Chapter Text
What the wolf loved in the lamb was its own goodness.
The cloak is red because it is not hers.
The basket is old because it is not hers.
The path feels backwards because it is away from home, not towards it.
Shinobu glared into the treeline, cheeks and nose stinging with each snowflake that melted on her skin. Blood rushed to color her pale face so it matched the cloak, as if her own body were mocking her somehow. Her hand tightened on the basket handle as she forced herself forward, counting each fog of breath she puffed out and every crunch of snow underfoot. The gaping maw of the forest beckoned her, a sinister grin of dark pines and glittering icicles for teeth. She’d not even crossed the threshold yet, and she already longed for the warm safety of her bed and hearth at home.
The things she did for Kanae.
In reality, her trek through the woods wouldn’t be long. Sanemi’s village was no more than forty-five minutes away, thirty when winter didn’t bury parts of the main road. The detours were what added the extra fifteen minutes. Shinobu mentally retraced the map Kanae had mailed over, the first correspondence she’d received from her sister since her wedding in autumn. As happy as she’d been for her—and confused, because no matter what her sister said, she had a hard time seeing the “loving man” hiding in Sanemi—Shinobu would admit the house was emptier, colder now. Kanao remained, of course, and she was grateful for her little sister’s company still, but Kanae was a different shape and place in her heart. Every one of her friends and family was, each their own piece that couldn’t always fill the absence of another.
I know I’m cruel for asking you to travel in winter, but isn’t it just my fortune to fall ill after my honeymoon?
Shinobu couldn’t help but smile as she remembered the letter that came with the map. She could picture Kanae sitting in bed, sniffling, guiltily chuckling to herself as she wrote. Maybe Sanemi tended the fire, or cooked dinner, or scolded her mildly for posting a letter to her sister when she should be resting. A happy newlywed home experiencing its first inconvenience, and reveling silently in it.
Stepping into the woods sent a shiver down her spine as the temperature seemed to drop further. Shinobu cursed to herself and rubbed her gloved hands together, blowing warm breath on them that faded as quickly as it came. She had to walk slower than she’d like, each step measured and careful, lest she slip on a patch of ice. At least the basket offered some comfort, radiating the lingering heat of fresh food.
Can you bring my old cloak and basket, too? I completely forgot them when packing! I have a new one I sewed for you that you can wear back—you’ll like it more.
Shinobu glanced at the deep scarlet wool encompassing her, running her fingers along the soft fur trim. She almost didn’t want to give it back; it was one of the last things Kanae left in the house before moving in with her husband. It definitely wasn’t Shinobu’s style, true, but it wasn’t hers either. It had been their mother’s and grandmother’s before, passed down to each generation with care. The basket, too, was woven expertly by Grandmother in her youth, and still held up after all this time.
She came to a stop, pulled from admiring the embroidery along the cloak’s trim. Shinobu scowled. A large fallen tree blocked the road ahead; the fine dusting of snow suggested it had crashed down sometime last night. She couldn’t climb over it. Loath as she was to admit it, she wasn’t physically strong enough for that. She glanced to the side, into the untouched border of the woods.
Lovely. She’d have to go around.
Please remember to stay on the trail, okay? Sanemi and Genya told me local loggers have spotted wolves in the area. They usually don’t come close to the paths, but be careful!
Shinobu took a deep breath and stepped off the path, into the bitterly cold snow.
Wolves. She’d seen wolves before, she assured herself. They weren’t harmless, but unless she provoked them first, she should be fine!
She’d brought a sharp hunting knife coated in wolfsbane toxin just to be safe.
As she finally found the torn trunk of the tree, she sighed in relief. Even going in a straight line as she’d been, she’d worried the endless white void of winter might swallow her up somehow. Bury her in a snowdrift until her lips and fingers and toes turned blue. Until her eyes glazed over like ice crystals. She hurried around the trunk, keeping one hand on the tree so she could be sure she’d find the path again.
How long had she been walking? Only ten minutes now? Maybe fifteen? The stone path was back under her, yet the trees thickened along the edges. They reached for her, needle fingers coated in ice that could drag her into their depths if she wasn’t careful.
Stay on the path, she reminded herself, forging ahead. Stay on the—
Scarlet wool and stinging white blinded her as a flurry of frosty wind burst through the trees. Shinobu gasped and clutched the fabric, stumbling back against the huge fallen pine. Her heart leapt in her chest as she briefly skidded into the bark, her foot slipping across a patch of near-invisible ice. She threw her arms out just in time to keep from falling, gloved fingers digging into the wood with all her strength.
She’d barely pried her cloak from her face when another bitter, heavy gust sent it flaring out again. Her teeth chattered as she struggled to see through the swirls of ice pelting the road. A blizzard? How?! The weather had been fine not five minutes ago, a calm, even drift of snow one could walk safely through. Now every snowflake was a needle jabbing her skin, sharp and numbing at once, as she huddled against the pine for cover.
She crouched and buried her face in the crook of her elbow, cursing again. She could make it back home; it wasn’t that far, but she’d promised Kanae, and—
Wait.
She blinked against her sleeve and felt along her arm. Her eyes widened, her breath freezing in her throat. The pins and needles danced across her face as she lifted her head to make sure.
Empty.
The basket was gone.
“No!” Shinobu shot to her feet, pulling her hood tightly around her head as she glanced around.
The wind grew stronger, the snow thicker, and it was hard to see beyond ten feet in front of her. She searched for any sign of the tan basket in the cloud of grey-white hell, her own heartbeat drowned by the howling of the wind. This couldn’t be happening! She couldn’t have lost it!
She threw herself to the ground and shoved aside piles of snow, ignoring the wet, sharp bite of the cold leaking through her clothes. Maybe it’d just gotten buried when she stumbled—the poorly-timed blizzard trying to hide it in a frozen grave. Even when her gloved fingers met the ice-slick stones under the snow, she almost kept digging. She was nothing if not stubborn, after all.
The wind howled louder, and she shivered hard, wrapping her arms around herself. Damn it, damn it! She couldn’t stay here! She had to get back to the village; she was no good to either of her sisters if she died of frostbite in the forest. Biting her lip, she hugged her cloak as tightly to her body as she could with one hand and reached for the fallen tree with the other.
Only…
She couldn’t find it. The tree had vanished just as swiftly and sure as the basket! She flailed her free arm in a circle, but it was useless. She must’ve crawled farther from the tree than she’d thought when she dug in the snow.
Gods, was she… Was she going to die out here?
Her cheeks warmed as angry, hot tears ran down them in her frustration. They froze halfway down her face as she threw her head back and screamed into the blizzard, into the wind that shrieked back at her. It almost felt like she was communicating with the storm itself, two forces of nature free to be their true rageful selves at each other. What did it matter if she yelled at a storm as it soaked her clothes and numbed her fingers? Who would see? Not Kanao, not Kanae, Sanemi or Giyuu…
When her voice failed, and her throat burned, Shinobu decided: she’d keep going.
Was it foolish? Yes.
Was it suicidal? Oh, of course.
But she was nothing if not stubborn, after all.
She pushed forward, glowering at the blizzard, as if the fury in her eyes could melt it back to simple rain. Another gust of wind barreled through the woods, but she walked faster, shoving through its attempts to knock her over. She’d always been fast, the quick silence to Kanae’s gentle strength. If she kept moving, she’d stay warm, and this storm couldn’t possibly encompass the entire forest. There had to be a place she could at least find shelter, if not a way out of the blizzard itself.
But then…
It stopped.
As startlingly as it’d come, the storm was gone. The sleet and shards of ice softened to a gentle snowfall, the dripping pines emerged from the fog, and twinkling icicles frozen on the branches were the only evidence a blizzard had even happened. Shinobu’s mouth fell open as she stumbled in place, her eyes falling to the ground. Stones under her feet; good. So she was still on the path…
The fallen pine from earlier was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the basket. She took a deep, steadying breath and shuddered. Whatever. Gods, whatever, she didn’t care to ponder the bizarre weather when she needed to move. Get to Kanae’s home before it decides to drop another storm on her.
She straightened up and took a step forward, just as the wind howled again.
No, she realized with a vicious twist in her stomach, fighting to keep her pace calm as something stirred ahead in the snow. Not the wind. Maybe it was never the wind.
She reached into one of the pockets sewn inside the cloak, her heart beating faster with each finger she wrapped around the handle of her blade. At least she still had that. Basket and frostbite be damned, the knife made her feel a hundred times safer with its light weight in her palm.
One moment, the path ahead was empty; the next, a creature stood before her, grinning, waving, eyes clear and bright. She’d not heard any other steps on the trail. It was as if it’d always been there, like it was part of the woods, part of the blanket of winter drowning everything in white.
It looked like a man. Almost. There was just something…off. Something she couldn’t quite pinpoint, yet it sent prickles up her spine nonetheless. Its skin was so fair it nearly blended with the snow around them, and even from a distance, she couldn’t find a single flaw on its canvas. Boyish softness rounded its face and eyes, a contrast to its towering height and leanly muscular physique. The eyes themselves were part of what caused this turning, conflicting sensation in her: they couldn’t be real, could they? They were every color, two swirling rainbow jewels watching her approach with an intensity carefully tempered by polite joy. What she could see of its fluffy, thick hair poking out from under its hood swept away from its face in feathery spikes, the color almost as light as its skin. It wore a long cloak as red as hers, embroidered with a pattern of dripping black down the hood, shoulders, arms, and chest.
It teetered somewhere between boy and man, beautiful and strange, human and beast. Shinobu put on her prettiest porcelain mask, one of a sweet smile and sweeter eyes, and waved back at it as she approached.
“Hello, there!” It called, and it sounded like a man, too, albeit one barely older than her. Its voice was tranquil as the snow kissing her skin, light and carefree. “How are you? Aren’t the woods beautiful in winter?”
Shinobu stopped a few feet away from it, the prickle from earlier a full shiver down her spine now. “Yes, it is! Even the storm earlier was lovely, in its own way.”
It hummed quietly in agreement, chuckling. “Wasn’t it?” It dipped its head into a polite bow, smiling. “My name is Douma, it’s very nice to meet you, Miss! Forgive me for asking, but you don’t see many young women in the forest this time of year. Especially those who are willing to talk to strangers! What are you doing out here?”
Douma. So it—“he”, she should probably refer to it as “he” so she didn’t say “it” out loud—had a name, at least. She offered him a bow back, slightly stiff and never truly taking her eyes off him.
“Shinobu.” She briefly glanced around, trying to assess if there were others. Were they alone? Was it just him? Or did a pack of monsters wait under the hills of snow to pounce? “And I could say the same for you! I was making a delivery between the villages, but the storm blew my package away.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head, lips pursed in thought. “What did it look like? I could help you search!”
She bit her tongue, keeping her smile firmly in place. “I couldn’t possibly impose that on a man I just met! It’s probably long buried in the snow, anyway; I’ll just have to head home without it.”
He clasped his gloved hands together and laughed, the sound echoing through the forest around him.
It made Shinobu shudder internally. Didn’t snow usually absorb sound, not reverberate it?
“Really, it’s no trouble at all!” Douma insisted, already stepping closer to her. “I live in these woods. I help people lost in them all the time!”
Her hand tightened around the blade as she subtly slid backwards. There was no way he could actually live near here, right? She’d walked these trails before with Kanae during her and Sanemi’s courtship, and she’d never seen this “man” on them until now!
“But then, shouldn’t you be getting home, too?” she asked, looking up at him with her most convincingly concerned eyes. “Neither of us deserves to get caught in another blizzard. We might not survive this time.”
He brushed by her, glancing down at her over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about that. The woods are much calmer now. So, come, come! Let’s find your package!”
Gods damn him. Fine, if she had to play along until she saw a chance to escape, she would. With false words of gratitude, she reluctantly followed him off the trail.
Douma sniffed the air as Shinobu turned her back to dig through another snowdrift. Saliva pooled under his tongue, and he quickly swallowed it, suppressing the hungry sigh that threatened to slip out. The sweetness that emanated from her skin, her blood, her bones was made all the more alluring by the sharp, bitter tang of wolfsbane that accompanied it. Had some flowers survived the winter frost? It seemed impossible, yet the poisonous scent drifted at the edge of his senses.
He paid it no mind. He had a delightful distraction in front of him, another delicate, stubborn thing that refused to die in ice. He hadn’t been lying when he said that people usually didn’t wander in the woods during winter. He had such poor luck with hunting in the forest this time of year that he usually ventured to the bigger towns and cities outside the mountains. He’d been on his way to do that when he’d spied the dot of blood-red weaving through the trees, basket in hand.
What a beautiful snack before I set out on my journey!
It took little of his energy to summon the small blizzard. She was such a tiny thing, he’d thought it would kill her quickly! His ice worked faster than nature’s, and he was sure that in no time, she’d be wrapped in the peaceful void of death, her fair skin turned blue. He had already been licking his fangs in anticipation when he saw her crouch to the ground, but then…
She got back up. She swore and screamed at his storm in a way he’d not witnessed in a hundred years, but she got back up. He’d pouted because his meals so rarely fought back like that, and his schedule didn’t allow for a fight! The longer he watched her, the more she piqued not just his appetite, but his interest. It’s been a while since he had such determined, intriguing prey, and while he didn’t have time in his planner for a long brawl, a momentary amusement could always be penciled in!
He turned away from her and crouched down, silently slipping the basket out of his robes. Smiling, he dusted it with a handful of snow and coated the edges in a thin layer of frost. Perfect!
“Shinobu!” he cooed, standing up. “Look here! Is this it?” He waved the basket in her direction, trying to keep his tail from wagging under his cloak when she looked up.
How strange! He’d expected shining thanks, but instead, those pretty violet eyes of hers briefly flooded with pure rage. It vanished near-instantly, but werewolves had excellent vision; Douma knew what he’d seen. His chest clenched, something it’d never done before, and he almost reached up to touch it. What was this? Had she caused something new? Something unknown? Why?
Maybe it wasn’t her! Maybe he was developing some kind of illness? Or perhaps it was just hunger pains…
“Thank you so much for finding it.” Shinobu held out her hand as she stood just out of his reach, smiling demurely. “Give it here, please. If I’m quick, I can still make my delivery.”
If she noticed Douma’s ears twitch under his hood, she said nothing.
Oh, right, she claimed she was delivering this… He wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but regardless, he pouted. His brief fun was at an end, and so was her life. He decided to commit her beauty to memory, his eyes flicking over her form with inhuman speed. Should he keep something of hers? Her cloak, perhaps? It was such a striking color, after all, and it would carry her scent the longest. He noted the embroidery near the trim, silver and gold thread sewn into delicate images of flowers and butterflies.
He put on his best pitiful smile. A butterfly, yes. That suited her so well.
“Of course.” He dashed into her space before she could fully understand his expression, his cloak flowing with the wind to surround her. “Here you go!”
Shinobu ripped the basket from his grasp and lunged back. He swiped at her, a fraction of a second too slow, and her eyes widened as she saw his bare hands for the first time. Claws. He had claws. He truly was no man!
She pulled her blade free and brandished it before his wide eyes. “What are you?!” she snarled, heart pounding so fast she couldn’t even feel the cold.
He blinked a few times, looking from her to his hand in utter bewilderment. Then he laughed, brightly, enthusiastically, as if she’d just told the funniest joke in the world. He flexed his claws a few times and finally gave her a toothy smile—revealing four long, razor-sharp canines that made her wish she had just as many knives.
“That was fast!” Douma exclaimed, taking a step towards her.
He moved so quickly that his hood fell back, and Shinobu gasped as a pair of wolf-like ears emerged from underneath. They were the same color as his hair, framing a strange, dark red and black circle that crowned him. The dripping pattern of the circle matched his cloak, but it wasn’t a hat; it was just part of his hair.
What the hell…?
“What are you?!” she demanded again, her mind reeling like she was back in that storm, searching for any solid ground, any escape or cover.
He ignored her question and practically skipped forward. “Hey, hey, Shinobu! Do you think you can dodge my claws again? Or even stab me with that knife? It’s been a really long time since someone’s been able to do that!”
She didn’t have time to respond before he lunged at her. Adrenaline spiked, and she swerved away from every deadly arch he made. Grace and speed held complete control over her body as she ducked, twirled, and leapt out of his reach each time. In her clouded mind, she couldn’t help but think: if someone saw them in this open, snowy field, they’d look like they were dancing.
Douma pounced over her, landing just in her escape path. His hands shot out to grab her, her eyes zeroing in on those blade-like claws. If they cut her, she was done for.
“No!” She swung her knife in a swift, clean slash, crimson staining the once-pure snow. A few droplets splashed onto her cheek, hot and real, solidifying what she’d just done.
Her eyes widened.
Douma froze in place, his delighted expression melting away. His mouth fell open, and he reached up slowly towards his cheek, just as beads of ruby blood rolled down his jaw. He brushed his claws over the wound tentatively, not as if it hurt but as if he couldn’t believe it was there in the first place. The first bead dripped off his jaw and landed in his hand, snapping him out of his stupor.
“You cut me,” he whispered, rainbow eyes wide and shining as they met hers. “You did…”
He was distracted. She had momentum. She couldn’t stop now!
Shinobu struck again, plunging the poisoned knife into his arm that he raised just in time to defend himself.
“Wow, you did it again! That’s amazing! This…” He trailed off, touching the wound on his cheek harder this time, frowning. He gasped sharply as the skin darkened, decaying before her eyes, veins black and flesh sickly purple. His eye twitched frantically, and he doubled over, ripping the knife from his arm. It clattered to the ground, and Shinobu swiped it up as fast as she could. She backed away while Douma’s torso spasmed wildly, his arms shaking, struggling to hold him up. He choked for air, digging at the snow, and then—
Red. Red, red, sticky and thick. He vomited a lake’s worth of blood onto the snow, retching and groaning like he might choke out his own heart. Gods, maybe he would!
Shinobu considered herself a master apothecary, even at her young age of 18. She knew the ins and outs of every plant in the kingdom, from the most harmless cooking herbs to the deadliest poisons. Wolfsbane was toxic, yes, but it didn’t do this!
Not to humans.
She shook her head and bolted from the clearing, running as fast as the thrill of near-death would let her. She didn’t slow down, even after the stone path reappeared under her feet. Her legs ached, her lungs burned, and sweat poured down her face, but she kept going. She barely felt the road anymore, more flying than sprinting, the winter forest a white blur in her peripheral vision.
What was that? What was that?! The ears— The teeth— The claws— Did he have a damned tail, too, under those robes?!
Shinobu knew their world was strange. She wasn’t foolish. Beyond the village, beyond the woods, fair folk the mundane pretended didn’t exist granted wishes to crying maidens; princes were cursed to be frogs until kissed; their own king’s daughter, Princess Mitsuri, had been woken from an enchanted sleep by her now-fiancé Ser Obanai. Wolfmen couldn’t be totally counted out in a land like theirs, she’d just never expected to encounter one!
The trees thinned out, and the shape of Sanemi’s village against the horizon rose from the forest. She forced the last bit of energy into her screaming legs, panting out half-hearted apologies as she shoved aside shocked villagers. Kanae’s new house sat just off the town square, a small yard outside that her sister couldn’t wait to fill with flowers come spring. Shinobu didn’t dare stop running until she collapsed against the front door with a heavy thud.
Douma pulled himself out of the blood-stained snow with a groan, shivers raking down his spine. They were not in pain, though. There had been agony in the poison, yes, exciting and new and delicious agony as he’d never experienced! Every cell in his body, every nerve alight like millions of tiny fires had been set off in his bloodstream. His consciousness warping and staggering, trying his best to catch a last glimpse of his butterfly before she fled into the trees. With how morphed his vision had become, Shinobu had genuinely looked like a little crimson butterfly for a moment, flying swiftly out of his reach.
He grabbed at his chest as it clenched again. He’d already purged the last of the wolfsbane from his system, so it could not be a lingering spasm from the poison. No, it felt like the one from before, when he’d noticed Shinobu donning a mask so similar to his own. He laughed quietly, his tail wagging, his claws digging into the top layer of his skin.
Badump! Badump! Badump!
Why was his heart so fast? Why was the air frigid on his skin like it had never been? Fresh blood dripped from his self-inflicted wounds into the frozen pool below him, and even the pain and heat that came with it was different than before! Exhilarating, still, as only pain and the pleasure of feasting could rouse in him, but…sharper. Clearer. As if he were truly experiencing pain for the first time.
How strange…
How wonderful!
He stumbled to his feet, gazing around the icy clearing, and wondered: had Shinobu’s poison really killed him?
Killed part of him?
The part he was born with, long before his packmaster bit him on that ancient full moon, the part he carried since his human birth?
Had her poison filled up that once-bottomless pit inside him and burned it completely away, leaving him to be made anew from the ashes?
A wide grin split his face in two. He had to know, he had to know!
He had to see her again.