Chapter Text
Wolf was on high alert. What exactly she was on alert for she wasn’t sure – she’d know it when she saw it – and that just frayed her nerves even more. She stared at Scarlemagne – no, he was Hugo now – from the doorway leading into the galley kitchen of the Oak family’s new home. He wasn’t doing anything to merit suspicion, quietly reading some old book, but seeing him so at ease put Wolf on edge.
It had been three days since the mandrill had been brought home from the hospital. Three days sleeping restlessly down the hall from him; sitting down to meals with him; playing nice with him as if she was supposed to just accept that he’d turned a new leaf. Modestly dressed and idly flipping through pages he hardly looked like someone who’d declared himself emperor and tried to drown a coliseum full of people in molten gold just a few months ago. But Wolf knew firsthand that looks could be deceiving.
His presence tainted everything. Wolf had settled quite comfortably into the Oak family while he was imprisoned, even calling Song ‘mom’ on more than one occasion, and had remained so during his “parole” and throughout Prahm. But now?
Two Weeks Ago
When Hugo was rushed to the hospital in the backup burrow, Kipo, Lio, and Song had all gathered around his bedside. Looking at all of them together, Wolf felt very much like an outsider. It seemed to her like it was happening all over again. Again she’d been taken in and made to feel part of a family only to have it be ripped away. Only this time there was no adrenaline to turn the heartbreak into anger.
A few other well-wishers had visited the hospital room after he’d stabilized, Benson and Dave among them. When those two left, Wolf had tried to slip out behind them. Kipo asking her between sniffles where she was going had made her stop. So she stayed, sitting at the back of the room, feeling a thousand miles away and utterly alone.
When Hugo started to show signs of waking, Lio mentioned getting him something to eat and Wolf quickly volunteered. It was hard enough being in that room while the Oaks hovered over their real kin. She couldn’t bear the thought of being there as he woke; seeing and hearing all the love and affection that she would never get.
It didn’t occur to her until the tray of food was in her hands that she’d have to go back. She froze at the realization. She stood there, stock still, staring at the tray. Her feet wouldn’t move.
“You alright, kiddo?” The human working the cafeteria, an older man barely taller than Wolf, was giving her an odd look. Maybe it was concern, maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, it snapped Wolf back to reality.
“Yeah- fine,” she responded, saying it far too quickly to be convincing. The human made a skeptical noise, but didn’t press further. Turning from him, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. As she walked, Wolf kicked herself for not better hiding her distress. She’d allowed herself to go soft while travelling with Kipo, allowing her emotions to slip past the expressionless mask that told humans and mutes alike that she was no one’s prey. But Kipo wasn’t going to be protecting her anymore, and that sort of weakness was liable to get you killed.
The trip back to Scarlemagne’s room took far less time than Wolf would have liked. She stood outside the door, struggling and failing to stop the tremor in her hands. She could hear the Oaks talking on the other side of the door, muffled but intelligible. Hearing Song mention the word ‘food’, Wolf steeled herself and walked through the door.