The trees rustled in the dusk, a leafy murmur, soft and peaceful. A jay perched in the boughs of a low oak, and a hare pricked it's ears and leaped away as a stag picked his silent way through the undergrowth.

Far above, in the rosy hued sky, a hawk wheeled and let out a piercing cry, soaring down to her nest.

The jay chirped quietly to himself, his beady eyes alert. A mouse skittered by in the leaves below him, and the buck dipped his regal head to drink from a pebbly brook. With a subdued rustle of feathers, the jay flitted across the stream. The deer lifted his noble head, his large ears flickering forward as the bird passed, then lowered his muzzle again to the cool water. The jay alighted in a bramble thicket, searching for a few late insects while keeping watch.

Suddenly he gave a shrill cry, whirring into the air, warning the forest creatures. The stag bounded away into the shadows with a flick of his tail, and the rabbit dove for it's warren.

The forest was silent and peaceful, but the jay was no fool. He had seen the shadow rustle in the dappled evening light.

With another screech he winged his way through the trees, warning the forest creatures that danger was near.

Danger! Danger!

A figure emerged from the undergrowth on the bank of the brook and leaped gracefully across with a ripple of fabric that revealed the glint of a sword hilt.

Danger!

The figure paused, crouching in the bank, and brushed a leaf away from the buck's hoof-print. Then it straightened and melted soundlessly into the trees.

All was quiet.

For a minute.

For five minutes.

For ten minutes.

The hare's nose appeared in the entrance of it's den, wiggling as it scented the breeze. Just as it tentatively emerged another inch, four white paws loped past and it retreated hastily, trembling with fear.

The paws belonged to a wolf.

A wolf who slipped silently through the trees, sniffing and tracking, just as the cloaked figure who preceded her.

The faint smell of smoke and herbs clung to the ground—like a lit beacon to her keen lupine senses. The ranger had been here recently.

She pricked her ears and crept through the undergrowth, her pawsteps silent.

                             >>———> • <———<<

Beruthiel trudged through the forest in the dim twilight. The forest seemed never-ending, and she knew she wouldn't get to Bree before nightfall. She wasn't too keen about it—locals said that these woods were infested with strange things.

She'd heard reports of a huge wolf prowling the area, and had been dispatched from Fornost to make sure it didn't do any harm. Unfortunately, her horse had been killed by a rogue band of orcs a few leagues back and she'd had to walk very, very fast.

Beruthiel suddenly stopped and whirled around, the sword sliding easily out of her scabbard. She'd heard something, a very, very quiet thing. It wasn't her. She'd mastered the art of moving unseen and unheard. Nearly. Beruthiel wasn't one to believe folktales and stories, but the forest was dark and she was nervous. What if the demons that were rumored to live here, did? She mentally cursed herself for being so childish and looked around in the deepening gloom.

"Show yourself," she called out, not really expecting an answer.

After all, why would a demon answer her with anything other than ripping out her throat?

Instead, a white and gold snout poked out of the bracken, then a head with two intelligent amber eyes, and the rest of a large she-wolf. Her fur was creamy white except for gold and grey markings on her shoulders and a black tail tip.

She sniffed curiously, circling. 

Beruthiel expected a demon and got a wolf. A most curious looking she-wolf. The ranger wavered. Was this the wolf that had been stalking this area? It was gigantic. No wonder the farmers and villagers feared it! She locked eyes with the creature. Her training had taught her that the best way to deal with a wolf was to establish superiority.

The wolf snorted.

Beruthiel frowned and narrowed her eyes. She didn't even have to look down at it—the thing seemed to be at least four feet at the shoulders.

The wolf wagged her tail like a dog. Beruthiel had a dog, a very large dog named Huan. He acted like a small puppy sometimes. Was this wolf doing the same? It didn't seem too dangerous. The people hadn't complained of missing animals or any attacks, but she had assumed that it was bothering them. Had it only wanted a friend? Again she berated herself. Why was she defending it? The less wolves the better. She tightened her grip on the sword.

The wolf instinctively stepped back, and the ranger hesitated, the blade wavering downwards.

"All right," she said. "Let's stop playing. You're no warg, but you're no regular wolf either. What are you, and who sent you?"

Without thinking, her hand instinctively moved to the deerskin pouch tied to her belt. It emitted a soft clinking noise as two or more items in it rubbed together.

The wolf tilted her head at the sound, but made no response other than stepping slowly forward.

She approached cautiously, her head high, and her tail waving slowly from side to side.

Beruthiel sighed.

"You're being friendly?" she said disbelievingly. She cautiously lowered her sword and looked the wolf in her eyes.

"You will behave," she said as she wondered what the heck she was doing.

Talking to a wolf? She must be going crazy!

It couldn't be...

No, she wasn't Noldor.

She gave the wolf another glance and sighed again. "Alright, then. You're coming with me?"

She wagged her tail, trotted up to her, and nosed her hand.

"You really are playing at being a dog, aren't you?" Beruthiel asked as if expecting an answer. She sighed. Traveling alone did these things to a person.

"Fine. We're camping for the night."

She looked around for a place that was hidden but would give a good vantage point.

The wolf fell in step beside Beruthiel as she sheathed her sword, and the ranger trailed her fingertips cautiously over the wolf's silky fur. Hmm. A friendly wolf? Unheard of, but it was loping along beside her.

"You know what, girl?" Beruthiel asked softly. "I'm going to name you. How about... Drauginu?"

Beruthiel was no great shakes at naming, obviously, since her name for the she-wolf literally translated to she-wolf. Beruthiel frowned.

"No, not very creative..." she muttered to herself.

"Oh, I know! How about Carcharoth?"

The wolf opened her jaws, her muzzle wrinkling and her body tremoring as a high pitched bark burst from her throat. Was she...laughing? No...wolves did not laugh.

Beruthiel looked strangely at the beast, but said nothing.

Why did she keep getting the unsettling feeling that the wolf understood more than she let on? She shrugged the thought away and laughed at herself. If only her fellow rangers could see her now—walking alongside a giant she-wolf! And an eerily intelligent one at that.

They came upon a clearing carpeted with ankle deep clover and sheltered from the sky by trees. Beruthiel glanced around, carefully taking in every detail. A lumpy line under the turf betrayed the presence of moles, and a red-ant hill lurked in the roots of an oak. Not close enough to bother, though. A large beech grew at one end of the clearing, and the thick, clustering boughs would afford good shelter. The thickets around were close-growing enough to provide a slight barrier and screen, but not dense enough to hinder an escape.

She took it all in in an instant.

"Looks like a good place to make camp," she said out loud. Turning to the wolf, she said, "Stay here, Carcharoth. I'm going to climb."

The wolf sat, watching the ranger scale the beech, her silent fingers quickly finding knots and crevices in the bark. Soon she was gone, lost to sight among the foliage. If it weren't for the wolf gazing intently up at the tree, one would have thought that it was uninhabited.

After a short while, Beruthiel dropped down from the tree.

"Looks like clear weather for the night," she told the wolf. "Let's start a fire. We're close enough to Bree that we should be fine."

There was a loud snort from the wolf, but she chose to ignore it, instead setting down her pack and unbuckling the heavy scabbard from her belt. The small pouch stayed on. She wasn't letting it out of her sight. Gathering a small pile of sticks and branches, she struck her flint against the steel until the sparks caught. She blew on the small flame to make it spread, creating a sizable source of light and heat.

The wolf stretched her paws out, relishing the warmth.

Beruthiel smiled at Carcharoth as she yawned, showing her canines.

She sat back as well, not bothering to cook—her rations were low, and in any case, she'd reach Bree soon.

"You're no normal wolf, are you, Carcharoth?" she asked lazily.

The wolf's tail thumped once or twice and she rested her head on her forelegs.

Beruthiel shook her head slowly. As if she expected an answer. Her hand went to the pouch at her side to make sure it was still there. It was. She eyed the wolf warily, then leaned against a tree.

"Well, I'm going to sleep now," she said. "Pray don't start a wildfire."

The wolf stretched and sat up. A log popped and her ears swiveled forward, flicking back again as she yawned.

The fire burned low, and the clearing grew dark, but every spray of sparks glittered in the creature's watchful eyes. 

It's a short chapter, I know, but I'm pretty busy. Updates will be random, depending on my schedule. 

This book is based on a roleplay by me and @return_of_the_king.  The character of Beruthiel belongs to her. 

Tell me all your thoughts and theories, I'd love to hear them!!