Chapter Text
The trees loom overhead in the way they do only when one is lost. Mark is lost. Clouds are choking the sky, swathing the forest in gloom, and Mark shivers. It is not cold yet, but he shakes the sleeves of his red hoodie over his hands regardless. The chill isn’t coming from the temperature. Whipping his head around, Mark searches the darkness, trying to calm the anxiety skating down his spine.
There is no fanfare, no sound at all, to indicate when one part of the darkness separates from the rest.
Out of the shadows slinks a wolf, but it is not snarling, and its eyes are dark and sparking with mischief. Its inky fur blends into the backdrop of the woods. The wolf halts mere paces away from him, and Mark is frozen. Then the wolf leaps, and Mark thinks the force of paws hitting his chest is painful, at least until his back hits the forest floor hard enough to make dark spots blot his vision. When his focus returns, he locks eyes with the beast. They are fierce, to be sure, but Mark searches their depths for the killing instinct and finds none.
In a few drawn out, inexplicable seconds, the wolf on top of Mark shifts, and he finds himself pinned to the ground by a muscular man with dark hair and the same wolfish eyes that are shining with mirth.
“You shouldn't be out here alone. Pretty things can get hurt,” he said in a deep, faintly melodic voice.
Mark's breath hitches in his chest. He should feel threatened. He should be terrified. He should try to escape, but the man’s demeanor is keeping Mark pinned to the ground rather than his weight. Mark can't find his voice to reply, although he doesn't know what he would say if he could. The man leans down and takes a deep breath right above Mark's neck, and alarm bells start ringing in Mark's head.
Before Mark can will feeling into his limbs, the man snaps his head up and stares into the trees. The playful aura is gone, and Mark can feel the man's body tense where they are touching. He tries not to let his thoughts dwell on that too much. The man looks back down at Mark, dark eyes sharp and alert, and presses a finger to his lips. Mark had not made a sound aside from a grunt when he hit the ground during their interactions up to this point, so he isn't sure how much quieter he can be.
As the man cautiously lifts himself off of Mark, he realizes that the man is, as he feared, completely naked. Mark shoves all thoughts related to the subject to the back of his mind when he hears an inhuman wail that freezes the blood in his veins.
The naked man grabs for his hand, and Mark reflexively tries to shake him off. The man catches his arm and yanks him close enough for Mark to feel his hot breath on the side of his neck. Fear, wonder, and a hint of arousal, all fueled by adrenaline, make up an emotional cocktail that is coursing through Mark's system, and he feels the heat rising in his face.
"There are things in this forest that are more dangerous than I am," the man whispers in Mark's ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
When he pulls back, the man stares into Mark's eyes, as if searching for something, but Mark does not know what it is. All Mark can feel are his eyes stinging from his sudden inability to blink. Whatever the man was looking for, he seems to be satisfied as his lips curl slightly, though he never loses the wary tension in his body. Mark imagines his wolf ears quivering, trying to detect the presence of...whatever-it-is.
The man slides his hand down Mark's arm and grasps his hand firmly. Mark is entranced by his dark eyes, and when the man starts off at a swift yet stealthy pace, Mark allows himself to be pulled along.
The man makes nary a sound as he steps through the foliage, light on his feet and unfazed by the branches scratching at his bare skin. Mark, on the other hand, is managing to keep up, but his footsteps break twigs and rustle leaves, and he feels the sharp pain of branches whipping his face. He can see the man in front of him flinch every time Mark makes a noise, and the man is not the only one who hears.
Another spine-unhinging wail comes from behind them, slightly louder than before. Mark can't catch the whimper before it leaves his lips, and the man whips around, staring straight past Mark, who does not dare turn around.
The word comes out of the man's mouth as a growl that shakes Mark to the core, and his mind whispers doubt that this man is a better option that whatever is behind them.
"Run."
They do. The wailing has turned into a ear-splitting screech. Streaking through the trees, Mark ignores the burning in his chest. His legs are spurred on by the inexplicable sounds chasing him.
The man skids to an unexpected halt, and Mark runs straight into him. He feels hands wrap around his upper arms to steady him, but then he is hurled forward. Mark's body has a reunion with the unforgiving ground, and he rolls to a stop at the base of an enormous tree. Breathing in short gasps, Mark tries to prop himself up on his forearms and look back at the man.
The figure in front of him hunches forward, and in that same strange, fluid movement becomes a huge black wolf once more.
Out of the darkness in between the trees comes an ethereal mass of gray and white. The creature is roughly human shaped, but the air around it warps and twists into something nightmarish. When it opens its ghastly mouth to screech again, Mark braces himself.
The roar that erupts from the jaws of the wolf, however, drowns out everything. It's savage, snarling, brutal, and nothing like any sound an ordinary wolf should be able to emit. Mark feels his chest seize up as goosebumps rise on his skin and his fingers dig into the dirt. The nightmare creature recoils, and the wolf roars again. This time, Mark buries his face in the forest floor and covers his head with his arms, fingers twisting into his red hair. There's another, much quieter wail from the creature, but it fades into nothingness. Mark doesn't raise his head, and his entire body is shaking.
The feeling of a gentle hand on his back causes Mark to still, slowly releasing his grip on his hair and glancing to the side. He's met with warm, dark eyes that are sparking with mischief. Mark unfolds himself and struggles to a sitting position, groaning at the aches of his undoubtedly bruised body. The man is smiling at him, wide and happy, but Mark isn't comforted.
"I--” his voice cracks, throat dry. Swallowing, he starts again, "I thought you said...there were things more dangerous than you."
The man in front of him smirks, and Mark can almost see the tips of his fangs past his lips.
"It's possible, but I..." he says, "I am the big bad wolf."