The Wind Change

by ddarkbloom

Summary:

When Wulf used to dream about the harpies of old - those storm swift, harbingers of punishment, dealing torturous justice to evildoers - well, at first it was the longing to disappear along with his dear Ishild. Then it was the masochistic need to be held accountable for all he had ruined and those he had failed. He never thought that his actual dealing with harpies would have to do with a petty thief.

Notes:

• For thefluffoverlord.

Not enough studying has been done for this fic. I mean, I looked up harpies. I reread (really, scan-read) Erl-King, The Hunt, The Hunt Manga and The Fell for every glimpse of Wulf I could use.

But mostly I stared at Wulf in Mathia's gorgeous illustration of the Fell cast at the Winter Party. You haven't seen it? Should totally be remedied here.

Thank you The-Fluff-Overlord for this prompt! If you hadn't written it I would have never realised how much I wanted it.

I hope it's at least kind of what you were expecting? I went into way more detail than I thought I would so that ended up with me taking so many liberties on how I perceive what harpies would be in Raythe's world (if Raythe mentioned them already I totally missed it).

And you seemed super excited for it so I figured I could attempt it despite knowing I couldn't get the entire story done in time. I'm hoping you'll be happy to wait and see how it turns out…

Chapter 1: One

Light-fingered and quick on his feet - Rook Hastings made a perfect thief. He hadn’t meant to. When he took Wren and fled to Winter Haven he swore there would be no more stealing. He was going to be an honest man with an honest job. He just didn’t realise how long it would take to find one. Or how hard it would be.

The wards around Winter Haven let him in without a hitch and he thought that would be the hardest part. But trying to find a job without any education, qualifications or a personal history to share was proving impossible. Well, he had a personal history he could share, but he figured telling potential employers that he was an orphan freak who ran off with his pseudo-brother once he hit eighteen would make matters worse, not better.

And now he was up to his last few dollars. He could hear the combination of nickels and dimes jingling in his jacket pocket as he rubbed up and down his arms for warmth. He stood by a payphone hoping that it would finally ring but all he could hear were those damn jingling coins like a constant awful reminder that he was on the brink of failure and was going to bring Wren right down with him.

Wren with his trusting eyes and head of messy blue hair. Wren who was waiting for him back at the little camp they set up in the woods nursing the last bit of stale bread and water they had without complaint. Rook could take him to a soup kitchen in the evening if it came down to that. But it wouldn’t solve the problem of breakfast tomorrow morning. Or any of the meals to come after.

Rook ducked into an alleyway still in sight of the payphone but away from the chilling wind. His stomach ached in protest and he couldn’t stand the cold anymore. His last meal was a nibble of bread the night before which Wren unceremoniously shoved into his mouth when he was half asleep. Even stale it was sweet to him and a war waged in his mind for a good minute before he gave the rest back to Wren with a smile.

Wren had frowned up at him disapprovingly but that was that.

It was almost a good sixteen hours since then and much longer since he’d had a proper meal. He had learned to get around and respond articulately while light-headed and on the edge of collapse. What else was he supposed to do after promising Wren he’d turn over a new leaf?

The pair of them had been so hopeful once they heard of Winter Haven. It was the one piece of good news amongst the litany of bad, bad, bad. It was the second time Rook believed he could hope to live for longer than he felt he could.

Rook’s earliest memories were of the dirty little boy’s home with dust on every shelf and smog permeated linen. He was one of a bunch of sad, little, lost boys who were either prone to lashing out in anger or retreating into themselves until they were just husks of people. Rook’s earliest thoughts revolved around the observation that most of the boys only left the orphanage in body bags. Some of them did it to each other and some did it to themselves. And the very few who survived to the legal age in which they would be able to leave the orphanage all left with the look that they wished they were one of the former.

Rook used to think that leaving the orphanage would be the scariest thing he’d have to do - if he ever managed it.

He had no idea.

The grumbling of his stomach dispelled the thought. He was never really afraid of dying - dying seeming to be the better option for so long that he never quite kicked the indifference to it. He was scared of leaving Wren alone, though, with all he knew now.

So while starving wasn’t his worst hurdle by far, his understanding of the consequences to come made him very aware of how much he couldn’t afford to lose.

Rook slipped back onto the sidewalk blending amongst the busy crowd. He kept his head down but his eyes peeled for a target. Just a few more notes should be enough. Just enough for a meal that would last him until one of his interviews pulled through. Then he could get a job - an honest job. Just like he’d planned! And Wren would look so happy and proud.

And maybe they could move into a run-down little apartment that wouldn’t charge too much. It would probably be a mess with cockroaches and no heating but it would have walls. He and Wren could keep their blankets and on cold nights they could huddle together like they did in the tent. But it would be much better.

Wren could have three square meals. And go to school.

Rook was becoming more nervous the farther away from the payphone he wandered. Would he hear it ringing from the distance he was at? What if it was a potential employer?

But he had been waiting all morning and almost all afternoon. In a couple of hours it would be evening, the end of business day and, if he didn’t receive a call, he’d have to head back to camp and wait and the hope that someone might call tomorrow. He’d have to grab another newspaper and see if there were any new positions being advertised. There always seemed to be new ones for a school - ridiculous things like ‘Professor of Necromancy Position Open - Using Students As Examples Expressly Forbidden’ and 'Catacomb Guard: Temporary Position’, that amused him while he waited. Though he didn’t understand how someone could continuously shell out advertising money on a practical joke.

At that moment, however, with his stomach aching so badly he was about to keel over and his head swirling so much that he could only just make sense of where he was going, the immediate need for food was beating long-term goals for an honest job. After all, if he passed out, he wouldn’t manage to get the phone anyway even if it did ring. Right?

Suddenly the queasiness in Rook’s stomach turned from hunger to guilt.

Was he really going to throw away an opportunity for a good life away and fall for the immediate? He had always rolled his eyes at the rowdy boys at the orphanage: whiney, sulking cavemen who wanted what they wanted when they wanted. Never willing to play the long game.

Rook learned early in life that if he could wait a little longer, a little more patiently and a little smarter he could always get the best out of a situation. Which wasn’t always as good as it could've been but where the worst of the situation could have landed him in a body bag the best was still an improvement - even if only by a fraction.

He turned back towards the payphone, smacking into a few disgruntled passersby in his haste. He trudged back against the flow of people, psyching himself up to be jostled and shoved in this bloody cold with his stomach feeling as though it was starting to eat itself.

As he was nearing the payphone Rook’s keen eyes caught a flash of fine material. An easy aspect to notice for a former thief - equivalent to most people when they hear change hit the ground.

His trained eye caught glimpses through the crowd as he grew closer, noting its features with speed and efficiency. The material was part of a very expensive looking coat. It was a military-style overcoat with many pockets. It looked warm and weatherproofed with shiny buttons and a sleek fit. Rook could spot a luxurious item from a mile away and while the coat could be causal everything about how it was made and the materials used screamed money.

If he didn’t know better he’d think that the coat was humming with something that just grew stronger the closer he got to it.

The man wearing the coat, Rook noted almost disinterestedly, was a large muscular man who could definitely take him down and likely break him apart if he caught Rook picking his pocket.

Not that Rook was planning on it - but it was second nature for him to calculate his odds.

The man didn’t look particularly fast which was usually Rook’s greatest asset but in a crowd like this where everyone was fighting to stay on the sidewalk and looking like fish packed into a can a size too small there was no way it would help.

With his practically-pompadour haircut, neatly cut beard, suit slacks and a jacket that pricey-looking? Definitely looked like a businessman to Rook. Guys like this were a toss-up though. Sometimes the muscles were just for show but Rook had been caught unawares before by people who look like they had no reason to be in a ring but definitely punched like they should be in one. He had the scars to prove it.

Rook knew he could pickpocket a bodybuilder so long as he had the option of running afterwards - he'd managed it before too. And something inside him was pushing him to take the risk. He had to admit, it had been fun. The rush. The adrenaline. Getting away with something that wasn't his. Even Wren's annoyance usually didn't dampen his spirit.

The image of Wren and that look on his face reminded Rook that there was more at stake now than there ever had been before. He imagined Wren, curled up in the tent, his cherubic face half mashed into their one pillow, napping while waiting for him to get home. If he got arrested would Wren ever know?

The man with the expensive jacket was coming closer by the second. Heads and shoulders above most everyone else, if Rook ducked his head the man probably wouldn't even be able to identify him from the crowd. With every step Rook's window of opportunity was growing smaller and smaller.

A millisecond before they were side by side Rook had made his decision. Slyly and with the skilled ease of a seasoned thief, Rook lifted the wallet out of the man's pocket and straight into his own with his fingertips. He was pretty proud of himself too - he barely even touched him.

Once he got two to three steps clear of his target he bolted. Better to get ahead before the target realised he was missing something. In the distance he could hear the ringing of a phone, the sound echoing in his ears. The feeling of ice settled in him heavy and uncomfortable though self-preservation urged his feet forward and would not allow his legs to stop.

Rook couldn't help but feel he was running further and further away from the last chance this life was willing to spare him.

***

Scott had laughed at Wulf for almost an hour when he found out and, to be fair, Wulf could see how Scott imaginings would be amusing.

Wulf himself imagined the look on his face once he finally made it to his destination to complete his errand and discovered his wallet missing would have been ridiculous.

Nyssandra and Alric were not as entertained as Scott was and even offered to lend aid but they didn't hide their mild amusement. Ethan smiled apologetically for all of his family members and seemed the only one who sympathised.

"Ethan would!" Scott said between howls of laughter when Wulf said as much, "Because E is a literal prince among men. And werewolves. And Elves."

That comment put a beatific smile on Alric's face.

"But you! Wulf! You got your wallet stolen! A teenager gave the King of Werewolves the slip!"

Wulf huffed though he wasn't so much annoyed as he was unsettled. Wulf's instincts usually had him a few paces ahead of most beings most of the time. His mastery over his sense of sight, smell, hearing and so on made him more than capable of anticipating most things and detecting everything else.

This was the first time his senses left him completely unaware of someone coming up to him and taking his wallet right out of his pocket

“You better tone it down soon, Scott.” Nyssandra chided but without heat, “Or you’ll be in danger of offending your Alpha.”

Scott and Wulf both knew that wasn’t quite true. Part of their pack connection meant that Scott would know the second he got a too close to the edge. Wulf believed if Scott did get that close he would immediately back off but Scott never even ventured there. Considering Wulf’s affection for him Scott barely even made it to ‘annoying’.

Nevertheless, Scott blanched a little at the insinuation, gave Wulf a smile and dropped the subject.

But just because the matter was dropped didn’t mean that it didn’t still weigh on Wulf’s mind. Usually, if his King didn’t worry about it he didn’t feel the need to either. And it wasn’t as though all of his money was in that wallet - after his many years on this earth, his money wouldn’t be able to fit in there. He didn’t need all that money anyway and didn't mind if it went to someone who really needed it. Although he would have preferred it went through proper channels like a charity or even if the person had walked up to him and asked he would have likely given something.

Perhaps it was wounded pride. Not many got the better of him. But even that didn’t quite sit right. Despite his pack’s admiration of their ‘King of Werewolves’, Wulf was fully aware that he was not anywhere close to some 'supreme being' and he believed it made him more cautious.

So how did he miss this?

The crux of the matter was just confusion. He really could not comprehend how, as Scott put it, a teenager managed to give him the slip.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Wulf looked up to see Ethan next to him.

“I’m sorry.”

Wulf’s expression grew even more confused. “You know I’m not angry with Scott, right? I know he likes to tease.”

“I feel a little at fault.”

“I don’t expect you to keep Scott in line,” Wulf said and then let himself give Ethan a conspiratorial grin, “Jordan, on the other hand…”

Ethan let out a surprised laugh.

“I don’t expect anyone can keep Scott in line but that’s not what I meant.” Ethan pursed his lips, “We got you that coat you wore today. For Christmas. Do you recall?”

Wulf did. He remembered unwrapping it and Ethan looking up at him with an expression of childish hope and asking if he liked it.

And he had. He had loved it. The style felt very him. A modern take on a classic style from when he himself was just a pup and the many pockets added both to the look and the practicality of it. It was warm and fit like a glove and Wulf thought he felt some sense of protection from it too.

Though that last may have been just his imagining.

“I bought it in the Troll Market.” Ethan continued, “And I’m starting to wonder whether I may have been given something faulty.”

It was so like Ethan to take such responsibility on himself.

“Whatever fault there is it is not yours to bear.” Wulf said firmly, “So please put it out of your mind.”

“I just can’t imagine it happening. I feel like you would know.” Ethan rambled, “And I know it sounds a little stupid but, I mean, you wear the coat out and suddenly someone is able to pick your pocket without you realising? I’m starting to wonder whether the coat didn’t just eat it or teleport it or something.”

Ethan gave the coat a narrow-eyed look as though it would abruptly burst to life and admit guilt.

Wulf chuckled.

“No, I’m pretty sure I was pick-pocketed.” Wulf said with a shrug, “Perhaps I’m just old and losing my touch.”

Ethan looked scandalised at the insinuation.“That is ridiculous. You’ve lived a long time but I can’t imagine you ever ‘losing your touch’.” He said, “Anyway, how are you so sure you someone picked your pocket?”

For a split moment, Wulf was taken back to that street in that busy business district. He could taste bitter coffee on his tongue and hear the bustling people around him. He felt the stinging chill on his face and a lithe figure brush past him, swift and soft like a breeze. And all he could see was a glimpse of dark hair on a ducked head for a second before it disappeared into the crowd.

He shook away the memory.

“Once I gave some thought to it I think I recalled when it happened.”

Ethan's expression became thoughtful at that. “You could track the person who did it.”

Wulf frowned. “It’s not necessary. I don’t want to deprive someone of something they need. It was a couple hundred dollars and there’s plenty more.”

Ethan shook his head.

“No, not to get your money back,” He said, “You’re curious, aren’t you? That’s what’s on your mind. You’re just as confused as to how this even happened."

That was it, wasn't it? That nagging feeling, that worry. Once he knew what had happened - how that boy managed to evade him so easily - he could put it to rest. Because, no matter what the answer was, he would know at least and then he could deal with fixing it.

Ethan continued on, not realising that he'd already successfully made his case.

"Satisfy your curiosity.”

Notes:

So, I was rereading my outline and things get a little dark. So, eventually, if there's a tag that should be in here that isn't someone please give me a heads up.

Thanks again to Raythe for creating such awesome characters and settings! As always, it's awesome to live in this world for a little bit!

Chapter 2: Two

Notes:

Oh. You're still here.

These aren't beta'd so if anyone wants to volunteer I think it would be to the benefit of anyone else who comes across this.

In the end, Wulf decided to go by himself. Everyone offered to come with but he figured once he got a hold of the trail tracking the thief wouldn't take too much effort. It wasn't as though he was planning on confronting the thief or anything. He just wanted to observe. Satisfy his curiosity as Ethan suggested.

It would be therapeutic too to just get away, be alone for a little while. Not that he disliked the company of his pack but it did get gruelling with all those people around constantly; especially after having been left to himself for so long. Even when Alric took him in there wasn't many of them and they all tended to give him his space - Jordan in particular.

Now there were people everywhere - and it's wonderful and lovely and bright. And tiring. Mostly a good tired but Wulf was looking forward to doing something by himself, for himself and at his own pace. Using his senses this way - it was a little more animal than human which was relaxing to do every now and then. While he accepted his wolf-nature he wasn't about to let his instincts run too rampant. Not after last time.

After last time Wulf didn't trust what he would do if he let go of that last piece of control and so he kept himself in check. It wasn't the choking chain of control that Jordan tried to force on his wolf for so long. Just some hesitation. Just looking before he leapt.

He understood that circumstances were different. He hadn't just lost everything. He wasn't hysterical, retreating or mad with grief and anger. He knew things were really good. It was no replacement for Ishild and the life they had together but it was still a wonderful life.

And he was content. Because what right did he have to be otherwise?

Wulf sighed as he came back to the now empty street where he crossed paths with the thief. He stood in the exact same spot where he first noticed that quick, light-fingered kid in too-thin clothing. Finding the trail, however, was proving harder than he had thought it would be. The hordes of people who had trudged this way in the hours since he had last been here trampled most of the evidence Wulf would have used to gain a starting point, though, on a city street, there wouldn't have been much to start off with.

He really hadn't given much thought to how he was going to go about this before he started - more interested in getting started and assuming his instincts would just take over as they were usually wont to do. Wolves weren't exactly meant for cities so he should have expected that instincts were only going to get him so far.

Which meant it was time to try the human route.

Wulf wandered the street for a bit keeping his eyes peeled for a camera. Buildings like the ones he was surrounded by usually had at least one. Usually, Alric or Nyssandra would take care of convincing those with access to hand the footage over or allow them to take a look. With their ethereal magnetism most acquiesced and were left looking more than a little dazed and often starstruck. And that was without magic. Ethan could probably do it too.

And, despite not having literal powers of persuasion, Wulf has seen Jordan convince someone to hand over information they've needed including surveillance videos. Some were susceptible to the courteous, gentlemanly charm, others submitted to cold authority. And Jordan knew very well who would respond to either tactic.

Wulf, having only started speaking again not too long ago, had no experience in this except as a prop that stood 'threateningly' in the background when needed. It worked well enough but those who were close to him were more prone to find it funny rather than believable. 'Alpha of Alphas' be damned.

As Wulf wandered he tried to prepare himself for the no doubt awkward task of persuasion. Because brute force was not the answer when it came to mortals just doing their jobs. He was in the middle of psyching himself up when a misplaced smell caught him off guard.

Concrete jungle this was and there was not a pot plant or flowerbed in view that would account for this scent of trees, moss and earth. It smelled of spring with the undercurrent of a brewing storm. It was not a smell that anyone able to detect it would associate with this business district street which is why it struck Wulf immediately.

And with this scent, he finally had something to go off.

Wulf had no doubt that this was the thief. Being stuck with the scent practically knocked him back into the memory. Although he wasn't paying much attention at the time his senses caught it and this confirmed it.

Interestingly enough, it wasn't the only memory he associated with the scent. Wulf had noted the scent earlier - weeks, maybe months ago - as a new addition to the forests. It was such a natural smell that it was barely noticeable at first but there was almost a spark of electricity in it. Not just something supernatural though there was something of that there too.

Around the same time that Wulf had begun to suspect that the smell was attributed to some sort of being living in the forest Jordan made mention of it to Alric.

Alric, being the attentive king he was, already seemed to know all about it. He had said vaguely 'not to worry about it' and that 'he doesn't anticipate any problems from them'. And so Wulf promptly forgot about it. To be fair, Alric's idea of a problem tended towards life and death and 'the end of the world as we know it'. Not to say that there were problems that just didn't matter to his king. Alric moderated where he could but he wasn't omniscient. And Wulf, having had some semblance of authority that Alric had understood that there was only so much one could do.

Wulf put away those thoughts and focused his mind on the brief mentions of this new resident. Residents, if what he inferred from Alric was correct. From what he already knew he at least had the first place he could check: the forest.

Eager, Wulf left immediately and reached the closest entrance in record time. It didn't even particularly have to do with tracking the thief.

To most people, the forest might seem an intimidating place. It could be dark and secluding and it was vast - more than vast enough to get lost in. But Wulf knew those forests like a second home. He had explored every inch during his time in Winter Haven.

Some nights, though not too many, when the moon was full and his king insisted that he would not be needed, Wulf found himself roaming there. Bathed in the moonlight it was the calmest place he had ever been. It had a sense of timelessness to it.

Wulf wandered through the forest and, though he remained aware of his goal, he finally reached that state of therapeutic seclusion he had hoped for. Scott would probably laugh and describe him as one of those Disney princesses that talk to animals or something.

There was just something about being in the forest - being so close to nature. There were days when Wulf felt more comfortable in the forest than anywhere else.

And it was with that thought in his mind that he came across a campsite.

Wulf noted how the scent was concentrated in this area and was sure he was in the right place.

The campsite was a simple, idyllic little thing with a sizeable tent that could probably fit three or four people easily. It was fashioned out of tarps and canvas and partially held up at the top with ropes and makeshift pulleys attached to the trees giving it a high 'ceiling'. There was a little firepit and next to it was a battered looking metal pot. The firepit was a good size to be managed as to not draw attention with copious amounts of smoke. There were also windchimes made of bits of this and that - things that could have easily been picked out of a person's garbage if someone were looking for it like bits of metal and glass, broken chains and shards of wood.

Wulf crept slowly closer, inspecting. Perhaps not all would consider whittling art but he sometimes felt an artist's interest in certain pieces. Pieces like these wind chimes, so cunningly constructed, were just pulling at his curiosity. He felt something like childish giddiness when he saw himself reflected in the bits of glass, metal and mirrors and thought very little of reaching out to touch. And then the pieces shifted in the wind and, suddenly, he was not reaching out to his reflection but to that of a boy of about six or seven with an astonishing head of fluffy blue hair.

Wulf turned to where he assumed the boy would be from the vantage of the glass. The boy, realising he was discovered, made an almost inaudible gasp and ducked into the bushes where he was hiding. In a few swift strides Wulf found himself kneeling in front of the little row of plants, trying not to look too intimidating as he looked over at the boy.

The first thing Wulf noticed was that the boy was shivering. The second was that the boy was not afraid.

There was not a single line of fear etched onto that boy's face. Not in his warm brown eyes or cherubic cheeks or furrowed blue brows. Without thought, Wulf took off his coat and offered it to the boy. The boy hesitated but seemed to see something trustworthy in Wulf's face as he reached out, took the proffered coat and wrapped it around himself like a blanket.

It only took those few moments for the chilly air to assault Wulf's skin and he realised how cold it had become. The sun hadn't quite set but its descent allowed some coolness to settle in.

"You should wait inside for your - " Guardian? Carer? Associate? " - friend to come back."

There was another moment of hesitation again before the boy rose and started back towards the tent. Wulf watched as he disappeared inside and sighed.

A child alone in an implicitly sad campsite was not what he was expecting. Any sort of contact was definitely not what he had intended. But just as he had finally made up his mind to just go home and decide whether he should continue with this depressing attempt to satiate his curiosity the boy popped his head outside the tent opening. He looked at Wulf expectantly and when Wulf did nothing more than stare dumbly back he revealed one skinny arm drowning in Wulf's coat and made an impatient beckoning gesture. He continued to do so until Wulf, finally catching on, came closer to join him inside.

It was then Wulf made his third observation. The boy did not speak. He probably would not speak. And that, Wulf could understand with absolute clarity.

***

When Rook took his time returning to camp. He thought, perhaps with his new funds he could grab himself and Wren a proper dinner. He quickly discarded that idea when he realised Wren would pick out his guilt immediately if he made such a gesture. That and it would probably be better to conserve the money for a rainy day. He didn't know how long they'd be out there.

Rook took out the wallet from his pocket. It was sleek leather, expensive but simple. It's only decoration a stylish monogrammed 'W'. For Wulf.

Rook had started at the name when he read it. It wasn't exactly usual, though when he saw the face of the man in the ID he could imagine there was something wolfish about him. The clean-cut business look didn't fool him at all. Rook could easily imagine the man dishevelled and a little wild. With those dark eyes and strong body - well. He was handsome. Tall, dark and handsome and it should have been cliche. But if Rook was a little distracted he figured there was no one to know or judge.

Pretending to know the people he stole from was something he used to do back when he was thieving actively.

Or, more actively than before. He thought to himself deprecatingly.

Most of them were he imagined as relatives, friends, enemies and acquaintances. Only a few men and women he fantasised as lovers. The first time he had done it he felt as though his face would never cool and his horribly embarrassed flush would be seen by the other boys.

It was a little sad, he knew, thinking about these people, making up their stories and guessing their personalities. But he hadn't had other companionship other than Wren since they left the boy's home. As soon as the thought entered his mind he felt guilty. Some things were more important and keeping Wren safe was the utmost of them all.

Rook smiled as the campsite came into view. He was rather pleased with the little home they had erected from themselves.

Rook spent a bit of time preparing some sticks he and Wren had gathered the previous day on their little firepit and, once he was satisfied, pulled down some laundry he had left to dry on a low hanging branch.

Not thinking much of it, he stumbled unceremoniously into the tent, dumping the clean clothes next to the doorway and shrugging off his jacket.

"Hey kid, what do you think of soup tonight?" Rook looked up and started abruptly at the scene before him.

There, sitting just outside Wren's little nest of blankets was the man whose wallet now sat in his pocket.

"What are you doing here?" his voice was low and dangerous and the man seemed to note it too.

Seemed to believe it even though he was double Rook's size and could probably take him down with one quick tackle.

He put up his hands on a placating manner, a show of surrender.

"I mean no harm."

There was a rustle of movement and Wren, who had frozen at the sight of Rook's protective fury. In that moment all washed away except for two echoing words: danger and protect.

The itch Rook felt between his shoulder blades turned into a burn that covered his whole back. His eyes snapped back to the man and he snarled feeling his nails split and pain shoot through his fingertips as curved elongated talons pierced his skin and leaving blood dripping from his wounds to the tarp.

"Get away from him!"

The man looked surprised but not shocked and definitely not scared. Which irked Rook to no end. If he didn't back away from Wren in the next couple of seconds he was going to tear him to pieces.

The man backed away a couple of steps.

"Calm down."

Rook felt a pain like sharp knives in his back, digging through bone, muscle and skin. Shredding his back to get through.

"Get out!"

"I mean no harm," the man repeated, "but if you don't control yourself you may do more damage than you mean."

Wren. He was talking about Wren. He looked tiny next to this giant of a man. Apprehensive but not scared. This wasn't the first time he saw Rook like this.

Rook felt the bloodlust surge through him. The pain on his back seemed to explode but he didn't react to it anymore. Not even when his wings, heavy and wet with his blood tore through his skin and clothes and the tent.

Rook's wings were large dark and sharp. They could be controlled as easily as he could any other limb on his body but mostly they responded to his emotions. And right now they were arching menacingly.

"Don't worry about us," he said, his voice raspy, "the only one in any danger is you."

And without a further thought, he flung himself at the man, his talons like blades protruding from his fingertips.

The man caught him deftly but Rook managed to catch him off balance. The man fell backwards with Rook landing above him. The man narrowly managed to push away the hand aimed at his chest and then the other going for his throat.

"I don't want to hurt you - "

With the edge of a razor sharp wing, Rook swiped at the man but soon found himself tumbling back the man shoved him away with supernatural strength. The movement left him disoriented enough that the man was able to pin him down with his arms and legs. When Rook looked up at him the man's eyes seemed to take on a yellowish hue.

Rook had surmised correctly. This man could look wild.

The man, Wulf, he remembered, stared down at him, piercing and firm.

"That's enough." He growled and his face rippled with liquid fluidity so quickly that Rook almost didn't catch it.

It didn't sound angry, violent or any way out of control. Just final, forceful and with authority. And Rook couldn't help but think that with Wulf's strong, muscular body pressed flush against his, he'd probably be aroused if Wren weren't here.

Wren.

Despite knowing with a certainty that he had no chance of regaining the upper hand, Rook managed to free his arms. He grasped Wulf's shoulders, allowing his talons to sink in. He could feel blood submerging his talons as Wulf gasped in pain.

"Stay away from him!"

Wulf's neck made a painful jerk to the side and he growled low again. This time when Rook heard it, something inside him coiled like a wounded animal, terrified and ready to strike.

Because that sound was animal. It was predatory.

He grasped Rook's wrists tight and pulled, extracting the talons from his shoulders.

Wulf's breaths were coming out in short pants and his teeth were bared. At first, they only seemed razor sharp to Rook but even as the thought crossed his mind he saw them start to lengthen and sharpen further.

Wulf's head jerked in the opposite direction and Rook realised that it wasn't exactly pain that was forcing these reactions. That fluid, shifting movement that he had barely glimpsed before played beneath the surface of Wulf's skin though he seemed to be trying to tone it down. However, between one rippling movement and the next Wulf's face gained bestial features and his face from his nose to his jaw began to protrude.

And all Rook could manage was a wide-eyed stare and the realisation echoing in his mind.

Werewolf.

Chapter 3: Three

Wulf felt the young man stop struggling beneath him but he was still apprehensive. He didn't want to risk this being a ploy to get him to drop his guard.

They laid there, staring at each other, trying to anticipate what the other would do. He watched the young man's eyes roaming all over his face had to admit he was doing the same.

His eyes were a startling blue, lively and bright and not dissimilar to the hair of his little companion. His skin was milky white, looking all the more delicate against his raven coloured hair and wings.

The wings. That threw Wulf for a moment. There were various shifting races in their world but this was the first time he came across one with wings. And these weren't just decorative bits of feathers on the young man's back - they had to be about ten feet from the tip of one wingspan to the other. Wulf had no doubt that wings like that would be able to fly and more. They could be very effective weapons if used efficiently and they definitely looked dangerous.

The young man had looked fierce standing before Wulf, fearless in his stance of attack. It was unpolished but definitely looked like a practised stance, hammered in for so long that he must've been just a boy when he'd first learned it. At the age, Wulf assumed he was he should have been too young to know such a thing.

Despite his bravado, he could not hide that he was definitely a young man. A rather beautiful young man.

They were both breathing heavily, chests against each other's in an embrace that, now that they were no longer struggling against each other, felt rather intimate. And the realisation made Wulf a little uncomfortable.

Shifting his attention, Wulf looked up to where he had seen the child last. He hoped they hadn't frightened the boy too much with their reactions. He had tried to keep the struggle as far away from the child as possible as to minimise the chances of him being accidentally harmed. Which was not easy to do in a tent not made for two grown men to roughhouse in let alone two grown roughhousing men, a ten-foot wingspan and a child.

But in the moments that Wulf had neglected to divide his attention, the boy had slipped from his line of sight. He'd wondered if the boy had run. Perhaps to find another one of their companions to finish Wulf off.

They could try but Wulf hadn't lived for so long and through so much because he was weak or stupid.

But he needn't have worried. The boy had not even left the tent. In fact, instead of trying to get away from them, he had gotten closer.

What a weird kid.

He had come right up next to them, crouched down and observed and was so silent that Wulf hadn't even realised.

Wulf couldn't help but notice that they were both very swift and quiet and wondered if it was something they learned or if it was an ability that had to do with that they were. He assumed the child must be the same sort of winged shifter as the young man. And their having some sort of supernatural ability that allowed them to remain undetected to a certain point would explain how they had both been able to slip past his already enhanced senses.

The boy broke Wulf from his train of thought by putting a hand on his shoulder.

Though he didn't speak Wulf felt the boy's intent in the gesture and saw it in his eyes when they met.

That meant let go.

The boy gestured over to the young man as if anticipating that just his asking would not be sufficient and so Wulf analysed his captive again.

The young man had grown practically pliant in his arms. Worn out. Actually, now that Wulf gave himself a chance to examine him again, he was shivering.

The adrenaline must have worn off and now all that was left was fear, exhaustion and pain. Wulf didn't imagine having those wings tear apart his back was fun at all.

So he loosened his grip.

The child came up to one side and started to assist the young man in sitting up and Wulf helped once he realised the boy's intent.

Although his arms were too short to go all the way around, especially with the wings in the partially blocking him, the boy put them around the young man best he could and rested his head on his shoulder.

And with that, the young man's shivering lessened and his breathing evened out.

Wulf got up and walked over to the pile of blankets that the boy had been laying in when he was first invited into the tent. Though worn and dirty, they looked soft and cosy and Wulf knew that they retained the smell of their owners which would have been comforting too. He rummaged around a little before finally finding and grabbing the biggest blanket, walking back and draping it over them.

Wulf placed a hand on the young man's shoulder similarly to what the boy had done with him and it succeeded in getting his attention. He looked at Wulf, though his eyes did not seem able to focus.

"Hey," he whispered, relieved when he got a tired nod in response, "what's your name?"

The young man answered in a nearly inaudible rasp, "Rook."

Rook.

"I want to take you somewhere safe."

Rook was shaking his head before Wulf had even finished but even Wulf was surprised at his offer. He could see Rook's hold tighten around the boy.

"You and your friend," Wulf amended, "and you will be safe there."

The boy tightened his hold around Rook in silent response and Rook must have understood because he gave Wulf a short nod.

That was all he could manage it seemed because, after that, he went limp in the boy's arms as he slipped into unconsciousness.

The boy managed to slow Rook's descent to the floor but Wulf still had to grab him to completely prevent it. Once Rook was firmly safe in his arms the boy let go and proceeded to - to fold his blankets.

"He's going to be okay," Wulf said reassuringly although he had no idea at all whether it was true.

The boy didn't face him but he nodded as he continued to pack up their meagre belongings. His being convinced actually put Wulf at ease. He stood, cradling Rook in his arms.

"I'll help you." He said but was dismissed with a wave of the boy's hand.

Wulf wondered if this is how he seemed before when he wasn't ready to speak yet. He concluded that it probably was though some of the child's fussing and seamless delegation reminded him of Jordan.

He watched as the boy laid out a blanket, smoothing it out before carefully placing their belongings on top. These belongings consisted of mostly blankets but he also put the occasional trinket in padded between two blankets or clothes. He continued to wave Wulf away every time he ventured over to help, sometimes punctuating it with an impatient look or by pointing to Rook. The boy had a very expressive face and Wulf could practically hear him demand that he just take care of Rook.

So Wulf watched as the boy packed and then expertly tied the ends of the blanket together to make a satchel. He then attempted to lift it. It became obvious that Rook was in charge of the heavy lifting when the makeshift satchel would not come off the floor. The boy tried to play it off as if he were just testing the knots, however, and so Wulf pretended not to notice. He then gave Wulf an expectant look but the anxiety that Wulf may expect him to leave their things behind was still visible underneath it.

Obligingly, Wulf shifted over the still unconscious Rook so that he was cradled in one arm and picked up the satchel in the other. The boy looked impressed at that.

Together they left the campsite, with the boy clutching onto one of Wulf's belt loops.

"You have a name, Little One?" Wulf asked, conversationally, giving the boy a fond smile.

In all honesty, he really wasn't expecting any sort of answer. Trauma, he knew, was dealt with in different ways and this boy has dealt with his the same way Wulf had - by retreating and his voice along with him. Wulf would no more force this boy to speak than he would force him to face that trauma.

The boy gave him a calculating look. Seeming satisfied with what he saw he placed his hand on Wulf's forearm, which had been exposed when his sleeve and rolled up. Wulf experienced an odd sensation then like a film being cast over his eyes - except it was in his mind. This mind and thoughts were all working normally but now there was this foreign object there as well, casting over everything else and demanding attention.

It wasn't anything sinister or complicated - just an image. Wulf could imagine as though it were his own thoughts, a tiny bird. It was a pretty, delicate-looking little thing with feathers in vibrant shades of blue and minimal black markings, most notably along the eyes. It moved around in happy little bounces and fluttered and glided on its wings like a children's book fairy.

The two walked along, enjoying the sight of the little blue bird jaunting around happily until the image faded and the odd sensation around Wulf's mind with it.

"Ah," Wulf said playfully, "so you're a little bird then?"

The boy looked up at him with a look that accused him of deliberately misunderstanding. And it was so serious and annoying and too much for his little face that Wulf couldn't help but just beam back as he guided them towards Koenig Manor.

***

Rook's awareness came back in bits in pieces.

Firstly, he knew that he was warm. And he was comfortable despite the aches over his body and stinging pain on his back. Secondly, he knew that he was hungry. The smell of something wonderful and mouthwatering filled his nostrils and his stomach clenched in protest of its empty state. Thirdly, he knew that he was not cuddled up with his little brother. It meant that he still had blankets as Wren tended to hog them all and that there wasn't going to be an errant elbow to his face or knee to his ribs.

But it also brought him to his final realisation. He didn't know where Wren was. The thought broke through his exhaustion and his eyes snapped open.

The room he was in was bright and clean. Luxurious looking yet simple and classy. But most importantly, it contained little Wren curled up in a big armchair that was likely moved from wherever it was supposed to be because it was really too bulky to be right next to the four post bed Rook currently found himself in. Knowing that Wren was okay and near allowed him to relax for a moment until he noticed the figure standing in the doorway.

"Hello," the man said as he took a step into the room, "my name is - "

"Alric Koenig." Rook breathed the name, a little dazed and very surprised that his voice was even working.

Alric Koenig also looked surprised.

"Please," Alric Koenig said, "just Alric is fine."

He was smiling at Rook so kindly that he couldn't help but return it.

"Now, you know who I am?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, I - " Rook flushed. He knew what he had heard but now faced with the man in question he was a little embarrassed to admit so out loud. Just in case he was wrong. After all, it was a rather preposterous thing to claim although he himself would also fall into the category of preposterous things. And while 'Alric' was very handsome and, yes, even kingly Rook couldn't just assume - "You're the Elf King of Winter Haven."

- That.

"That I am." He said amusedly, "And you and your friend?"

"Rook." He nodded his head to Wren, "And that's Wren."

"And you're both harpies?"

Rook was sure his surprise showed on his face - for all of two seconds.

"Is that what we are?" he said, bitterly.

Alric's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You didn't know?"

Rook chortled.

"I didn't know we had earned that distinction."

Alric nodded, contemplating.

"Male harpies are rare but not impossible. And just because you aren't exactly the same as your female counterparts doesn't mean you aren't harpies."

"The people who raised us would beg to differ I think."

"Forgive me," Alric said apologetically, "Harpies are secretive about many things, including child-rearing practices, and often do their work unseen. I have never seen harpies as young as the two of you. Were you not raised by your parents?"

Rook barked out a laugh, "I don't even know who our parents are."

"Is that why you've come to Winter Haven?" Alric asked with a frown, "I am afraid you are the only harpies that have crossed the wards since my sister and I put them in place."

"No. We're not looking for anyone." Rook said, then decided to change the subject, "You might want to check your wards. They don't seem to be working."

"They're working just fine." Alric said, "Had you not been looking for sanctuary it would not have let you in. You are looking for sanctuary, correct?"

Rook felt hopeful at that.

"Yes - yes we are." He said, "We never meant to come under false pretences - not really. We just heard that we would be safe here."

"From whom? If I may ask."

Rook shook his head.

"Not any one person in particular. Once I knew what we were I took Wren and I ran. But I thought it would be wise to be around people like us. Not harpies but - you know - other not-human people."

"And you found some."

"It took a while," Rook said with a shrug, "but, yeah, I found people like us. I found out where they hung out and just tried to keep my ear to the ground. I was getting desperate and was planning to try and reach out to someone who might help us. But then I heard about Winter Haven and you."

He looked away and fidgeted with the bedspread.

"I heard about some things that had happened - not all I was sure was true. But the stories were amazing and everyone knew about it and it just became a - a thing, you know? 'Winter Haven is safe.' 'Winter Haven is protected.'"

He stopped abruptly and looked back at Alric, "I figured if we could get in we wouldn't have to run anymore. I wasn't sure how it would work. Getting in here, I mean. I wasn't sure if I had to - I don't know - petition you or something? I figured when we got here we'd wing it. The closer we got - I could feel the wards. I knew they were present but they felt - welcoming."

Alric nodded thoughtfully at the description.

"My family has taken steps to protect Winter Haven and bar those who would do wrong to its citizens." He said, "It isn't perfect and we are still trying to cover any loopholes present - but we never intended to keep out those in need which is why you felt safe to enter."

Rook sighed in relief.

"So you don't have any plans to make us leave?"

"None at all." Alric said with a shake of his head, "But I would like to ask you some questions about the people you are running away from."

Rook was startled at that.

"Why?"

Alric pursed his lips as though weighing his words.

"Because we have taken note of presences approaching our borders who seek to do harm." He said slowly, "We are hoping to prevent a confrontation if you can tell us before they get here whether they are here for you, what measures it will take to make them leave and if more will continue to come here if they fail to do what they have planned."

Notes:

I don't know if you noticed but a rook is kind of like a raven or crow. I just thought it was pretty cool.

The bird that Wren showed Wulf is a type of wren - specifically a type of fairywren. They are bright blue and I thought they were also pretty cool. They're why Wren's hair is blue.

Chapter 4: Four

Notes:

Have I mentioned, sooooooo out of character?

Wulf paced outside the guest room as Alric spoke to Rook.

He could see that Nyssandra and Ethan were worried about him but he couldn't quite force himself to stop.

When he and the boy reached Koenig Manor Jordan had been waiting for him.

The man gave Rook and the boy a cursory look before refocusing his attention on Wulf.

"Something is happening." He had said simply and ushered them inside.

Inside Alric, Nyssandra and Ethan were talking in hushed tones, looking very serious and Scott, who wouldn't generally leave Ethan was notably absent. The combination immediately put Wulf on edge.

"Where's Scott?" he asked, alerting the others to his presence.

"With the pack," Jordan replied, "just in case we need their assistance."

Wulf's face furrowed in concern.

"What is wrong?"

"People are approaching our borders." Said Nyssandra.

"And they mean to do us ill?"

"We can't be sure but we don't imagine they're here to bring us gifts or anything." Ethan said uneasily, "It' not quite an army but there are a lot of them."

Suddenly, as if just noticing his guests he turned to look at the boy, "Who's your friend?"

His eyes then trained on the unconscious Rook.

It then occurred to Wulf how it must look. A young man, probably only a few years older than Ethan, passed out in his arms and clothes bloodstained. Then, of course, there were the wings folded up against Rook's back - which Wulf hoped he wasn't damaging.

Ethan blanched taking it in.

"What…" is he? Good question, but Wulf appreciated that he stopped himself.

Especially with the boy in the room. Wulf didn't want him to feel any more alienated than he probably already felt in a room with all these adults he didn't know and the only one he did was passed out and defenceless.

"You seem to be in the middle of your own situation, Wulf.” Ethan said apologetically.

“Perhaps, we should take your friends to rest.” That was Alric.

He had directed the statement to Wulf but it was for the benefit of Little Bird.

He gave the boy a kind smile.

“How does that sound?” He asked.

The boy pursed his lips in deliberation but conceded with a nod.

“I’ve asked for a guest room to be prepared,” Jordan said, “they’re aware our guest is in need of immediate rest and are very efficient. I believe it should be ready now.”

Wulf followed Jordan to the guest room with his arms still full of Rook and the boy in tow.

He held open the door for them but didn’t have time to do much else as the boy practically flew in, fussing, and pulling down the covers of the bed. He gestured impatiently to Wulf who eagerly stepped into the room after him and laid Rook down on the clean sheets.

While Rook only really took up about a third of the bed, his wings had stretched and taken over the rest of the space on either side, even falling off the edges a bit.

Not thinking much of it Wulf removed the remainder of the bloody tatters that used to be Rook's shirt. It was only after realising he was staring at the creamy expanse of Rook's smooth chest that he thought perhaps he could have let the boy fret over him but neither he nor Jordan were paying him any mind. Carefully, he arranged the parts of Rook's wings that were falling off the bed back onto the bed and tucked him in.

Meanwhile, the boy was settling in. He had already tied his satchel and was currently trying to push one of the armchairs over. Jordan was already striding over to lend a hand. Wulf watched as, with the boy's direction, Jordan manoeuvred a rather large armchair from its spot in a corner right at the bedside by Rook.

Once in place, the boy clambered on top of the chair, keeping a watchful eye on Rook.

"Wulf," Jordan said softly, "I understand that you have had some personal developments, but we do need your help in dealing with this."

Wulf nodded and tried to school his expression into once of assurance.

"I have no intention of forcing you to handle it without me." He said.

Wulf then quickly turned to the pile of blankets and trinkets which the boy had left on the floor. He grabbed the blanket on the top as to not disturb the rest of their belongings and brought it over to the boy who had ceased paying attention to them once he has situated himself as Rook's guardian.

Wulf knelt by the armchair and wrapped the blanket around Rook. Still, he didn't respond.

"I must speak with my friends now, Little Bird," he said and was rewarded with a nod of acknowledgement, "I'm sure you'll be safe here till I come back," he phrased it like a statement, wanting to appeal to the boy's pride in his independence, "and Rook will be able to rest and heal."

The boy cast him a quick look, nodding again, before refocusing his attention on Rook.

"If you need something, if you're hungry or -"

"I've spoken with Mrs O'Toole," Jordan cut in smoothly, "she knows he is here and to check on them every now and then. They will be cared for."

Wulf smiled gratefully at Jordan.

"I'll be back soon, Little Bird." He said quietly.

Just as he was about to stand up to leave a small hand clasped his on top of one large armrest. When he looked down Wulf saw the boy looking up at him. He felt that small hand give his own large one a tight squeeze.

In part, a thank you but in another, a question.

"He's going to be alright." Wulf reassured him.

The boy nodded in response before letting go of Wulf and turning his attention back to Rook.

Wulf stood and swiftly followed Jordan out of the room.

Although in the midst of a discussion, the three elves turned their attention to Wulf and Jordan when they entered the room.

"I trust our guests are resting peacefully." Alric said gesturing for them to sit.

"Yes, my king." Wulf responded gratefully, "Thank you."

Looking intent, Ethan asked, "Will your friend need medical attention or something, Wulf?"

Wulf shook his head, "I don't believe so. From what I can see he is already beginning to heal."

Nyssandra nodded thoughtfully, "That sounds about right. He looks young but generally a harpy's healing abilities grow faster with every transformation. Unless his body differs greatly from female harpies, your friend should be getting to a time in which his transformations will no longer be so violent."

"Harpies?" Ethan said with a cocked head and furrowed brow and Wulf is glad someone asked because he felt just as confused.

"Are you sure, Nyssa?" Alric asked. He looked about as sceptical as he could be towards his twin sister.

"With wings like that and a transformation that traumatic? I'm almost absolutely positive." She said assuredly, "And it would explain our… visitors."

 

"Your logic is sound, Nyssa." Alric conceded tiredly, "If they have left their home and their family is seeking them out it would explain why we have them amassing outside our borders."

His expression was thoughtful as he continued, "Male harpies are often hidden away and either way I've never met a harpy so young."

Nyssandra scoffed.

"If they're anything like how they are when they're adults you should be grateful."

Alric subtly stiffened at the thought as though remembering something horrible and Wulf wondered what sort of dealings the Koenigs may have had with harpies.

Ethan took a step towards his father.

"What are harpies like, Father?" he asked in an effort to distract though real curiosity laced his voice.

"Terrible. Sadistic. Fast. You may be expecting them but you'll never see them coming."

Wulf had a vague recollection of stories about harpies - and none of them were pretty. As a child, they were the boogeymen of the supernatural world like the furies. Though even at that point their stories had mostly faded to the wind with how old these beings were.

Wulf was told that if he wasn't a good pup the harpies would sweep him away in a whirlwind in the blink of an eye.

When he grew older he was told other stories. Truer than the fairytales of his youth but no true first encounters - no, these stories were more like urban legends. These were of murderers, kidnappers and rapists. Of beings in the midst of evil being struck down by winged women who appear in a gust of wind. Their taloned hands and feet would pierce their flesh like daggers. Upon seeing them none would flee or fight. They would tremble in fear and even beg for death. But whether it was granted to them none would ever know. The harpies would sweep up their terrified prey in a mockery of a lovers embrace and, as quickly as they appeared, they would vanish in wind and rain and the crack of thunder.

And those criminals they took with them were never seen again.

When Wulf had transitioned into adulthood he no longer had time for stories of creatures long since seen. Some still attributed disappearances to harpies but they were few and far between.

Wulf only remembered the stories about the harpies after.

When Wulf used to dream about the harpies of old - those storm swift, harbingers of punishment, dealing torturous justice to evildoers - it was the masochistic longing to be held accountable for all he had ruined and those he had failed.

Ishild. His pack. Jordan.

In time those thoughts faded and Wulf grew first content with his place and then happy.

His thoughts about the harpies were vague and he never truly he believed he would meet any.

He definitely never thought that his actual dealings with harpies would have to do with a petty thief.

"Are they an immediate danger?" Ethan asked, protective instincts surging.

"I don't believe they are a danger at all." Alric said placatingly, "At least not to us." He then gave turned his attention to Wulf, "Unless you believe otherwise."

Wulf thought about the boy, the Little Bird, with his fluffy blue hair, expressive face and traumatised eyes. He thought of Rook who attacked him with powers that were untrained in order to protect his companion. Who likely stole Wulf's wallet in order to provide for him.

"Not to us." He said simply, "If those amassing outside Winter Haven are truly here for them, however, it's a factor whose effect we can't account for."

Everyone seemed to deliberate this.

"Then how should we approach it?" Ethan asked directing the question to his father.

"That depends." Alric responded, "Nyssa, do our wards protect against harpies."

"They should. Remember, harpies are supposedly supernaturally able to enter any place giving their prey no place to hide or protect themselves from. The wards will not hold them indefinitely no matter how strong they are now."

"If you're right about harpy healing we won't need that much time. Just enough for the older one -"

"Rook."

" - Rook to wake. Then we ask our questions and reevaluate what we are going to do."

"But until then we need a plan just in case. A general idea if nothing else."

"We proceed as always. Communicate. Negotiate. Prevent a confrontation."

"And if it can't be prevented?"

"The pack still outnumbers them."

"Hopefully it will be enough."

Mrs O'Toole popped her head into the room not too long later.

"Your young man seems to be rousing." She said, "I thought I'd let you know so he'll have a familiar face to wake to."

Although Wulf was on his feet immediately it was Alric who answered.

"Thank you, Mrs O'Toole."

She tittered in response before saying that she was off to prepare him something.

"Poor thing's bound to be hungry." She murmured as she hurried off to the kitchen.

Wulf started towards the stairs but halted at the sound of Alric's voice.

"Wulf."

The authority behind the one word stopped Wulf in his tracks. He turned to face his king.

Alric approached him apologetically.

"Perhaps it will be better if I speak to him." He said quietly.

Wulf wanted to argue. He was worried about Rook who had looked so lifeless in his arms as he laid him on the bed. He had wanted to check on the Little Bird too. The boy took so much upon himself. He probably didn't ask for food when Mrs O'Toole undoubtedly asked for it. Though, he was so silent too - perhaps they just didn't understand -

He had to stop himself there and focus on Alric looking at him with concern.

He understood where Alric was coming from.

Rook's first encounter with Wulf was picking his pocket. His last was a fight. No one could be sure of his reaction if he woke and saw Wulf there.

Also, Alric was beautiful and everyone took to him well. He could charm the birds out of the trees. He had the best chance of obtaining the information they needed.

Wulf nodded reluctantly and stepped back.

Alric put a hand on Wulf's large shoulder.

"He will be fine," Alric said, "and you will see him right after, I promise."

And with that Alric ascended the stairs and went straight to the guest room where Rook was currently waking.

***

Alric moved from the doorway to sit by Rook's bedside but Rook barely noticed.

He was still processing Alric's words.

…we have taken note of presences approaching our borders…

We are hoping to prevent a confrontation…

…more will continue to come here if they fail to do what they have planned.

The words echoed in his mind first one after the other, then slowly overlapping into a canon until all it sounded like an explosion of words with no sense or meaning.

And although he felt Alric trying to give him some time the weight of his gaze was hard to bear.

"I don't know." He whispered.

Alric nodded reassuringly.

"You can take your time."

But before he had even finished speaking Rook was shaking his head in a panic. He buried his face in his hands.

"I can't be sure." He said, his voice muffled by his hands.

"See? That's already an improvement."

And although he couldn't see it, Rook could hear the smile in Alric's voice.

He took his hands away from his face but didn't look up.

"There have been beings who had discovered what we were." Rook started softly, refusing to look at Alric, "They figured we were rare. That they could profit from us - alive or dead. People who ran fighting rings. There were slavers. We even came across people who wanted to sell our body parts for research or potion ingredients - or even as an exotic meal."

Rook could remember every single one of their faces. The way they looked at him and Wren as though they were things - just like the people who managed the home used to look at them. He remembered their attempts to capture them. Some had tried with tenderness and gifts, appealing to them with empty promises. But when it didn't work it always ended the same. With nets and drugs, cages and brute force. As though they were wild animals.

But Rook had shown them. He had made them suffer and torn them apart. It took its toll. Often, Wren, with his weak arms and small body, had to find ways to drag him away to safety afterwards.

The look on his face every time he came to and saw Wren looking down at him with a combination of anger, worry and sheer terror.

Rook had been confident each time. Even as his wings tore him apart he was confident in his ability to protect Wren.

"But they were only ever individuals or pairs or small gangs." Not a mob. Not an army "The number of people you're talking about - I can't account for that."

"What about the people who raised you? Other harpies?"

Thinking about the home and the people who raised them filled Rook with rage.

"They didn't care about us! They were just holding onto us until - " He forced himself to calm down.Whatever crimes committed against him were not the fault of a king in a faraway land.

Finally, he raised his head and gazed into Alric's eyes. And the pain Alric saw there must have been very powerful indeed because his expression seemed to soften even further and became very pitying.

"There are reasons people don't see male harpies." Rook continued tiredly, "And it's not because we are special. We are tools for them to use and when they are done with us - they are no better than the criminals they hunt."

It was odd. Rook thought himself above the feeling betrayal towards the people who were supposed to care for him and Wren and even the rest of his brothers. But as he relayed years of pain in those few sentences he could barely stand the breaking of his heart.

"That's why I had to take Wren."

He looked over at Wren, still fast asleep, curled up in the large armchair. He must have felt safe. He must have had as many nights of unease and unrest, worrying if they would be found again - at least as many as Rook. But theirs was a better life than the fate of their brothers, the fate that would have surely befallen Wren had Rook left him behind.

"We can't go back out there."

"We aren't asking you to." That wasn't Alric.

In the doorway was the man from the tent, the man he had robbed. Rook experienced a flash of memory, of trailing his fingers across the sculpted jaw in his ID picture. Wulf. That's right.

During the struggle in the tent Wulf had subdued him with ease, which wasn't something that happened before. In the moment that he had him pinned to the floor Rook had been terrified that it was the end for both he and Wren.

But then Wulf released had him. He had asked for his name. He had asked to take them somewhere safe.

Rook had absolutely no reason to trust him at all really. But when Wren tightened his hold on him conveying a myriad of things that words alone couldn't express, Rook couldn't help but assent.

It was a gamble that had paid off because they found themselves here, together in this beautiful room with the benevolent king Alric offering them sanctuary.

"Forgive me, I know you wanted to speak with them first. And I don't mean to speak out of turn, my king," Wulf continued in a low rumble, "but you don't mean to let them face this enemy alone."

"I assure you, we are not." Alric said, kind and unphased, "And it's no worry, we were about finished anyway" he nodded and Rook before looking back, "I am surprised though that Nyssa let you in here before I told her we were done."

"She actually sent me in to get you." Wulf replied, his expression morphing into one of worry, "The harpies at the border are trying to communicate with her, sending images into her mind. She thinks they are asking us to the border to negotiate."

Chapter 5: Five

Notes:

Hope everyone had happy holidays!

I may have gotten a little distracted with pre-holidays stress and then post-holidays recovery. This chapter took forever.

Just as the last word left Wulf’s lips Wren whimpered a torturously painful sound.

Rook budged over, closer to the armchair where Wren was still asleep.

Wulf watched how the black feathers of Rook’s wings moulted off in bloody clumps as he moved. He reached out a staying hand but Rook waved him away even as he winced in pain.

“It’s fine. It always happens.”

Rook gathered Wren in his arms and brought him to his chest.

“Hey,” he whispered as he moved Wren's blue hair, matted with sweat, from the boy’s forehead, “wake up, it’s okay.”

He continued to coo softly to Wren, stroking his hair as the boy slowly and fitfully woke.

“Is Nyssa alright?” Alric asked Wulf quietly as to not disturb the Wren.

“She is faring better, but seems to be in a similar state to Wren.”

Rook was being careful of his talons, ensuring he wouldn’t cause Wren any further pain. This made his movements rather awkward and he soon had enough of that. He wrapped a hand around one talon and pulled. He gritted his teeth at the pain but made quick work of pulling out the talons one by one. They weren’t all there, some having already detached some time in his sleep but there were still a good six or seven. The removal of each talon was like pulling his very bones out from his fingertips. Sweat dripped down Rook’s face and feathers continued to moult onto the bed.

Although Rook’s fingertips had already healed over by the time he had finished his task the pain remained like an echo inside his hands. But he didn’t have the privilege of entertaining the pain at that moment.

Alric and Wulf watched as Rook cupped Wren’s face in his hands as the boy shivered.

“Don’t let it all bottle up in your head,” he admonished without heat, “share them with me.”

Wren, flushed, shook his head adamantly.

“Wren,” Rook said firmly, “give them to me.”

Wren, who was struggling stiffly in Rook’s arms, suddenly went limp.

Rook, simultaneously grew tense, shutting his eyes tightly and clenching his teeth, balling his hands into fists around Wren’s loose clothing while keeping clear of his skin.

There was a pained gasp from the hallway. Before Alric could exit, however, Ethan made his way in supporting Nyssandra in his arms and against his side.

“There’s something wrong, Father,” Ethan said in a panic.

Nyssandra’s face was twisted in pain. She gave another gasp timed perfectly with Rook’s wince.

Alric moved over to his sister, bearing her other side, helplessly unsure how to handle her pain.

Though it only lasted a moment it could have been hours before Rook finally relaxed, looking just as tired as Wren was. Wren, who seemed to have recovered by then, was holding on to Rook just as tightly. His hands were clumsily petting Rook’s face in comfort as Rook had done to him.

Rook moved Wren beside him on the bed and turned towards Alric.

“I’m coming with you to the border.” Rook said, “To help negotiate.”

Before either Alric or Wulf could get a word in Nyssandra roughly interjected.

“No. You’re not.”

“I know how they think.” Rook insisted “They’re not like you, I’m an asset in communicating exactly -”

Nyssandra’s strength was returning to her rapidly and Alric and Ethan soon found that they needn’t support her anymore.

“Neither of you will get within a mile of them if I can help it - if I could help it, you wouldn’t be in the same realm.”

Her voice was firm and resolute. Even Alric looked shocked by her adamancy until Rook spoke.

“What do you have to offer them besides me?”

Rook stood faster and with more strength than he should have possessed considering his obvious exhaustion.

There was a moment of silence as everyone registered what Rook's words. It made Wulf more anxious to know what kind of thoughts were being projected at Nyssandra and Wren.

Rook’s knees buckled beneath him and Wulf reached out to grab him before he fell. He lifted the young man gently and placed him back on the bed.

Rook could feel Wulf’s intent stare but didn’t want him to see the fear likely reflected in his eyes.

Wulf placed a hand over Rook’s.

“We aren’t going to hand you over to them.”

“But we do need the truth.” Alric said, “You said that they weren’t looking for you.”

“They never have!” Rook said pleadingly looking between Alric and Nyssandra, “I swear to you, I’m telling you the truth. They have never shown any interest in any of us.” He ran one hand through his hair and up and down his face, “I don’t understand. I really don’t. Harpies in general stay to themselves. They only ever initiate contact with each other if they need something - I’ve never heard of, let alone, seen them flock together like this.”

Uneasy about Rook’s distress Alric turned to Nyssandra.

“What do they want?” he asked.

Nyssandra sighed.

“On the surface? They tried to show me that they ‘wanted their kin back’. They didn’t expect that I might be able to use the link they established to reach out to them which is why I got knocked around a bit - mentally speaking. They’re violent and emotional and I don’t know what they want with these boys but it doesn’t feel good.”

“You managed to reach back into them?”

Rook was looking at them intently with a surprised expression on his face.

“Once the connection was made I had the ability to use it the same way they did. They’re probably only used to using it on minds that don’t have that same mental or magical capacity to use it, just to experience the effects of it.” Nyssandra explained, “Are you shocked I could do it because I’m not a harpy?”

Rook shook his head.

“I’m not entirely sure what exactly I was expecting but it has nothing to do with that. I'm a kind of harpy, I guess, and I can’t do it, not really. Wren is the one on the same frequency as them. He can’t not know what they‘re thinking about if they’re thinking about it too loudly or emotionally or if even if they’re just close by. He can pass on the connection to me sometimes. Thankfully they can’t reach to him. I don’t even think they know he’s there.”

Nyssandra didn’t look convinced. Just because they hadn’t utilised the connection to Wren didn’t mean that they couldn’t or that they don’t know it’s there. It was plausible but not a guarantee.

They still didn’t know how the harpies found them.

Nyssandra stood firm.

“Yours and Wren’s link to their consciousness, no matter how weak, is just another reason why you shouldn’t come with us. We can’t allow them to manipulate you.”

“If they could have they would have by now!” Rook argued.

Alric, Nyssandra, Ethan and Wulf threw pointed looks at each other. Rook’s logic in this also had holes and, even if Rook was unwilling to acknowledge it, the rest of them seemed to understand it.

“I’m sorry Rook, but we’re not asking,” Alric said apologetically but in a tone that said he would not entertain arguments.

He approached Wulf and laid his hand on his shoulder.

“Jordan will stay with them.” He said, urging Wulf up.

Wulf stood, though reluctantly and confused, and followed Alric heading to the door.

“Usually we are all for people facing their fears head-on if that's their choice, but, not only are you weak, you’re also not thinking clearly.” Ethan added, feeling for Rook, “I’m sorry, but we’re not going to let you do something you'll regret.”

Rook’s expression morphed into a combination of shock and offence as they began to exit. He itched to go after them, knew that, under normal circumstances, he would be fast enough to reach the door or strong enough to scale the side of the building. But he could feel his body entering the final stages of his healing - in which the bones of his wings grew brittle and the shards that didn’t tear from his back he would need to pull out. The pain was beginning to make him sick and he started to curl into himself.

“You can’t just keep us here!”

Nyssandra looked sympathetically at the young man in such obvious pain. There was very little that harpies shared but she knew that this was not something she could help him through with healing magic.

“You asked for help and we’re providing it.” Nyssandra pointed out tiredly, “You forget. I also saw what you did. That’s how I know that you are running off of adrenaline and fear and a well-intentioned need to protect. And it’s going to get both you and Wren killed. Or worse.”

Nyssandra watched as Wren wrapped Rook in another comforting hug before finally closing the door behind her.

Alric admired his sister’s unwavering stance though he knew that she was conflicted about it. He was too. They didn’t keep people in Winter Haven against their will. However, Nyssandra seemed convinced that Rook was running straight into a trap and that his impulsiveness would end very badly. Even without knowing exactly what they saw he could tell from Rook’s rash reactions that she was probably correct.

“This feels wrong.” Ethan said, gesturing to the door, “And yet terrifyingly right.”

He took a deep breath while rubbing up and down his face with his hands. Alric embraced Ethan, kissing the top of his head.

“Its because we understand. You would try to stop me from doing something you thought would harm me as I would for you.”

Wulf, who had been pacing, stopped abruptly.

“I think I should stay,” he said softly.

“You are the Alpha of the pack, Wulf.” Alric said, “They need you to lead them and we need a show of strength from the Werewolf King.”

Wulf looked steady and controlled but Alric could see a strange obsessive need rise from within Wulf regarding the two harpy boys - and that unprecedented lack of control was worrying in itself.

“You don’t need the pack.” Wulf reasoned, “We can assist you if you wish but I am as sure as you are that these harpies could be made to heel between you, Nyssandra, Ethan and Jordan.”

“But we don’t intend for there to be a confrontation at all. If they plan to attack we just need them to rethink their decision so long enough to garner information that could help us prevent their return.” Alric explained.

“They will be fine.” Nyssandra said placatingly, “Rest assured. That’s why Alric suggested Jordan.”

Wulf thought of Jordan, of how strong he was becoming and how intelligent and efficient he always was. Wulf did trust that Jordan was more than capable of keeping Rook and Wren safe.

Nyssandra stumbled a little, the action spurring the men to come to her aid but she just waved them away.

“I’m fine.” She said dismissively, “They just wanted us to know that they’re waiting for us.”

Wulf spared a glance backwards where behind that door Rook was, undoubtedly fuming. Wulf knew he wasn’t acting like himself. But at that moment all he could think of was getting this negotiation over with so he could return.

***

It was almost midnight when Alric, Nyssandra, Ethan and Wulf approached the border of Winter Haven.

Although they had come with the pack it was mutually decided that they were to stay back during the negotiation unless Wulf signalled Scott.

Jordan wasn’t happy about being asked to stay behind - especially if Scott was on the frontline, so to speak, so it became their unspoken compromise.

The harpies were waiting in a clearing just beyond the magical border. Even seeing Rook in his transformed state didn’t prepare Wulf for the sight that awaited them.

In terms of actual harpies present, there weren’t as many as they had feared. Perhaps fifty. The excess detected was likely due to the many other harpies they were linked to, which could also mean that, while they were not readily present, that could likely mean that there were much more nearby.

These harpies were both fearsome and beautiful and most of them looked as though they hadn’t changed from their transformed state for several years at least. They had feathers from the corners of their eyes merging into their long locks of hair. Many forewent shoes and were sporting impressive talons on their feet as well as hands. The transformation also seemed to extend to feathered cuffs around their wrists and ankles that looked strong as steel and acted like armoured braces.

There were harpies who took after different nationalities and, surprisingly, different time periods. Many eras seemed to be represented amongst them. From those dressed in plated armour, like ancient warriors of old, to those in jeans and leather jackets, looking every bit as modern as any young woman they might stumble across.

It became clear to Wulf that harpies lived a long time.

King Alric. Thank you for joining us.

The words were spoken as one by many and there were neither images nor pain. The voices resounded in all of their heads though only being addressed to Alric.

“I would appreciate that your communication go directly to me rather than my sister if you insist on communicating mentally in the future.” He said.

Alric maintained an authoritative demeanour conveying that he would not be provoked into a reaction.

Apologies, King Alric, but we are afraid that is impossible. You do not have the magical capacity for us to contact you at such a distance whereas the Lady Nyssandra does. The only reason we are able to do so now is due to your current proximity.

“And now that you’ve called us here we would like to get to the matter at hand.” Ethan swiftly interjected, his impatience and offence on behalf of his family brimming subtly under the coldness of his facade.

There was a flutter of wings from the harpies that gave Wulf the impression of cruel tittering.

Ah, yes. It is simple, truly. We want our kin.

Wulf had to suppress the growl in his throat. That wasn’t going to happen.

“From what we understand,” Alric said, enunciating deliberately, “you discarded Rook and Wren. They have requested sanctuary here and it has been granted them.”

One of the harpies closer to the front, likely younger going from her more modern clothing started forward with a hiss before another harpy grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

There is no place where they can be apart from us, Elf King! They projected venomously. The children belong to us.

Alric straightened to his full height, sizing up this congregation of harpies looking every bit the warrior he was.

“Winter Haven is under my dominion -”

This time more of the harpies broke into furious hisses. Many manoeuvred into threatening stances, baring their teeth and talons and extending their wings.

This power is granted to you by our Master but our Master has always granted us entry to any place to do our work.

That had answered one question at least. Despite how they had been depicted in myth they were under the authority of the Unnamed One.

Nyssandra took a step forward. She also straightened to her full height and turned a cold look on the harpies.

“And what crimes have these children committed?“ she asked in a tone that would make kings feel inadequate.

What mean you by this? The harpies demanded, but they already seemed to be losing control.

Instead of the harmonious blending of voices, there was a separation. It had fragmented into overlapping echoes, some hissing, some screeching, some still trying to maintain composure.

“You are granted entry by your Master to do your work.” Nyssandra said haughtily, “As far as I am concerned, reacquiring family members is not part of that."

Alric smirked, catching on quickly.

"I, however, am able to extend my sanctuary to them so long as they stay,” he said.

There was an indiscernible cry of outrage.

Infidels!

The harpies charged towards the border and Wulf, prepared and already half turned, began giving his signal to Scott -

- When Nyssandra caught hold of his arm. She gave him an assuring nod and he lowered his arm to his side again.

He understood why soon enough.

The harpies could only come within several feet of the border before finding they were unable to get any closer. There was another outraged screech as the harpies came to this realisation.

We will have our kin!

After a final furious charge at Winter Haven’s border, the congregation launched into the air, dispersing and disappearing beyond the clouds.

The party had their eyes trained towards the sky as though they expected the harpies to suddenly dive back in to attempt another attack.

Alric was the first to break the silence.

“Clever Nyssa. Did you manage that?”

“Of course." she replied proudly, "Now that they’ve made their intentions clear the wards have adjusted to them. Unless they are here to do their work they cannot enter.”

“That was some quick thinking. I’m not entirely sure the wards would have held otherwise.”

“They can’t really be worse than the other things we’ve faced, surely?” Ethan asked in innocent confusion.

Nyssandra smiled patiently.

“It’s not strength we’re worried about. It’s function. Harpies are thieves built to break into anywhere and deal judgement as designed.”

“Nyssa’s added conditions to the wards for their end but it isn’t possible to keep Winter Haven crime-free on our end,” Alric said sadly, “no matter how much we want to.“

Ethan put his arms around his father comfortingly and laid his head on his shoulder.

“What if Nyssandra made conditions so that they can’t just leave with Rook and Wren even if they do manage to get inside?” Wulf suggested.

Nyssandra nodded agreeably.

“We should also find a way to bind them to Winter Haven so long as they are here willingly.” She added, “Once we’ve figured it out it will have future uses. We could give it to anyone in need of sanctuary so none will be able to remove them by force.”

Wulf was intrigued by the idea and pleased that Rook’s and Wren’s safety could be assured to at least a certain extent.

“How long would that take?” Wulf asked.

Nyssandra’s expression turned apologetic.

“For something that would work well? It may take a while. Especially as I still need to strengthen the quick adjustments I added to the wards now.”

Wulf nodded, disappointed but understanding. Just because it was magic didn’t mean it was easy.

“How do we ensure that Rook and Wren will be safe until then?”

Ethan chortled.

“We just left them at the manor like criminals under house arrest. I think the real question is, how do we convince them they shouldn’t just leave?”

Leave.

Rook and Wren had been in Wulf’s life less than 24 hours and the thought of them just leaving made him sick to his stomach.

There was definitely something wrong.