were not hunting or similar. Whenever he had the chance, he was by her side, and the wolfess relaxed increasingly into his presence, as if he had always been there. It was good to have someone, a partner that she could rely on, trusting him as much as she had the pack she had run with, though it was not something that she had ever expected to find after she had lost her pack.

She knew that her strengths made up for his weaknesses, but she was not without weaknesses either. They communicated more, making sounds that meant certain things, forming a new language, a blend of their own while they learned. They were just the very beginning, part of the story, even though the wolfess was grateful that her story of survival had taken a softer twist.

For once, she would not have to go into the longest, coldest time of the year, when there was so much less light for her partner to see by, alone. She would not have to bundle herself up, missing her pack mates, but she would have a companion by her side, her new pack mate, perhaps even more too, though she did not know whether humans took new mates after losing their own, as wolves did not. Without a tie to their old packs, she could not tell. Yet the relationship was there and the bond was too, growing closer and closer, spending evenings sitting with one another, for there was little for them to do outside taking care of their basic needs.

And that time allowed them to bond, the human running his fingers through her fur repeatedly. It reminded the wolfess faintly of a time when her mother had groomed her and lapped over her with a long, soft, pink tongue, though that was so long ago that it was a very faint memory, more of a hint of sensation than anything else. Yet he did not clean her as her mother had, but smoothed her fur down all in the right directions, even taking a carved come to her. The hair on his head had to be teased out of knots in his way of grooming, after all, and it was a kindness that he could give to her to groom her in the same way, combing out her fur softly.

It was easy for the wolfess to relax and lean into it, letting the soft strokes of the comb pour over her, as if she was under flowing water. A ripple and a push, the nature of life around her. Perhaps it was not all that bad, even if she had been through an awful lot in her life, losing her pack. She could not have spoken of whether that was normal for other packs or not, but could only assume, considering the human and the life he had lost too, that perhaps it was a difficult world out there for wolves and humans.

For all the differences, the man not understanding her growls of warning in the beginning, the nature of their sleeping arrangements, and much more too, they had found common ground. More than that – they had made common ground for themselves too. Where there had been none, they had taught one another, knowing one another perhaps even more intimately than they knew themselves, even if those were not the sort of thoughts that crossed their minds.

No, it was only the softness and sweetness between them, of fishing from the riverbank, the quiet of hunting, spears in hand. It was those moments that they shared, day and night, that made their bond and relationship what it was, a partnership that they could never have known would change the world and their kind to come.

It was not for them to worry about, of course, not as, one night, they sat together on their shared sleeping mat by the fire, the wolfess a little further away than him so that she did not get too warm from the flickering, dancing flames. All was right with their little corner of the world and there were no predators near to concern them. Even going into the time of cold, they trusted that they would be able to get through it together, even managing to follow the lead of the beavers in a way and creating a small dam down the river. That may have meant nothing on its own, of course,

He leaned in close to her, stroking her face, fingers running down the line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, as if that light pressure was not enough, though pulled back a little when his face came closer and closer to hers. At first, she thought he was playfully nipping her when his lips touched hers, though the warmth was nice and the affection was nice, stirring something inside her.

Their first kiss.

The wolfess started. It was not something that wolves did to show affection and yet…it was nice. It made her feel warm inside, as if she wanted to be closer to him, though his fleshy, pink lips seemed better at the caress than a wolf's black lips, the embrace that meant something else to him than it did to her. And yet they were close enough that they could find themselves on the same path together either way, as she broke the kiss to show him a little of wolf affection too.

He laughed softly, her lightly whiskered muzzle tickling him as she nuzzled his neck, sniffing lightly, taking in his scent as if for the first time. And yet it was just the start of a deeper, more intimate encounter still, the man stilling as she took note of him as something more than a companion, but as a partner too. A mate.

They kissed again, though the human's lips were most certainly better suited to kissing than hers, even if he kissed along her snout too, nuzzling her cheek and neck much the same as she had done to him. They could still learn from each other, of course, but there were many new ways for them to come together and to support one another.

There was little for them to remove, the wolfess sliding the human's animal skin coverings back from his shoulders, though his bare chest was something that she had seen before. All she had to do was to follow her instincts, her breath on his skin, though the light fur that did cover him was thicker on his chest. It was not enough to keep him warm, however, not as they shared another kiss and he laid her back gently, supporting her all the way down to the sleeping space. As if by fate, there were already thick furs laid out there for her to softly mould into, though she would not be by far a passive partner in all that was to come.

Her heart surged. He was her pack. He was her mate. And the time had come for them to bring forth the next generation, softly strengthening and deepening their bond.

It would come, moment by moment, heartbeat by heartbeat, as they laid together with the fire in the background, bodies moving together, slowly at first and then more quickly. Need and passion coursed through them, the love for their mate, but it would bring them closer still.

Through the long, cold time, they would keep each other warm, their partner in a world that was against them, purely as it was designed for the survival of the fittest. And yet they could come together to show that world what the true meaning of a pack was, that they could help one another to make their pack the strongest they could, to bring forth their future family into the world with everything that they could provide to them.

With their bodies curled around one another, sharing life and warmth, they were finally at peace. Together, they related to each other. They didn't consider what may have happened if they had not found one another.

And, so, the wolf and the human stepped forward into their new pack, as mates, together.