Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Moonlight filtered through the redwood trees. The forest at night had a subtle and ethereal glow that people rarely appreciated, but the supernatural knew better. It was home to many, but the nocturnal creatures reigned supreme; more specifically, the werewolves. Over the centuries they evolved and the gene pool only kept the best of both human and wolf. Keith was the perfect mixture; the perfect balance that made him the ultimate predator.

Tonight’s prey was a female deer and it was making the hunt quite a challenge. The doe bounded over logs and kicked up dirt as it galloped. Keith had bitten it and used the fresh scent of blood to make tracking easier. But there was something strange. No matter how strong the doe’s scent was there was another weaker smell that wafted through the air. It was foreign, yet nostalgic.

Ignoring the scent, Keith raced after his prey. The werewolf leaped over fallen trees, claws digging into freshly soaked soil. As he closed in on his prey, the terrain changed and they had entered a clearing near the bottom of a waterfall. His paws slipped on the wet rocks, but he was getting closer.

Just before he pounced, that foreign scent pulled at his snout in an uncomfortable way. Whatever it was made his fur bristle and immediately on-guard. Keith stopped, skidding against the loose rocks and trotting down to a complete stand still, watching irritated as the doe bounded safely away. He snarled and touched his nose to the floor in order to search for the unusual smell. The scent was dangerously close to that of crisp petrichor. Fresh rain after a long period of dry weather was a pleasant aroma, but not this one. It was charged and suffocating. They were well into the rainy season and the distinctly salubrious fragrance should have been long gone.

Keith followed his nose and it brought him closer and closer to the plunge pool. There was nothing but rocks and driftwood until he saw it: a body lying limp across a broken tree branch. The sight alone was eerie. Bathed under the moonlight and the gentle spray of water was a man, perhaps no older than Keith. The human had both arms hanging lifelessly from the branch, making small red streaks in the water as it flowed down stream. He was faced down with his cheek resting against the rough wood.

Cautiously, Keith stepped into the water to examine the body. It was littered with cuts and bruises, and the largest wound was on the man’s back. There was blood slowly seeping into the water and the rest had soaked into the man’s shirt. Wrapped around the body was a satchel with a few of the local flora clinging to the battered fabric of the bag. Keith sniffed around the bag and pawed at it. There was saffron, small pieces of redwood bark, and tiny vials that clicked against each other. The human was gathering on his pack’s mountain. Not a problem, but the items inside were found upstream and far from the waterfall.

A weak gasp startled the werewolf backwards, falling on his haunches and no longer wary. The human lives! But what happened, Keith thought. The man’s eyes fluttered open, trying to focus on Keith’s beastly form. Its gaze was lethargic and it was difficult to see any awareness happening, but one thing was for sure: the stranger was looking right at him. Suddenly, he felt conscious of his animal appearance.

“If you’re going to kill me,” The stranger weakly panted, then said, “Do it…”

Keith’s ears perked up from the man’s surprising statement then fell flat against his head as he growled. No, he would never kill a defenseless human, much less one so injured! Keith stood up on all fours, preparing himself to shift. He shook his entire body, willing his bones to stretch and snap into the right places. Chest muscles began to expand and bones extended into place. Very slowly, his front paws grew into clawed hands as he dug them into the sharp rocks. Keith used his newly formed hands to balance himself as his legs grew, and when the transformation was done, he shook his fur loose.

A bipedal black wolf stood over the limp body. With a new human-like form, Keith’s vocal cords had developed significantly. Unfortunately, his voice was still mutated and animalistic, so his words rumbled low and dangerous with his speech.

“I don’t kill humans.” Keith growled, lifting a clawed hand towards the human, “Especially one so injured and defenseless.” Very carefully, he used a single claw to swipe back clumps of wet hair. He wanted a better look at the man’s face, and it was a good thing he did.

An unnatural shade of blue pulsed in the stranger’s iris, softly shifting between a gentle white glow before settling down into its original pigment. The color alone was rare in itself, but one that glowed so brilliantly...it could only mean Quintessence: the highest known energy that was said to be life itself. Keith was in the presence of a Druid: a well-respected witch doctor among the supernatural world. They were incredibly rare, and renowned for their ability to heal and manipulate life energy.

The air shifted around Keith and he felt the temperature drop drastically. He could see his own breath escape his muzzle. Something itched at the back of his mind, telling him to run. Listening to his beastial instincts, Keith jumped backwards just in time to hear a resounding violent crack.
When he looked up he automatically snarled and bared his teeth, ready for another attack. But it never came, and he was given a chance to finally see what had attacked him.

A thin icicle spear had emerged from the stream, frozen firmly between Keith and the stranger’s limp body, their eyes still glowing from using their magic. The sheer amount of cold emitting from the weapon was turning the spray of water into snowflakes. Keith watched the small cloud of snow gently settle into the shallow water, instantly melting and merging with the stream. Something about the entire scene pulled on him: the bloody body locking his eyes with a piercing gaze, the icicle spear that froze the very air he breathed, and the moonlight that perfectly caressed every corner in his sight. It was minaciously bewitching.

A brutal cough shattered the spell and in an instant, the spear melted into water. Keith watched as the man’s body shook with every cough until finally, they settled down into an exhausted wheeze. It must have been painful to even attempt any sort of magic.

“I am...not defenseless…” The man wheezed before coughing once again.

Keith huffed and rolled his eyes, “I can see that, but you can barely hold whatever spell you just did.” He took a careful step forward and offered, “Let me help you. I’ll bring you to the hospital—”

“No!” The man yelled before convulsing into another spell of coughs. He cleared his throat and panted out, “I can do this...myself!”

Angered by the man’s stubbornness, Keith growled and watched complacently as the other struggled to stand, collapsing several times into the shallow river before dragging themselves ashore. This one may be a rare witch, but his obstinate personality greatly outweighed his value. There was a loud crunch, and Keith watched unamused as the man once again fell against the sharp pebbles littering the shore.

The black werewolf took a few steps forward, easily catching up with the wounded man, then asked, his voice laced with annoyance, “Would you like some help now?”

Voice broken and gritty, the man wheezed out, “Like I’d trust...a filthy...Lunatic…”

Of all the—how dare this wounded druid call him a Lunatic! That unsavory side effect of lycanthropy had disappeared centuries ago! He wasn’t some deranged animal that would be consumed by his bloodlust. No, he was better than that. But this little druid vexed him.

Not caring if he hurt the witch even more, Keith forcefully gripped the man’s shoulder and tossed him onto his injured back. In response, the man yelped and groaned. Keith crawled over the injured body, placing both of his large human-like claws on either side of the witch’s head. He leaned down and bared his teeth, growling deep and letting his saliva drip from his fangs. Fear spiked in the man’s scent, but there was no visible flinching despite how close Keith’s teeth were to the man’s throat.

“I’m giving you three options: the first is that I leave you here to die. Perhaps another, not so friendly, Lunatic will come along and devour you.” He made sure to emphasize the word ‘lunatic’ in a mocking voice, “The second option is that I kill and eat you myself…” Keith licked his chops before huffing out a hot breath, visible to the cold air, then said, “Third option would be the best choice: shut up and let me help you.”

There was no clear answer except for the man biting down on his lips and turning his head to look away, but Keith could see it clearly: they wanted to live.

With a loud snarl and an irritated chuff, Keith answered for the stranger, “Third option it is.”

The werewolf retreated from his predatory stance and sat down next to the injured man. Very carefully, he lifted the body up and rested the wounded witch against his chest. One clawed hand easily supported the entire body, supporting the stranger’s bottom. The human weighed a lot less than he expected, and they were smaller too. Keith felt as if he was cradling a child, afraid and lost.

With the druid secured against his chest with his left hand, Keith led with his right claw and tried his best to run using only three limbs. He crossed the wide stream easily, kicking up water as he waded through the knee-deep water. When he made it into the forest, he came across a large hill and slowed down for the sake of the human. Claws dug into the redwood barks and kicked up dry leaves. Every now and then, Keith would stop and raise his nose to the air. There was something that worried him, especially with his unique encounter with the witch doctor.

“Hey you,” Keith looked down at the man in his arms, jostling him a bit to grab his attention, “How did you get injured? They couldn’t have been from a fall.”

It was more than just the injuries that bothered the black werewolf, scent was also a factor. Usually, if someone attacks, they would have to get in close proximity to their target, but there was no other smell that plagued the man’s body. Not even the surrounding area. Now the mystery would be solved if whoever attacked was using a projectile, but the wounds themselves looked very much like...an animal.

The man grunted, “Yeah, no shit Sherlock…” there was a groan before the man bit back with, “Don’t call me…‘you’. I have a...name.”

Keith whined and asked, “Fine, what’s your name?”

“Lance.”

“Well Lance, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Keith.”

“I was expecting...something scarier…”

Keith barked and bared his teeth, “You are very rude and I am very tempted to just dump you here and leave.”

The druid, Lance, weakly chuckled before panting out, “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh? And why not?” Keith was a patient beast, but it was coming very close to snapping.

“Because...you’re the first...werewolf...who hasn’t...tried to...kill me.”

A branch snapped under his large paw and he stopped, frozen in his tracks. Werewolves tried to kill Lance? But why? Druids were valuable to the entire supernatural community. They were the only humans that possessed enough knowledge and power to medically treat a mythical being. In fact, there was an unspoken rule against harming a druid. It was common courtesy and logically beneficial: why bite the hand that feeds?

Keith resumed his walk, somewhat shocked to hear this new piece of information, “Are you saying wolves attacked you?” When he got no answer he asked something else, “What did they look like; any distinguishing features?” Again no answer. “At least grunt or something…”

When no sound came, Keith looked down and found that Lance had closed his eyes. He quickly adjusted the body and brought Lance’s chest up to his ear. There was a heartbeat, but it was faint. Keith adjusted him again and brought his slightly open mouth to his wet nose. Something warm tickled it and he knew that the druid was breathing. Lance had passed out, from blood loss or exhaustion he didn’t know, but he had to get him back to his pack quickly. They would know what to do.

The pathway was getting harder and thicker to pass through. If Keith had both hands free, then he would have gotten to his pack’s cabin a lot faster, but he didn’t want to risk dropping Lance or injuring him further. Forest leaves were kicked up in a flurry as he ran, balancing carefully on his feet while he used his right hand to occasionally right himself. In his arms, he could faintly hear Lance groaning weakly with every jostle and movement. He had to go faster. Faster. Faster.

A deep bellowing howl rang throughout the mountains. Keith skidded to a stop and lifted his head high to have a listen. It was a signal; another wolf was signaling their location and it was incredibly close. The black werewolf didn’t wait for the howl to finish because it didn’t belong to his pack. Whoever it was...they were trespassing on their land. It could very well be the same animals that attack the druid.

Keith kept running, never stopping to take a breath, only panting harder and harder until he finally reached the clearing that led to his cabin. The open dirt path was level and he could see the faint glow of the cabin; his packmates were home.

Relief flooded his system too soon, and he heard the deafening sound of twigs snapping. He unconsciously tightened his grip on Lance and brought the druid closer to his chest. The air smelled dastardly and familiar, and it wasn’t just one intruder, it was a small pack. Keith flicked his head left and right, trying to locate the foul stench of bloodlust. His eyes landed on a dark area just beyond the dirt pathway. He could see it clearly: a pair of sickly yellow eyes glowing behind the clumps of shrubbery.

As slow as he possibly could, with an injured witch in his hand, Keith shuffled towards his house, keeping his eyes locked on the glowing eyes. The further he stepped the way, the closer the eyes approached until the beast itself stepped out into the moonlight. The creature was larger than an average wolf rivaling Keith’s hybrid form. Its fur was void gray with a stripe of black that started at the back of its ears and ended at the tip of its tail.

Keith carefully backed towards his cabin keeping his senses open to his surroundings but mostly concentrating on the wolf in front of him. The intruder roared as it took a few more steps forward, teeth bared and gums exposed. He watched as the wolf before him began to morph, bones cracking and skin shifting at will. Underneath the animal’s form, a verbal groan erupted from the beast as it stood on its hind legs and let out a deep sigh. Keith recognized this form.

The intruder growled out his words, mutated and failing to sound passive, “I believe you have something of mine.”

“I believe you’re trespassing,” Keith bit back, “Leave, Sendak, before the others smell your foul stench.”

“Not without that.” Sendak pointed a stained claw at the limp body in Keith’s arms, then said, “Give the druid to me, and we shall leave peacefully.”

Keith backed away even further huffing out an answer, “Like you know what peace is.”

Sendak was clearly growing impatient because after he snarled and barked, more wolves joined him and they quickly surrounded Keith and the unconscious druid. If only he could have stalled for a bit longer! He was so close to the cabin, the others must have noticed by now.

The monster before him held a mutated hand out and demanded, “Give him to me.”

“No.”

“Now, mongrel! Or I will tear you to pieces!”

“Threatening me on my territory? Really Sendak?” Keith barked loud and hard to alert his packmates in the area that he needed some assistance, then made a mocking statement, “That’s a very ballsy move for someone who has none at all.”

Sendak roared as he pounced. Keith was ready to leap out of the way, but the other large wolves had boxed him in. He braced and used both his arms to shield Lance from the attack. There was another roar and Keith heard a violent collision in front of him, looking up to find a familiar figure pinning down Sendak with a single claw.

A white tipped tail flickered back and forth, agitated but confident. Scars were barely hidden beneath the black glossy fur, but the most prominent one was displayed across the snout of the werewolf. Not a single speck of dirt could be found against the white underbelly or even its scarred face. Takashi Shirogane, one of their many alphas, had survived many battles and wasn’t about to lose another.

“Leave or I will make you.” Shiro’s commanding voice rang throughout the area. He looked back at the other intruding wolves that were pitted against the rest of his pack, “The Hunters are on their way. They do not take kindly to traitors.”

The enemy wolves whimpered before reluctantly backing away, taking off without their leader. Sendak struggled against Shiro’s hold before he threw the alpha off and attacked. Their bodies collided and they rolled across the dirt, locking claws and biting against each other. Shiro swiped at Sendak and kicked him off, throwing the traitor across the dirt path. The alpha charged and with dangerous precision, forced his right claw straight into Sendak’s eye.

An agonizing roar erupted from the gray hybrid and immediately both hands came up to cradle the injured eye. Shiro quickly retreated and watched as Sendak staggered about, trying his best to stop the bleeding. It was useless.

“You will regret that Shirogane! You’ll regret stepping in between me and my prey!” Sendak yelled as blood slipped down his muzzle and caught onto his chin.

In response, Shiro stood taller, overshadowing Sendak’s pathetic form and simply said, “Leave.”

When Sendak didn’t move, Shiro dropped down to all fours and released the most savage roar. The sound resonated across the forest causing bats and birds to flee their nests while the other nocturnal creatures howled in confusion. Who had angered the guardian of the forest? Before Shiro could even finish his deep guttural warning, Sendak had turned tail and fled.

Keith let out a sigh and plopped himself on the ground, a cloud of dirt floating up in the pale light and Lance still passed out in his arm. All around him, the other werewolves approached him. When the younger wolves saw that he had a still body in his left arm, they shifted into normal humans and began to bombard him with questions.

“Who is he?”

“Is it another werewolf? He doesn’t smell like us.”

“How did he get hurt?”

“Where did he come from?”

Shiro waved his hand and chided the younger ones for being too nosy, “Stop that. Kolivan wouldn’t approve of your curiosity right now. Back up and give them space.” Once the other’s stepped away, Shiro turned his attention to Keith’s hybrid form and ordered, “Get him inside, you can explain once the human isn’t dying.”

Keith snapped his head up and his voice cracked, “He’s a Druid…”

Everyone’s head snapped towards Keith, shocked to learn that the human was actually a witch doctor. All around Keith, he heard the younger ones start to murmur the words “quintessence” and “myth”. This would be their first encounter with a Druid. The older wolves, like himself and Shiro, had met one before, but it wasn’t under the best of circumstances.

Shiro curled his bloodied claw, flexing them as if he was itching for answers. But instead, he nudged his head in the direction of the cabin, “Bring him in. Hopefully, he’s not as bad as the last one.”

Keith nodded and thought back to his fateful encounter with Lance. He was rude, initially refused his help, and attacked him out of spite. But in the end, the witch doctor gave in. Keith wasn’t sure if Lance would be like the last druid or be better. If Sendak really attacked Lance, and the man fought back, then that was already a plus in his book. Still, he wasn’t going to take his chances.

Together, the pack hurried back to the house with Shiro keeping pace with Keith while the others prepared a room and gathered the emergency kit.

Chapter Text

Sunlight pierced through the thin curtains and colored the bedroom with a golden shade of yellow. The large gray comforter across the bed shimmered from the light as Keith stirred beneath them. When the light trickled across his eyes, he slowly turned his body away from the window to escape the invading morning. The man relaxed once again, tempted by the mattress’ embrace, but his alarm blared and buzzed against the oak nightstand. Keith was forced to turn back and reach out into the cold air, quickly retrieving his phone to turn off the alarm. He struggled to find the button with bleary eyes. It took a few seconds to adjust to the invading glow of his room. A small groan could be heard escaping his mouth as he returned his phone to the nightstand.

Keith flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, still exhausted and growing more irritated by the minute. It had been two days since his fateful encounter with a certain druid called Lance, and the young man had yet to awaken. They tended to the witch doctor, applied ointment, bandaged him up, and not once did Lance stir. Keith should be worried, but for whatever reason it aggravated him. Someone having the ability to manipulate life energy should be brimming with, well, life...not bedridden and drained. It was baffling, and at the same time, irksome.

The man grumbled to himself as he tossed the comforter off his body, rolling out of bed and planting his bare feet into the beige carpet. He stood up and stretched his arms high as he walked into the bathroom, then scratched an itch on his naked torso. Keith finished up in the bathroom, relieving himself and brushing his teeth, before sorting through the discarded clothes across the floor. He went through them until he found a shirt and sweatpants that smelled clean.

On his way down to the kitchen, he passed by the guest bedroom that had Lance. He cracked the door open and poked his head inside. Lying peacefully and neatly tucked away was the druid. Keith could still smell the thickness of petrichor drowning the room, but this time it wasn’t suffocating. The scent had eased out into something cleaner, closer to resembling the freshness of Mother Nature’s first downpour. Keith took another deep breath, taking in the crisp aroma and hummed in satisfaction; it was a healthy feeling. At least the druid was healing. Satisfied with what his nose reported to him, Keith closed the door slowly, listening for the familiar click from the door. The next thing he needed to do was to prepare breakfast, something he wasn’t keen on doing.

The entire cabin was made of oak wood, and although the large house was newly renovated, the stairs still creaked when Keith made his way down. Turning the corner at the base of the stairs led him straight into the kitchen and also straight into a familiar, flamboyant hunter.

“Good morning, my boy! Care to join us for some breakfast? I assumed you wouldn’t mind if I took over that duty for today.” Keith blinked, caught off guard and unsure on how to respond to the man.

Standing before the werewolf was Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, a man well into his forties and someone who had a taste for dandified fashion. He still had a good amount of his hunting gear on: Persian Blue fabrics were held together by buckles and knots, and the flexible armor that layered like honey-combs peeked out from beneath his robes. The image of Coran with his well-kempt orange hair and an even finer mustache was dichotomic when looking at his hunter appearance. The wooden spatula in his hand, and the frilly pink apron over his gear wasn’t helping.

Keith snapped out of his stupor and responded in kind, “It’s alright Coran, you’re actually helping me out.”

The bubbly man smiled and turned his attention back to the frying pan, “What will it be, lad? Scrambled eggs? Bacon? Pancakes?”

“Bacon...and scrambled eggs.” Keith kept his eyes down as he shuffled over to the joined living room.

From the kitchen, Coran confirmed his order and began to dance around the kitchen as he prepared food. The sizzling sound of oil and fat popped in the air and Keith could already feel his mouth watering. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before plopping himself down on the long couch. For a couple of minutes, Keith was unsure of what to do next. Usually, he would be out of the house by now, taking a morning run back into Elchea City to get ready for his job. But Kolivan and Shiro said that they would feel more comfortable if he took a few days off to watch the druid. In other words, babysitting.

A soft click snapped in Keith’s ears and he immediately remembered that there was a second hunter in the house. He sat perfectly still on the couch, listening intently to the constant clicking sounds that tapped against the wood paneling. When the sound stopped, a pair of slender hands appeared in his peripherals and covered his eyes playfully.

“Guess who?” A woman’s voice softly sang above his head, and he could feel wisps of her hair tickling his cheeks.

Keith groaned and pried the woman’s hands away from his eyes, then grumbled, “Are you really going to ask me that this early in the morning?”

The woman behind him sighed and leaned over the back of the couch, “I’m sorry, Keith. I was just trying to lighten your mood a bit. You seem troubled...more likely frustrated.”

Working alongside Coran as a hunter was Allura, Princess of Altea and the last of her royal lineage. She had an air of elegance and refinement despite her relaxed state. She had a black tank top with long straight-leg jeans that covered matte high heels. Had it not been for her brilliantly white hair, Keith would have thought Allura to be an average, everyday woman. But he knew better. Her family had descended from the famous hunters that tracked supernatural creatures. Allura was not a woman to be trifled with and although she was ruthless when it came to hunting, she was a fair leader and took everyone’s thoughts into consideration...even if it did take a long time for her to warm up to a pack of werewolves.

“I’m not frustrated, I’m just on edge. I don’t like this situation and how it happened.” Keith kept his eyes focused and locked on the black screen of the mounted television. Hunters didn’t bother him, but something was.

Allura sat down beside him, making his body bounce before settling, “Being on edge is the same as being irritated. I think you are bothered by the fact that a supernatural attacked a witch doctor.” The huntress crossed her legs and then scooped her hair to one side. She began to weave the strands into a braid while she continued, “It is unheard of, but it does make finding a motive easier.”

“Killing for fun is enough motive,” Keith crossed his arms and growled, “We’re talking about Sendak here, fucking prick.”

There was a sudden flick to the side of Keith’s head making him snap his teeth. He growled at Allura who had the most unamused expression. The woman had just flicked him in the head! Keith watched annoyed as Allura finished braiding her hair and tossed the glorious white locks over her shoulder.

“Your wolf is showing.” Allura pointed down at Keith’s hands.

Surprised and confused, the werewolf looked down and saw that his claws had grown. They were piercing his arms and blood was lazily sliding down his skin.

“Mother fuck—” Keith jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

An apology flew from his mouth as he bumped into Coran. When he got to the sink, he scooped up some water and began to wash the blood off. The more he wiped, the quicker the injury healed. Enhanced regenerative abilities were one of the many perks of being a werewolf. Keith could see his own skin slowly sew itself together and in a matter of seconds, his arm was smooth and clean. He sighed heavily as he grabbed a towel to wipe his arms, apologizing once more to Coran.

“Sorry, I just...I don’t like it,” Keith tossed the towel back onto the counter and circled around the kitchen window to join Allura, who had moved to the high stools, “This isn’t the first time Sendak had trespassed onto our territory. He’s getting bolder, and this time he involved a human—”

“Druid.” Allura corrected. She brushed a strand of white hair from her eyes and said, “They may look human, Keith, but Druids are still very much a part of the supernatural world.” The huntress laced her fingers together and rested her elbows on the high counter then said dangerously low, “I would know…”

Before Keith could respond, they were interrupted by a loud crash. Everyone’s attention snapped towards the stairs as they watched two large wolves scramble. They were startled and fighting each other to get downstairs faster but instead tripped, tangling themselves as they slammed into the floor. Feet flailed through the air as both scurried to regain their balance, and when they finally found their footing they shot towards the living room. The larger of the two flew around the corner, while the second one dipped behind the couch whining. Within seconds, a human head popped up from behind the couch, hair wild and tousled from the transformation.

Keith was on his feet, snapping to get an answer, “What the hell was that, Regris?”

The naked man cowering behind the couch snapped back, confused and angry, “How should I know? We just poked our heads in to check on the Druid! Next thing we know, the porcelain is broken and there’s a fucking spear in the wall!”

Porcelain? A spear? Keith hurried up the short flight of stairs, skipping them by twos until he turned to reach the second floor. Behind him, he could hear Allura and Coran trailing behind him just as confused and worried as he was. Just down the hallway, Keith saw it. There were white ceramic pieces scattered along the floorboards and a translucent spear protruding from the wall. The spear itself was fairly simple in design, but it was clear as freshwater and it emitted a heavy vapor that slowly floated until it dispersed.

Carefully avoiding the menacing spear impaled in his cabin’s wall, as well as the broken ceramic pieces, Keith made his way into the druid’s room and was met with another spear pointed at his face. He reflexively recoiled and backed up into the hallway. Unfortunately, he stepped into the broken porcelain and yelped. Keith gripped the door frame to balance himself, keeping his injured foot elevated as he finally got a chance to survey the situation.

Standing before him was Lance with a freshly made ice spear, extended and pointing the head at Keith. The druid’s teeth were clenched and bared, and Keith could see the pure concentration in the witch’s eyes; he was ignoring the pain that flowed through his body. The werewolf could see the sweat gathering near the druid’s hair line and he smelled a hint of fresh blood seeping through the gauze wrap. Even if his new guest was clad in only his black boxer briefs, the stranger was still menacing holding a magically formed weapon ready.

A gravelly worn voice crept up from the druid, “Where am I?”

Keith still had one hand braced against the door frame. He brought his other hand up in a calming matter, “It’s okay, we’re at my pack’s cabin. It’s in the redwood forest that surrounds Elchea City—”

“Sendak?” Lance asked shakily, Keith could see the witch’s grip tighten when he gritted out his words, “Where is that piece of shit? I swear if you’re hiding him—”

“We’re not hiding him.” Keith adjusted himself, wiggling his toes to feel if there was any ceramic stuck, but his eyes were still trained on the druid, “He trespassed on our territory. He was trying to take you with him.”

There was a moment of recognition in Lance’s eyes, but it was subtle. The tightness in the man’s jaw relaxed and the spear that was pointed at Keith lowered ever so slightly. It was at this moment that Allura and Coran tried to enter the room, but their slow movements didn’t go unnoticed. Keith watched as Lance readied his stance, flinching when he moved his shoulders too far but keeping his muscles taunt. Everyone froze, afraid that they had startled their new guest when really, they were only making the druid more anxious.

Lance quivered and pushed his spear out a little further, shouting a warning, “Stay back!”

In response, Keith flicked his head over to Allura and Coran, trying to get them out of the room. With his gaze elsewhere, the druid took the opportunity to thrust his weapon forward, piercing Keith in the abdomen. Pain burst out and he could feel something warm flood his stomach. A nauseated feeling erupted inside and he coughed hard, small sprinkles of blood gathering in his saliva. Stupid. Fucking stupid, ungrateful little shit! Keith coughed once more before he took hold of the spear. The chill wasn’t enough to calm his fury and he looked up at the druid. He watched Lance’s expression morph into horror as Keith pulled on the spear, making the weapon impale his body straight through.

The druid stumbled backwards gasping while the two hunters behind him yelled. Humans were so ignorantly loud. Keith focused, letting his body work for him as his claws grew and his fangs hardened. The clothes covering his body stretched dangerously until they tore, exposing black fur that had grown over his skin. Shreds of his sweatpants stretched and thankfully kept his being somewhat modest, but he didn’t care at the moment; he was furious.

Keith’s jaw snapped and broke, morphing into a canine’s snout. His ears shifted and stretched above his head, until finally his transformation was complete. The werewolf was sporting its Lycan form: a hybrid shape that resembled a humanoid monster with wolf features. With a large clawed hand, Keith gripped the spear that was still impaled in his torso and ripped it from his being. A low bark escaped him when he felt it leave his body and he tossed the offending weapon aside. He breathed heavily, feeling his body work faster to patch the open wound.

The beast tilted its head, cracking the bone in his neck before dropping low to the ground. He stalked closer towards Lance and almost laughed when he witnessed the man scurry back against the beige carpet. Before he could approach any further, he felt something yank on both his tail and his ears. He yelped and turned to find Coran fighting hopelessly with his extra appendage. Allura was the one yanking his ears

“Calm down, Keith!” The huntress shouted as her heels slipped against the floor, “He meant no harm! He just lost and scared, please!” Allura grunted as she uselessly pulled on his ears.

Lost and scared, huh? Keith didn’t move from his spot but he continued to breathe hard, trying to control his urge to just...do something. Across from him, Lance was pressed up against the side of the bed, but his body was more relaxed and he was just staring intently at Keith’s beastly form.

Lance licked his lips and when he asked, his voice wavered, “You’re...Keith?”

The pressure on his tail and ears eased up and Keith could feel both Allura and Coran back away from him. Maybe they were surprised that the Druid knew Keith’s name. He approached the Druid as cautiously as possible, just like he did the same night they met. It was hard to seem unthreatening in his monstrous form, but he healed faster like this and a magic infused attack wasn’t healing as steady as he wanted. When he was close enough, Keith snarled and very softly nuzzled his wet nose against Lance’s face.

“Still scared?” Keith’s voice rumbled low and mutated, “Perhaps you regret crossing paths with mine.”

The druid lifted his hand and lightly brushed the thin patch of fur that traveled up his snout, “I don’t think I regret crossing paths...so I guess, thanks.”

Keith pressed him for more, “For what?”

Lance frowned and narrowed his eyes, “Seriously? What do you want: a poem?”

“You stabbed me with a fucking spear,” Keith raised two thick fingers and said, “Twice.”

The man trapped beneath his gaze and between his hands rolled his eyes, “I did not stab you twice. You dodged the first one.”

“And yet, I still helped you.”

Both of them were silent for a moment before Lance spoke first. He wasn’t looking at Keith and he was nervously playing with his fingers, “Thank you...for saving me.”

Keith chuffed loudly and kept his eyes locked on Lance’s shrinking form. He still waited for the second half.

“Sorry I...stabbed you with a spear?”

The uncertainty that coated Lance’s apology made Keith hang his head low in defeat. This was probably the best he was going to get out of the druid. They didn’t exactly know each other and Keith understood what Lance was going through, so he wasn’t too disappointed.

Keith grumbled in defeat, “As long as you don’t stab me or any of my packmates, then I think we’ll be fine.”

What an exhausting day it had been, and it was barely past the early hours of the morning. Keith rolled onto his side and let his body recede slowly into his human form. The fur disappeared and his bones shrunk back into place. When the shifting was done, Keith checked his injuries: the hole in his abdomen was still healing, but the cut on his foot was completely gone. He carefully rose to his feet and turned to Allura and Coran.

“Think you can finish making breakfast, Coran?” Keith asked, embarrassed by his appearance.

Coran snapped to attention and gave a silly salute, “Sure thing. After this, I believe everyone deserves a few extra strips of bacon!” The colorful man skipped out of the room, twirling down the hallway with the frilly apron flapping along.

Before Keith could ask Allura, the woman spoke up first and gave a small grin, “I’ll see if I can find clothes for the both of you.” Without listening to their response, she left to check the other rooms.

Now it was just Keith and Lance, and although the werewolf felt awkward being left alone with the man that had just stabbed him, taking control of the situation made things move along nicely. Keith stood up and held his hand out for the druid. Lance gingerly took his hand and was guided out of the room and into the bathroom. Inside, Keith made quick work of changing the bandages for new ones, and applying fresh ointment to the injury.

Not once did Lance talk, which had been fine with Keith. But he knew that the witch’s eyes were trained on the wound in his torso. The blood had covered most of the progress, but Keith knew that his injury was slowly closing up. He wasn’t too bothered by it until Lance finally said something.

“Do all werewolves have enhanced regenerative abilities?”

Keith finished tying off the last of the bandage and answered, “As far as I know, yes.” He began to gather everything together and commented, “Shouldn’t you know this? You are a witch doctor aren’t you?”

Next to him, the man scratched his chin and responded, “Of course I am, but I never really had enough experience with a werewolf before…”

“Any particular reason as to why?”

“Well, what’s the point of visiting a doctor when you have regenerative abilities?” Lance shrugged his shoulders, satisfied with his own answer, “If it’s not broken, then don’t fix it, right?”

Keith cleared his throat, “You have a point.”

When they stepped out of the bathroom, Allura was waiting for them with clothes in hand. They quickly dressed and followed Allura down to the kitchen. As Keith followed them, he could only dread what would come the rest of the day. Lance may have been a guest in his house, but one thing was for sure: he didn’t like it.

Chapter Text

Druids had been shrouded in mystery for over millennia and for very good reasons. Even if they were known as witch doctors, philosophers, teachers, and a vessel of collective wisdom, not once were they ever considered priests. Potions made to cure diseases were brewed from poisonous plants, and rituals required fresh sacrifices. Keith didn’t know if the sacrifices needed to be human or some type of animal, but he did know that a werewolf fulfilled both requirements. Watching Lance converse normally with both Allura and Coran was jarring and it kept his animalistic instincts twitchy. Every flex the druid made, every subtle flick of a wrist caused Keith to tense, waiting for something to happen. His behavior had not gone unnoticed.

“Are you still mad at me for stabbing you with a spear?” Lance had asked, annoyed, then huffed and crossed his arms, “I already apologized.”

Keith had finished his breakfast a while ago and chose to station himself as far away as possible, leaning against the opposite wall, “I accepted your apology, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.” He kept his eyes trained on the witch doctor, “Even a healer can be a killer.”

That comment had Lance rising to his feet, hands planted on the table and seething out his next words, “Are you implying that I’ve killed people? Because if you are, I’ll prove that right now…” Lance’s eyes flashed white with quintessence, trying to provoke a response.

The pure white glow was enough to pull a menacing growl from Keith’s throat, his claws slowly extending to show that he was armed and ready for a fight. He could feel his body vibrating and ready to shift at a moment's notice, but both hunters interfered to keep peace. Allura came up to him while Coran persuaded Lance to retake his seat.

The huntress lightly placed a hand on Keith’s arm and spoke softly, “Keith, you cannot judge Lance without knowing him first. Mistrusting is fine, but to put him in the same circle as…” Allura’s words trailed off, finding it difficult to even mention that particular druid. But Keith knew who she was referring to.

“He hasn’t exactly proved me wrong—”

“Keith, we just had a nice breakfast and have been chatting about mundane things for nearly thirty minutes. I believe that is far better than you-know-who.”

For a while, Keith refused to look the huntress in the eyes. When he finally glanced up, he saw how hopeful she was, unconcerned with any potential threats that might come from the druid sitting at his dining table. Keith glanced at the other man who was now sitting hunched over and muttering. Compared to all the second-hand knowledge and personal experience, Lance appeared to be a harmlessly normal human. The man’s umber hair had been tousled from deep sleep, and his borrowed clothes were worn and stretched. Maybe if Keith wasn’t tied to the supernatural, he would think Lance was just having a lazy morning. But ‘normal’ wasn’t the right word to describe a druid. ‘Peculiar’ was a better choice.

Keith huffed and forced himself to relax, reverting the small transformations he made, “Just...stop beating around the bush and ask him the real questions already.”

Allura pressed her lips together and furrowed her eyebrows. She then turned to look at Lance and said, “We would like to know what happened that night.”

Lance snapped his head up, then looked away as he began to nervously nibble on his finger. After a couple more seconds, the man sat forward in his chair and tucked both his hands between his legs and said, “Where do you want me to start?”

Coran was the first to answer, stroking his mustache and keeping his tone light and playful, “A good place to start would be why you were in the forest.”

“Oh. Well I was gathering materials for medicine: herbs, roots, fungi, the usual things to make a potion.” Lance listed the things down on his fingers, folding them in after naming whatever flora he was looking for.

After Lance was done listing the ingredients, he returned his hands to his lap and said nothing else. Keith watched as Lance’s eyes drifted slowly between Allura and Coran as if he was waiting for more questions. Was he not going to tell his whole story or did the three of them have to pry it out of the witch doctor?

Keith huffed sharp and deep from his nose before commenting, “Seriously? That’s it? You’re not going to tell us why Sendak was there?”

The druid frowned and snapped back, “How should I know? I was just minding my own business when he came out of nowhere.”

“Look, you were unconscious at the time, but Sendak wanted you and I got the sense that he needed you alive.” Keith pushed off the wall and approached the dining table. He placed both hands on the table and leaned in close, “Sendak may kill for the hell of it, but he isn’t stupid enough to trespass into our territory unless it’s worth it.” Keith pointed a finger at Lance accusingly and gritted out, “You are worth something, so why was Sendak there?”

Lance’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. The accusing finger was slapped away as the witch doctor leaned in close and said threateningly, “Don’t interrogate me like a goddamn criminal. I’ll cut your fucking finger off if you do that again.”

“Enough” Allura gripped Keith’s arm and pulled him back forcefully, “You two need to behave yourselves!”

The air simmered and never before had Keith been so irritated by someone’s presence. It was like having a fly buzz near his ear or having an itch he wasn’t allowed to scratch. The maddening sensation peaked when he glanced at the other man, arms crossed and watching amused as Allura held him back. A loud and violent snarl erupted from his throat. The sound alone had put the druid on edge, making Lance’s body tense. Before more words could pour from his mouth Allura’s hands shot out and yanked down on both his ears. Keith yelped and followed the woman’s hands until he quickly slapped them away.

Offended and shocked, Keith covered both his ears and whined, “Allura! What the hell!” The woman before him was fuming as she marched Keith out of the dining area and around the corner.

In a fierce whisper, Allura quipped, “What in the world are you doing? You have been snippy and short-tempered ever since Lance had entered this house! If you cannot control your temper, then wait here!”

The commanding woman walked away and just as Keith was about to follow, Allura turned around and made a fake lunge. The werewolf automatically flinched back and bared his teeth. When Allura huffed and walked away, he retracted his teeth. How humiliating, Keith thought. Somewhat embarrassed by his actions, he stayed planted behind the corner. He then leaned against the wall and let his back slide until he was sitting on the floor. His arms rested across both his bent knees and he closed his eyes, focusing on his hearing so he could still follow the conversation.

“Lance, you and Keith will apologize to each other later—” There was a small objection, but Allura had shut it down quickly and returned to the matter at hand, “Now, there must be a reason why Sendak was here. We understand that you do not know the reason, but you must tell us everything that happened that day leading up to when Keith found you. Can you do that for us?”

There was a beat of silence before colorful words filled the empty air. Listening to the druid’s voice tickled Keith’s ears in a strange way. Whether it be good or bad, he didn’t know. Lance’s story had started in the afternoon, the same day that he was attacked. The man mentioned locking up his building and telling his assistant that they could have the day off. Lance then explained that he closed early because he needed to fetch ingredients for some medicine he was making for a client, some sort of glamor potion that would help maintain the correct color pigment to pass as a human. One of the ingredients was a flower that only bloomed at night near riverbeds.

Lance’s voice grew excited as he explained the properties, “The plant is incredibly rare, but it’s known for curing diseases and enhancing certain aspects of a potion. I knew that if I mixed it in with the next batch, my client wouldn’t have to worry about being discovered by humans. It would extend the duration of the effects!”

Allura’s voice was the next to chime in and asked, “So if this plant only blooms at night, why close early?”

“Emergency call? One of my patients came bursting in through the back door scared. I had a fun time trying to hide them.” Lance rubbed his chin and elaborated more, “They thought they developed laryngitis, but it was just a sore throat. A voice is everything to their species.”

Keith lightly chuckled at that small bit of information, but when he realized that he was enjoying the story, he shook his head and dug his nails into his skin. He shouldn’t be enjoying the other’s words, and yet he still was. Compared to the other druid, Lance seemed to enjoy his line of work and that...that was something.

Lance continued to retell his day, glossing over his patient and skipping to the part where he entered the forest. By the time the sun was setting, Lance had said he gathered all the necessary items and only needed the flower. Knowing that it grew near the riverbeds, Lance had ventured deeper into the redwood forest. When he found the right area, the witch doctor had taken to waiting on a fallen tree. Keith had barely noticed how far off topic Lance had gone. The witch doctor had gone into an enthusiastic story about how redwood forests were filled with energy and longevity, and how sacred the surrounding area was. At some point, Lance had connected the trees to quintessence and then to the universe before Coran politely interrupted him.

“Lance, my boy, I do believe that you are purposefully avoiding certain details.” Coran nervously coughed and cleared his throat, “I know it must be hard, and we would not blame you for stopping here—”

“No! That’s not it...I just need to prepare myself that’s all.” Lance’s voice had gone frail, and Keith could hear the man’s heartbeat; it was picking up speed.

Listening intently, Keith imagined the witch doctor’s chest rising and falling rhythmically. Lance had been taking in slow breaths and then releasing them to try and steady himself. The werewolf counted each inhale and exhale: the druid was stalling. Should he intervene? Lance was still healing, so maybe the unnecessary stress was agitating his injuries. Keith sniffed the air, checking if there were hints of fresh blood. The heavy metallic scent had significantly diminished and instead, a subtle hint of it was mixed in with something naturally chemical. It was a familiar smell and it satisfied Keith’s curiosity; Lance was recovering nicely.

Everyone in the room waited patiently for Lance to continue his story. The words were somewhat rushed and jumbled, but the man did his best to describe every detail. Damp soil tainted the witch doctor’s hands, a sharp pain slashing against his heels, and the desperate scream that erupted from his lungs, it wasn’t vivid enough. Keith could imagine it though, and although he was the apex predator, it was one of his greatest nightmares: to find himself hobbling a human, toying with it and allowing false hope before he hunted them down and murdered an innocent. Every civilized werewolf was wary of their inner chaos, a dark desire to hunt for game rather than survival.

Lance continued despite his shaken voice, “Call it luck I suppose. Had I been closer, those claws would have thrown me straight into a boulder. It might have even cut me in half, but instead I was barely out of reach.” There was another long pause and then Lance started again, “I ended up stumbling into the river. After I distracted them, I gathered as much quintessence as I could to transport myself. The injuries were too much and I lost control...ended up in a rapid.”

A small whimper might have escaped Keith’s mouth, but he was quick to hide it behind his wrist. The thought of Lance just being plunged into violent waters was awful. It actually explained quite a few of his injuries too: the large bruises, the gash on his head, and several bruised ribs. Keith felt a little guilty about giving the druid attitude...only a little. It didn’t excuse everything Lance had said to him.

Coran hummed thoughtfully and stroked his mustache, “I can only assume that the rapids brought you to the bottom of a waterfall. Keith found you not long after.” Lance must have nodded in agreement because Coran said, “Thank you for sharing with us, my boy. Unfortunately, neither of us could pick out any distinguishing details. Are you absolutely certain that nothing was left out?”

After Lance reassured both hunters that he told them every detail he could remember, Allura made the final decision and stated firmly, “I would feel more comfortable if you stayed here with the Marmora pack—” A distressing grumble came from Lance, but Allura continued to explain herself, “However, I know for a fact that you have your life and job to attend to. You have proven your resourcefulness, but for peace of mind—preferably mine—Keith will accompany you.”

“WHAT?”

Both men had abruptly stood up and shouted their protests. Keith had scrambled to his feet and jumped out from behind the corner, only to slam into the kitchen’s column. He rubbed his aching shoulder. Lance, on the other hand, had risen so quick from his seat that he knocked the chair backwards and whacked his knuckles on the edge of the table. They rubbed their injuries as they looked to Allura.

Lance rubbed his knuckles as he argued, “I am perfectly capable of protecting myself!”

Across the table, Keith snorted and breathed out, “Yeah right, says the man who was found bleeding out in the water.” The werewolf ignored the insults flying his way and turned his attention to Allura, “I have better things to do than babysit a grown-ass man. If Lance says he can protect himself, then he can protect himself.”

“Oh, is that so?” Allura sighed and placed a hand over her heart, then said, “I suppose I cannot stop you. I am certain that Shiro and Kolivan will understand why you abandoned your duty. Hopefully, Lance will not be attacked by a big bad wolf—”

The fucking audacity this woman had! She was guilt tripping him! Allura knew how terrible Keith would feel if he failed to do something so simple for his leaders. They left him in charge of Lance’s well-being, but he didn’t want to stay around the druid any longer than he had to. Going back and forth in his head was making his eyelid twitch. Fulfill his duty, or satisfy his own desires and ditch the druid?

Keith groaned long and hard before he finally shouted, “Okay! Fine, I’ll go.”

A sneer crossed his face as he watched Coran laugh heartily, while Allura silently cheered. He huffed and stepped out of the dining area, making his way upstairs. If Keith was going to accompany Lance, he might as well get properly dressed and wear shoes like all the city people. The werewolf didn’t linger. Inside his room, Keith picked through the discarded clothes along the floor and changed into jeans and a shirt. While he scavenged for a jacket and some shoes, keys were plucked out of the ceramic bowl next to his bed. The recent turn of events grated heavily against his nerves, and it was all because of a new stranger that had entered his life.

By the time Keith returned to the dining area with a jacket and shoes in hand, both Allura and Coran were gone. The only person present was Lance, his head resting against the table and his cheek squished in between. Keith ignored the druid’s odd situation in favor of pulling a chair out. The man dropped his shoes against the wood flooring then swung his jacket around to slip on. He never realized that the witch doctor was observing him, watching his arms slide through the fabric, and watching him lace up his shoes.

“I’m sorry for threatening you.”

The apology from Lance sat in the open, fermenting and growing heavier with each second. They had been fighting a lot and they only spent a little over a day together, that is if Keith added up the night he found the witch doctor and their morning together. It had been a long time since Keith interacted with anyone new, and Shiro was always pushing him to meet new people. Maybe he should at least put in some effort.

Keith pressed his palms against his forehead, then dragged them down his face before apologizing, “I’m also sorry...for provoking you, and accusing you.”

Next to him, Lance picked himself up and asked, “Why did you say that though? That ‘even a healer can be a killer’. Seems pretty dark, even for a nocturnal predator like yourself.”

Being called a nocturnal predator made Keith beam with giddiness. It made him feel powerful and dangerous, but yes, he had to admit that his words were quite ominous. Keith wasn’t about to tell Lance his entire life and share his deepest secrets. He highly doubted that a witch doctor would become that person to confide in. Answering Lance’s curiosity wouldn’t hurt.

“You are the second druid I’ve ever encountered…” Keith stood up from his chair and looked Lance square in the eye, “The first one tried to use me as a sacrificial offer. Had Shiro not made it…” Keith knew that he would be long gone, six feet under and headless, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

The atmosphere turned somber and the werewolf’s words hung heavy in the air. Perhaps Lance understood now why Keith was on the fence about him being a druid, about having potential danger in his personal space. He looked down at his hands, testing their flexibility and remembering how torn they were that day. If it wasn’t for his enhanced healing abilities, then his skin would be peppered with scars. Even then it took longer than usual to heal.

“I didn’t know—”

Keith cut Lance off and abruptly stood up, turning around and walking towards the front door, “Go grab your stuff. I’ll wait for you outside.”

So much for having a simple life. Keith could have been at work right now, enjoying the feeling of dirt and grime against his hands. Instead he was with a druid, a clueless man who was blind to the potential evils that lurked just beyond the shadows. Keith stepped outside and plopped himself on the log steps. The faded rough wood felt cold despite how high the sun was. Restlessness had become a constant feeling with the presence of a druid and after their brief exchange, he felt a little exposed. Only a small few knew about Keith’s ordeal with the druid, and he would rather keep it that way. Lance had been an exception; some invisible force had compelled him to share.

The door behind Keith creaked and clicked shut. When he looked up, he saw Lance standing awkwardly, holding his torn clothes in one hand and his satchel in the other. The man was avoiding his gaze, shuffling uncomfortably in place as if he was waiting for Keith to say something. Was he expecting Keith to get angry and tell him to go change into his own clothes?

Keith stood up and shoved his hands into his jacket pocket and said, “You can keep the clothes. Let’s get going.”

An ungraceful noise followed him until it righted into something rhythmic. Lance fell into stride next to him and asked, “Can you drop me off at my car? I parked it just off the main road to the national park.”

He merely hummed in affirmation as he guided the witch doctor towards the pack’s shared vehicle. It was an everyday minivan, fit for transporting groceries and the rare road trips that brought the werewolves to the beach or even deeper into the mountains. Despite it being nearly thirty years old, they kept it in the best condition possible. No rust could be seen except for the small sprinkles near the window, and Keith made it a point that no trash would be left inside. With constant reminders and a couple of scoldings, he was able to get his packmates to do the same.

Once they were loaded and strapped in, Keith began the most deafening ride he would ever experience. Usually, driving would give the werewolf a moment to himself, time to think and just go through the same motions that got him from one destination to another. But the growing presence next to him made Keith conscious of his driving, causing him to make small mistakes he normally wouldn’t. Taking a quick glance at his passenger, he saw that Lance wasn’t looking straight ahead. The druid’s eyes were focused on the passing trees, his body turned as far as possible.

As they got closer and closer to their destination, Keith began to relax a bit more. But it was short lived when Lance leaned forward and began shouting curses. His passenger was already scrambling to take off his seatbelt, furiously demanding that Keith stop the car. When he safely parked, Lance flung open the door and ran towards the empty stop in front of them. The werewolf followed, curious as to why the other man was stomping the floor and pacing back and forth.

Keith turned off the ignition and made his way over to Lance, “What’s wrong? We’re not near your car yet.”

In front of him, Lance was fuming and biting into a nail, “Yes we are! Just look!”

Lance had been pointing at the tire tracks imprinted in the clay. Keith rubbed his chin and thought that someone had stolen the man’s car, but something wasn’t right. If it was stolen, the tire tracks would have led back to the paved road. Instead, there was a long line of broken glass where the right side of the car would have been. There were a few scattered items around the area that led down...no way. Keith raced to the end of the clay area and stopped at the edge. The road had followed a deep ravine and sitting at the very bottom was a 1990 Sedan.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Keith held his head astonished and confused, but then he saw something disturbing, “Are those...are those claw marks?”

Long lines of metal had been torn open, leaving jagged holes sprinkled across the surface. Each patch had a perfect set of five slashes, and one of the wheels had been missing. Most of the frame was held together, but the impact on the way down had collapsed the roof. There was only one thing that could’ve caused this much damage. The sound of grinding dirt and branches snapped caught his attention. He looked over and found Lance trying to slide his way down to the car. As quickly as he could, Keith dashed towards the crazy human and grabbed his arms.

Lance struggled as he was pulled up, “Let go!”

Fighting with the kicking human, Keith pulled the man closer and picked him up. How stupid was this man? He was still injured and he wasn’t about to let it get worse. With little strength, Keith lightly tossed him up to adjust Lance’s body. A small yelp erupted from the druid when his torso leaned too far over the werewolf’s shoulder. Once again, Keith had the frail human supported in one arm, his rump resting against his forearm and the rest of him sitting past his shoulders. In one lethal surge, Keith leaped into the air with Lance screaming bloody murder.

Sliding down the ravine would have been easy had it not been for the constricting arms that wrapped around his neck. But having sore muscles later was absolutely worth it when he saw the scared expression rip across Lance’s face. It made Keith laugh wildly as he jumped again, using his second arm to support the rest of the man’s body before landing a few feet away from the ruined car. His feet slammed against the forest floor, rocks crunching underneath his weight. The force of both bodies made him fall forward and he braced with his knees. A normal person would have shattered their knee caps, but not Keith.

Flailing limbs slapped against his shoulder until a hand shot out and pushed his face away, yelling angrily, “Are you crazy! We could have died!”

Keith rolled his eyes and let go, “We’re not dead. Now let’s empty your car before someone sees. Claw marks like these aren't exactly natural for a normal human to see.”

Understanding the urgency behind the situation, Lance hurried over to his car with Keith in tow. There wasn’t much inside, except for a couple papers in the glove box and personal belongings locked in the center console. As they cleared out the trunk, Lance made a strangled noise as he patted down the carpet and reached into the corners.

Keith was holding open the trunk when he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sure I put them here…” Lance patted down the entire trunk once again then said, “They’re gone.”

Raising an eyebrow, Keith asked again, “What’s gone?”

Lance licked his dry lips and swallowed hard, answering with a shaky tone, “The vials—about the size of a small pill bottle—I had three of them. I stored them in a hidden compartment the day I went gathering herbs.”

Keith snapped his head towards Lance and gritted out, “And you didn’t bother mentioning this to the hunters? Lance, there are claw marks all over your car! Only a werewolf could do this and that means they most likely took the vials!” He took a slow breath then asked calmly, “What was inside the vials?”

The druid wiggled and fidgeted in place, quietly answering, “Um...there was...quintessence inside.”

Chapter Text

Elchea City was a hot spot for supernatural activity, and yet nearly every human that occupied the metropolitan area was ignorant to their existence. It felt like there was a veil being pulled over the mortal eye. A flash of claws would be seen as a man holding a knife, while protruding horns were seen as hair accessories. Just a few days ago, Keith remembered seeing a demon working as a barista and its leathery spear-point tail was written off as the loose end of an apron string.

Amusement always danced its way into Keith’s heart whenever he spotted a fellow creature hiding in plain sight. Most of the time there would be a silent exchange, acknowledging the other’s presence with a simple nod before both parties went their separate ways. Confrontation on the other hand was a rarity, but still very possible. After learning about the missing vials of Quintessence, Keith has had more random hostile encounters with Lance than he had with any other supernatural creature. It’s been happening everyday for the past week. But today was a little different; Lance had purposefully sought Keith out.

“You look like you ate something questionable.”

Keith grumbled as he wiped the grime from his bare hands then turned to Lance and bit back, “Your presence is questionable. What the hell are you doing here anyways?”

The witch doctor standing before him looked like he was recovering nicely. Lance’s skin had regained a certain healthy glow and his hair was tousled by a gentle breeze rather than an attempted murder. A black collar was neatly tucked beneath a shawl collar sweater, making the blue knitted material appear darker. Keith wouldn’t have expected this type of fashion, especially when he thought about the torn military jacket wrapped around a weakened body.

Lance shrugged and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, “I was curious about where you work…” As his words trailed off, he began to look around the area.

The cemented floor was stained and marked up with oil and dirt. Every single wall, except for the large garage door, was filled with benches and rolling tool boxes. Orange wires hung from the ceiling, and two service ramps had been positioned at each end of the building. The smell was constantly rotating between gasoline and fresh air that was whisked in from the outside. The only clean thing inside the shop was probably the vexing druid that was visiting him.

“I work in an Auto Shop, and last I checked, you don’t have a car that needs servicing.” Keith stuffed the dirty rag into his pocket then crossed his arms. He watched Lance squirm in place, looking anywhere but the mechanic.

After the two of them found the 1990 Sedan at the bottom of the ravine and cleared it of all personal belongings, Keith had to call both Shiro and Kolivan. He alerted them about the wrecked car as well as the stolen vials of Quintessence. That very same night, the three men obtained a tow truck, dragged it out of the ravine, and brought it to the scrap yard where it would be recycled. Not a single trace of supernatural evidence would be found. As far as Elchea City was concerned, the Sedan didn’t exist.

After a long pause with no reply, Keith huffed and said, “If you’re here to pester me, then leave—”

“No.”

Keith suppressed a growl that threatened to rise up, but didn’t bother to hide his sharp teeth, “You are infuriating.” Heavy breathes puffed through his teeth as Keith tried his best to reign in his annoyance, “Why the fuck are you here then, if not to annoy me?” Was the druid deliberately trying to pick a fight with him while at his job?!

“I want to talk about the Quintessence—”

Keith paled. Not even a second after that special word flew from Lance’s mouth, Keith lunged for a drill and pulled on the trigger. The electrical whirl drowned out the rest of the man’s sentence and when Lance tried to start again, Keith deliberately cut him off with another whirl of the drill. The man before him had an offended expression, appalled at the fact that he was being shut down with obnoxious noise. By the third interruption, Lance had snapped and swiped the drill from Keith’s hands, forcefully slammed it against the work table.

“Let me talk!” Lance shoved a finger against the werewolf’s chest and seethed, “What is your problem!?”

Keith slapped the druid’s hand away and barked back, “My problem is that you’re a fucking idiot!” Without batting an eye, Keith turned to his coworker across the auto shop and shouted, “Rolo! I’m going on break!” He turned back to Lance and threateningly said, “Follow.”

Keith maneuvered around Lance, but kept his eye on the witch doctor until he was absolutely certain the other man was going to listen. Lance had clicked his tongue and crossed his arms against his chest, but still trailed after him defiantly. As they walked out of the garage and into the main building, Keith clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. This man had no self-awareness, no self-preservation. Openly talking about the supernatural was the same as inviting danger. Elchea City had taught him that humans were not the only dangerous creatures out there.

When they reached the break room, Keith held the door open for Lance and made sure no one else followed them inside. He quickly scanned the break room, checking underneath the tables and the corners of the small room to make sure the two of them were alone. He deemed it safe, closed the door behind him, and locked it. With no one to see or eavesdrop on their conversation, Keith released his bristling energy.

“Never talk about the supernatural in the open! You should know this already.” Keith snarled as he felt his body make small shifts, “The mere mention of it could jeopardize everyone. If you want to talk about Quintessence so badly, we do it in private and behind closed doors.”

Along with the muffled music and echoing drills that penetrated the concrete walls, Keith could hear a faint but audible hammering noise. It was distinct, and the rhythm was beating faster as Keith began to shift more and more into a bipedal werewolf. Appendages were filling out with thicker muscle and his once human face was morphing into a disfigured snout. Keith twisted his head back and forth trying to find the source of the obnoxious sound until it clicked: Lance’s heartbeat...pumping blood...the adrenaline.

Saliva gathered in his mouth and Keith licked his canines, reveling in the sharp sensation that dragged against his taste buds. It’s been so long since he had a fresh kill. His last hunt was derailed because of the druid. Oh, what he would give for a fresh piece of deer! The thickness, sweet juices pouring into his jaws, the smoothness of a rib brushing against his teeth. Keith let an uncontrolled growl bubble out. Hungry.

“For fuck’s sake, why are you shifting?”

Across from Keith, Lance was edging backwards slowly, keeping his stance wide and low to the ground. There was a faint glow that was emitting from the druid’s eyes like Quintessence was gathering inside a vial...that’s right, the vials. A twisted snarl escaped Keith’s nose as he began to pace back and forth.

“I’m not shifting on purpose. Just give me a minute.” Keith was flexing his hands now, trying to create more activity to calm himself. Breathe, just breathe.

“If talking about Quintessence upsets you so much, then—”

“Shut up!”

Anxiety was eating away at his nerves. Keith breathed heavily and slowly, trying to reign in what he could of his transformation. His claws retracted and his monstrous face slowly reverted back to something human. When he appeared presentable, Keith made a mental note to go hunting as soon as night fell.

Lance broke the tension and asked, “Done?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Keith combed his hair out of his eyes, and bit out, “Next time I won’t make the effort and we’ll see how well you do with a werewolf in a confined space.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I swear, Lance—if you don’t start talking, I will rip out your throat,” Keith punctuated his next words, “With. My. Teeth.”

Lance groaned and made an exasperated whine, “Why is it so hard to talk to you? Seriously, every time it’s threats and yelling. I thought we got past this.” The man wiped his hands down his face and asked, “Why do you hate me?”

Hate? Did Keith hate Lance? The question had caught him off-guard and it made him pause, unsure of what to say. It’s only been a week since their meeting and so far, the druid had yet to make a move. Anticipation was something that came with every encounter, and Keith expected the witch doctor to finally show his true colors. But it never happened. They fought with each other, but it never crossed over into anything physical. It wasn’t his fault he felt so hostile towards the druid, but it also wasn’t Lance’s fault either.

“I don’t hate you,” Keith relaxed and the last of his beastly features melted away, he felt drained as he explained himself, “The wolf inside me says I should stay vigilant, and at the same time, my human side is uneasy. I’d be surprised if you hadn’t noticed, but the older werewolves feel the same. They’re just better at hiding their concern.”

At the mention of the other wolves, Lance slumped and dejectedly agreed, “I figured as much. They didn’t seem very happy when I told them about the missing Quintessence, especially the one with white hair…”

Keith sighed and replied wistfully, “Yeah, I expected that from Shiro. If anything, I think the Quintessence affected him the most…”

The memory alone had caused a ghostly shiver to crawl up Keith’s spine. Something so chaotically feral couldn’t have possibly existed had it not been for the overexposure to the raw energy. The image of his pack’s alpha laughing maniacally as he destroyed everything he touched was terrifying. It was like watching a void come into consciousness, swallowing everything that breathed. How they managed to suppress such wild energy was a mystery. Sometimes Keith thought it was a dream, but then Shiro would turn around and do something concerning. It would take almost an hour of dazed silence for their alpha to come back to himself, apologizing profusely and shaking.

Keith gritted his teeth and curled his fingers, “Lance, I need you to understand that I don’t hate you; I’m wary of you.” He doubted this would make the man feel better, but he was pleasantly surprised when Lance responded with a soft smile.

“It hurts that you don’t trust me, but you aren’t the first.” Lance wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head, “It took years for some of my patients to finally open up to me, and now I’ve got some loyal customers...and a few reliable friends.” Without hesitation, Lance closed the distance between them and ruffled Keith’s hair, “Maybe the little dog wants a treat, hm? Then he’ll trust me?”

Keith grumbled and shoved the hand away from his head, “Don’t patronize me.”

“Don’t be such a sour-wolf.” Lance chuckled as he clasped both hands behind his back, “So about the Quintessence…”

Keith nodded and the two of them began to discuss. Lance had explained why he had the vials of raw energy on hand. Whenever a special property is removed from the environment, the loss damages the surrounding. In order to compensate for this imbalance, a druid would perform a ritual and repair the missing component by injecting life energy. The ritual itself was important because without it, nature would start to deteriorate. No flora would grow, parasites would infect the surrounding forest, and the delicate ecosystem would collapse.

Lance reached into his pocket and pulled out an empty vial to show it to Keith, “Usually, a ritual takes only a small amount of energy, but lately it felt like more. I was using vials as a visual measurement so I can gauge how much energy was actually needed. That’s why I had some extra bottles hidden in the car.”

Cradled in the palm of the witch doctor’s hand was a glass bottle with a bizarre light bulb shape. It was the size of the orange medicine containers someone would receive at a pharmacy, and the neck was long and skinny. There were remnants of clear liquid evaporating and sticking to the walls; Lance must have washed them out after use.

Keith gingerly plucked the vial from Lance’s hand and examined it, “So what did you find? How much does it take?” He rubbed his thumb against the jagged mouth of the bottle where the cap would’ve been.

“In the beginning: only one vial. But now…” Lance trailed off as he reached into his pocket again. He pulled out two more vials and handed them to Keith, “For the same amount of materials I extract, it takes three vials worth of Quintessence.”

The vials clinked in Keith’s hand as he rolled them around and asked, “Do the hunters know? How about my pack?”

Lance nodded, “They all know, and I think they came to the same conclusion as me…” He took the vials from Keith and held all three up between his fingers and said, “Someone’s been harvesting Quintessence, and they’re doing it without the ritual.”

A single name popped into Keith’s head and it made his blood boil. Never before had he wanted to kill a human, but this was it. Little did he know that the thought alone would be his first step towards something worse. It was like a dangling piece of meat that teased and tempted a monster that Keith had so carefully locked away. But he couldn’t let his temper control him. Still, the thought of someone stealing raw energy was just...asinine. The redwood forest was important to many supernatural creatures that lived in Elchea City. A sane creature would try and find a way to replenish the environment after taking, or at the very least, try and perform the ritual. But they weren’t dealing with a sane creature, they were dealing with a psychotic thief.

“There’s something else too.” Keith’s attention snapped back to Lance and the druid explained worriedly, “These three vials were from that night you found me. I went to the forest this morning to gather some crystals...I performed the ritual and it took five vials.”

Keith balked and his jaw slightly dropped. The raw energy required for a ritual was increasing. If it kept going, then it was likely that Lance would pass out from exhaustion. He took a long hard look at Lance’s appearance and scented the air around him. The witch doctor didn’t look harmed and he didn’t see any evidence of exhaustion, but a smell tickled his nose. Keith’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air and tried to connect it to something recognizable. Chemicals...no, something a bit more fresh. Organic...vitamins?

Keith choked out, “How are you not exhausted? Quintessence is powerful; expelling that much energy should have some repercussions.”

The witch doctor made a fake, but gentle gasp and whined, “Aw, I always knew you cared!” When Keith grumbled, Lance snickered and replied truthfully, “I had a small headache, but I took some medicine. Whipped up a vitality potion too.”

Why did that sound so much like a lie? Maybe it was because Lance tried to make light of the situation, but Keith had a strong feeling that it was more than just a headache. Even the mention of a ‘vitality potion’ was cause for concern. This confused Keith because he shouldn’t care so much about a druid, he should be biting back and kicking the man out of his workspace. But the Quintessence bothered him. He knew the dangers of overexposure and how powerful it really was. Drastic personality change, amplified lunacy, and physical alterations were only a few potential side effects of experimenting with Quintessence. Keith would know...he witnessed it.

Concluding their talk on recent events had been a somewhat awkward moment between the werewolf and druid. They both shuffled in place, unsure of what to do next. Not much time had passed from their initial rough meeting to now. What would a normal person do in this predicament, Keith thought. Does he send him off, or does he invite him out for a cup of coffee? Usually he would play around or eat with others, but those were his packmates. Werewolf interactions were very different from others. What do you do with a human—a witch doctor?

Luckily, the world around them continued to move and there was an insistent knock coming from the locked door. Realizing that having two people locked in a room didn’t look well, Keith hastily unlocked the door and quickly shuffled Lance past one of his coworkers. He apologized and guided his guest back towards the garage. Fresh air gently floated in from the outside clearing Keith’s head.

Next to him, Lance was staring at one of his coworkers. The man had a long face that matched his gangly arms. Hidden beneath a beanie hat that was secured with old goggles was walnut hair and ears littered with piercings. Rolo, one of the few talented mechanics, had a crooked stance while he worked. His unbalanced posture was making up for his left prosthetic leg. Keith suspected that Rolo saw them looking because the mechanic waved as his downturned eyes crinkled at the corners. Laid back and devious as he was, Rolo was a noble person.

“Um, Keith? What time do you get off work?” Lance asked after waving in response.

Keith rubbed his chin and looked at the foggy clock above the door, “I’ve got one more hour. Why do you ask?”

Lance looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, “Oh, well, maybe you want to...would you like to…” He looked at Keith this time and asked, “Want to see where I work?”

Interesting.

Keith raised an eyebrow and hummed, “Is there...a catch?”

“No! No, I thought that seeing where I work would make up for me popping in here.” Lance cleared his throat and the tone in his voice changed, “We’ll be even: I know where you work and you’ll know where I work. Right?”

Very interesting. When Keith thought of a witch doctor’s workplace, the first thing that came to mind were a plethora of plants. Perhaps there would be vines and different herbs hanging from the ceiling, or there might be various pots that littered the corners of every room. The thought of all those fragrances blending together made his nose twitch; he would have a headache within the hour. Looking at Lance though made him think otherwise. Hopefully the sight would be something normal.

Keith rolled his eyes to hide his curiosity and said, “Fine, where do you work?”

Lance smiled mischievously and sang out, “It’s a surprise. How about this: I’ll wait for you to finish and we can go together?”

There was a split second where Keith almost believed that Lance was being nice to him, but then a thought clicked in his head. The werewolf grinned knowingly, trying his best to hide the smugness that radiated off his expression.

“Lance, are you trying to get a free ride out of me?”

“...”

Chapter Text

The setting sun was barely visible behind the sequoia trees, and vibrant red light filtered through the thick branches swaying in the breeze. Keith was sitting, legs astride a white sun lounger, and feet planted flat against the stained deck of his pack’s cabin. One hand was supporting his head while the other was gripping a large blade. He was continuously stabbing the wooden armrest, never checking how many nicks he had made in the furniture. Each thrust caused the cloth around the guard to unravel, unveiling an obsidian stone in the center. When Keith saw that it had come loose, he rewrapped his knife and started again.

Behind him, the glass door slid open and a second resident joined him on the deck. Keith recognized the scent; this time sprinkled with fresh ink and gunpowder. The wooden panels creaked as the man walked across the deck, taking his seat on the lounger next to Keith. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot the neatly ironed pants coupled with a black button-up shirt. The utility belt filled with extra pouches and a gun holster made it difficult to lean back against the chair.

“Are you thinking of something, or are you just stabbing the chair for fun?”

Keith made his next stab a little more forceful and answered curtly, “I’m thinking, Shiro.”

The other hummed and adjusted himself to remove his equipment as he replied, “Do you want to talk about it?” When there was no answer, Shiro waited a beat before adding, “Or not. We don’t have to if your uncomfortable—”

“Lance came by my work today.”

Wind shook the surrounding trees violently before they settled back into a gentle sway. An awkward silence filled the space and Keith knew that Shiro wasn’t going to respond. The alpha was waiting for him to elaborate and tell his story. So Keith did. He started off slow, recounting their unfriendly conversation in the auto shop as he stayed slouched in his chair, unmoving. When he got to the interesting part of his day, he looked towards Shiro with an unbelieving and skeptical look.

“I gave him a ride to his work. And you know what his job is, Shiro?” Keith leaned forward and ripped his knife out of the armrest as he stood up, spitting out his answer, “He’s a fucking veterinarian!”

The werewolf stood up and began to pace the length of the deck. Posing as a doctor would have made more sense, but the druid had chosen to be a veterinarian! He could still remember the carefully painted words across the bay windows: Elchea Veterinary Clinic. Seeing the place for himself made his skin crawl in unimaginable ways. The building was small and it was pinned between two larger structures that rivaled its height. It made it feel claustrophobic. Flower boxes decorated an iron fence, and vines coiled around the railing of the stoop. The outside appearance was completely plain and similar to the rest of the city’s color scheme. Inside, however, was a nightmare.

“I’ve never been so embarrassed!” Keith covered his face and whined out pathetically, “All those different smells nearly made my head explode, and it took me an hour to sort everything out! And the worst part is that I found aniseed!”

Shiro’s face had burst into a shade of pink, eyes wide with shock as he asked, “Aniseed? Does...does Lance know what that stuff does?”

Keith choked back a whimper and covered his mouth. According to the witch doctor, aniseed was used to flavor food and alcohol. The main reason Lance carried the flowering plant was because it had a carminative effect and helped with insomnia, but then Keith immediately added to the man’s information bank. It was perhaps the quickest and most awkward explanation Keith had given. But the sheepish look from Lance almost made it worthwhile...almost.

“I pretty much told him it’s a catnip for dogs…” Keith wiped a hand down his face and sighed out, “Someone needs to punch me so I can forget that conversation.”

Shiro sighed as well, then asked, “Please tell me those weren’t your exact words. Aniseed has a different effect on werewolves compared to dogs!”

“Oh, trust me Shiro, I told him everything.” Keith tossed his knife onto the lounger and switched back to his original complaint, “I still can’t believe he’s a veterinarian. Wouldn’t being a doctor make more sense?”

If Lance had taken that occupation, then there would’ve been more at his disposal: the highest quality tools would be at the druid’s finger tips, more rooms would be available, and a closet full of medicine would be right next door. Besides, most of the supernatural community were anthropomorphic; they would have an easier time passing as a human than some stray animal brought to the clinic. Keith rubbed his chin, contemplating Lance’s decision. The druid was a strange one.

Shiro spoke up and added his own theory, “You’re forgetting that Lance is also a part of the supernatural. He has to stay hidden just like the rest of us. If anyone found out what he could do, they might try to force information out of him to further their own goals.” Shiro leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, commenting quietly, “Think about it: magic that can heal any injury, medicinal herbs to cure all disease...it wouldn’t be so far-fetched to think that immortality exists.”

Keith stared at Shiro for a moment before turning to face the dark forest. His logic might be right. Working in a hospital meant witnesses: nurses, patients, other doctors...and there wouldn’t be enough privacy. Not only that, but medical bills were just another can of worms Keith wasn’t willing to open, much less touch. A small clinic was perfect. Lance wouldn’t have to expose himself to too much danger. The real question was whether or not Lance would be able to handle life-threatening situations. Would he perform like a surgeon? Could he operate straight out of an animal clinic?

“Lance has his reasons, Keith—and from what I understand, it might be a good thing.” Shiro stood up and walked over to the younger man, leaning against the railing and said, “He’s helping our world from the shadows, the same way Kolivan and I are.”

Keith snorted and snidely replied, “Working as a police officer is not secretive. Out of everyone in our pack, you two have the most spotlight—”

“And for good reason!” Shiro’s words had fire in them as he argued back, “The supernatural of Elchea City need to know that their identities are safe. Kolivan and I have stepped in numerous times, and now they know that law enforcement will be there for special cases.”

It was obvious that the special cases involved supernatural phenomena. Sometimes human investigators and other such forensic scientists would come across something unusual. For the most part, it was up to Shiro and a few other informed members to divert their attention. On rare occasions, Kolivan would have to step in as Chief of Police. Together, they preserved and balanced the supernatural world with humans. It was righteous and admirable of them to choose this path, but who would look out for them—who would look out for Shiro and Kolivan?

Keith hung his head and sighed out, “I get it, but what if you get shot? Sure it’ll heal, but we heal much faster than anyone! How are you going to explain to the medics that you have enhanced regenerative abilities?” He looked towards Shiro now, almost pleading out his next words, “What if something triggers you and you shift? What if—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Shiro had reached out and embraced him. The pull was strong, but the arms wrapped around his body were gentle. The other man knew that Keith wasn’t an expert with physical contact, giving him an out when things got too suffocating. After a few moments, Keith returned the hug, albeit slowly. He could feel Shiro’s back muscles twitch from the surprise but otherwise accepted the gesture.

Shiro spoke softly and said, “Not once have I ever been injured to the point of needing medical attention, and I’m more careful than you think.” The two men pulled apart, then Shiro added jokingly, “Besides, Lance seems trustworthy enough to patch us up if worse comes to worse.”

Keith rolled his eyes and answered, “I highly doubt it.”

“Think of it this way then, if it makes you feel better,” Shiro ruffled Keith’s hair and smiled, “You saved his life and now he owes you.”

There was a pause as Keith thought about it, and then said, “Yeah, I suppose it does help.”

With a hearty laugh, Shiro slapped Keith on the back, knocking the young man forward. Keith’s body would have jerked over the deck had he not grabbed the railing in time. Shiro was still laughing when Keith turned around to give him a pointed look. In return for the man’s violent gesture, Keith punched him hard on the shoulder. The hit made both men go quiet before a small scuffle broke out. Hands shot out and began to flail until both men grasped each other in a clinch. Their foreheads were tugged forward, knocking harshly.

Shiro grunted out, “So this is how we’re ending the conversation?”

Keith tugged a little harder and answered, “You’re the one who started this!”

“Then I’ll be polite and end it too.”

Everything happened fluidly. Shiro kept a strong grip with his right arm as he made a quarter turn with his body. He stepped into Keith’s space and made a sweep at his legs forcing his opponent’s body to topple over. What both men didn’t anticipate was the power used in the throw. Keith ended up being slammed straight into the sun lounger, and the wooden legs snapped under stress. The deafening echo quickly dispersed throughout the forest and the only thing left was the sound of Keith groaning.

“Oh, motherfucker...shit.” Keith cursed as he rolled onto his side, slowly sitting up and gritted out, “What the ever loving fuck, Shiro?”

The other man crossed his arms and chuckled, “What? You heal fast. Besides, you tossed me off the deck last time—”

Keith didn’t let Shiro finish. He picked up a broken piece of the lounger and chucked it straight into the man’s face. The wood cracked against Shiro’s nose, making the older man recoil and step backwards against the railing. He cradled his nose with both hands and groaned loudly. It was at this moment that they looked at each other and burst into laughter. Keith rolled onto his back and let his head drop against the floor releasing a loud chortle, while Shiro’s laughter was muffled by his hands.

“Next time we do this...it better be when we’re werewolves.” Keith wheezed hard as he struggled to sit up on the broken lounger.

Shiro took a deep breath through his mouth before answering, “Yeah, keep next week open. I’ll meet you in the forest at midnight.”

The next twenty minutes was spent cleaning up the mess they had made and debating on where to hide the broken lounger. Keith suggested that they stuff the cushions at the very back of the cabin’s shared closet, while they threw the splintered wood into the fire pit on the back porch. Shiro nodded and gathered both his discarded utility belt and cushion, quickly running them into the cabin. Keith, on the other hand, sheathed his dagger and began to break the rest of the lounger into manageable pieces using only his bare hands. It was easy with his enhanced strength. By the time Keith was done breaking down the furbished wood, Shiro had returned now dressed in sweatpants and an old, worn out tactical shirt.

“Let’s get these into the fire before anyone else notices…” Shiro muttered as he scooped up an armful of wood.

Keith followed behind him with the rest of the broken down wood. They quickly made their way down the hallway, checking open doors to make sure no one else saw them. When they made it down to the first floor, they had to tiptoe pass Kolivan, who was shuffling around the kitchen preparing dinner for the pack. Unfortunately for them, Kolivan turned around and saw them try to hide the evidence of their squabble. The large man’s expression didn’t change except for the subtle eyebrow raise. Without missing a beat, their leader nodded his head in the direction of the porch.

“You are lucky Antok is not home.” Kolivan grumbled as he flicked his long braid behind his shoulder, then ordered, “Get the fire going.” Keith visibly swallowed before he sprinted through the living room and opened the sliding door to the porch. Shiro wasn’t far behind, and together they built the fire.

Darkness had comfortably set in for the night and the porch of the pack’s cabin was illuminated by the roaring fire inside the stone pit. Keith had gone and set up camping chairs around the pit, while Shiro returned inside to assist Kolivan with preparing dinner. The rest of the Marmora Pack would be returning soon, either from their jobs or from hunting in the forest. Keith had taken up residency in a camping chair, holding a beer bottle that he snagged from the kitchen. He stared at the flickering wisps, nursing his beer while he listened to the soft snapping and cracks the fire made. Everything felt...good.

Howling broke through the hypnotizing crackling, making Keith’s head snap to attention. He jumped up from his chair and held absolutely still, listening for the familiar howl that pierced the night. Behind him, Kolivan stepped out onto the porch with Shiro in tow. They must have heard the howl as well. All three men waited, listening anxiously. The pitch of the howl was low and held out for nearly a minute before it was abruptly cut off. They were thinking the same thing: something was wrong.

The only thought that came into Keith’s head was that their territory was being invaded again. A threatening growl crawled out of his throat as he tightened his grip on the beer bottle. He felt the glass neck shatter in his fist, the rest of the bottle falling and breaking against the porch. His rage finally spilled forth and Keith released a low guttural roar. The remaining shards of his beer bottle were tossed aside and he began to strip down.

“Keith, stop!”

The werewolf turned around to face both Kolivan and Shiro, and argued back, “I won’t! Those fuckers are traitors, and they have the audacity to trespass on our territory!” His loose shirt was whipped against the camping chair, while he lifted his legs to help pull his pants off faster. He was barely able to get his boxer briefs off before his body began to shift and rearrange itself into a familiar upright Lycan.

A frustrated groan could be heard next to him, “Dammit! Kolivan, wait for the others to return and contact the hunters!” Shiro had shouted his command as he pulled his old tactical shirt over his head. The man turned to the beast next to him and said, “Start tracking, I’ll catch up to you in a second.”

Keith nodded and lifted his nose to the sky, taking in a deep breath through his nostrils so his heightened senses could get to work. A sea of scents invaded his nose: he could smell the smoke from the fire pit, the freshly cooked meat inside the cabin, and the redwood trees. But that wasn’t what he was looking for. He focused and locked on to the familiar scent of his fellow werewolves. The process only took a second before the lycan broke into a sprint and disappeared beyond the trees.

Not too far behind, Shiro was also charging through the redwood forest trying to keep up and follow Keith’s trail. It led the alpha under fallen trees, over moss covered boulders, and through a narrow rockbed river. The humanoid beast was nearing the border of his pack’s territory when he finally started to see hints of a battle. Shiro stopped and examined the nearby foliage: claw marks scuffed up the sequoias and rocks, and the surrounding area had been forcefully flattened out. The worst of it though was the blood that soaked into the soil. The familiar smell was like a fatal blow to his gut.

“No…please…don’t let it be…” Shiro scrambled forward, his nose following the trail of blood like it would disappear at any moment. It wasn’t Keith’s, but he knew—he knew it belonged to his packmate. He searched desperately until the smell of iron brought him to a shattered tree root.

Cradled by the splintered wood was a smaller Lycan. The once rich umber fur was now matted with mud and loose debris. Blood gleamed brightly against the Lycan’s exposed fangs, while thicker droplets gathered at the tip of its claws. Shiro roared in agony seeing the brutally ripped open chest. His pack. His family—in his own territory no less! Shiro scampered forward. He kneeled before the still body and gently cradled the Lycan’s head between his claws. He whimpered brokenly as he brushed his scarred muzzle up against the other wolf’s head.

“Regris? Please, wake up.” Shiro’s pointed ears flickered, trying to listen for a heartbeat. “I’m here now…I’m here…” his mutated voice broke further. He could feel his eyes sting and water, but he held himself together. Find a pulse; where’s his heartbeat? Where is it?

A beat.

“Shiro…?”

The alpha’s ears perked up immediately, adjusting his hold on the younger Lycan below him. He could see Regris’ eyes were glazed over and unfocused. The pup wasn’t looking at him, but at the canopy of trees that swayed in the breeze. His breath was coming out ragged and weak, and Shiro could see his chest was struggling to move. There was barely a twitch of movement in the Lycan’s claw.

“Stay with me, Regris. The others will be here soon—”

A broken whimper escaped the beta, “N-no…Keith n-needs…”
Shiro shook his head desperately, “Keith’s fine! He’s strong, so let’s worry about you right now.”

“Druid…n-not Lance—” Regris coughed and wheezed out, “Help him.”

The black and white hybrid froze at the young beta’s words. A druid that wasn’t Lance could only mean one thing: the old witch was here. The sudden realization that Haggar of all people was here walking through his home and creating chaos caused something inside him to snap. Both werewolves never noticed the faint flicker of gold that began to cloud the alpha’s eyes. Very carefully, Shiro lowered Regris’ head before stepping away from the Lycan’s limp body. His large hands curled tightly, piercing his skin from sharp claws. The alpha raised his head high and roared, twisting his body to punch the closest tree. Rough bark broke away, leaving a gaping hole. Another brutal roar erupted from Shiro before it settled into a low and vicious growl.

He looked at his packmate and said with the utmost confidence, “This ends tonight.” Shiro took a deep breath, then exhaled, “Will you…be okay, Regris?”

The young Lycan huffed and answered, “Go. Help…the o-others…”

Shiro waited a moment before he left Regris in a burst of speed. He was too far away to hear Regris’ soft chuckle or see the smile that crept its way across his muzzle.

“Know-ledge…or…d-death…” Regris exhaled and basked in the last traces of moonlight.