The hardy grass of Asaheim crunched beneath his booted feet as he walked through the valley, cool wind blowing over him. Once it would have bitten to the bone, now it was simply refreshing despite his simple breeches and shirt. Sigurd breathed deeply, smiling to himself as he walked along. He heard the birds in the trees, the rush of water over the rocks as the little stream ran by him, the pine trees giving the whole place a lovely spiced scent.

This was his fifth day away from the Aett, or the Fang as others called it. He sighed for a moment, lamenting quietly that so many mistranslations left his world and people looked on negatively, savages obsessed with pagan idols and animal worship. He grunted, the only outward sign of his annoyance. He had come out hunting to clear his mind, there had been reports of some dangerous animals in the region potentially endangering the humans living near the coast, but thus far nothing. He suspected it was just drunken tall tales, but he had taken it as an excuse to get out of the great fortress of his chapter.

In truth, he had just wanted to get away from it all for a bit. As a Blood Claw he was a relatively young space marine, supposed to be full of energy and fury and the thirst to prove himself. True he felt such things, but he also desired solitude that was hard to find among his boisterous friends and battle brothers. He needed to get out now and again, to walk in the green, to breathe air scented with trees and flowers rather than vast machines and ancient stone. Here, many miles away from anyone else, he had found it. He was as utterly alone as it was possible to be.

So why did he feel like something was following him?

He glanced over his shoulder, not able to shake it despite nothing being there. There was something indescribable that told him he was not alone in this distance place. Sometimes he would catch a scent as the wind changed, unable to identify it before it was gone again, something strange and oddly familiar somehow but he could not place it. Sometimes he would hear the faintest sound on the edge of his hearing, then nothing. He would see a flicker of movement that seemed out of place from the corner of his eye, but investigation revealed that nobody was there. He was the hunter, the stalker, some said he’d be a fine Wolf Scout someday if he had the patience for it, but he felt now like he was the prey being pursued. He had felt like this since his second day out from the Aett, but still nothing had happened to him.

He supposed this could be the beasts the old wives tales had spoken of, or it could always be a Wulfen who’d wandered off after changing. But it didn’t feel aggressive, not trying to pen him in, and why wouldn’t it attack whilst he was sleeping? He didn’t understand. Unbidden, his hackles rose and he turned, looking into the canyon behind him. Nothing, save the sound of water and the flitting of birds, and a strange scent that teased him with his inability to identify it. It seemed at once utterly alien, and infuriatingly familiar, like something he’d used to know well but had since forgotten. He shook his head, jumping at shadows, patting the large knife on his hip, before he continued on.

By the next morning  a heavy fog had settled in the valley. He could still hear the stream in the distance but he’d made camp further away, throwing his bedroll beneath a pine tree on a bed of dry needles. He had troubled dreams that night, things he didn’t understand at all. He forgot the details as he woke, but he still remembered a few images, a few feelings. Rushing across a snowy field, feeling the wind upon his face, his heart racing and fire in his blood, a reason to live for, a thing worth having, something special and meaningful he’d never had before. He had been eager, he had been happy, and then he had awoken and it was over and he did not know what it meant.

He almost didn’t notice it at first as he collected his bedroll in the predawn morning, but then he did. The scent was back, and stronger now, he hadn’t noticed it because it had been there when he woke up, powerful and he knew its source had to be near. The air was still and heavy, no strong wind to carry it to him over distance. He sniffed again, the scent was cloying, a heavy musk that rolled across the air as a thick as the mist that obscured his vision. His hearts beat in his chest and he put his hand to his blade, looking out into the misty valley clearing.

Something moved out there, obscured in the fog despite his enhanced eyes, he could see in darkness but he couldn’t see through opaque fog. He reached down, hefting his pack onto his back and spread his feet, standing ready. He heard the sound again, footsteps in the darkness, the quiet rustle of feet over grass. Then he heard breathing, deep and slow, while his rushed fast and shallow. He was almost angry at himself before he realized it wasn’t fear he was experiencing, it was something else, some feeling he couldn’t understand.

He gripped the hilt of his blade, a growl building in his throat, a powerful bass sound that began deep in his diaphragm and built up until it rolled out into the night. The footsteps stopped, the smell grew stronger. He drew his knife, backing up to press his back to the tree, if nothing else this thing would not sneak up behind him. Then he saw the eyes shining in the dark, two amber orbs nearly at chest height. The scent washed over him, making his hearts hammer in his chest despite his attempts to remain calm. To hell with this waiting, he took one step forward.

The eyes flashed once, and then vanished, the sound of fast running feet vanishing into the night. He charged off after the sound, trampling the grass underfoot beneath his thick boots but whatever it was, it was faster than him. He ran off, driven by something he couldn’t explain, was it anger, fear, he couldn’t say. Eventually he realized the chase was in vain, and then admonished himself for chasing in the first place, it probably wasn’t wise to chase after a fleeing creature, best not to corner such things. He slowed to a walk, and continued on his way. At least the scent was gone.

It was three hours before the scent drifted down into the valley to tease its way across his mind again, growing stronger as he walked. He kept an eye out, the sun burning away the heavy fog to leave the valley bare to his gaze. It made him bare his teeth, his hearts thumping faster as he looked around with a wary gaze. An hour later, he finally saw the source. It took him a moment to recognize what stood before him because of how still it stood, of how natural it was in this setting. There, standing upon a large flat stone some fifty paces ahead of him, was a great Fenrisian wolf. It stood with the sun shining down on white-grey fur that fluttered softly in the breeze where it stood, regarding him with calm amber eyes. The sight reminded him of a lord upon a throne, looking down at a subject.

It was perhaps quite apt, he had most likely wandered into this hunter’s territory and now it watched him, judging this intruder to its realm. He gripped the knife, but the creature made no sudden moves towards him, it did not carry itself aggressively, and whatever the strange emotions that scent contained violence was not one of them. The great grey wolf padded over to the edge of the stone slab and hopped down with surprising elegance for its size, landing softly and looking up to regard him again. They stood there for a good minute before it turned and began to walk away, slinking up along the shores of the river.

He walked on, looking up to see the wolf ahead of him,  sometimes he would lose sight but the scent trail was far too strong for him to miss. He followed on through trees and clearings, around bends and up hills. It took him an hour to start wondering what he was doing, another half hour to realize that he was following this great wolf. That stopped him dead, but a glimpse of white fur sent him walking again. Why was he chasing one of the deadliest predators on Asaheim? Surely the great wolf would rather he leave it alone and let the wolf simply get on with its day, but it never ran faster than he could follow, never tried to avoid him, it left a trail anything could follow with the right nose. He felt the dream again, the scene was different but the feeling was oddly similar, he was eager, almost desperate in some way, this called to him in a way he could not understand, as if it spoke to something inside he had never noticed was there.

By noon he realized he was getting closer now, the scent building. Steadying himself he turned into a clearing and saw the wolf again, this time bloodied. The wolf had brought down an elk there and was eating its fill. The hunter turned, looking up to him as it ate, not seeming to mind his presence as it gnawed on a leg. He took a slow step into the clearing, the wolf returning to its meal. He walked over, smelling the fresh meat, it awoke a hunger in him, he’d been eating cured meat and jerky for days now and hadn’t hunted anything large for himself. He kept a wary eye on the wolf, jumping back when it stood. But the wolf simply walked away to stand a few feet away.

Sigurd walked over again, looking down at the carcass, hungry. He removed his heavy shirt, no sense in dirtying it, and leaned in to tear rich meat off as he ate, sating his hunger. It glanced up, seeing that the wolf had returned and had begun to eat again as well. They shared the meal there in the clearing before both pulling back, full and sated. He nodded in the wolf’s direction. “Thank… you.” He said, feeling a little silly, before walking to the nearby stream to wash his face and chest off and drink some water, the wolf padding after him to drink as well.

Finished, he sat down, turning to see his strange companion regarding him in return, eyes shining in the early afternoon light. Again, there was no hint of aggression in the wolf’s stance, this was the body language of a canine that was relaxed, open and willing to be dealt with, not guarded. It was strange, but he was glad of the company, this calm quiet creature relaxed him. But the scent, the scent was overpowering and certainly did not relax him, it made his hearts thunder and his blood boil with something he couldn’t explain. He looked the wolf over, this was the first time he’d seen a live one up close like this and had a chance to study. It was lithe, powerfully built with rippling muscles, fur that turned from pure white to grey and reminded him of woodsmoke passing before a snowy mountain. It was sleek, well groomed and… female, he realized after studying it for a few minutes.

He rose to his feet and put his shirt back on, starting to walk again. The wolf walked alongside him, falling naturally into step with him, and after a bit he realized with a little surprise that his hand had strayed to touch her head, rubbing and petting it. She didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact when he realized and removed his hand she pressed her head against him until he returned the attention, sometimes leaning over to rub back against his side. The rest of the day melted away until evening came and he found a nice place to set up camp in a small clearing surrounded by fir trees. He threw his bedroll and laid down his pack before removing his shirt and boots.

He popped the buckle on his belt and was about to remove his breeches when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He looked over his shoulder, seeing that the wolf was lying down near the middle of the clearing, watching him intently with her amber eyes. He turned, grunting to himself, it was stupid, he shouldn’t feel like this about removing his clothing in front of an animal. He didn’t have any such feelings around his fellow Blood Claws, who would often dress around each other, so where was this sudden shyness coming from? He shook his head, that powerful scent hitting him again as he berated himself for his foolishness, there was nothing wrong with this. As if to get it over faster, he undid the clasp and pulled them off quickly.

Something smacked against his belly and he stared at it for a good solid minute. This… was not something he’d had to deal with before. His shaft was something he didn’t usually think about, he had more important things like training and caring for his gear than to ever give it much thought. It was just another part of his body that he had to make sure was healthy but he never really cared otherwise. But now there it was, engorged and stiff, pointing up and off at an angle and pulsing in time with his thumping hearts. He reached down, poking and then pinching it between his fingers, letting out a little ‘ah’ of surprised breath at the sensations he felt.

Of course he shouldn’t have thought this wouldn’t affect him at some point, it was a natural thing the human body did now and then, but it hadn’t happened since he’d become recruited. There was simply no time to ever let his thoughts drift to anything like… that. But he heard stories, sometimes it just happened without cause or reason, it wasn’t anything to be worried about. Feeling like he was making a fuss about nothing he shook his head and went to sit down on his bedroll. He jumped a bit when he saw the she-wolf had walked over and now stood only a few feet away, regarding him where he sat naked.

He sat there, legs open in a slightly awkward pose as she padded closer, knowing he should do something but unable to move. She had walked with him all day, shared her kill with him, there was no reason for her to attack him now. He heard her sniffing the air as she walked, stepping over one of his legs with a broad paw. Some part of him felt excited, another part of him felt cowed. He realized at long last what he was feeling, the influence of the Wolf Within. It was something every Space Wolf dealt with, the part of them that granted them strength and speed and keen senses, but also altered them, putting a little of the beast within each of them.

He had never felt it more keenly than now, this she-wolf was communicating with it in the animal way of her kind, not with words but posture, emotion carried on scents and through eye contact. She was intent upon him and the Wolf Within called out to her, though  he could not understand why. The dream came again, rushing across the snow, desperately chasing something. Some part of him knew that the she-wolf before him was the thing he had been chasing, and now he had caught her. Or had she caught him?

While he wrestled with such things, the wolf sniffed over him, before she lowered her head to hover over his crotch, sniffing at it. He reached out. “No!” His hands gripped at her head as she opened his mouth and licked him. “Gah! Oh…” He groaned as her broad, warm tongue lapped over his hard flesh, sending unfamiliar sensations racing up his body, head thick with pheromones as he tried to shake it off. His grip relaxed, holding her head in a more gentle grip as she continued to lick at him, her amazingly wet tongue lapping over his warm shaft and then down over his heavy balls. He gasped as her cold wet nose touched his flesh.  He began to understand, understand what she wanted, Russ, she wanted him!

He began to pant, everything telling him this was wrong, so terribly wrong, but he wasn’t able to stop her. He didn’t want to hurt this powerful creature, and she certainly wasn’t hurting him. On the contrary her attentions felt amazing, licking and nuzzling and breathing in his scent. He wondered if he smelled as intoxicating to her as she did to him. He gripped her head gently, running fingers through warm fur as she continued before she began to stop and pull up, he let her. The she-wolf stood up over him, looking down at him with appraising eyes before turning. The Wolf Within howled to see her leaving him, and he was saddened as well, then he saw her stop in the clearing.

Her pose shifted and it took a moment for him to realize what it was. Her stance was steady, back legs spread a little, tail turned to the side. Russ, she was presenting herself to him, having examined him for herself. He realized now what all this had been, this wolf was –courting- him! She had watched him and judged him, and found him worthy, a worthy… mate! It was all he could do to remember to breathe. She turned her head, looking back over at him where he sat, shaft throbbing and obviously approving while he wrestled with himself.

This was wrong, it didn’t feel wrong but he knew it was. If his fellow Blood Claws found out they would mock him for the rest of his days. If the priests found out they’d probably shoot him and turn his story into some kind of tragic legend to warn new recruits about. He had every reason not to, everything he’d ever been taught even before in his dimly remembered mortal life was telling him not to do this, he had nothing to gain and everything to lose.

On shaky feet, he rose and began to walk over to her.

The Wolf Within howled in approval as he came up behind her, slow and cautious as she watched him with her confidant, calm eyes. He dropped to his knees and now down at her height the scent of her heat washed over him. The human part told him this was wrong, but the Sky Warriors of Fenris were not human anymore, they had bonded themselves to the hunting wolves of their cold world. Psykers described it as having two halves to their soul, each a part of the other but distinct. The Man was hesitant and afraid, afraid of discovery, of judgment, of the standards of his world. The Wolf cared nothing for this, here was a powerful dominant female who had judged him and found him worthy and his hearts sung with pride at this, knowing he was strong enough to hold her interest, to bring her to him. He leaned in, breathing deep as he saw the pink puffy flesh beneath the thick fur, her musk washing over him. He got closer until it filled his vision, hearts beating so hard he was shaking, then he closed his eyes and leaned in.

Warm flesh touched his face and he smelled it, opening his mouth to taste. The protests of the Man grew quieter as even that part of him began to yield, to understand what was happening and relinquish in its protest. He let the Wolf lead, the Wolf in him knew what to do even if the Man did not. He licked and lapped at the soft flesh, as the she-wolf had done to him, tasting and smelling and sampling, reveling in her body. His hands gripped her hips and he curled his fingers into her thick warm fur, holding her gently as his probing tongue found the opening in her flesh and worked along the opening, unskilled but eager.

He licked and explored, prodded and kissed in instinctual movements that seemed hard coded into his body and mind, eyes closed as he enjoyed this moment, returning the affection she had given to him. How long he persisted he wasn’t sure, but by the time he finished she seemed far more wet than before, musky smelling fluids gently flowing from her body and droplets of concentrated musk clinging to her fur, the raw scent of heat and imminent mating filling the clearing. He looked up from his crouch, making eye contact with the she-wolf.

She was… beautiful. He had seen beautiful women before, and appreciated them even after becoming a Sky Warrior who had better things to do. The she-wolf was nothing like them, utterly alien. Yet she was beautiful to him, elegant and strong, powerful and lithe, sure and confidant of her domain. Utterly alien, but beautiful. He rose from his crouch, sure of himself now. He let a grin come to his face, wolfish canine fangs gleaming in the starlight as he reached up to grip the fur on her back, going to mount her.

It was difficult and awkward, body unused to this kind of position, but he made it work. Her tail swished aside for him and he held onto her fur, lifting himself up on the balls of his feet as he got his bearings on her back, mounting her and trying to hold on. He reached down to grip his shaft, moving it and prodding blindly to try to find the fold in her flesh, each time only meeting skin or fur, he growled in frustration before gasping as he slipped into her body with such suddenness it took his breath away.

He stood there inside of her, amazed at what he’d done and how right it felt, before he felt her pressing back against him insistently. “Sorry.” He mumbled before he thrust deeper into her, making the wolf give a strangely happy sounding whine.

It was awkward and fumbling at first, but it felt amazing to him. His body learning new movements, new sensations as the wet, firm, impossibly moist sheath of her body accepted him into it. He groaned and thrust, building up a more steady rhythm, holding onto her with both hands as his fingers worked into her wonderfully soft fur, her tail brushing his outer thigh, his heavy balls pressing against her rear as he worked within her. He began to pant, lost in the feeling, in this moment as he felt the energy of the mating welling up within him, carrying him away as the Wolf Within howled and filled his mind with visions of running with a pack, hunting and roaming where he willed, mating with not just one but several willing females each competing for his attention and… and then it burst and he felt his shaft spasm, pumping warm seed into the wolf’s warm snatch.
 
He gasped for breath, looking down at her. “Is… is that it?” He asked, almost sad the moment had passed so quickly. She set her paws and pressed her hips back against his, burying his shaft back inside her and growling low in her chest. Evidently she was not done with him yet.

More used to the movements now he thrust and rocked his hips as she moved in time with him, reaching down to cup her muscular belly for stability as he thrust, the sounds of flesh smacking together filling the clearing as they mated below the stars. He paced himself now, knowing his limits better and having a better understanding of her body. His hands roamed over it, stroking and rubbing, she seemed to like that.

Slowly their pace built until they were rutting frantically together, his gen-hanced muscle and her lean wolf body flexing and pushing in time with each other, moving so perfectly together in a display so instinctually coordinated it could be called a dance, the most primal display either of them knew. He hammered down into her, gripping her tighter as they both growled together, finally he felt her body suddenly spasm around his and clamp down tight and he knew it was over, face buried in her fur he let himself release again, gasping as his thrusts finished as he let more warm seed flow down into her eager body.

They held together for a good long while, bodies steaming in the cool night air as his shaft softened and eventually slipped from her body, smelling his own mating musk as some seed dribbled out onto the snow. He walked slowly, legs feeling unaccustomed weakness as he walked around, the she-wolf, his mate, turning to face him. He got down on his haunches and looked her in the eye, and she licked his cheek. He licked back and they nuzzled each other lovingly, unaccustomed but very welcome emotions warring in his chest for attention. Pride, joy, satisfaction, perhaps even love. He walked over to the tree where he had laid his bedroll and she followed, turning in place and laying down there. He lay down with her as well, laying against her soft fur and embracing her warm body.

There, curled up together in an utterly satisfied embrace, they slept through the night.