She wasn't afraid of blood. The black wolf absorbed that fact with care even as she examined the injured dog between them, heedless of his attention.

He had expected to find her again; his hunting instincts weren't so worn as to forget her scent. But he hadn't expected to find her in the middle of a busy road trying to save a hound hit by a car. Now the sweetness in her face was tempered with fierce determination as she worked, and he watched her instead of the dog.

He didn't like smelling the hound's pain; it was a pitiful thing with instincts bred for human use until its very teeth served instead of threatened. It deserved a better death than being crushed on the road. But the black wolf only knew kindness as a killing bite. At the sight of true pain in the girl's eyes when she looked up at him and shook her head at the severity of the dog's wounds, he marveled at her ability to feel so deeply for a creature she didn't know.

He smelled the hunters before they appeared, reeking like sweat and mud from hours in the forest. The presence of others irritated him too much. He might rip at a throat without thinking. No real trouble, that. His heart was fearless like a man's and guiltless like a wolf's. But... the girl. He was too curious about her to frighten her so quickly, and found himself slipping away when she called to the dog's owner.

He found her again later, in the town's grocery store. His nose took in the blood left on her from the dog, the cigarette smoke and anger from the other woman, and her own lingering nerves. Her instincts didn't seem bad, judging from her wary actions toward a few of the others in the store, but tiredness blinded her and she ran right into him without looking. She apologized, her flush of embarrassment heating the nuances of her scent, and he took them all in while asking, "Did the dog make it?"

"I don't know. It didn't look good when we left." Grief flashed in her face, and those lush lips trembled before she turned to the rows of honey on the shelves, forcing herself calm.

Her kindness surprised him. He hadn't expected much of anything to survive the type of predator she was with. It was impossible to look away while she stood on tiptoe, struggling to reach a jar, and he found himself moving to get it for her.

"Thank you." She brushed some hair out of her eyes, still flustered. "Not just for this, but for keeping me from being run over on the road."

He wasn't interested in words and didn't pretend to be, not when there was a new hint threading through her scent. The moment their fingers had brushed, her curiosity in him had turned primal. Not so surprising; she still thought he was human and a nice one at that.

Laughter down the aisle interrupted the moment. He glanced over and saw humans he faintly remembered. Three boys he'd seen beating a man in the forest and leaving him there to cough up blood. The violence in their scents was clear: aggressive when they had the upper hand and ready to piss themselves if caught alone. The black wolf had faced too many killers to care about their attention, but then the girl's scent flared with fear and he reacted without thinking, sending her away with a jerk of his head. Her instincts were good; without another word, she went to pay for her groceries, looking at him only once before leaving the store. The worry in her eyes had changed. Was she afraid for him? Even in his worn-down state, he almost laughed at the thought.

Humans had weakened since he'd last bothered to fight any; these three could barely bring themselves to approach him, trying to intimidate with words instead. That was irritating enough, and he had just decided to kill them to end the noise when the girl reappeared in the store, a thunderstorm of emotion in her scent. A quick glance out the nearest window revealed her lover had gone off and left her alone. With a growl under his breath, he baited the boys outside instead.

The moment one decided to shove him, the black wolf grabbed his collar and punched him hard enough to break his nose. For a moment, the old bloodlust seethed in his veins, stoking the urge to kill everyone in the town until there was only silence and crows glutting themselves on the bodies. But the girl's delicate scent reached him again, and instead he dropped the blubbering human and left.

Probably a bad idea. The human might seek revenge. But it would also keep this little predator's attention on him instead of the girl, especially now that she was alone... even as the black wolf returned to the forest, he shook his head at himself before changing back into his fur. The old whispers about the vargr were right; it was impossible not to give into softness, both from a woman and for a woman.

Later, he changed back into the form of a man and settled in the van, lying on the lumpy mattress that served as a bed while trying to remember certain things. How one slept with a pair of arms as well as legs. How to keep warm without fur. What he'd used for a name when he'd last lived among humans.

It was distracting enough that he didn't pay attention to the footsteps attempting to be quiet as they approached his van, or the fact that they belonged to the human he had punched. At the smell of gasoline being poured on the ground, though, he stretched and changed back into his fur, taking in the subtler scent of gunmetal as well. The van was nothing to him, and when flames began to lick at its walls, he only used the smoke to leap through the window, shocking the boy, who had been aiming at the door with his rifle.

The shot hurt. It surprised the black wolf, how weak he'd grown. It also made him angry, and his first bite was for the face, crushing what was left of that broken nose. He ripped into the human until the screaming grew thin and he could smell the shit from torn intestines.

Then he had to stop and pant, aware that some of the blood in his mouth tasted like his. The body twitched. The van burned, useless. With the last of his strength, the black wolf dragged the human close enough that he would catch fire once the gas tank exploded.

Then he left, seeing no reason to stay. Pain slowed him down. So did not being able to breathe from the blood. A large redwood would be shelter enough until he healed, but once more he found himself thinking of that girl. A heartbeat passed before he changed direction, slowly following her distant scent.

He'd been shot before but never while so weak. By the time the cabin's windows glimmered at him between the dark shapes of the trees, his fur felt thick with blood. He collapsed on the muddy gravel, breath bubbling. The sun faded into dusk as he waited for the pain to ebb, expecting only the dim comfort of the moon and its familiar face. Then his nose caught the swell of the girl's scent a moment before the cabin's door opened.

The black wolf tried to lunge up and slip out of sight, but his legs only twitched instead. He snarled at his own weakness, trying again just before the girl stepped out and saw him.

Shock and confusion shot through her, but she approached without fear. He kept still while careful hands tested his spine and ribs, both furious at his wounds and entranced by her touch. Then she gasped, and he knew she must have found the bullet hole.

She didn't leave him there. Instead, she dragged him all the way inside the cabin and settled him on blankets close to the fire. The black wolf panted, wishing his fucking lungs would heal and let him breathe. The girl's gentle fingers almost made him forget the misery while she cleaned the mud from his fur. Despite everything, he noticed how she had left her hair out of its bun from earlier, now pushing it out of the way impatiently whenever it interfered with her view. In the firelight, the thick strands gleamed gold while spilling over her shoulders. Her eyes reflected the flames as well, luminous and warm and fearless. The black wolf dazedly thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

Even after her work was done, she stayed with him, settling more comfortably on the ground and occasionally offering a bowl of water. He didn't take it, knowing from the twisting in his guts that the bullet had damaged them as well.

Rain beat against the roof. The darkness of night blotted out any view through the windows. The fire crackled in its hearth, keeping the shadows at bay.

"I don't know much about wolves," murmured the girl at last. "Not real ones like you."

She sounded so shy at speaking that the black wolf couldn't help pricking his ears toward her, hoping for more.

After a moment, she added, "But there was a book about Norse mythology that I loved as a child, and I still remember most of those legends by heart. Wolves appeared in a few of them. Everyone knows about Fenrir, but have you heard about the twin wolves that live in the sky? One chases the sun and the other the moon. Should I tell you about them?"

Norsemen. Well, he had liked them more than the Romans, including their myths. And even if he hadn't, her sweet, hesitant voice would have drawn him in no matter what. Slowly, his muscles relaxed from their shivers while he listened to her as she recounted the tale. The embarrassment in her face faded once she grew absorbed in the words, giving him a glimpse of what she might be like without worry haunting her every move. Not just beautiful but wild, too. Fearless.

As the firelight rimmed them both, black wolf listened, the agony of his wounds shrinking beneath the growing heat in his heart.