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It takes several tries to light the fire in the lounge.
The inside of the fireplace is coated in ash, blood from one of the multiple battles in recent memory soaked through the firewood. When Adrian finally gets it to ignite, it fills the air with a thick stench of rust that makes his stomach churn.
Regardless, a fire is a fire, and the heat quickly finds its way under his skin, settling around his bones. It shakes a chill out of him, a shudder that makes his teeth rattle. How long has it been since he last felt warm?
Thin, strong fingers leaving burning streaks along the length of his ribs, dipping down to drag blunt nails across his abdomen. His nightshirt, bunched up to expose his torso, then pulled off and discarded.
Prying his mind free from the memories is a battle where the only victory is postponing his defeat, a few more hours before they render him a trembling, heaving mess. But right now, that’s enough — he has something he needs to do.
He drags the wolf’s makeshift bed closer to the fire. It’s a collection of blankets and furs, and the animal itself almost gets lost in it. It’s curled up in a ball in the centre, only its injured leg sticking out. Adrian notes with relief that the bandage around its thigh seems to be clean and dry still.
Careful as he is not to disturb the wolf while he’s moving it, it lets out a low, pained whine. Adrian pats the bit of its head that’s not tucked beneath its legs. “Hang in there, friend.”
Removing the arrow from the wolf’s leg took the entire afternoon, until the light had drained from the sky outside and Adrian had to squint in order to see the thread wrapped around his fingers. The arrow had lodged itself deep within the muscle; worse still, the wound had started to close around it. The wolf yowled and whimpered in pain, but stayed still while Adrian worked on taking it out. He sutured the wound next, then applied one of his mother’s healing salves on a piece of sterilised cloth that he used to bandage the leg. It was a slow, bloody affair that left both him and the wolf exhausted.
It fell asleep as soon as they were done. Adrian, on the other hand, has more work to do.
Once he’s made sure the wolf is warm and sound asleep in front of the fire, he makes his way back into the forest again. It’s been a while since he last hunted, but that’s only made his reflexes faster, his senses more acute.
He finds a deer that still hasn’t found shelter for the night. It’s a brief hunt, the animal too surprised to pose a challenge, but still Adrian’s instincts sing with the chase and the frenetic drum of the deer’s heart. The kill is quick and painless. Then: thick, hot blood flooding his mouth, and Adrian drinks, drinks, for longer than he has for months.
He brings the drained carcass back home for the wolf to feed on.
It’s still asleep, only its ears standing at attention to indicate it’s alive, but that’s good enough for now. Adrian collapses on the chaise that’s across the room yet still within the circle of light and warmth coming from the fireplace, and closes his eyes.
For the first time since he killed his father, Adrian slips into a deep, dreamless slumber.
The wolf makes it, despite Adrian’s fears.
Its appetite comes back within days, and hunting for it becomes part of Adrian’s routine. He starts going into the forest more regularly again. It’s different from his hazy wanderings in the weeks prior, when he was so deep in his thoughts that he had become oblivious to the world around him. He has to be more alert now in order to hunt, and nature is vibrant and alive and overwhelming around him.
One morning, he finds himself darting between the trees, dew clinging to his clothes and the air cold and sharp in his lungs. There’s no prey that he’s chasing, but he runs as if he’s in pursuit. The wind brings tears to his eyes; they spill down his cheeks and get lost in his hair.
He runs until his breathing is laboured and gasping, and then he keeps running. When he finally stops, he’s out of breath, his skin on fire. He laughs.
It feels good to laugh.
Another day, his nerves are taut and he fancies himself hearing footsteps, an arrow being nocked. Whispers closing in on him, louder and louder until the sheer weight of them immobilises him.
He comes back to himself in the castle, curled up on the lounge floor. He’s alone. The tiles are cold beneath him and the room is as quiet as an empty well.
Then: the rattle of claws across stone. The wolf lets out a low whine and sticks its face in the crook between Adrian’s shoulder and neck. Its nose is wet. Its tongue, when it licks his skin, is even wetter.
“Ew!” Adrian exclaims as he tries to clamber away. He wipes the wolf drool off his neck. He doesn’t want to think about all the dead animals it’s been eating recently.
The wolf seems unbothered, its tail swinging back and forth as it observes him with its golden eyes.
“You’re disgusting,” he informs the animal.
It tilts its head.
Adrian sighs and reaches out to pet it.
That evening, the wolf comes to join him in the lounge.
Adrian has lit the fireplace again, and he’s lost in the chaotic dance of the flames. He tears his eyes away to look at the animal. Its eyes are as bright as the fire, boring into his with human-like understanding.
“What’s on your mind?” Adrian hears himself asking. He almost laughs at the ludicrous question. “Is it food? Because you already ate tonight.”
Predictably, he receives no response. He sighs and looks back at the fire. The crackling of the burning wood is the only sound in the room until he speaks up again.
“Do you have a family?” He’s been thinking about it again: family. There’s little else he thinks about. “Did something happen to them that left you to fend all for yourself? Or did you choose to leave them?”
The wolf whines — a wordless question.
“Why you would do that? Maybe you thought that you were better off alone, that it was in your nature? Maybe you didn’t think the life that was in the cards for you wasn’t right for them?” He does laugh, then, a brittle sound like cracking glass. He presses his hand over his eyes. “This is ridiculous. You don’t understand a single word that I’m saying, do you?”
A cold, wet nose prods his hand on the armrest. Adrian doesn’t startle this time, instead looking at the wolf from under his fingers.
“Do you miss them too?”
The wolf rests its head on his thigh. It’s warm and heavy and fuzzy—and more comforting than he has words for.
Adrian closes his eyes. They’re two broken, lonely creatures, but at least they have each other to take care of.
In a way, that’s almost a family.