14 comments/ 19313 views/ 17 favorites Wolf's Tale By: Dshannon (Author's note: Firstly, thank you to all the readers who have taken time to write to me about my stories, I cannot appreciate your words enough. Secondly, I can't believe that it's been nearly three years since I last wrote a Wolf story, and almost five since the first, though I am gratified that people still take time to write and ask about another story. Thirdly, I have endeavoured to make this story as readable as possible without people having to know or read the previous Wolf stories on Literotica. However, feel free to go back and read the others, at the very least Wolf's Bane. Or re-read them. And if you want, leave some feedback too...) * The snow swirled and rose and dove in thick swarms, sapping the harsh outlines of the forest and leaving it a dark, dream-like haze. It seemed, for the longest time, to be the only movement in the Russian wilderness. Until a family of chestnut-coloured deer broke through into a clearing, scattering clumps of snow with their panic, and yet instinctively remaining as silent as possible, despite the danger literally at their tails. Not that this would help them; their predator had locked onto them with keen senses, and kept on their trail with an equally keen intelligence. Large as a bear, swift as a cheetah, she focused on the largest of the deer, leaving the younger one alone, though they would have quicker, easier kills. She told herself it was because she needed the larger one for its meat and skin, but she also acknowledged that she relished the hunt. Her heart beat with exhilaration inside her massive frame, a sharp excitement at the imminent kill more satisfying and sweet than the flesh itself would be... Watching the wolves in their natural environment, she never thought she could fully understand it, until circumstances gave her this opportunity. If she could remember these feelings for a report- Focus. There isn't much time, and you need this prey. She listened to the voice inside her head, and paid attention. Just ahead of her, the deer – a female, to judge from its scent – had stopped looking behind it, as it dodged and weaved around the tall, thin black birches, the fog of its breath lost in the swirls of snowfall. Its fear was almost palpable, and that touched the human portions of its predator. So she stopped playing with it, poured on the speed and brought it down, quickly breaking its neck with her powerful jaws, putting it out of its misery, as the rest of the family scattered. Then she ate, equally quickly but being careful not to damage the hide too much. She let her hunger, and her borrowed instincts, submerge any remaining human squeamishness. She needed food, and a vegetarian lifestyle just wouldn't cut it here. She filled her belly as the familiar pains struck her, as if the meat had been bad. She glanced up to see the first hints of light fighting to be seen through the thick clouds covering the dark mountains in the east. It was time. The final time. She was afraid of the pain, and ashamed of her fear. Do not feel shame. No one seeks real pain when it can be avoided. But it will pass, and you do not have to be there to endure it. Come to me. She did gladly, focusing her mind inwardly, as if she were racing through a labyrinth, sure of the path to reach the centre. She left her outer senses behind, as her bones and muscles and sinews twisted and melted, her silver and black fur receding into soft, pale skin, brining with it agony… She ventured deep into her mind, into a mindscape much like the one in the outer reality: a forest, but one without snow, one of huge Nordic trees and a sky packed with stars and an eternal full moon hanging above the rocks. Here, she remained in wolf form – as did her lover, perched upon an overhanging rock, looking suitably proud and regal, and his iron-grey fur immaculate, and his copper eyes aglow. Beloved... If she had a human mouth, she would have been grinning with giddy delight. Fenris: the Norse wolf god, the spirit of unfettered ferocity and instinct. The spirit that she once, in her arrogance, tried to leash and use to do her petty bidding, but who made her his pet – and then, so much more. He leapt from his perch, towering over her, greeting her with a lick across her muzzle, and then a playful nip of her ear, triggering a chase game through the virtual clearing, as if they were pups, before he caught her, and they joined in a brief, primal game more suitable for adults. Afterwards, they lay together on the grass. The pain of her real body was a distant, but still present thing to her, though now she could feel it ebbing as the transformation neared its end. She had to go, didn't she? Her lover nuzzled at her neck. Yes, Beloved. And you will not transform again. My spirit helped you escape the humans" prison, but it is too strong for you to contain forever. Your human body is fragile. He licked at her fur. But appealing. She wondered if there would be any after-effects of these transformations. Sadly, yes. There will be times when you will feel the need to mark your territory with urine. Really? No. She nipped him - he'd been hanging around inside her head too long, he'd developed a taste for human humour – and pushed in closer to him, as if that would keep her inside her mind. Would she be able to survive in the wilderness without this ability? Was the Source he scented close enough? Yes, to both questions. The Source is near, and there are humans around it. When I've learned more, I'll tell you. And would he love her still, when they couldn't meet in her head in lupine form? When he had to settle for appearing in the real world, and having her boring, human form- He nipped her ear, making her yelp. Go, and keep heading eastward. And when nights come again, summon me, and then learn how much I still hunger for your human body. And as she felt her mind drawing away, he added, and carry my undying love for you in my absence… The rush back to consciousness reminded her of the time she'd foolishly dove into the deep end of the community pool as a child, never believing that a mere three meters could be such a great length, and that the struggle to reach the surface and breath could take ages- "Aaahhh!" The morning air was like a flannel on the inside of her lungs, and Sam Brennan sat up naked in the snow, in the middle of nowhere, covered in deer blood. She pushed aside the acute ache that suffused every cell of her body following her transformation, knowing that to remain in place for too long, exposed like this, would inevitably end her aches – and everything else. Beside her, the remains of the deer lay, its black eyes staring accusingly at her, Sam literally having made a meal of it, the snow around it dark and spattered but its hide remaining relatively intact. The smell was strong, but she was used to that. Now she knelt up and began to skin the kill, using the sharpened end of a broken rib bone from its carcass to cut and trim the hide into things she could use: moccasins, and a wrap to cover her torso, where most of her body heat would escape, not her head as the old wives" tale went. She used some remaining blood to mat down her long chestnut-brown hair and keep it out of her face. God, what a sight she must look, like some wild woman of the woods... She needed rest; she'd travelled far in the last seven nights, sleeping during the day whenever she found suitable shelter in some cave or hollow. But now she was trapped in human form, and besides, the Source Fenris spoke of was nearby, as well as other humans. And how would she explain her situation to any of the latter? It was one hell of a long, complicated, unbelievable story: Sam travelled the world with her wolf god/lover, seeking Sources of arcane power in order to contain them before malevolent forces could exploit them. Okay, maybe not that long and complicated. But certainly unbelievable. The last person who'd heard her story, a Russian officer who'd captured and tortured her following an incident involving one of those Sources, certainly didn't believe. And if Fenris hadn't hidden inside her, transforming her body at night into a being powerful enough to escape, she would still be an anonymous prisoner instead of a naked fugitive, destined for a short, painful life. Something not too dissimilar to what she would face out here now, if she didn't get help. Suddenly a weariness overtook her, and not of her body. It was hard, sometimes, very hard to live the life she did with Fenris, though it was something she could never bring herself to admit to him; he wasn't human, what could he say or do about it? For a moment she just sat and cried. How had she reached such a point in her life? She wished that she wasn't a witch, with the power and knowledge she possessed. That there was no conflict, no danger to the world, and that Fenris and she could settle down again. And though she was ashamed to admit it, she sometimes wished he was a normal man too, and that they could have real children. Then she pushed such thoughts aside as unproductive, and unworthy. She started eastward, as the snow eased off. Wolf's Tale "I don't suppose you have any Djinn sitting around?" Cole quipped. Matrov grinned toothlessly. "If I did, I would already have proper funding for this dig and Nicole Kidman serving me breakfast in bed." They laughed. But Sam couldn't take her eyes off the relief. Wolf's Tale And she charged ahead through the streets, Kolya catching up after giving final orders to the entourage. Really, she didn't care. She was home, and she missed her husband and children so much she felt her heart would break. They raced through the city and onto the slopes towards the tree line, gradually levelling out as it closed in on a sheer rock wall that buttressed the southern flanks of a mountain. The area was strewn with elaborate paths and gardens, and a profusion of banners with the symbol of the Wolf Lord snapped in the wind. But her eyes fixed on the Palace itself: an immense structure with four-hipped manifold roofs and towering white walls dimpled with scores of narrow windows. The immense entrance lay deep within the open stone mouth of an immense wolf, its pointed ears drawn back in caution. Samantha passed through the wolf mouth's sculpted jaw, dismounting and removing her scarlet travelling cloak as delicate-looking women in near-transparent silks and gold jewellery silently approached, accepting it. "Where are they?" "In the throne room, Milady," one of the women beamed. "With His Lordship." She still wore her favourite wood-green travelling blouse, trousers and boots, and shook off her attendants" efforts to change before seeing her family. Kolya led her to a pair of gigantic doors, which rose between perched bronze wolves. Immensely high, the doors were studded with plate-sized gold sigils, and their outsize vertical handles. Then, pulled by unseen hands, the doors opened inwards, revealing a long room with a vaulted ceiling that ended in a raised, canopied dais, and a throne, surmounted by effulgent gold curtains – and two live wolves, waiting in attendance to their master. Two rows of painted columns supported the room's centred nave, from the ceiling of which hung short, square-cut crimson and gold banners. There were robed, bare-headed court servants and colourfully-dressed ceremonial guardsmen on the room's elevated upper tiers. At the foot of the raised dais where sat a golden throne, two brown-haired children, a boy and girl eight years old, played with a wolf cub - at least, until they saw the new arrival and rushed to her. "Mama!" She beamed, kneeling and outstretching her arms to embrace them. "Freya! Loki! I've missed you both!" She hugged them tight until they squealed. "Have you missed me as well?" Samantha looked past the children in her arms, to the man who had helped bring them into the world, adding to the joy he had already given her. He was a muscular, bronze-skinned, handsome specimen of manhood, clad in slippers and plain black silk trousers with a single red sash about his slim waist, possessing a hairless chest covered only with a gold baldric and gold torcs around his biceps. His head sported swept-back ash-grey hair, a strong nose and chin, and a gleam in his bright blue eyes radiated light and warmth as he looked at Samantha. "Welcome back." She beamed. "Yes, Fenris, I've missed you too." As she continued to hug and kiss their children, Fenris turned to Kolya. "We thank you for your service, Paladin. Give your wife and children my best regards." "Thank you, Milord." Kolya bowed to him, and then a shorter, though less formal bow to Samantha. "It was a pleasure riding with you, Milady." "The pleasure was ours, Paladin," she replied, sincerely. "Give my regards to your family as well." But as he departed, her attention quickly returned to her family, drawing back to look at her children. "I have gifts for you both." "Which they can receive later." At their disappointed noises, he reminded them, "You both have lessons with your tutor now." He looked directly at Samantha now. "And your mother and I must discuss her visit to our neighbours." She felt herself growing hot at his gaze, his true intention, but kept her composure. "Yes, children, go." She smiled. "We all have duties." As attendants escorted the children, Samantha rose and approached Fenris, catching the musky scent of his skin. "So, Milord, my visit-" "The devil with it," he growled hungrily, taking her hand. He took her hand and led her away, through a private exit behind his throne, and down a stark, well-polished corridor, until they reached a large, circular chamber, lined with gold curtains, carpeted with a large, round rug of many colours and intricate patterns, and dominated by a large circular bed. Feeling more joy than she could imagine, she nearly cried as he pulled her to him, possessing her lips hungrily, and she moaned into his mouth with a sudden rush of desire at the feel of his tongue as it moved, invaded her mouth, his lips hot and plaint and both sapping and galvanising her. She pressed up against him, mindful of the growing hardness she felt in his trousers. Samantha gasped as Fenris' free hand moved up, caressing her breasts through her blouse, fingers playing with her nipples as they began hardening, standing up beneath the silken material. Fenris' lips moved to her neck, kissing and nipping her as she arched her head to the other side, giving him more space. "Beloved... I've missed you-" "And I, you, my dear," he whispered, still kissing her. His hand boldly reached down to the buttons on her trousers, deftly undoing them. She grinned against his bare skin. "I know what you've missed." In truth, so did she, and as wonderful as their many long nights of passion were, she craved this side of him, as animalistic as his lupine title. His fingers slipped beneath the folds of her trousers to her bush, stroking the hairs as his flattened hand cupped her mound, his middle finger teasing her labia, steadily stroking, opening her, piercing her. His finger stroked her clit softly while she ground against him, still in his tight embrace, her nipples aching now inside her blouse, missing the attention they had been receiving before. She looked down to see his hand inside her trousers, looking as obscenely rude and wonderful as it felt; he didn't penetrate her fully, but her sex swelled with arousal, carrying her closer to a climax. And she was rising, growing hotter and higher, like the sun. With a long moan she reached the summit, punctuated with a sharp cry. The strength left her, but Fenris held her up, until he withdrew his hand from the front of her trousers and gently eased her down onto her hands and knees, the carpet in the room soft and plush. She remained there, head bowed, gasping, relishing the feelings, his unwillingness to even undress and use the bed. Fenris followed her onto his knees behind her, roughly tugging down her trousers, ripping material as he pulled them down to her knees. Samantha felt a flutter in her belly as she was exposed, feeling more naked like this than if she'd been stripped completely, though only Fenris could see her private places. Her rear felt cool, but close to it, her sex was hot, her labia pouting, especially as Fenris' hand drifted down between her cheeks and stroked her gently along her slit. A sharp slap of Fenris' hand on her right buttock made her yelp loudly. She looked over her shoulder, with mock indignation. "What was that for?" "For being so desirable you distract me in your absence." He regarded her challengingly. "You take issue with that?" She grinned. "No, Milord." She felt his hand return, striking several times in succession, offering just the right amount of force in the right places, making deliciously rude sounds against her warming flesh and sending pleasurable sensations up her thighs and into her sex. And then Fenris stopped, and reached once more between her burning cheeks to her sex, drawing out her juices, drawing them up along the strip of skin between her sex and her anus – and then massaging her there as well. Behind her, she heard him lower his trousers and pressed forward, the head of his cock brushing along her slit, before descending to her pussy. Fenris pressed forward, slowly sinking into her. Samantha felt a shock of sensation that almost took her breath away, a shock which graduated to a wide, all-encompassing surge of pleasure that she rarely met. It was a pleasure of incredible intensity, as it had been the first time, when they'd married and he'd accepted the maidenhead she eagerly gave him. His hands grasped her hips sharply, as he thrust further forward, the breadth of him stretching her. Fenris' cock slid deeper, and then with another push, it was as deep as it could be. Samantha gasped, the blood racing to her head and making it spin, riding the waves of extraordinary pleasure. And eagerly she pushed back against him, feeling his balls brush against her mound. His cock twitched inside her, translating into pulses of pleasure. She was able to feel every millimetre of him, from the smoothness of the cockhead and its underlying ridge, flooding her with passion. It was a wonderful sensation, and she wriggled shamelessly from side to side to accentuate it. And as he drew in and out of her, he would slap her again, his other hand reaching out and grasping a handful of her hair, making her squirm and fight. Samantha was plummeting into a deep pool of intense bliss, and her sex pulsed wildly. But then Fenris leaned forward, almost laying on top of her, his cock still driving in and out of her. It was enough to complete a cycle within her. Samantha felt herself coming, a huge snake of sensation slipping over her. Fenris' cock began to twitch again, and it seemed to swell inside her, and each tiny twitch was like a sweet kick inside, tempting her with the promise of another imminent orgasm. That expectation hit her as her next orgasm did, as he surrendered to his own burgeoning release, and quickened his pace his body hot and sweaty as she shot into her. His come coated her insides, and she felt every spurt as it spattered inside her, each jet of come producing a spasm that made her whole body shake, her fingers digging intro the carpet, her final cry a short, sharp plea that made her eyes roll into the back of her head, and sapped her remaining strength. Dimly she felt Fenris withdraw. She lay slumped there, clenching her thighs to keep his seed within her, and her head spun. Suddenly muscular arms slipped under her, easily lifting her up from the floor. "Your journey home appears to have exhausted you." She smiled, her eyes closed and her head resting against his chest. "You can take me anywhere, Beloved." Wolf's Tale When her weeping had ended, she drew back, enough to look up at him, her voice choked. "I'm- I'm sorry-" Do you remember the truth now? "N-No. I know now all this isn't real. But there's nothing to replace it." You need to access your own power to free yourself. "How?" There is a way. He drew back, took her hand, found it trembling, took her other, and cupped them both in his own. He stroked the fine, almost-invisible hairs on her forearm, along the grain. It is a primal, intimate power, one humans can access by themselves, or with another. He shifted, drew closer until she felt his breath on her face. He gazed into her eyes, his hands moving up to her hair, her face. Will you let me help you reach it? Samantha said nothing in reply, suspecting what he meant, and she nodded. Her breath quickened as his muzzle drew close to her neck, licking her skin and sending shivers through her. He reached up and lightly stroked her cheek, from her hairline down to her jaw, drawing up goose bumps. Samantha's eyes closed, and then opened, her lips moistening, swelling, ever so slightly. What was she doing? Residual guilt ran through, guilt over allowing this... This being, one who claimed intimacy with her, a being she didn't even remember, to touch her like a lover... You loved my doing this, he told her. But you hate it when I touch your neck. More often than not, you'll bite me when I do. "I bite you?" she exclaimed softly. Disbelievingly. And yet, she does hate it when her neck is touched... She settled, her head on his chest, every so often her breath catching in her throat, her body trembling, echoes of her earlier catharsis. His hand dropped to her shoulder, stroking, finding and raising tiny, almost imperceptible hairs along the skin. At this, Samantha sighed and moved slightly, allowing the loop of her nightdress to slip a little more from her shoulder, her hand on his chest, feeling a massive heart beat within. He lifted his head, gently licked wherever he touched. "Oh…" She tilted her head back, rolling onto her back as he rose up onto one elbow and leaned over her, stroking and licking along her upper arm. His fingertips moved across to the outer curve of her breast. Her eyes opened. May I, Samantha? Slivers of doubt, apprehension, seemed to prick her, before she nodded. Slowly, carefully he drew down the top of her dress, exposing the upper potion of her breast to the outline of her aureole; his strokes summoned more goose bumps along Samantha's curves, the inside of her arm. He leaned in and planted a tight trail of gentle nips along her skin; she felt her nipple tighten beneath her nightdress; Samantha's arm encircled him to his back, gripping the loose skin between his shoulder blades, her breath quickening. "That's- that's-" Somehow, the material had pulled away from Samantha's breast completely. And somehow, his muzzle found its way towards her nipple, the tip of his tongue darting to flick at the flesh, rhythmically, making Samantha squirm. His hand moved to encircle the breast he was licking; his other hand moved up to stroke her cheek and hairline. Samantha reached up and clasped his forearm, to help guide him as his extended, parted fingers brushed through her thick hair, reaching her scalp, again and again. He felt as much heard the moaning she produced - and she started as she felt a stiffening of flesh at his groin, a familiar reaction from her husba- no. His licks moved down to the underside of her breast, to flesh moist with sweat and heat, the tip of his middle finger barely touching Samantha's nipple. She moaned aloud. His hand moved to the hem of her dress. Samantha's head spun. "I'm- I'm dizzy- sit up-" He did; she followed, clinging to him, staring into his ruby eyes, the eyes of a powerful, mysterious force, one still couldn't remember, but one whose love and passion for her she couldn't deny. Then she pulled him in again, kissing his fur as he drew her nightdress up over her legs and thighs, baring her lower half. His hand moved to stroke her belly, her side, her back, stroking down, down, stopping near the top of her rear end. She moaned against his fur, clinging to him as much from fear as from desire, and he continued to stroke her. She was moving, moving in her embrace of him – and feeling his erection, a hot, strong staff between his legs, a very human organ. And then she straddled him, her thighs parted, the heat from her sex like a furnace against his, her breasts in his face for him to nip and lick, her arms around his muscular neck, while he slipped his arms under his and continued to stroke her back. Her nipples tightened against his tongue, and her hands moved up into his hair, gripping him, growling, "Go- Go lower-" He took the cue, his hands sliding down to her buttocks, cupping the full, fleshy cheeks. She moved her crotch against his, gyrating it wantonly, as his hands moved down, reaching the undercurves, between the cheeks, finding the soft downy strip leading to her rear entrance. The feelings! So strong and blissful, like that given by a lover of many years! It was all true! "God- Goddess-" Yes, he murmured in her head. Take those feelings, take that power, and direct it to leaving this place... And then she pulled back, pulled back to reach down and struggle with her nightdress, removing it, watching her own hands, her hair falling down over her breasts. "Fenris- Beloved- I need you- inside-" And, as if to confirm her desire, she reached down between them to grasp his cock, claim it for her own, stroking the length, daubing the pre-come at the slit with her thumb and painting the velvety head fully, until he growled, No- No more- "Yes," Samantha purred, urgent and sweet and jubilant, lowering herself onto his shaft, her hot, sweet pocket sliding down over him like a coating. She reached out and gripped him tightly. "Yes, more." They rocked together, his cock sliding deep inside her, then back, until only the head remained, before sliding deep into her again. They clung to each other as if for dear life, their union a declaration, a defiance to the illusion about them. Samantha felt her feelings rise, and with it a wave of force, like a rapidly-growing storm. This was the witch's power he spoke of - glorious! As glorious as their fucking, as her need to press her naked flesh against his, to let their scents and fluids mingle, to keep this precious, amazing being so close to her, forever. His hands moved up her back to her shoulder blades, his claws now scratching her, his earlier gentleness eclipsed by a need to reclaim her for himself, a need which fed her own passions. And suddenly Samantha came, a sharp, sustained pulse around his cock, drawing him along as he gripped her and lost control himself, rapidly, fervently thrusting up into her sex, spurting deep inside her and lengthening, strengthening her own climax. She clung to him for dear life, lost- Lost Lost Lost Lost in the sensations, they continued to cling to each other on the rug in the relic room, afterwaves of Samantha's orgasm conspiring to steal her breath away as she gasped, "Did it- did it-" Suddenly Fenris withdrew from her, twisting his massive body to nearly envelop her, as he was struck from behind by a wall of flame which made him howl with agony. Then it was gone, and he released her and rose, staggering, his fur smouldering, producing a sickening stench. He turned, and Sam looked past him to the corner of the room. A figure stood there, a huge, humanoid of twisted, distended proportions, of charcoal-black colour and orange-red eyes that blazed with malicious glee. Too late, dog. She and the others have fed me enough. I am free now. Before I'm through with you, Djinn, Fenris snarled, you will beg to return to your lamp! And with a roar he launched himself at Al-Dhib, both of them slamming into the wall behind them, shattering it like glass. Sam dropped into a protective ball as pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling, and then started moving about, checking on the others- Goddess, they were dead, all dead! Drained of their lives by the Djinn! Then she heard a moan, and moved to its source, slapping his face. "Cole!" The Russian stirred, gasping, consciousness quickly returning. "Roza- Irina-" He focused on her. "Samantha, what-" Outside, another roar and blast of fire, and the walls around them cracked and crumbled. "No time to explain, come on-" At her urging he rose to his feet, looking at the others. "What happened to them?" "I'm sorry, they're dead." "What? What the devil-" Part of the ceiling came down. "Come on!" She grabbed him by the wrist and practically dragged him from the room, as the rest of it collapsed in a roar of rubble and pursuing cloud of dust. They raced upstairs for the front door, Cole glancing at her. "Do you know you're naked again?" "Yes, it happens a lot to me." It was beginning to brighten outside, but there was a closer, stronger light beyond the outer walls of the fortress. Cole diverted to his truck, popping out again seconds later with his longcoat and another pair of trainers. "You go through clothes quicker than my daughter." Sam remembered what the Djinn had said about Cole's wife and daughter, but pushed it aside. "I'll pay you back somehow." She slipped gratefully into his coat and tied it shut with its belt, before putting on the trainers. "Come on, we have to see if he needs help." "Who?" "My lover, he's here." "He is? I hope he knows we're just good friends." They fled beyond the fortress walls, to see a battle never before witnessed. The combatants stood in a sloped-down, open field, the same place where she had summoned Fenris last night. All the weeds and grass were burned away. Fenris and Al-Dhib grappled like titans, Fenris morphing between his lupine and human form rapidly, valiantly claiming advantages from either form whenever they arose, clawing and biting and kicking. Al-Dhib, however, stood his ground, flames blossoming from his hands and mouth to coil around Fenris, searing him again and again, the cries from both filling the pre-dawn air. Sam watched helplessly, her heart crying out whenever her lover was injured. Beside her, Cole watched in utter amazement and disbelief, numbly asking, "Which- which one's your lover?" "The one with the fur." She kept watching, silently sending him her love and support. Al-Dhib's mocking voice reached Sam's attuned mind, though he was taunting Fenris. When I am done with you, dog, I shall return to your woman, and give her what she most desires: a real man, to have children with- Grant me what I most desire, Djinn: let me rip you to pieces! But even as they continued, Sam could see the problem Fenris faced: Al-Dhib's form was fire and smoke. Even where Fenris tore into him, flames bled out and attacked, moving so fluidly. What was worse, time was on Al-Dhib's side: the sun would be rising soon, and Fenris would have to flee - though she knew he wouldn't, even if it meant his death. "We have to help him!" "I would love to, Samantha, but I doubt the fire extinguisher in my cab will help." Fire extinguisher... "Come on!" They raced back to his truck as she explained her plan, took out what they needed and returned to the scene of the battle, Sam's back protesting at the weight she was carrying despite Cole taking the brunt of it. Huffing and puffing, she managed to gasp, "Are you- are you good with that thing?" The Russian set his side of the large silver-coloured gas canister down, and then drew out his pistol. I am cowboy. Cowboys never miss." The dead ones obviously did, she thought glumly, pushing it aside as she bent down and shifted the canister, ignoring its chilled surface as Cole joined her, aiming it in the direction of the battle, and then letting it roll down the slope. Cole rose to his feet and aimed, as the canister gathered momentum, the metal clanging in protest whenever it hit a rock along the way. Sam prayed it wouldn't puncture before it reached its target, or lose speed. And when it was almost there, she cried out, with her thoughts as well as her words, "Beloved! Trust me and get away! Now!" Cole fired rapidly, each shot striking the canister in several places, making the liquid nitrogen within escape violently, spraying everywhere - mostly on Al-Dhib, as a white, thick cloud of rapidly-evaporating gas, boiling away in the relatively-hot temperatures of the world outside. Sam watched, scanning the area around it. "Fenris!" Yes, Samantha... Beaming, she cried, "He's okay!" and raced down the slope, with Cole catching up behind her as the blew away, leaving Fenris standing there, bloodied, burnt, straining to stay aloft as he stared at the Djinn. Or rather, what was left of it. Sam and Cole skidded to a halt as they, too, gazed at it: an almost-pitiful, half-petrified figure, its essence suffused with the supercooled liquid, its frozen, steaming surface cracking as it attempted to move, to escape the approaching Fenris, pieces of it dropping off and blowing away like ashes from a fire. Sam stepped back again, taking Cole with her but not her eyes as Fenris growled and swung his fist out, striking the side of Al-Dhib's head, the impact snapping it right off its neck. The head spun off, bouncing and splitting into several more pieces, as what was left of the Djinn collapsed, into shards, or smoke which wisped away. Cole clasped a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Good idea." "Actually, it wasn't quite what I had in mind," she admitted softly. "I thought the canister would explode and put out his fire like they do with oil rigs." "You watch too many movies." The three survivors stood in the silence for a moment, and then Fenris limped away. The pieces will need to be disposed of, put into containers and buried, kept separate so that what's left can't reform. Sam caught up with her, taking him by the arm. "Beloved, you were magnificent!" Then she saw his wounds. "Goddess... let me help you-" No need, as you know. He stopped where he was, and dropped to his knees, his chest heaving. I will be going soon, and will lick my wounds then. She dropped down as well, facing him, holding onto him, pressing close. "I know. I wish- I just wish-" Please, enough about wishes today. He turned his head to look at an apprehensive Cole. You, watch over her in my absence, or I will return and- "And nothing, you lug," she chided, looking over at Cole. "He's just being protective." Cole nodded, smiling. "I would too, in his place." Grateful for his understanding, she returned to Fenris, kissing his muzzle. "Once again, you've saved me. You're making a habit of it." As are you, saving me. He coughed. Samantha, before I go, I must say something. "Can't it wait until tonight?" No. He gazed into her eyes, his hands reaching up to touch her hair. I saw how happy you were, in your wish, with children, with a human husband- "Beloved, no-" Yes. Should you wish to leave me, to find a real Wolf Lord- Sam grasped his muzzle with both hands, fighting back the tears welling up in her eyes. "Listen to me, you big furry idiot. You are my Wolf Lord. You are my husband, my lover, my partner, my friend." She stopped fighting the tears now, let them flow free down her cheeks. "And I couldn't wish for anything more." Yes you could. He licked the tears from her face. "Maybe," she admitted. "But then we humans can be idiots too." True – but you do have your uses. He took her in his arms. I will be back tonight, Beloved. "Get yourself fixed up," she advised him with a whisper. "I'll want to celebrate our victory." She closed her eyes, holding onto him until she felt him vanish from her arms. "God in Heaven," Cole murmured, shaking his head slightly. "Such tales to tell..." He looked to her. "And questions to ask." She nodded in agreement, rising and looking at the pieces of Al-Dhib, which were already smoking in the growing light and warmth of the approaching dawn. "And work to do. A lot of work."