"Lucas... I'm sorry... It's all my fault..." A voice whimpers in the dark. Ethan opens his eyes to find himself in a dark room, where he lay on the cool, wet floor, staring up into the distorted face of Charlie.

Ethan reaches up to caress the crying face, only to find his hand covered in blood. He frowns, and Charlie continues to sob,"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry..."

"What did I say about apologizing?" Ethans voice echoes, but it seems to fall on deaf ears.

"I couldn't keep your promise... Ben is going to hate me for this... but it's okay... it's okay..."

Charlie's distorted face starts to glitch, and Ethan can do nothing but lie there, watching in horror. He soon realizes the blood on his hands is not his own, and begins to panic.

"Charlie?" He yells, but Charlie does not hear him.

Charlie's sobs begin to muffle, becoming quieter and quieter, all while Ethans screams become piercingly loud. Everything around him becomes a terrifying shade of red that is all he can see, hear, and touch.

-

"Cyrus!" A pair of hands shake him awake, and Cyrus awakes in a cold sweat. He looks around, panicked, only to find Lance worriedly looking down at him, "Are you alright?"

Cyrus takes a moment to remind himself of his reality, and of his identity. That his name was Cyrus, and Lance was his mate. He took a deep breath, regaining at least an ounce of his composure, "Yeah... yeah... I just had a nightmare."

"I figured. You were screaming so loud I thought you were being murdered. You woke up the whole house... maybe even the rest of the camp."

Cyrus could feels his cheeks flare with embarrassment, "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize - are you okay?"

"What...?" Cyrus breathed.

Lance frowned, "I asked if you were okay?"

"Oh, right. I'm fine now. What time is it?"

"About ten in the morning, I'll leave you to get ready. I'll be downstairs in the kitchen, save you a plate of breakfast before somebody eats it all."

"Thanks..."

Lance casts a worried look at Cyrus before leaving the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Cyrus rubs at his temples, sighing.

It was the first time in a long time where he had a nightmare, and of course it made absolutely no sense. All he could comprehend was Charlie... and the overwhelming scent of blood that left him with a sense of dread. He wondered what the aftermath was of his death in the first world, how it affected everyone he once knew. He didn't dwell on it for long. There was nothing he could do but focus on the present.

He sighs and drags himself out of bed, heading towards his closet. He slips on a pair of denim jeans and a green flannel shirt, stopping to study himself in the mirror - quirking a brow at the very subtle changes in his appearance. His features somehow seemed more defined, and his muscles seemed to fill out his shirt, leaving no room to breathe. It was different from the last time he saw himself - well, that he saw Cyrus. Before, he was tall and scrawny. Now, he had a very obvious change in muscle definition, as if years of exercise had been granted to him overnight.

Cyrus lifts up his shirt, noticing now the four pack he sported. But what caught his attention even more was the cresent moon birthmark on his hip. He pulled down the hem of his jeans to get a better look. He had noticed it before the other day, and had assumed it was a birthmark given how faint it was - but now, it very prominent. The skin beneath the mark was red and wrinkled, almost like it was a burn mark. Almost as if had been branded on with a branding iron.

Cyrus dropped his shirt, assuming it was because of his now awakened wolf. He also assumed that was the case for his sudden muscle definition.

Cyrus heads downstairs and towards the kitchen, where he comes across Lance and Carolyn. Lance sits at the table, while Carolyn is stood over the oven frying some eggs.

Lance turns and greets Cyrus before he even steps foot into the kitchen, "Hey, you."

"Hey," he awkwardly smiles, taking a seat next to Lance.

"Carolyn said she'd whip something fresh up for you, so you don't have to settle for scraps."

"I see... thanks, Carolyn."

She hums in acknowledgement, before gathering together some of the eggs and a few pieces of toast on a plate, turning to place them in front of Cyrus. She walks away without another word, leaving the pair. Cyrus swallows the lump in his throat, he took it she didn't like him very much.

Lance picks up a piece of toast from Cyrus's plate and begins to slather it with butter. Cyrus picks up his fork and begins eating his eggs, while Lance places the piece of toast back on the plate, smiling. Cyrus awkwardly returns the gesture before munching down on the toast. Such a wierd guy...

When Cyrus is done, Lance picks up his plate and places it in the sink, gesturing towards the boy, "C'mon, let's get going."

Cyrus stands and follows him. They head out of the house and through the camp. It seems there are more groups sweeping the woods, this time in higher numbers. Yesterday must of left the whole camp on edge - which was understandable considering a Bloodmoon managed to slip past into the camp so easily, it must of lead them to up their security. Along with the groups sweeping the trees, some members have taken to training. Cyrus focuses on two fully shifted wolves attacking each, quite literally at each others throats. From a far it would look as if they were trying to kill each other, but considering how everyone around them wasn't actively trying to keep them apart, it was easy to assume they were simply training.

A wolf races to catch up with Lance, following behind. Cyrus tenses up, still not used to having a full grown wolf within five feet of him without it trying to actively kill him. Then again, he actively had to remind himself he was one of them.

Lance isn't fazed in the slightest, waving away the wolf, "We don't need a bodyguard, Rudy. Not going that far."

The wolf whines, slowing in its tracks. Cyrus turns to look over his shoulder at the wolf as they continue to walk away. He locks eyes with a pair of brown eyes that stare into his own. Rudy? The wolf turns and trots away.

"Hey..." Cyrus starts, facing forward, "How do you know who's who? You all kinda look the same - no offense."

Lance casts a look down at Cyrus, "What do I smell like?"

Cyrus raises a brow at the strange and sudden question, "Uh... smoke and trees?"

"Okay," Lance nods, confirming Cyrus's answer, "That's what you call my scent; everyone has one, and everyone has a unique scent of their own. Taking that into account, that is how we identify ourselves from each other, and track each other down if something happens."

Cyrus nods slowly, taking in the information, "What do I smell like?"

Lance's lip quirks upwards, "Sweet."

"I smell sweet?"

"Mhmm," Lance hums, now smiling.

Cyrus makes a face. Unfortunately he couldn't smell himself, but to smell sweet? Hadn't this body lived in the woods its whole life? "Sweet like what?"

"It's quite hard to explain... I don't think there is something I can compare it to. But... your scent, it's certainly strange."

Cyrus looks straight ahead, focusing on the path ahead. Strange? My scent is strange? What the hell does that mean?

Lance seems lost in thought as he walks, "I remember it differently from when we were kids..."

"How so?"

"It doesn't matter," Lance shakes his head dismissively, "I like it better now anyway. We're here."

Cyrus stops in his tracks, looking up to study his surroundings. In a small clearing of trees was a small pond, the the pond he had a faint recognition of seeing before. There was a small gathering of rocks above the pond, where a stream fed into the pond.

Lance takes a seat on the rocks, letting his legs dangle. Cyrus does the same, recognizing the spot he waltzed out of the trees after hunting down Etna when he first awoke, only to find Lance instead.

"This is where you and I first met when we were kids. Well, when I first met you..." Lance gazes into the foliage, "As the son of an Alpha, a lot was expected of me growing up. I was, of course, to take over my father's position one day. Each day growing up I spent training and training, all to please my father. He grew cold and bitter after my mother's death. The importance of my position was drilled into my head - so I never once had any time to myself. Anyway, one day, when I about nine, a month before the red moon, I had an argument with my father. I don't remember what we fought about, but I remember being very angry so I ran off into the woods to get away from him. It was that night I came across you, Cyrus, here at this pond. You were lying there, in the water," he points, "there were cuts and bruises all over your body, and your hair was a tangled mess. I remember just standing there watching you, wondering if you were feral. I was taught to be wary of strangers, you see. But then, you opened your eyes and looked over at me, as tense and alert as I was. I couldn't bring myself to run away. You got out of the pond and walked over to me, staring at me with those big brown eyes that were full of curiosity. Without a word you simply walked off, leaving me to stare after you like a lost little puppy."

Lance begins to smile as he recounts his memories, "After that, I was too curious not to try and find you again. So, the next day I snuck out to the same spot, and there you were, washing yourself in the pond. You only spared me a glance this time, continuing to do what you were doing. I remember asking you a lot of questions after that, only to get no answer. I figured you couldn't talk. Being the kid I was, I started telling you all of my problems, all about my dad and life as his son. After a while you just got out and... walked away again, the same as the day before. I didn't know where you disappeared too, and I never bothered to find out.

The next day, and for many days after that I would come to see you. At times, when I was telling you stories, you would stop what you were doing and listen to me. But, at the same time every night you would leave, and I would say goodbye. You were my only friend at the time, the only thing I really looked forward to when I woke up. You were different in the way you never expected anything from me, or judged me. I remember sneaking things out of the house to show you. You were always so intrigued by whatever I brought. Whenever I brought food your eyes would light up, so I made sure to bring food more often. Each day it seemed you became more and more reluctant to leave, almost as if you, too, considered me a friend.

But, then came the day before the blood red moon... I was to stay inside, as my wolf was too young to fight. My father had guards keep watch over me. I remember not sleeping that night, not because there was a war going on in those surrounding woods, but because I was worried about your safety, and if you were waiting for me there at the pond. The next day there was a party to celebrate our victory in winning the war, but I was too anxious to care. That night I hurried to the pond to see you... but you weren't there. I waited for you to show up but you never did. So each night after that I would go to the pond hoping you would one day show up again. Years passed, and so did my father. I took over as Alpha and found less time to visit the pond. I became more and more like my father without even realizing it. I grew cold and bitter. I hadn't figured this out until recently that you were actually my mate. My wolf was too young to realize it, but I know growing up it felt like a part of me was... missing? When I saw you again, my wolf told me everything I needed to know, and that brings us to today."

A silent moment passes as Cyrus processes Lance's story. The original Cyrus sounded very mysterious... where exactly did he run off to every night? Also, if he was raised by Etna, shouldn't he have picked up the ability to talk? There were a lot of questions roaming around his mind.

"No luck?" Lance pipes up.

"No, I still don't remember anything. And thanks... for telling me all that."

"Well," Lance grins, "I trust you."

"Is there any other way that I might be able to regain my memories?"

"Hmm... your memories might be something your wolf is keeping from you. The only way I can think of is to build up a relationship with your wolf - build trust."

"How do I do that?"

"The easiest and quickest way would be to give your wolf what it wants. If your wolf grows restless or excited, you can pinpoint what that is, what your wolf wants with it, and give it to him. Like a dog with a treat. Eventually, he'll come to trust you with everything."

What he wants? Cyrus ponders, what do you want? Cyrus hasn't been paying attention to his wolf until now, he was alarmed by how lively he was. When he looked into Lance's eyes, his wolf began to whimper. You want...? Cyrus's face began to heat up.

"Mate." An inner voice growled in response.

Cyrus clenches the fabric of his shirt, "Lance, how exactly do mates... be mates?"

Lance laughs, rubbing his jaw, "I have no idea. There isn't a textbook with all of this written in fine print. But... there is one thing you can be sure of..."

"What?"

Lance raises his hand, "Touch."

Touch. Cyrus felt chills creep down his spine. Cyrus stared at the hand waiting patiently for his own. As if a magnet to metal, his hand raises slowly to brush against Lance's tough skin.

Lance gazes into Cyrus's eyes, the gold reaching out to claim Cyrus once more, "You feel it, right?" he releases a shaky breath, "That spark?"

Spark? What Cyrus felt in this moment could be compared to that. It could also be compared to a million little butterflies crawling across his skin, fluttering around in his heart. It could be compared to the sweet caress of the sun after a cold winter day. It could be compared to a star imploding in the galaxy and birthing a planet littered with wonders and intricacies each as complex as the prior. A simple spark didn't seem to do this feeling justice.

"Yeah." Cyrus breathes, "I feel... something."

"That's the mate bond. It's something a wolf can only experience once in a lifetime. It's something stronger than love or lust... no, it's something..," Lance's eyes dance with excitement as he puts down his fingers to interlock with Cyrus's, "...soul-binding."

Cyrus gazes into the pair of golden brown eyes, searching for something that could explain all of these... intense, euphoric, otherworldly feelings. Those eyes, they seemed to look past Cyrus. No, it was almost as if they were looking into Ethans eyes. Into his soul, gripping at its foundations and threatening to tear them down. He wanted... no, he needed these feelings to be his own.

Cyrus rips his hand away, gasping for air, not even realizing he hadn't been breathing in the first place. The air rushed through his lungs like hot coal on ice.

"I know," Lance retreats his hand, rubbing at his now cool skin, "It's something, right?"

"It's..." Cyrus could feel his eyes burn and he bit down hard on his tongue, until he could taste nothing but copper and iodine. Finally, something familiar.

"Scary?" Lance sighs, "I know. Believe me, I do. I rushed into this because I was so... happy." The word rolls off his tongue so easily. Lance turns to lock eyes with Cyrus once more, smiling so bright it could outmatch the sun, "But I don't want to rush this. I'll wait as long as it takes until you're ready to accept me. Until then," he grabs Cyrus's hand, "Feel free to use my body however you see fit."

Cyrus's lips parted in surprise. He studied the hand that held his own with uncertainty. Yet, according to his wolf, all seemed right with the world - and for a moment, Cyrus was inclined to believe him. This simple touch was enough to calm down his wolf, and calm Cyrus down as well. This spark coated his heart in a warm embrace he didn't yet want to escape.

Lance begins to stumble over his words, as he realized what he just said, "Wait - I didn't mean it like that. I meant that touch can help! Yeah, haha," a blush creeps onto his cheeks as Cyrus continues to study him with a certain wonder in his eyes. Lance continues to babble on, "I've heard that when wolves awake from a long slumber, they become a lot harder to control. There are ways to combat that - like this for example. Just holding hands... being around your mate, simple things like that. Not that my body isn't... uh... but if it can help... I mean, I've never done stuff like that, but if it's with you, then - "

A smile tugs at Cyrus's lips, "I get what you mean. It does help, thank you, Lance."

Lance stops to admire Cyrus's smile. He would never get used to its otherworldly beauty, "Yeah... you're welcome."

"We should get back." Cyrus clears his throat.

"Ah! You're right. Let's go." Lance stands, still holding Cyrus's hand as he leads him back towards camp.

He begins to babble on about how training might also help. Like running, going on hunts, and play-fighting. Lance's voice fades as Cyrus continues to stare at Lance's back, in a daze. This was dangerous. Very... very dangerous. He knew this wasn't going to end well, this relationship between Lance and himself.

After all, he was playing the part of the perfect little mate. Even if it went beyond acting... with this warm hand guiding him, he let himself believe everything would be alright, at least for today.