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“Don’t go too far!” called Angela, as Chuck wandered into the woods. It was bitterly cold out, and his boots left prints in the crunching snow as he left behind the scent of wood smoke and home for the cool barren of the forest.
Trees were stripped of leaves, bark frosted over, with marks of deer occasionally feeding. He even happened upon a small herd as he picked willow bark for tea, which fled into the forest with their young.
He wasn’t out there without a purpose. His red cape glowed like holly berries against the stark white, effectively destroying any chance he had of sneaking, but he made it to the clearings regardless, and stopped and sat on the edge of them to watch the woodsman work.
The clearings were a spot by the local river where trees were felled and in the summer driven by poles, and in the winter pulled by horses. One man did neither but did do the felling, and it was him Chuck loved to watch.
Hercules, he was told his name was, though he’d never introduced himself. Even though he was eighteen and rarely shy, the man made him tongue tied anyway.
Finding his favourite rock, Chuck watched and nodded to the ones he knew. Wax-wings trilled through the air drunk on old berries, flocking in a huge mass and setting the forest alive with song. Chuck sometimes felt a stirring when he looked at the ones hopping about on the ground, but he didn’t know for what, so he fed them crumbs instead.
His mother would kill him, if she knew he had gone this far. She was a tough woman, had one of the few working guns in the Enchanted Forest, and refused to let Chuck out of her sight. It was only that he was older now, nearly a man in the eyes of the realm and old enough to go to war by word of the king, that he was allowed to roam and forage. Provided of course, he wore his cloak.
There was something of a wolf problem, in their area of the Enchanted Forest.
Hercules pulled a tree along behind him. At his side was his brother, but Chuck didn’t stare at the other man with the auburn hair. He preferred the one with the bright flame of red hair, the rough stubble. The man who turned red with the cold but still sometimes refused to wear proper cloak even as frost misted in front of his face and clung to his whiskers.
He stopped, giving the leather brace over to the drivers to tie to their horse. Hercules glanced up then, seeing Chuck. Chuck felt himself turn red, when the man waved, and Chuck raised a mittened hand.
He grinned back, and Chuck fought the urge to run, as Hercules gathered his cloak, waved off his brother, and climbed the ridge after crossing the frozen river.
“You come a lot,” said Hercules, when he got close, and he set his axe down, hands on the handle. “Always in red, like a lady in waiting.”
“I like to watch,” said Chuck, after finding his voice. “The red is a superstition. With the wolves around so often this winter, my mother likes me to wear it. It’s silly.” His voice was full of scorn.
Hercules blinked, then shook his head. “Sounds like it. But the wolves won’t hurt you if they’re good wolves.”
Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Do those exist?”
Herc nodded. “The one out and killing is young and untamed. Needs to be taught. Given guidance. But… someone collars it.” He looked sadly at Chuck a moment, then shook his head. “You best get home to your mother. And wear your cloak… just in case. They say red is for the wolves. But which ones, the good, the bad, or the ones inside?”
He disappeared down the slope, leaving Chuck’s chest uncomfortably tight, and before the man had made it far Chuck had jumped off of his seat, slid a little ways down the ledge after him, and he stopped like a frightened rabbit when Hercules turned to look at him.
“Yes?”
He couldn’t explain his longing to follow a complete stranger, no matter how attractive, and he fought the urge to rip off his cloak in a frenzy. He didn’t want to go away.
“No,” said Chuck, aghast at his behavior. “Pleasant day. God be with ye.”
“And ye,” said Hercules. “What’s your name?”
“Chuck Benton.”
His eyes flickered at that, and he nodded. “Herc Hansen.”
Herc turned and went back to his brother, who jeered at him, and feeling shamed Chuck climbed the ridge and disappeared into the boughs for home. He wasn’t allowed to roam after dark, even if he longed to see his friends.
His mother was disapproving, when Chuck returned home half frozen on the edge of twilight. She took the bark from him, setting him down near naked but for the cloak in front of the fire.
He watched the flames flicker as she puttered around the kitchen. He heard the ladle against the cast iron pot, the clunk of a bowl.
“What do you even do out there?” she asked, serving him soup and hard, dark bread. The scent was heavenly. “You don’t hunt yet, and there’s nothing to gather. You leave for hours.”
“I would gather fish if you’d let me go out with Raleigh and Yancy,” he said a little reproachfully. “They were going to teach me ice fishing, on Woodside Lake.”
She sighed, putting a spoon down for him. Starting tea. “Until the danger is past.”
“And when’s that?” said Chuck, blowing on his spoon.
“Yule, maybe.”
++
That night he dreamt of exploring the midnight woods with his cloak draped around him, a glowing fire in the darkness. And a wolf found him, but it was gentle with kind blue eyes, deep and dark fur that was almost like blood. It pressed its soft muzzle against him, and Chuck pushed his fingers through his fur before climbing his back.
Together they explored the Enchanted Forest, from the Queen’s Castle to the Wild Edges, and Chuck didn’t feel cold with him even if his breath frosted. They didn’t return until dawn, and Chuck hugged the wolf tightly, thanked it.
The wolf became Herc, and before Herc was completely a man, his mother appeared and raised her musket, firing to keep Chuck safe.
Chuck didn’t know what was his cloak and what was blood.
++
In the dark of night, he pushed the cloak off in anger, in the last of the dreams clutches, mind desperately searching for Herc.
++
The next day he wasn’t allowed to leave home alone. Wolf tracks had been found around their house, and his mother had spent the morning sweeping them away before dragging Chuck to town with her, gun in tow. Normally he loved town, but seeing it gripped with panic like this even made Chuck worry.
People were looking fearfully at them. Yancy and Raleigh’s mother was one of the few that dared approach, looking sympathetic somehow.
“You shouldn’t have travelled so far,” she said, while Chuck looked around for his friends.
“Dominique…”
“Neither of you are safe. If you come, you should stay. Everyone worries, and - and another, on the edge, was killed.”
Chuck turned to look, and his mother’s face was white.
“Mum?”
His mother tugged on his arm, and Chuck noticed then a few were staring at them. It was with a tightening of his stomach that he noticed Hercules and Scott Hansen standing at the edge of the tavern door. Scott looked disinterested, but Hercules was staring at Chuck.
“Let’s just get what we need and go.”
++
They were most of the way home, with bundles on their backs and the cold settling into their limbs, when Chuck spotted him. Herc, at the edge of their clearing, and Chuck wondered how he’d known where they lived. How he’d moved so fast.
His mother stopped dead, spotting him as well, and Chuck swallowed hard because Herc was staring at his mother this time.
“In the house Chuck,” she said.
Swallowing, he shook his head. “No, I-”
“House.”
Fuming, Chuck stomped back to the house, slamming the door. But he went straight to the window, pressing his face to cold warped glass in awe, as he watched his mother slow and pull her musket.
“Mum no!” he hissed, the window fogging, and he wiped at it furiously.
They were arguing, and a minute later she turned and stomped towards the house. Herc left for the woods.
Chuck moved from the windows and didn't bother to fake ignorance, as she came into the house.
“Who was that man?” He asked, as he helped her take off her cloak.
She snorted, putting down her bundle for Chuck to put away. “No one.”
Chuck put away the supplies they bought - flour, the dried meat and fish and vegetables, and went back to the window. He fancied he saw red in the woods, and wondered if Herc’s hair was red enough – like Chuck’s – to maybe ward the wolf away.
Or if, like his dream, Herc was a wolf himself. A good one.
"I'm going for a nap," he said, he was weary from the walk and wanted to think.
“Make sure you wear your cloak when you sleep, Charles.”
Chuck nodded. It was mostly a lie, though, because he slept without it and unlocked his window in a prayer that maybe Herc was a good wolf like his dream. Maybe he’d see Herc again.
++
The dream was the same, but this time Chuck transformed and killed his mother. He screamed and howled in the woods.
++
He woke up and clung to the cloak before running for her room, relieved to find her alive and well and fast asleep.
Back in his own room, the window was open and snow was on the floor, wet and melting into puddles. Footprints lead to his bedside.
Chuck wiped them away, before looking outside. It was snowing, and the paw prints were slowly being filled…
++
The next morning it was reported a woman had died by a terrified friend of the family, there to pass on the news. Chuck tried to run from the house, but his mother barricaded the doors, the windows, and Chuck sat miserably in the house as she did so.
“Have you neglected your cloak?” she demanded, stomping snow off at the door.
Chuck shook his head. “No.”
She breathed out through her nose, a sharp impatient breath. “Have you met anyone recently?”
“…No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t leave the house, Chuck. Tonight’s the longest night of the year. The day the wolves run fastest. Stay home.”
Chuck whined. “You can’t keep me in, not during the day.”
“Chuck…” Angela’s face softened. “I don’t want to be a bad guy. I love you, and there’s someone dangerous out there. I just want to keep you safe.”
Chuck looked up at her reproachfully.
She sighed, and pet his hair. “One day you’ll thank me for this.”
Angela kissed his forehead, and Chuck stood, heading for his room, leaving dinner half completed, and hid in his room. He still remembered the flutter in his heart, and he closed his eyes to chase dreams. He wanted Herc.
++
When he woke at the edge of twilight, he heard his mother in the bath. He took his opportunity, forcing the window open, fleeing with his things, ignoring her yelling.
He knew maybe he was being cruel, willful. But if he was old enough to be a soldier, he was old enough to know he might be in love with someone. Even a wolf. And old enough to want to save them.
Twilight fell, and the snow crunched under his feet. Above him the sky was inky black and dotted with millions of stars, like sparkling diamonds against the blackest velvet. The moon turned the world white and blue, as he ran for the clearings. He knew Herc wouldn’t be there, but he went anyway.
He stopped at the ridge, staring at the barren field and its stumps, the prints of pony’s hooves. Not far away was a cluster of tents, a burning fire, and Chuck stood and stared, panting, worried.
Was Herc there? Or was he already in the woods?
Somewhere to the right, a wolf howled.
Chuck’s eyes went wide, and he began to run. The trees were blurring around him, he stumbled in the cold wishing he’d grabbed more than just his cloak. Each breath was cold fire in his lungs, and his feet ached, fingertips grew numb.
“Herc!” he yelled, and stumbled again, “Herc!”
The cloak snagged and caught, and he tripped. With a gasp he landed in someone’s arms, thick and warm around him, and looked up. Sagged with relief, to see Herc there, and he pushed into his arms.
“Looking for me?” asked Herc, with a little smile, but he looked worried.
“Yes. You - are you a wolf?” he asked, stomach tight. “Because one’s been visiting me, and my mother - my mother wants to kill it. She wants to protect me.”
Herc’s eyes were oddly bright, out there in the moonlight. Chuck watched them sparkle, captivated to the point where he almost didn’t hear the reply. “I am a wolf, but not the one on the edge of your home. Chuck, your mother is coming and night is falling, and you need to go.”
Eyes wide, Chuck shook his head. “No! I’m sick of being told to leave, like I’m a baby. I’m going to be drafted soon, so I’m damn well old enough-”
Herc stopped his yelling with a kiss. Chuck’s heart fluttered and his eyes closed, leaning up into it, opening his mouth for more.
There was a crunch, and Chuck flinched at a warning shot that sheared off a branch twenty feet away.
“GET AWAY FROM MY SON!”
Herc broke away from Chuck, leaving him gasping, and he turned to see his mother with her wet hair bundled under her cap, face flushed and cold, musket trained on the two of them.
Chuck felt the throat of his cloak slipping from the snag, but he couldn’t care.
“Mom, no!” he said, throwing his arms out. “Herc’s good, he’s a good wolf!”
“Chuck, just come with me-”
He stopped as the cloak was snagged on another branch. It slid from him, landing like a pool of blood on the snow. Above them, a cloud passed from the moon, turning the world sparkling and brilliant.
And something inside of Chuck splintered.
He was gasping, as his mother dropped her musket. Herc was yelling too, but Chuck couldn’t hear as he doubled over. There was a howling in his ears getting louder and louder with every passing second, like a roaring river coming towards him.
His body shuddered, his heart rate skyrocketed, and Chuck lost himself in an explosion of fur, of claws. A howl ripped through his throat, and he snarled and pawed at the ground.
Breath steaming, eyes wide and rolling, he spotted the small creature running towards him and snarled, lunging forward.
His muzzle snapped out, closing around the edge of her arm, a single fang piercing as he shook his head. She screamed, as her arm snapped under the force, and he opened his mouth for another bite seconds before something collided with him.
Rolling through broken branches and trees, a flurry of snow and dirty and old leaves cascaded around them as another wolf descended upon him, his fur red, eyes a bright blue.
Chuck howled and tried to fight back, but it was quicker, and its teeth found his own neck.
++
Chuck woke up at home. The red cloak was over him, and he was naked. Something warm was draped at his side, and he turned to see Hercules mostly disrobed, watching him.
Swallowing, he sat up, senses rushing as he sniffed the air.
“Mom,” he said, jumping out of bed, but Herc’s hand came out in a vice, tugging him back to the bed.
“Hey!” he shoved hard, “I need to find mom, old man-”
Herc rolled him and pinned him. His lips found Chuck’s aggressively, kissing until he was relaxed. Prone. And when Herc pulled away, Chuck’s eyes were more passive as he slumped back, mouth falling open as his eyes fluttered a moment. Something about Herc’s touch soothed the creature in his chest.
“Your mother is in the village,” said Herc softly, “with the healers.”
“She’s alive?”
He nodded. “We spoke, as I dropped her off. You’re a wolf, Chuck.”
The memories were blurry flashes, but Chuck felt something respond in him to be in Herc’s arms. Something that felt so right, so beast-like, that he couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to.
“What now?” his voice was quiet, frightened.
“Now you are mine. There will be no more human deaths here. I’ll tame the fighter inside of you.” Herc’s lips skimmed Chuck’s collar. “Somehow, someway.”
Chuck whimpered. “Is she one too then?”
“No. Wolves are born. Your father was a wolf.”
That made Chuck pause, because sometimes he wondered, and it made his attraction to Hercules all the worse.
“Who is my father?”
Herc met his eyes, and Chuck knew it was all the real answer he needed as he leaned in to kiss him again, deciding it didn’t matter. Deciding this was what he needed anyway.
Red to keep the wolf at bay.