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The white dragon was taller than even the largest wolves of the Moonstone pack. Small for a dragon, but impressive still at seven or eight feet. His scales shone with the iridescence of pearls, moonlight hitting what little of his form that was not hidden beneath the baggy brown cloak. The wolves on guard this evening had their bows stringed and arrows ready to fly, the less weathered of them unable to steady a shaking paw or trembling tail.

"Halt," called out a black wolf, his voice almost betraying the scent of fear in the air. "Come no further, ghost. State your business or begone." His arms held the stretching bow steady, fingers curled around the shaft of an arrow on the thick string.

Rounded talons came to a stop in the wet grass, a thick white tail moving to curl lazily at the dragon's side. He lifted his head a bit, moon-yellow eyes glistening as a grin snaked over his muzzle and violet-pink flames danced from his nostrils. He raised a clawed hand, from which dangled two wolf tails and crescent-shaped moonstone pendants.

The eyes of the speaking wolf widened considerably, but he did not relax his arms. He held the arrow true even as he and the other warriors stepped aside, allowing the dragon entrance into their tribal grounds.

Seven wolves were seated around a fire; each was old and wise, an elder of the tribe. Few were accompanied by their heir, or eldest male pup, but the old white wolf had a daughter with him tonight. She stood behind him, her paws fidgeting with the pale leather loincloth that hung from her hips. Crystal blue eyes watched as the elders discussed concerns of the pack, her heart racing as she knew they would soon come to the matter of her mating. As she was coming into season for her first time, the white femme had been noticing the glances of her male packmates. What was once idle play was no longer so innocent.

The scent of her heat was what the dragon noticed first, and it gave him pause. He exhaled deeply through his nose, clearing it momentarily, before his last few steps brought him into view by the fire. Every eye was on him; the only voice was that of the flames as they leapt into the air. He looked at every elder, nodding his head silently in respect, then coming finally to the white... and his daughter behind him.

A dragon never needed introductions, unless he was a 'ghost'. Lowering his hood, he revealed the blunt, curved horns that met behind his head; the smooth ridge of his crown running between his eyes and down his neck. The dragon wasn't smiling anymore. "I am Anjel," he announced, locking sight with the alpha elder: the white wolf. "I am the Messenger for the Geart Tribe, far west of here." Looking around, he lifted the tails and pendants he still clutched in his left claw. "These wolves, recognized to be of the Moonstone Pack, raped and killed one of our slaves in the fields we share."

A good, long silence to allow this to sink in. Anjel caught himself staring at the female wolf. Her scent was getting to him, he noticed. He cleared his nose, little plumes of the magenta fire snaking out.

"After other recent tests of our hospitality--those which we have dealt with gracefully and respectfully--it is known the consequence to such an act can warrant a war. I know--we know this is not something you'd want." Anjel turned, putting his back to the alpha and his daughter. The wolves were still watching intently, and though one or two of the younger ones were beginning to look likely to attack, he knew they wouldn't. "Your packmates have taken one of ours. Another option is to allow me, as the Messenger for Geart Tribe, to choose one wolf from your pack to take back with me and present to my Lord, Tyrran. If he accepts, your people will live in peace."

The old white wolf stood, his daughter placing a paw on his shoulder. She was concerned for him. "One wolf for the safety of our pack, and you will return the tails and amulets. They will be used as a lesson, messenger, for we remember too painfully the damage of your tribe's claw and fang. We do not want war in these troubled times." Anjel kept his eyes locked to the alpha as he spoke. His sight was gone or going, the dragon noted; what could have been blue or green was covered in a shroud of gray, with a white-yellow pool settling over the black circle in the old wolf's eyes. He wondered if he had any idea how beautiful his daughter was.

Anjel remained silent for awhile, looking around the circle of wolves. He pretended that he was making his decision, but he knew what he wanted before he even offered the choice. He gave a rumbling sigh and turned back to the elder. He had to draw this out, if for just a day, to get the elders worried. He tried not to smile as he spoke.

"I believe I'll stay here tonight, and make a point to walk your territory tomorrow before I choose who to bring back to my Lord dragons."

The messenger felt the negative energy around him, emanating from the elders and their sons... even the female wolf looked horrified at this prospect. But as the alpha spoke and granted the dragon permission to stay the night, Anjel could no longer hold back his grin.

The dragon stretched out beside the fire long after the meeting was over. He was too big to sleep on one of their cots, and none of the wolves were willing to share a tent, so it was the grass for a bed and the stars for a blanket. He'd removed his cloak and spread it beneath him, lounging like a lizard on a hot, sunny day. His bare scales shimmered from the light of the moon and fire. Anjel was an impressive form, well-muscled but not overly so, with wings great enough to carry the beast high up into the air; though pinioned against his back, they took up little space. Colored in ivory and cream, tipped in gold, he was a rare dragon... though it was more a curse than a blessing.

He smelled her before he saw her. The white wolf was creeping around the area, probably trying to get a better look at the dragon who'd interrupted the meeting before she had her chance in the spotlight. Because Anjel was taking a wolf away on the next day, the elders convened to choose her mate the next night, to avoid the chance that Anjel would happen to choose the same wolf and leave her mateless.

He rolled over onto his belly, stretching out his legs behind him, glancing around with slowly-dilating eyes for the she-wolf. She was closer than he expected, and she gasped at his sudden movement, taking several steps backwards, about to flee. "Come here," Anjel rumbled, raising a talon to gesture. She paused, undecided, and Anjel waited.

"How do I know you won't eat me?" came the trembling voice. Anjel couldn't help but laugh heartily.

"Eat you?" The dragon flashed a white smile. "We don't eat animals that speak. It's a general rule." He gave a leisurely flick of the tip of his long tail, leaning his chin into the palm of his clawed hand, elbow in the grass. "Come closer, pretty little rose, and I promise I won't bite you."

Still wary, the femme brought herself closer, but every muscle in her being was taut--she was ready to spring away at the first hint of hostility. Anjel made sure he showed nothing but geniality.

As she came closer to the fire, he could see her much better than at the meeting. Her fur was fine and short over her body, growing thicker behind her ears and on her tail. She still wore the ceremonial clothes from earlier that night; a tanned leather loincloth attached to a loose belt with turquoise buttons, and a sort of top made of the same material that hung from her neck down, holding her teardrop-shaped breasts at bay. He wondered idly if they were the sort to bounce once released, or relax. Snorting, he banned that thought from his head.

"Come, sit over by the fire," the dragon suggested gently. "It's pleasant at this time of night, when the plains are just beginning to get chilly."

She hesitantly took a seat in the grass, far enough away to speak comfortably, but Anjel would not be able to reach her without getting up. "Why are you going to take one of our wolves?" she asked, her voice fighting with the crackling of flames.

Anjel stretched his wings halfway, giving her a show while he contemplated his reply. "You see, little rose, it is the law of land. You take from us, and we take from you."

"But did you not kill the two wolves guilty of the crime?" The fire played in her blue eyes. "Wouldn't that have made it fair?"

The dragon snorted, trying his claw at arrogance. "Your tribe should be thankful that we did not allow them to return here. They were murderers and rapists. Would your people appreciate their like amongst them?" It was not a trait that suited him, and it faded quickly. "Besides that, the slave who was killed will, no doubt, need to be replaced."

She was quiet for awhile, simply staring at Anjel. He could smell her musk, heating his nostrils and warming his loins. "What's your name?" he asked softly, allowing himself to get lost in her pools of blue.

"Akio." The femme looked away, into the fire. She seemed troubled. Snapped out of his reverie, the dragon shifted his weight a bit before deciding that resting on his side would be the best plan. He rolled, leaning up on one elbow as he resituated himself. The wolf turned back to find his belly exposed, a thick layer of scales over his chest leading down to his tight stomach, and then...

Gasping, Akio turned her gaze to the darkness. She stammered a bit, before waving a paw at him and requesting that he 'please cover himself'. The dragon made a low clicking noise as he drew a bit of his cloak over his waist, covering his sheath.

"I'm sorry," he said honestly, "It was my understanding that most tribes slept skyclad."

She looked back to him, sighing softly. "We do, Lord dragon, but as I..." she was flushing through the white of her fur. "As I have not yet... been mated... I've never seen..."

It was Anjel's turn to blush. He nodded his head forward a bit, opening his warm caramel eyes and smiling. "Again, I apologize, Akio."

Silence came down upon them like a heavy winter blanket. The dragon raised his voice, making the first slice into the thickness. "What is your ceremonial name, Akio?"

The name given on one's naming day--usually the first moonless night after birth--had a strange power. It was not used casually, but instead was saved for ceremony and meetings between packs. The femme hesitated before offering the answer to his rather personal question.

"Promise of Agape," she said tentatively, drawing up her knees and holding them to her chest with her arms. "My mother did not survive my birth, but she already had this title picked out for me."

"I'm sorry you never knew your mother," the dragon churred sincerely. He sought a change of topic. "I understand you are to be mated soon?"

Akio winced. "I am. I came into season two days ago, for the first time. My father will mate me with whom he sees fit, so that I might raise strong sons to lead the pack in his wake."

"This does not please you?"

The little wolf glanced into the fire, her ears lowered. "If I were not the daughter of an elder, I would be allowed to mate with any wolf, from this tribe or another. Or I would not have to mate at all. I just..." Her voice trailed.

Anjel rolled back onto his belly, crossing his arms on the ground in front of him and resting his head on them, watching her. The scent she was giving off was beginning to make his head feel light, not to mention the effect it was having on his thoughts and nether region. "Wish there was another choice?" he suggested softly. Akio nodded in her silence, and it stayed silent...

He must have fallen asleep, because in a blink it was dawn. Wolves of every color were moving about, doing their daily deeds... and avoiding the dragon as well as possible. Anjel rose and tied his robe around his waist, leaving the top down over his hips to keep his torso bare in the hot sun. He made an effort to appear interested in their activities, but the whole day he was looking for Akio. Any query made as to the whereabouts of the elders resulted in half-answers.

Late afternoon, Anjel joined the hunters to gather food for the feast that would see the dragon and his chosen wolf off into the night. He removed his cloak for this entirely, the high sun beaming down on his pale-scaled hide. The wolves each had spears or a bow with a ready supply of arrows. It wasn't long before they came upon a herd of large creatures, which the pack called 'lulo'. They were covered in dark, curly fur, and had cloven hooves and horns like a bull. They were much thicker in body; a good supply of meat for a hungry tribe. Arrows flew first, followed by wolves running with the speed of wind towards their prey. Last came the dragon. Anjel brought down three of the beasts on his own, and the remaining hunters killed two.

Night fell suddenly. The bonfire burned intensely, female dancers creating stark shadows against the world as they circled the flames. Anjel kept an eye out for Akio, but with the whole tribe present, it was difficult to tell one wolf from another. Even relying on his nose for her scent proved worthless. He would have to wait... and then he saw her. Dressed in her ceremonial outfit again, she was dancing with the other wolves around the bonfire. She was the only one with white fur, he suddenly noticed. She even moved differently; where it seemed that the pack was dancing with joy, her steps seemed sorrowful, as if she was mourning with her entire body.

"Good at what they do; are they not, Ghost?" Anjel looked down to find a red-furred wolf standing at his side. He recognized him from the council of elders. The dragon nodded. "Talk is, they're gonna mate the white elder's daughter to my heir."

Anjel didn't really know what to say about that. He hadn't announced his choice yet... actually, he'd been avoiding doing so all day. "She is beautiful," he found himself answering.

"It wasn't my son you were planning on taking with you, back to your flock? Was it, Ghost?" There was something in the wolf's voice. Was he trying to threaten Anjel?

"No, it wasn't." He kept his voice flat. The wolf was about to open his mouth again when their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a greathorn. Every being stilled, all looking towards the origin of the noise. Out from one of the leathery homes stepped the white-furred elder, ebon feathers and beads in his headfur, wearing a loincloth that was blacker than the deepest night. His eyes seemed to be made of ice, locked on the dragon the whole time.

"It is time," the white one howled, "for our guest to make his decision." A short round of agreeing snarls and hoots, before nearly all the eyes were on Anjel. It made him feel very uncomfortable. In an attempt to ease his rising anxiety, he snorted, a bit of magenta flame leaping from his nostrils.

"I have made my decision," he roared, lifting his arms to the sky. Intimidation was key. "My choice is final; it cannot be argued by word nor power. Do you submit?"

Silence came over the tribe, and they all looked to their alpha. "The enslavement of one of ours to make amends for the death of yours. It is agreed. Make your choice, Ghost."

He looked for her. She was nowhere in sight; the wolves were so clustered, and all eyes were on him. "I choose..." his voice trailed. Where was she? "I choose Promise of Agape!"

The elder was not expecting to hear his daughter's name from the lips of his enemy. An argument rose in his throat, but died for the better of the tribe. His packmates were not settled so easily. Curses flew at Anjel, and the dragon was glad that was all they threw. Several growled at him as he made his way towards the alpha, but parted reluctantly. To the swipe of a dragon's talon, a wolf was but a doll. To murder the messenger would only anger the Geart tribe further. War was what they were trying to avoid.

At the old wolf's side, Anjel gazed down at him. The pack was silent but for a few growls and snarls, but Anjel spoke softly. "Where is she?" he asked. He could feel the anger coming off of her father as he steadied his aged eyes high enough to look the dragon square-on.

"I'm here," came the voice, frightened and small. Akio stepped closer from within the tent, watching Anjel with a look of fear. "And I'll go with him, father. Do not send your warriors after me. Tell them I go willingly." The entire time, though she had her paw on the alpha's shoulder and she spoke to him, her eyes were steady on her captor.

Anjel extended his talon to her, and she placed her paw within it. The white elder gave his commands to the wolves as Akio followed her dragon captor, led by the paw he clasped in his strangely cold claw. Some wolves did not heed his command, and the pack didn't have the heart to stop the few that darted after them.

The white wolf turned her head and saw their pursuers, her feet carrying her forward as she tried to silently call her packmates off. Too late. An arrow loosed in their direction, and Anjel halted as it landed a foot to his right in the grass. Akio's head whipped around, baby blues staring up into his eyes. He was looking at the five-or-six wolves that had chosen to run after them, but his eyes were not angry... instead, he looked tired. His claw tightened on her trembling paw and he pulled her into him, the other arm crossing over her as if she needed protection.

Their chasers paused not far from them, all young males, probably suitors who were hoping to hear their name called later that night. Akio found herself holding onto the dragon's arm, leaning into him for his safety.

"Bring her back, ghost! You may take any one of us, but leave the female here!" called out a gray-furred wolf, holding an arrowless bow at his side.

Akio felt Anjel's chest swell, and before she knew it, the dry grass between them and the wolves was burning with pink-violet flame. There were shouts, but she couldn't make them out over the crackling of the flames, and her dragon captor lowered his neck to whisper, "Hold onto me."

He spun her, holding her chest against his as he lifted her. She wrapped her arms around his sinuous neck and buried her head between them. There was a thundering sound, like the sound of a heavy sail catching wind, and she felt the world jerk away from them. Daring to open her eyes, Akio found that they were flying, the wind fast taking them away from her pack and home territories. She heard two howls of anguish rising up into the sky with them, but the air was safe from wolves. They would not be followed further.

The cool air of evening rushing over her, with Anjel's strong arms holding her close through the hefty pumping of his wings, Akio felt strangely at ease for one who had just been abducted, so to speak. The wind made her eyes water, so she'd had them closed for awhile now, but the steady wingbeat and the dragon's heavy breathing kept her grounded. She may have even drifted off a bit, feeling so relaxed, for before she knew it, they were flying amongst mountains.

The rumble of the dragon's voice brought her attention from her reverie, and she strained to look up to him against the wind. "We won't be staying in the territories tonight," he said between flaps, "since it's too late for me to present you to my Lord. I'll take you home, get some training in before the afternoon."

Akio didn't answer, knowing well that her voice would be stolen by the wind anyway, even if she did have something to say in response. She had no idea what was in store for her.

A particularly large mountain was coming into view, and Anjel angled himself towards it. Akio assumed that it was where they were landing, but the dragon did nothing to slow his flight. Was this monster so mad that he was going to dash them both against the rock face? The red stone was flying towards them. Akio closed her eyes as she felt the dragon change his angles, then slow... and land. The wolf blinked in the darkness. Was this death? She'd felt no pain, and the dragon was still holding her tightly, but she was certain they were no longer flying.

Suddenly, warm earth was beneath her feet. Anjel made a heavy huffing sound, and a pit in the center of the cavern sprung to life with his fuchsia fire.

Red stone of the western range walled the cavernous abode. It was both warm and stark; bare walls rose higher than she could see, fading into the blackness that even dragon fire could not chase away, but it was clearly a home. Woolen rugs spread out on the floors in brightly-colored oranges and yellows. Pillows filled a corner--Akio supposed this made the dragon's bed. It was not what she'd expected to be a "dragon's lair". There was even a large carved-out section of the floor that most likely served as a pool or bath. She wondered half-heartedly how the dragon would get warm water all the way up here.

Anjel moved past her silently, almost as if he were deliberately ignoring her. He gathered several pillows from the pile in the corner and carried them to her stiffly, almost grimacing. "Take these and sleep wherever you like," he said softly. "If you need anything in the night, do not hesitate to ask. It will perhaps be the last night that you are treated with any respect."

Taking the proffered pillows, Akio was struck by the notion that perhaps this dragon regretted having chosen her to take back to his masters. She shook the odd thought from her head and walked to the opposite wall from the dragon's bed. Here, she laid out the pillows to suit her smallish form and curled up on them. She was dimly aware of Anjel moving about for quite awhile before he settled down himself, the purple-pink fire still burning in the pit.

She was readily taken by sleep, but darkness did not greet her. A vivid dream opened in her mind. A black-furred wolf with a cross spanning his back in the whitest of whites watched her with burning eyes, angry eyes, filled with lust. Her deepest senses told her she should fear him, but in her dream she was coming to him. His rough paws felt her, touched her, violated her. He peeled from her the ceremonial trappings, licking her, biting her in places male eyes had yet to see. She gasped, both in dream and in the waking world.

Anjel started from his side of the room, suddenly awake. His head throbbed with the sickly-sweet smell of the female's arousal. Unbidden, he felt his body react. With a groan, the dragon sat up in his mountain of pillows, glancing with keen eyes to where Akio lay. She was on her back, head tossed to one side, her jaw slightly open. It was such a completely innocent position that Anjel was shocked when he was overcome by the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her.

In her dream, though, Akio was being kissed in a way that she'd never been kissed before. The male's tongue was long and hot, forcing her mouth open and dancing with her own. Her heart was racing, her blood pumping.

Anjel stood mechanically, crossing the room with heavy steps, half-hoping that the sound of his talons clicking on the soft stone of his lair floor would wake her from her slumber. He reached her and knew that she still slept, though her breath was coming in quick, short spurts. Her crystal blue eyes were cracked the slightest bit, but faced forward--not backwards, as would fit a sleeping creature. Anjel waved a claw before her face, but she did not blink. He knew this as dreamwalking--prophets often saw visions or had premonitions in their dreams. It was not unusual for a white wolf to have the ability. Perhaps it was the reason why her tribe was so loath to be rid of her.

A long sigh escaped her barely-cracked lips. The black wolf slipped his fingers between her legs like he owned her, and she believed it, her whole body believed. There was little resistance, and this made the wolf grin very wickedly.

The heady smell grew almost unbearable as Anjel knelt at her side, preparing to wake her. He knew it was considered bad faith to wake a dreamwalker while they were having a true dream, but if she did not wake soon...

The male laid her down on her back, and she spread her legs before he could command it. He positioned himself over her, leaned down to bite on her neck as he slid a paw between them, grabbing his manhood and rubbing it over her hot folds. "Akio," he whispered, but it was not the voice of the wolf. It was a voice from another world.

She stopped breathing for a moment, and Anjel ridiculously feared for her life. Her eyes closed, then flickered open, blinking twice before she was really back from her dream. She gasped suddenly as if caught doing something scandalous, then looked up to Anjel with guilty, afraid eyes. Her breath was still labored, her heart beating unsteadily. She said nothing.

"I had to wake you, little rose," came the dragon's excuse. Her heart was softened by the broken tone behind his words. "I had to, or else..."

"I dream sometimes," she said lamely, forcing herself to calm down. She felt swallowed up in his moonlit gaze, engulfed in his tenderness.

He seemed a statue, sitting there and staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. Slowly he raised his hand, the dull claws and leathery palm rubbing against the side of her face. Akio sat still as well, though every muscle tensed at his touch. She could see behind Anjel's eyes the turmoil of compassion and lust. As in the dream, a part of her wanted to flee, but another part, an older, deeper part of her wanted to let him do with her what he would. And perhaps, she thought, as in the dream so shall it be in life.

"Akio," he said, drawing out her name as if it would redeem him. His senses were swimming with her scent, and his body was drifting out of his tenuous control. Already, physical proof of the latter was swelling at his loins. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut even, exhaling deeply. "You will be my undoing, girl."

Strangely she could not reply, only stare up at him in a mixture of fear and anxiety. She could smell his maleness so close to her, but she couldn't even tear her eyes from his to justify her thoughts. Instead, she turned her head slightly into his cupped claws, nuzzling while keeping their eyes locked. It was a sign of affection, of obedience, as basic as a nod. It was a step in the wrong direction.

Anjel leaned forward uncertainly, his muzzle meeting hers in a kiss that was so obviously untrained it caught Akio off guard. She pulled back with a whimper and the sound brought the dragon back to his senses.

His claw moved swiftly from her face, his expression suddenly guarded and his eyes strangely blank. "Forgive me," he said, "I did not mean to offend." Though in truth, it sounded as if it were he who felt offended. Akio watched, bemused, as he walked back to his pile of pillows and lay down, his back to her.