Chapter Text
After five days of tracking the beast into the deepest parts of the Gloomed Jungles, Dorian finally had it cornered in an old abandoned bear den.
The giant wolf - which was so strangely large Dorian would barely come up to its shoulder - seemed to think it could elude him again, fleeing into the deepest parts of the cave as he fired off another shot from his crossbow towards it. But there was no way out of this cave except back past him and he wasn’t about to let that happen. Not when he was so close to finishing his trial. He’d already carefully injured it, just like he’d been taught - one bolt straight through the tendons of a rear leg to slow it, and two more in the body to weaken it. Now all he had to do was finish it off and bring its pelt back to the Squall; then he would finally be recognised as a fully-fledged hunter.
He rounded the last corner, the light from the lantern at his waist spilling into the large cavern and he could finally see the beast; along with the shadows it cast against the wall as it prowled back and forth, searching for an escape. As Dorian readied another bolt, it noticed him and immediately went on the defensive again, growling viciously and crouching low as if intending to pounce. But it didn’t attack. It just watched him with a snarl and bared fangs as he aimed.
And then he hesitated.
He wasn’t exactly sure why. At first, he thought it was just nerves - it was his first-ever solo mission and his first kill, after all. Maybe he just needed to take a moment to breathe. He knew from his studies that the more the curse took hold of a person, the more animalistic they became, their transformed form changing from vaguely humanoid to more wolfish and beastlike. Just like the creature before him. But as he properly met the eyes of the beast staring at him - such an unusual shade of green flickering in the lamplight - he found them so much more intelligent than he'd been expecting.
Somewhere deep inside that beast was a person, a humanoid who had been afflicted by a terrible curse that he’d been raised to believe was only curable by death, and he was supposedly the noble hunter putting them out of their misery. But, the more he thought about it, the more he met this beast's eyes, the more he questioned. Despite the monstrous form before him, the wolf had easily avoided all his traps and yet had still made sure Dorian had been able to track it. Not only that, it had led him very carefully and pointedly through the forest to avoid the roads and the towns they led to. It had been baiting him deliberately to protect the other inhabitants of the forest.
He lowered his weapon just a little in surprise.
“Why do you hesitate,” The beast suddenly rumbled in perfect common, startling him. “You have me cornered; I’m helpless. End me and be done with it.”
Dorian tried not to let his hands tremble. He'd trained all his life for this moment, to kill his first monster and join the ranks of his family. To finally take his place at their side as an equal. But the more he looked at the injured creature before him, the less glorious it all felt. He'd been told werewolves were all mindless monsters, killing whoever and wherever they pleased but…but this one was different. It had been protecting others, protecting them from Dorian. He swallowed heavily and readjusted his grip on his crossbow. He was just overthinking this. He wasn't the monster here, the werewolf was. He took aim again.
Then he noticed the beast was trembling. It was slight at first but the more he looked, the more obvious it became that the wolf was struggling to stay upright. And considering the wounds Dorian had inflicted already, it was a miracle it was still standing. But despite that, the beast stubbornly refused to break and appear weak. Like it intended to die on its feet with whatever dignity it had left. An odd pang of guilt shot through him, to know he was the reason a proud beast had been reduced to this; cowering in the back of a cave, terrified for its life. And yet, not once had it lashed out at him. Sure it had watched him, tormented and eluded him, but never had it attacked him. Had never hurt him.
This beast didn’t want to die any more than he did and in the same situation, Dorian could only imagine he would look just as fearful. Which meant, the only monster here was him.
“Shit.” Dorian finally lowered his weapon completely, pointing the bolt down towards the ground instead of the wolf. “Shit.”
For a moment, the only sound in the cavern was that of the wolf's laboured breathing as the two regarded one another carefully. But Dorian had made his choice, as much as it might come back to haunt him later, and fired the loaded bolt into the dirt at his feet. The beast visibly flinched at the sound, still barely standing its ground.
“Can’t follow through, little hunter?” The beast mocked as Dorian plucked his bolt from the ground. “Coward.”
Dorian winced at that. “...better a coward than murdering a frightened beast in cold blood.”
The wolf narrowed its gaze. Dorian stared down at the bolt in his hand instead. His family was going to be so ashamed of him if he returned without a pelt. But, at the same time, it didn't have to be this werewolf he killed. He was a skilled tracker, he could find another and kill it instead. It meant he would be away from home for longer but he just…couldn't kill this one. Not when it had gone out of its way to protect others from harm in the days he'd been tracking it. With a heavy sigh, knowing if his family ever found out about this he'd be cast out, Dorian shoved the bolt into his quiver and slung his crossbow onto his back. Then slowly he backed up, keeping his eyes on the wolf the entire time until the darkness swallowed it up.
For a moment he half expected the beast to come after him, to spring forth and take advantage of his weakness. But instead all he heard was the sound of an exhausted body hitting the ground hard. Guilt bit at him painfully and despite his better judgement, curiosity got the best of him and he snuck back to the entrance of the far cavern.
When the light spilled in enough, he could see that the wolf had finally indeed collapsed into a pile on the ground, its breathing still heavy and painful. It either didn’t notice him - which Dorian figured unlikely even with its eyes closed - or it was simply ignoring him. And he wasn't keen enough to test his luck by going in any further, so he simply slunk back around the corner and leaned against the wall. There was nothing physically stopping him from leaving the wolf to its fate, but something in his chest tugged painfully at the thought of it. Maybe he could stick around just a little while, after all, sooner or later they would transform and maybe he could try again to offer assistance to clear his conscience. If they rejected him, he would go and not let his anxiety guilt him into waiting longer. Besides, in human form, they could tend to their wounds themselves if Dorian left them supplies.
With his plan made, Dorian wandered back into the larger room and settled down by the entrance to wait, keeping himself occupied by making snares to catch some of the rabbits he’d seen on the hillside nearby. He hummed to himself absently, keeping track of the time that way, waiting for a full forty minutes before he figured it was time to check up on the wolf. Carefully, he wrapped some bandages and healing paste in a spare cloth before venturing back down to the cavern. To his surprise, the wolf was still right where he had left it, an exhausted pile on the ground that looked up at him suspiciously when he entered. It was curious now he thought about it; Dorian had been chasing this thing for days and yet never once had he seen it transform back into a humanoid.
“Don’t come near me,” The wolf growled, menacingly as Dorian slowly approached.
“I’m not going to hu-”
“If you come near me I will tear out your throat.”
“I just have-”
“What’s that?” The wolf asked, motioning its nose towards the package in Dorian’s hands.
“It’s…bandages and medicine. I thought by now you’d-”
“I don’t want your pity,” The wolf snapped, its teeth gnashing. “And I am not responsible for absolving you of your guilt for your actions.”
“I know that! It’s just…shouldn’t you have transformed back by now?”
Immediately the beast was on its feet, growling menacingly and Dorian instantly regretted not thinking to bring his weapon. But, he didn't back down. Instead, he growled right back and tossed the offering onto the ground before throwing up his hands.
“Fine! Bleed to death then! See if I care!”
But he did care, and that was the entire problem. Still, he huffed and turned, marching himself back down the way he’d come, through the winding corridor that led into the largest part of the den. However, he’d only made it a few steps before he realised his mistake - never turn your back on a werewolf, even an injured one - and instantly whirled back around, scrambling for his crossbow that wasn't there.
But no attack came, no beast pounced on him from out of the darkness. He waited a few more moments, for the pounding of his heart to calm, before he sighed softly. He could still hear the beast's growls reverberating off the walls towards him threateningly. And admittedly he shuddered to think what might have happened had it not been injured. He sank back down into his spot by the entranceway with a sigh.
After a moment to catch his breath, Dorian considered what he had just seen. Most werewolf transformations only lasted an hour or two, so it was strange that even after all this time the wolf was still a wolf and showing no signs of transforming back. Just be sure, he took a quick glance at his journal, where he kept a record of the moon cycles. That only further cemented his curiosity as it meant he could rule out the influence of a full moon. There was something distinctly different about this wolf from any other he’d ever studied or heard about. And admittedly, it made him curious. Maybe he didn’t need to return with a pelt if he could return with information.
While he considered that thought, he picked up his snares and crossbow - knowing it was unlikely that the wolf would go anywhere in a hurry given the state of its leg - and headed out of the cave to the nearby hill where he’d seen those rabbits. It didn’t take him long to set up the snares, but still, by the time he’d finished, the cloud cover had fully blocked out what was left of the sun and he could smell the storm on the horizon. So he hurried back, taking only a momentary detour to snatch up a few decent pieces of kindling for a fire, and just managed to avoid getting caught in the rain as the downpour started, fat droplets right on his heels as he slipped back into the safety of the cavern. But he at least had enough wood to start a small fire and enough meat to eat for the evening.
As he waited for the embers to catch properly, he went digging in his pouches for the rabbit he'd caught the other day, the only fresh meat he had left. Skinning it was easy - he'd been taught how to before he'd properly learned to talk after all - and once his little pot was set up over the flames with some water boiling, he cut up the meat and dropped it in along with the last of the vegetables he had. It wouldn't be a grand meal like back home, but he would be fed another day. While his meal cooked, he cleaned up the rabbit pelt a little, preparing to tan it into leather strips for use. So focused on his task, it took a bit for him to realise he was being watched.
The werewolf had snuck out from its cavern, summoned either by the noise he'd been making, or more likely, the smell of his cooking dinner. Dorian met its gaze, a startling hunger in its expression, as if it hadn’t eaten for days. And maybe it hadn’t, given how determined he’d been to track it and keep it on the move to deny it any rest or a chance to recover from its wounds. He glanced at his pot before back at the beast.
“Would you like some? If you transform back I can-”
The wolf growled at him angrily and without a word, slunk back into the darkness and out of sight again. Dorian was far from offended and mostly just took note of the fact the beast really didn’t like it when he mentioned transforming, which only made him even more curious. But he could only linger on the thought for so long before his meager stew was done and he dished it into his waiting bowl. He ate quietly and quickly, listening to the storm that was now raging outside, the thunder crashing distantly. However, underneath that, if he listened closely, he could hear the breathing of the wolf, as if it was still just around the corner nearby. Looking back down at the last of his meal, Dorian made his choice.
There were only a few small pieces of meat and broth left in the bottom of the bowl, but he still scooted over closer to where the beast lay on the other side of the wall, carefully placing his bowl down in the dirt before nudging it in through the doorway. He then hurriedly snatched his hand back, just in case the wolf took a snap at him before making his way back over to sit beside the fire again. This time when he heard the shifting of the beast, he kept his eyes on the flames, absently warming his hands just to have something to do other than look. But the sounds of the wolf feasting were unmistakable before it shuffled off back deeper into the cave.
After retrieving his bowl, Dorian watched the rain through the cave entrance as it pelted down sideways. Despite the storm, maybe tomorrow his traps would provide and he’d be able to offer the wolf more to eat. Sure, it wouldn’t make amends for the damage he’d done, but now the guilt had sunk into him, he knew he wouldn't be able to leave until he was sure the beast was going to survive. He threw another piece of wood on the fire and then settled in for the night, unsure what the morning would bring.
--
The morning unfortunately brought more rain it seemed, the heavy downpour continuing on from the evening before. Which made for a very boring time for Dorian, who could neither leave in this kind of weather, nor risk exploring into the cave further just in case the wolf took it as an excuse to stalk him and eat him. So after hurriedly bringing in some extra logs out of the weather to dry off ready for later, Dorian spent the day making notes - mostly about werewolves and the odd song lyrics that came to mind - before taking time to repair some wear and tear in his clothes and check his weapons and gear over.
He ended up taking off his amulet, checking it for chips or damage, running his thumb over the smooth surface. Out here it was nothing more than just a piece of stone on a leather cord, but once he was back home and provided he was successful in his hunt, his mother would help him carve the date into the stone, marking the occasion of his ascension to the ranks of his people. Marking him as a fully fledged hunter in his own right. The culmination of all that he had worked towards all his life. He was already a few years older than most that went on their initiation trials, but when your parents were the leaders of your people, no one dared to defy them when they decided to hold off on his trial for a few years more.
Somewhere deep down he feared they’d known he was softer than most and wouldn’t have survived if he’d gone any earlier. He closed his fist around the stone.
At dinnertime he snacked on some of the hard tack he had leftover and hoped that tomorrow the rain would ease up enough that he could go and check his traps. That was, of course, if they had withstood the storm after all. If they hadn't, he would have to go hunting tomorrow, weather permitting or not. He had no meat left, no vegetables, just a little leftover hard tack and some trail mix. He'd become so focused on the hunt he'd neglected to make sure he had enough food to survive. Though, he supposed, if he'd actually done the deed he would have had an entire wolf corpse to pick at.
But the thought of that now turned his stomach sour as he looked down at the remaining tack in his hand. He remembered the feral, starving look in the wolf’s eyes last night. He wasn't the only one who was hungry.
With a small sigh, he put what was left of the tack into his bowl and shifted over to the hallway that led deeper into the cave.
“It's not much,” Dorian said, just loud enough so that wherever the wolf was nearby, he could hear him. “But this is for you.”
He placed the bowl just beyond into the shadows and then stepped away, heading back to his pitiful fire that was only just enough to stave off the worst of the evening chill.
Around half an hour later, he finally heard movement from the shadows - the sound of a beast eating the offered morsels with a crunch before slinking back off into a deeper part of the cave. Dorian waited a little longer before going to retrieve his bowl then turned in for the night.
--
The dreary weather held up for most of the next morning but by early afternoon it was light enough that he dared to venture out and check his traps. Two of them had unfortunately been blown over by the wind, and two others had been unsuccessful in catching anything, but the fifth trap he’d gotten lucky and snagged a rabbit that would hopefully be enough to feed him tonight and maybe tomorrow morning if he was clever. Once he’d reset them all, he headed back to the cave to begin the process of skinning his kill and portioning up the meat carefully.
While he worked his mind wandered, back to his home at the Squall. He wondered what his mother was doing, whether her flowers had bloomed yet and if she was still upset with Cyrus for trampling all over them by accident. Surely by now she would have forgiven him, it had been well over two weeks since he’d entered the forest, after all. But, knowing his brother, he most likely would have done something else foolish in the meantime - he never could keep out of trouble for long. He smiled a little at the thought. He missed them all in his own way. While it was nice to finally be out of the Squall, he found he oddly missed the hustle and bustle of the palace - so used to having people everywhere around him at all times.
It was too quiet out here in the woods with nothing but spiteful werewolves and his own thoughts for company.
Once dinner was cooked and all but eaten, just as he had the other night, Dorian left a bit in the bottom of his bowl and placed it by the corridor for the wolf. He’d only just made it back to the fireside when he heard the unmistakable sounds of its approach. While the hungry beast ate, Dorian worked on preparing the rabbit hide for tanning. There was only so much he had access too while out on the road and even small pelts came in handy in a pinch.
Eventually he had to get up to stretch his legs and wandered over to recollect his bowl. As he reached down to pick it up, a voice from the dark startled him.
“...thank you.”
Dorian clutched the bowl to his chest like armor. “What?”
“You heard me.” And then the voice was gone, replaced by the sounds of something big shuffling away carefully.