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The Cycle's End	By : Catbeastaisha Category: Zelda > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4860 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Zelda game series, nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three: Haze

"What is hidden in the darkness... Tricks full of ill will... You can't see the way forward..."
           -Spirits in the Shadow Temple, Ocarina of Time

           Even without Kaula’s prediction, the prickling awareness along the back of my neck was enough of an indicator that the fog greedily covering the land was something to avoid at all cost. Yet, even with her warning and the sensation of my body tensing to turn the other way, I did not want to be so cowardly as to flee. I wanted to force myself forward, to face this enemy that threatened myself and my farkas, and utterly destroy it.

           And yet…

           “We need to go now.” I more than hated having to say those words, felt them emerge as little more than a growl, my throat not wanting to release them. Turning to face my farkas, forcing my legs to stand straight after the quake, I saw him still struggling to rise, his face lifted to me, eyes wide.

           “What about the others?” he protested, his legs shaky as a newborn colt’s, though he did keep from falling. “I still need to fi--"

           Reaching, I grabbed him by the arm, lifting him to his feet. For one who was my double (or rather, I was his) he was still smaller than myself, maybe half a head shorter, by far lighter. Again, it made me wonder over his age before yanking his arm, half dragging him in an attempt to get him moving. While I would stay and fight whatever lay behind that haze, I would not risk my farkas over it.

           “Fuck the others.”

           I felt him try to pull out of my grip, but he was still a hundred years too young to pull off such a feat. He tried dragging his feet, still attempting to pull away, his free hand trying to pry my hand off of his arm.

           “Let me go!”

           It was a very close thing. The savage, raw anger that filled me with those words combating against my rational, sane mind. With those words, I almost turned, preparing to hurt him, to mark him as mine. So simple… to dig my teeth into his neck, preventing him from moving as his copper life pooled in my mouth, shredding his shirt with my hands while carving my name on his chest. I would go slowly, one line at a time, tracing it back and forth, feeling the scream try to get past the throat I’d be squeezing. I would carve it deep into his skin, making sure the scars would never leave him and that, in turn, he would never leave me. Not even death would take him from me, I would make sure of it! I would keep him with me for all time, protect him from all, make sure that my farkas would be safe.

           It was only when I heard a soft gasp that I was able to focus on the here and now, realizing that my grip around his arm had tightened considerably, the feel of his bones almost cutting uncomfortably into my hand. I hadn’t broken anything, yet, but if I had kept going, it would have been inevitable. Loosening my grip while still making it so he couldn’t escape, I was annoyed to find I’d stopped moving and gave gentle tug, pleased when he didn’t protest further and followed, as he should have in the first place.

           We were able to move much faster without his delaying, past the lightening scarred area where the festival had been, past the next hill and the one following till I felt him lagging, not from rebellion, but from exhaustion. Then, and only then, at the top of the third hill did I stop to turn and look.

           The clouds from the storm had cleared enough to allow fragmented pieces of moonlight to fall through, only to be swallowed in the swirling mist below. Watching it, I had to hold my ground to keep from running further, unsure if even this was far enough away to keep my farkas safe from the still growing fog. It moved too quickly, too… purposefully, to have been anything natural. It was darker than it should be, the moonlight dispersing the moment it touched the tip of that murky substance, the telltale silver luster of mist absent, instead, a violet hue clung to it. Most of the inland seemed to have been swallowed up by it, the unending appetite claiming more land as I watched, rising to claim even the tallest of trees.

           But what purpose did this hold?

           Reluctantly, I released my farkas’ hand, noticing that he was too heavily winded to run any further to escape me. I would have held him still, but he would have distracted me from my task.

           Crouching, I pressed my hand into the soil of the island, felt the life song of the grass whisper softly as I opened myself to it, listened to the soft, subdued melodies. Without the sun to stir it, it was as quiet as a bedtime prayer, yet just what I needed to hear.

           Closing my eyes, breathing deeply, I willed myself to follow the song, focus only on that song instead of the multitude of others inhabiting the island. Pushing my existence outward, flowing as a part of the song, I followed it blade by blade, patch by patch, leading back to the fog. It was harder to focus the further I went from my body, the liquid in the grass hardly substantial as a means to maintain the connection, but I forced myself to keep going, feeling the strain from a distance, disconnected from it in some ways, yet still aware of its presence.

           Then, the lullaby of nature, the whisper of the grass, suddenly changed.

           Disjointed pieces of music flooded the song, a ripple that interrupted the quiet melody, jarring and swift, as if a shout, before falling. Yet, there was no silence. The same thing happened again, a multitude of shrieking notes that fell, only as another wave rose, higher, louder, crashing then rising again. When I tried to focus on the silenced pieces of song, try to find the presence of life that had been there but a moment ago, I found nothing.

           It was my greatest folly that I didn’t notice the closeness of the next wave.

=*=*=*=

           I felt worse now than after the fight with those skeleton things. My lungs felt like they were trying to break through my ribs, left arm aching where he’d grabbed me. I was barely able to lift my head to gauge where he’d brought me too, much less try and run at this point.

           Letting my body gather the air it needed, trying to take smaller breaths compared to the large wheezing ones that were escaping me now, I glanced at him, unable to determine what he was doing. His body was tense, one hand touching the ground while the other rested on his bent knee, his head lowered, eyes closed. His ears were perked up and forward, but whatever he was listening to or for I couldn’t hear. Instead, I turned my eyes towards the direction he was facing, thinking that now I could finally see what had prompted him to run. I couldn’t see much of his fight with the skeletons, but I knew he’d beaten his opponents much faster than I had so he had to be experienced at fighting (which made me consider what he was doing here and what he knew but wasn’t telling). So what would make a trained warrior flee?

           Nothing.

           I turned my head, panning it from right to left, still seeing nothing.

           “What…” My question trailed off, a sudden grunt making me spin, drawing my sword. Had they snuck up behind us?

           Still nothing.

           No, not quite.

           The man, whose name I still didn’t know, was laying on the ground, body arching as his mouth opened, as if to scream, but only a thin gasp of air hissed by. He was shaking, though his limbs were ridged, as if some demon had possessed him.

           Maybe he was a demon.

           The strange happenings had only peaked at his arrival. Sure, some sheep had gone missing –who doesn’t lose some now and then?- but people had also been vanishing, mainly fishermen. The chief had actually warned against us going out on boats recently, having us stick to the shorelines and rivers. Adri had complained, having wanted to go out on the boats with me recently, but finally gave in to my arguments about how staying on land was safer. The last few days, however, even those who had been fishing along the beach and cove had somehow disappeared.

           Looking at the thrashing man, I couldn’t help but find the two related.

           At the yearly celebration, why hadn’t he joined us? While waiting for Boris to make his appearance, I’d been sitting out of sight, behind the musicians, enjoying the laughter and smiles that had been absent for so long. It was only by chance that I caught sight of him, someone moving at just the right moment that the light brushed his form, illuminating his scarlet eyes. I hadn’t caught sight of any other features, his dark clothing letting him blend almost perfectly to the shadows, before the crowd shifted and his form almost vanished again. As he watched, I watched him, trying to figure out his purpose. I had been about to move, to speak with him, invite him to join us, when Boris had finally made his appearance, his goddess-awful bellow making me jump and remember my part in the festival.

           Had he summoned the one in the clouds, Ganondorf? Rained lightening? Brought the, what he called, Stalfos?

           He was still thrashing. If he was a man, I should help him. If he was a demon…

           My hand ached and I loosened my unintentional grip on my sword, the pressure easing. Either way, I had to decide this quickly, while I still had a chance to act. I hadn’t forgotten how easily he’d pulled me along, kept me from moving. Nor the look on his face when I’d shouted for him to let me go…

           I could feel my mouth dry at the memory, how his eyes had narrowed, the red darkening yet somehow radiating an aura that made them glow, illuminating the harsh sneer on his face. The pressure of his grip around my arm had tightened, the shadows along his face –I swear!- had moved, unnaturally. There was this grating, rumble from his body, as if he was growling, the pressure increasing on my arm till I gasped, thinking he’d break it.

           Then, the look had passed, the pressure eased, and he pulled me forward again.

           If not for knowing Adri, I’d have already condemned the man a demon for his eyes alone. But Adri had taught me long ago that looks were not reliable for judging what lay within the heart, and that different talents that people had should not be considered evil or dark just because not everyone could do them. Yet… this man’s actions seemed to speak against him. He hid in the shadows, like an assassin, and had skills only warriors should have, but had no armor to show his alliance to the crown. What if he was after the Royal Family?

           Sword raised, I still hesitated.

           Though he’d hurt my arm and the look that crossed his face at the time seemed to promise further suffering, I could not forget how he’d protected me from the lightening, the weight of his body pressing down on mine while the lightening sizzled and carved the land up just a few feet away. I’d fought him to get free but he’d kept me down, the shaking of the ground and the crashing of thunder still fresh in my mind. He had also helped me fight the skeletons, though they called him master, and had given me those heart vials when I’d been hurt, instead of taking them for himself.

           Sensing I’d regret this later, I sheathed my sword.

           Man or demon, I owed him.

           Moving to kneel beside the thrashing man, the most I could think of doing was grabbing his wrists and pinning them down. It didn’t stop his lower half from moving, though, so I straddled his waist, doing the best I could to keep him still till I could figure out a way to wake him from this.

           Hopefully, he wouldn’t hurt himself.

=*=*=*=

           There was no reprieve, only a warped, deformed surge of broken notes and bits of song that played and played and played. There was no escape from it, it was everywhere, engulfing me, choking me, forcing me to listen, listen, listen, listen, listen, listen, LISTEN! LISTEN!! LISTEN!!!

           Perhaps it was sheer desperation that I thought I heard something, something other than the endless riptide of noise. I reached for it, with everything I had, I reached out to it, grabbed for it, using it to pull myself away.

           “A-are you okay?”

           Back in my own body, was I? Couldn’t tell. It was so hard. Forming thoughts. Disjointed. Like the music.

           Closing my eyes and slowly opening them, I looked up, feeling as if my head was filled with water, sloshing around inside as I moved it, blurring my vision and making my thinking sluggish.

           The unfamiliar pressure eased off my wrists (was that what they were called?), though the odd weight didn’t leave my midsection. I felt something touch my face, moving against my temples and following back along my scalp. The sensation was light but eased the commotion inside of my head, the clamoring of distorted sounds muffled, but still echoing. Half closing my eyes, I watched as the blurred form leaned closer, only becoming more smudged and out of focus. I felt as though I was only half there, the other half of me either lost in the tide of broken notes, or trying to swim in the slush inside my skull.

           “Did you hit your head?”

           I tried to answer, or at least thought about answering, but the most that happened was my mouth opening and a warm gust of air blowing past them. I couldn’t remember the words I wanted in order to form the sentence I’d been about to utter.

           I closed my eyes again, drawing in a breath to still the nauseated feeling that happened when I did. Focus… Focus is what I needed.

           The sensation still ran along my head, the mass still very solid atop me. Something was atop of me?!

           With that one thought, I flung my weight suddenly to the right, fighting the sudden clamor in my skull that protested this action with loud, venomous retaliation. I was successful in dislodging and rolling atop whatever had been pinning me, fighting against its weak thrashing by forcing it still against the ground. Whatever it was, it was weaker than I, making it easy to hold it still, though I could still feel it straining. Straining to move, to get free…

           Eyes opening, I could only make out a green blur, still more than I’d made out originally. Eventually, the movement slowed to a stop, only the rapid yet deep pants causing the form to move under me. Eyes wide, I still couldn’t make anything out. A half growled curse formed in my mind and on my lips, my thoughts gradually becoming clearer though still not enough to be helpful. Lowering my head, I felt the form tense under me but paid it little mind as I touched my nose against it and pulled in a deep breath.

           I knew this scent. Fucking Goddesses… I knew this scent…

           “Kicsi farkas…” I could hear the words rumble from my throat, but it took a delayed amount of time to realize what I was saying. “Little wolf.”

           A few more breaths and I was feeling calmer, though still half blind. I didn’t move to get off him, remaining where I was, feeling the pulse jumping under his skin as I pressed my cheek against his neck, exhaling and inhaling, waiting for my sight to return as I brought my tongue to lightly lick against his skin, to taste what I had been denied for so long.

           My eyes shutting again, I was unsure if it was to help me focus or to fight the tickling sensation I felt at the corner of my eyes. Breathing against his neck, I whispered to him, my lips still brushing against his skin, “Az én -m kicsi farkas, nekem van vágyódott érted.” My little wolf, I have longed for you. “Soha fog ön hagy én újra. Én akar megöl ön első és követ ön után.” <I>Never shall you leave me again. I would kill you first and join you after.</I>

           A few more deep breaths and I was feeling calmer, enough that I lifted my head. Blinking several times, I tried to focus my eyes to adjust sooner, make them work faster. When I looked back down, I could just make out his features, though they were still marginally out of focus.

           His hat and mask had been knocked aside, most likely from when I’d flung him to the side, allowing those flaxen strands to fan freely amongst the grass. Cheeks flushed, probably from the attempt of getting free, his eyes were looking at me, confusion evident. His lips were parted, soft breaths of air passing through, an easy target for me to claim. With him pinned like this, he couldn’t escape…

           Bending my head down, I moved to capture his lips with mine, already anticipating the soft feel of his lips against mine. Perhaps I could convince him to give me more, give me his whole self, right here, right on the grass…

           Closer than the width of a fairy’s wing, I paused, so very close to taking what I wanted. Part of his sleeve had rolled upward, exposing his forearm and the gradually darkening skin that had been concealed beneath it. Lifting my head, I examined the bruise, an odd sense of regret catching me off guard. My thoughts finally focused and I realized it came more from a lack of control on my part, rather than the actual delivery.

           What was worse, I actually felt (stupid as it seemed) a slice of shame over it.

           Which certainly ruined the mood for me.

           Body tensed, not wanting to pull away from the comforting feel of his body, I still forced it to move, trying to convince myself that going slowly now would grant me greater rewards in the future (which was a sour grape line that I swallowed anyway). Lifting myself up, I offered him a hand, one that he viewed like a wild animal seeing its first trap, with a great deal of suspicion.

           What did I do to deserve that? I hadn’t even fucked him yet…

           Pulling my hand back, listening to the snarl curling inside of my throat, I walked away from him, thinking it would be better than any alternative I could come up with. Turning my attention back to the fog, it almost appeared to have stopped, when in reality, it was still coming inward. It was remarkably slower now, a sluggish crawl, but it was still moving nonetheless. The best plan would be for me to get him off this island, before it was consumed completely… but my boat was currently enshrouded by the stuff.

           “Fucking Kaula… so much for this not affecting me.” My words were muttered quietly, meant to go lower than my farkas’ hearing before I spoke up. “We should keep moving.”

           “Why?” I heard his clothing shift as he rose, the soft crinkle of grass as he approached. It didn’t escape my knowledge that he was giving me a wide berth, staying two arm lengths out of reach, as if I couldn’t close the gap in a heartbeat’s pump.

           “We need to get as far away from that as possible. I still don’t know what its purpose is and I’m not willing to try again to find out.” I tilted my head to the side, considering. “Then again, maybe I did find out its purpose.” Shaking my head, I continued, “Either way, I don’t want to try that again.”

           There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I don’t see anything.”

           I agreed with him, adding, “It’s swallowed up most of the inland.”

           I watched him turn his head, caught sight of the raise of his brows and the frown marring his lips. “No, I mean, I don’t see anything there.” He looked out again, squinting, as though it would help. “Nothing different, anyway.”

           “How can you not see it?” The question wasn’t one I expected him to answer, though I did notice him shrug and irritably reply anyway.

           “There’s nothing there to see.”

           “Yes. There is.” I became silent as I once again tried to fathom its purpose, now adding to the riddle of why I could see it but my farkas was blind. Probably an Illusion Spell with a measure of Dark Arts muddled up in it. It was the simplest answer, at the moment, explaining why I could see it and he couldn’t. Not being a Dark Arts user or one of those foul Sheikahs, he wouldn’t be able to see without a magical artifact. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust me on it.”

           “Trust you? Why should I trust you?” His tone made me turn to look directly at him, my lip curling to show off the tip of one of my fangs.

           “Do you really have any other choice?”

           He started to say something, something I probably would have made him regret saying, before turning sharply, something having caught his attention. I turned the same way, noticing what appeared to be a rider carrying a flag off in the distance, though I couldn’t make out the markings or more definite characteristics.

           “It’s one of the knights,” he said, his voice losing some of the harshness in it, instead, an eager, hopeful note taking its place. “They’re probably checking to make sure everyone’s okay after the earthquake.”

           My eyes followed the knight before moving ahead, following the most likely route he would travel. With little inflection, I replied,

           “He’s heading towards the mist.”

=*=*=*=

           I don’t know what he was carrying on about. Maybe he wasn’t right in the head, you know, like he drank too much salt water? There was nothing out there, just normal land. I mean, yeah, some of it was broken from the earthquake, but there wasn’t anything else abnormal.

           I thought of replying again how there was no mist but caught myself. He seemed to get annoyed when I argued with him, his eyes always moving to examine me, flashing a quick, dull red, before going back to whatever he’d been looking at before. Rubbing my still sore arm, I figured I didn’t want to make him upset, especially if he was Cuckoo. Instead, I watched the knight heading towards my village. With any luck, he’d be able to find the villagers and make sure Adri and Malon were okay.

           “He’s almost there.”

           The words, spoken very slowly and with a degree of interest, made a cold shiver run down my neck. For a moment, I almost forgot there wasn’t anything there. Watching the man, I saw his eyes narrow, his body tensed, as if he was going to run toward the knight.

           “Wait for it…” he whispered, eyes widening as a pleased coo escaped his lips. “There.” The grin that slowly emerged on his face was enough to remind me of the horror stories the elders used to tell us when we were younger, of the shadow demons who lived in the forest, waiting to steal away those that wandered in after dark. “Now,” he said, still smiling, “we’ll see what happens to him.”

           “What do you mean?” Turning my focus back to the knight, I glanced right and left but couldn’t see him.

           “Hmm, I thought as much.”

           The words brushed against my ears, ears that Malon teased me about, calling me a fairy boy for. I used to get really mad at her over them, because she had “normal” ears like the others in the village, till I met Adri and learned better. Now that I thought of it, this man’s ears were like mine and Adri’s… not like the curbed ears of Malon.

           But why was I thinking of that when I should be thinking of how the hell he moved so close to me so fast and how I should get away!

           As if he knew my thoughts, he reached an arm around me, pressing me against him with his arm. It wasn’t tight enough that I couldn’t break free, but there almost seemed to be a warning with his action.

           Don’t. Move.

           “I can’t see him anymore either, kicsi farkas… the fog hides him from me… perhaps if we look together?” I felt the side of his head rest against mine, his words making my ears twitch from the warmth of his breath. I could feel my body tensing as he pulled me closer, felt his chest behind my back, firm and immovable. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I could pull away, even with his relaxed hold of me. I could feel his chest move as he spoke, his voice gentle, like when he’d spoken that weird dialect with me before. “Would you like that, pet?”

           I wet my lips, giving a very slow nod. Though I saw no fog, I didn’t see the knight either. As distracted as I was, there was no way for him to have traveled so quickly out of our sight.

           “Mmm, I’m very glad to hear that.” I stiffened in his grasp, the smug yet pleased tone of his voice making me nervous. It didn’t help when he moved his hands, both of them rising to cover my eyes.

           “How does this--?”

           “Shh,” he hissed, a sharp pain making me jerk my head. The bastard bit my ear! “I need to concentrate… noisy farkas…”

           There was silence. The fabric of his gloves rubbed roughly against my temples, his fingers interlaced over my eyes. I couldn’t see and they were pressed against my nose, making the sounds of air echo as I breathed, making me change to my mouth. I could feel him breathing, his chest still solid against me. He was mumbling something, words I didn’t understand but different still from the language he’d spoken before. When I thought to ask again, his fingers slowly began to spread out.

           They remained over my face, a gap appearing just large enough that I could see out. I still couldn’t see the fog though, and I opened my mouth to say this, when I noticed something moving. No, not moving, convulsing, really. It was too far away to see, though. Yet, even as the thought came to mind, my vision suddenly rushed forward, till I could see the form of the knight and his stead, as if I was no more than a few feet away. I could make out the lather foaming on the horse’s mouth, see the white of its eyes as it bucked repeatedly, trying to throw the knight. The knight, whose face I couldn’t see, had his hands upon his head, squeezing them against his helmet as if to crush his own skull, the flag he’d been carrying gone. Yet, he remained on the horse, his legs squeezing it tight enough I could make out blood flowing down the horse’s sides.

           Then, the knight threw off his helmet.

           I could see his face now, but I couldn’t identify who it was. His hands, covered still in armored gloves, were clawing at his face and ears, even his eyes, his mouth opened in a scream, though I still could hear nothing. Liquid was slowly pooling out of his eyes, what I thought to be tears, but gradually turned crimson, then black. His jaw, still dropped down in a scream, widened further, much further than a human’s ever should. It had become unhinged in some sickening manner, the black liquid from his eyes now streaking into his open mouth, his nose suddenly jutting forward as his teeth began to merge into tusk like forms. I tried to look away from it but I couldn’t turn my head. It was only then that I remembered the man was holding my head in place, enabling me to see this. I opened my mouth, wanting to get him to stop, but I couldn’t help the sick fascination I had to see what would become of the knight.

           I turned my eyes away from his face, his hands still clawing at it though claws seemed to have erupted from the metal gloves, raking blooded furrows into his face. Turning to the horse, I almost lost my stomach at the sight. The horse’s head had somehow sunk inside its body, the muzzle of the animal still peaking out, still open and shrieking, before becoming engulfed in its own flesh. The rest of its skin was bubbling, literally bubbling as if the insides had become lava, popping and pooling over the legs of the knight and the saddle he rode on. Gradually, the material the bubbles were made out of seemed to be pulling the knight’s legs inside of the horse’s body, much like the horse’s head must have been sucked inside.

            While watching, I could feel my hand against my lips, trying to keep the bile down.

           The horse, which I’m not sure really was a horse at this point, reared again, the bones from its front legs cracking out from its hooves, pieces falling to the ground while some remained at the tip, curved like claws, while the muscles grew out of the skin, coating the bones, the skin bubbling and covering after it. The same happened to the back legs, though the tailbone erupted at the same time, blood splattering on the grass as it grew almost the same length as the horse’s body. To avoid having to watch the muscles slowly, probably painfully growing over the bones, I looked back to the knight, his body having been moved forward somehow so that now he occupied the place where the horse’s head had been, as if some disfigured kind of centaur. The metal of his armor wasn’t immune to the changes, the silver shine of it becoming dark with spikes jutting out of the shoulders, an array of spikes leading down his spine, somehow continuing to grow and spread along the remainder of the horse’s body.

           Shaking, I looked back at his face, though I had no desire to do so, I couldn’t avoid it.

           His face, what had once been human in feature, now was nothing remotely close. The lower jaw was larger than the upper, tusks emerging from it in an almost bulldog fashion. While his nose had elongated some in the beginning, it was now pushed back and squished, like a pig’s, his eyes sunken into his skull and were just barely noticeable compared to the blackened horns protruding from his head. Rearing again, the cry he gave no longer seemed to be one of pain.

           Rather, it was one of glee.

=*=*=*=

           It was another simple spell, one with more drawbacks than practicalities, but one of the better ones I could use with such mundane resources and with little chance of getting caught. Simply speaking, it was a matter of transferring ones abilities to another, in this case, adding my gifted eyesight to his not so gifted one. I figured a combination of the two would allow us to glimpse at what neither of us alone could do.

           Well, let him glimpse, anyway.

           Another downside to this spell was that the ability in question (in this case, eyesight) could not be used by both at the same time, nor could the caster of the spell use it, namely myself. So, in order for him to use my eyesight, I had to keep mine closed. If I allowed him to use my hearing, I would have to cover my ears, etc, etc, etc. Honestly, a really stupid spell that I don’t think I’d used before now but, as I said, it was the best I could come up with right now without the Dark Arts user suspecting anything. So, while I could feel my farkas trembling and jerking, I couldn’t see what was causing it and had to keep my eyes shut the whole time, lest the spell be broken prematurely. This could be our only chance to gleam what the fog was capable of so I had to keep him still, even when I could sense his desire to turn away. I wanted to ask him what he saw, have him describe it to me, even wanted to offer a foolish measure of comfort, but I did none of it, not wanting to distract him. Again, with as tediously limited as this spell was, the moment he stopped using my “gift” the moment it would have to be recast, perhaps wasting valuable time in which to discover the fog’s secret.

           Only when I felt him slump against me did I consider opening my eyes, moving my hands from his to hold him against me, thankfully glad I had moved them quickly enough to miss the volatile array of pre-consumed festival food that came from his mouth. As he bent over, I held his waist, keeping him from falling in the mess on the grass, waiting till he was heaving but nothing was coming out. Though I was curious, I did not ask what he saw, instead, I took his hand, leading him away from whatever he’d seen.

=*=*=*=

           I traveled slowly with my farkas, not in as much as a rush when we’d first fled, though still wanting to put as much distance between us and the fog as possible. If we could make it to the other side of the island, or a river that reached the ocean, I think I could summon my boat through the water. It depended on how far away it was, but if worse came to worse, perhaps we could get another boat and get close enough that I could fetch mine. Odd as it was, I was reluctant to leave it for another. I’d had it fashioned for my farkas and I, I wanted to show it to him, not leave it behind for some low life monster to claim.

           Growling quietly to myself, I stopped when I felt my farkas trembling. Unsure if it was because of my growling or still from what he’d seen, I stopped the noise, vexed by not having a release for my anger but unwilling to upset my farkas further if that was the cause.

           “A little further, kicsi farkas. Then we’ll stop.”

           I could sense water nearby, though I wouldn’t know if it was a lake or stream till we got closer.

           “Kicsi… farkas…” I listened as he formed the words quietly, not quite right but closer than the first time he’d tried. “You said that before, what was it? Little wolf?”

           I kept my growl silent, though I could still hear it in my own thoughts. I hadn’t meant for him to know that, not yet. Perhaps as we lay sated after enjoying each other, or perhaps after cutting that beautiful skin of his again with the whip and taunting him for being more of a puppy than a wolf… but not after a moment of confusion where I’d almost lost myself, much less him.

           “I’m not little.”

           I altered our direction a little more towards the East, following the call of water. “Littler than I,” I replied.

           “What’s the wolf part for? Because of the mask?”

           This time, the noise escaped me and he fell silent again. I didn’t want to explain how, when I’d first met him (the him back then), he had faced me like a wolf fighting for its life. Savage, beautiful… ready to die before giving in and letting me break him. This led to other thoughts though, thoughts of how it had been to be with him, to taste him, to claim him in ways that he’d never been claimed, how he’d begged with me inside of him.

           How much I wanted it to be that way again.

           We finally reached the source of water I’d been sensing, a spring that came pouring out from the side of a hill. Bending down, I pulled him with me, touching my fingers to it, waiting. It was fresh and cold, safe for drinking. Letting go of him, I removed my soiled gloves, stuffing them in my tunic pocket before washing both hands from whatever dirt might be covering them. Then, cupping them both, I gathered water in them and offered it to my farkas, who only looked at me with eyes more like a frightened hare than a proud wolf.

           “Drink.”

           He was about to protest, I could see it, but the hardening of my features seemed to make him more inclined to accept my offer. His hands touched the outside of mine, moving them closer to his face, his lips touching lightly against my fingers as he tilted my hands forward, drinking the water from them. The first mouthful he used to swish away the bile that had surely remained in his mouth, having the good sense to spit away from the spring. The following gulps were greedy and loud, his mouth moving to suck the water up from my hands, leaving nothing behind, going so far as to lick the remaining drops from my hands.

           His tongue was warm compared to the spring water, the contrast enough that I could feel every shallow breath I took afterwards. I offered him more water, watching more closely as he drank, how his eyes had all but closed, the clear enjoyment he had as well as the great thirst he hadn’t seemed to realize he’d harbored. He didn’t lap up the remaining drops and only drank a small amount of the third handful. I finished it, trying to distinguish his taste from that of the water. I slid my tongue out against my own skin, trying to mimic the sensation of his tongue on my palm, but it wasn’t nearly the same. With a grunt, I shook the rest of the water from my hands, turning to look at him.

           “So… what did you see?”

           His whole body went ridged, whatever calmness that had been instantly dissipating. I inhaled a long breath through my nose, reminding myself that only by being patient would I get both my answer and, in the long run, my farkas.

           “I need to know, kicsi farkas,” I went on, trying to keep my voice steady, relaxed. “I didn’t see what happened, only you did.”

           He stood up, running his hand over his face. There was a slight tremble but I made no move to stand or move beside him. Instead, I remained crouched down, watching him, waiting for him to speak.

           Again, he chose the words I did not want to hear.

                      “You will not like much of what your farkas will ask of you, as selfish and
                      self centered as you are, it goes against your very nature to even consider
                      helping others. Do it anyway.”
                       -Page 1, Kaula’s book, first line.
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The Cycle's End

Chapter Three: Haze