Dawn's Path: Completed Work

Soaking up syrup with the bit of pancake, she mulled over how to bring up the subject. Coming up blank, she stuffed the bite into her mouth instead. His posture was rigid and erect. Sitting so stiffly, he looked a little like he had a stick shoved up his butt. He would not appreciate her breaking the news to him so crassly. This was going to take a lot of time she didn't have. The wolf in him wouldn't be denied forever and he would come out. But, if she pushed it, the man might throw her out on her ass. "So are you going to tell me your name?"

"Drew...Andrew, officially." He poured Tala another cup of coffee from the carafe Anna had included on the tray and set it on the coffee table with the cream and sugar. After gathering up the mess of dirty dishes on the tray, he set them on the floor outside the bedroom door.

One of the women would find the tray of dirty dishes and take them to the kitchen to wash. He wasn't sexist. Well, he was, in a way. More a product of his time than his actual beliefs, he supposed. In his day, men did the providing and women tended the children and the house. But, in this case it was not as much sexism as it was practicality. Anna was very particular about who she allowed in the kitchen. And he was not about to ruffle any feminine feathers. He'd be the first to admit he knew nothing about this new breed of females or the workings of their minds.

Closing the door behind him and returning to the rocking chair, he settled back and fell under her scrutiny. Tala was sizing him up. Her eyes shrewdly running over every inch of him as she sipped her coffee.

"Drew?" Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him. She saw no indication that he was lying to her. And his name had certainly rolled off his tongue easily enough. He was certainly different than the last time she'd seen him. Not as much in his mannerisms but in his dress. He'd traded in the worn, mud splattered jeans for black dress pants. The raggedy jacket he'd lent her and the t-shirt he'd worn beneath had been exchanged for a luxurious navy blue button down open at the throat and the sleeves rolled to the elbows to expose his muscular forearms. Italian loafers and those thin socks businessmen wore replaced the heavy, battered hiking boots with their frayed laces. He smelled slightly of cologne. Not an unpleasant scent, but not nearly as alluring as his natural essence of pine, spice, and winter frost.

He'd tamed his hair and slicked it back away from his brow. And without it hanging down in his eyes in a tangled mess, this was the first time she'd really gotten a good look at his face. The angle of his jaw was rugged, giving a hard edge to his features. The set of his full lips, drawn into a line of disapproval that she was staring at him so obviously, was almost severe.

She'd thought his eye color was black when in actuality they were a deep, dark brown with traces of mahogany and hints of gold woven through. His aquiline nose gave his features character. Slightly crooked with a bump at the bridge of it, as if it'd been broken more than once and the bones not quite realigned correctly. Broad, high cheekbones lent his face an almost regal air. Faint laugh lines fanned out from the corners of his mouth and eyes. He'd smiled a lot and spent his days outside basking in the sun.

Scant strands of silver hair bordered his temples, hinting that he had been a bit out of his prime when he'd died. The cut was shaggy and long for a man, ending at his chin. As if he'd never quite adapted to the expanding world rapidly taking over his and the longer hair was a sign that he had not and would not ever sacrifice his heritage.

Thick dark eyebrows, arched up as if he were waiting for her approval, and long, sleek lashes framed his eyes. He'd lived hard and his life had not been an easy one. Thin furrows creased his brow. A sign that he'd had more than his share of worries. And, given who he had been when he was alive, he had. A faint, jagged scar line marred the point of his chin. It was impossible to tell when or how he'd gotten the mark.

The finery of the clothing he wore could not hide the reality of the man wearing them. He had the stature of a warrior. Muscles honed from a lifetime of training and of war. Broad shoulders used to bearing the burdens heaped upon them. He was lean, his abs defined, his chest, wide and firm, waist tapered, and hips narrow. He had the body of a man who had worked hard to carve a life out of the world around him and expected nothing less. Strong, powerful thighs and long legs, those of a long distance runner far from home. He was big everywhere and somewhat imposing at an impressive height of about six-foot four inches tall. His posture was perfect, head erect, shoulders back, legs crossed at the ankles. But, the relaxed position in which he sat was anything but. This man was completely alert and aware of everything around him.

The swirling black line of his tattoo, his mark of status in the brotherhood, peeked out from under the neckline of his shirt to end just below his right ear. His entire back was probably inked with similar designs. Telling the story of his long life. For all that he might be or might not be. There was an aura of authority surrounding him. And perhaps, just a slight tinge of arrogance that came from being in command. He had a calmness about him and a cool and reassuring confidence in his mannerisms and way of speaking. He was wise beyond his many years. And something, just the overall effect of who he was, a leader to his very core, made you want to believe, not only in him, but in all the possibilities of the cosmos. He was all male, all alpha, and a man not to be taken lightly.

He commanded and the very presence of him demanded all of a person's attention. "You don't look like a Drew," she finally said. A Thor, Ra, or a Zeus, definitely. But, Drew was simply too mild a name to suit the man seated slightly to her left.

"You don't like it?" He sat back in the rocker with a huff; confounded by her reaction to his choice. Wasn't she the one that had asked for it in the first place? He could not understand what it was about this tiny female that had him tripping over his feet, stuttering and tongue tied, and basically, acting a fool to please her. Ok, so he did need an update. But, he'd done it to impress her. And she'd found him sorely lacking.

Pursing her lips, lush and full as a rose in bloom, her distaste was far too apparent. Exactly, what was it about him, besides his name, she found so distasteful? His little Maiden of the Woods was far from perfect. He could say her nose was too straight and lacked character. He could complain that her eyebrows arched a smidge too high. Her cheekbones too pronounced and her chin too pointy for the delicateness of her face. That the veil of her dark lashes was too long and made her chocolate brown eyes look far too big for the china doll fineness of her features. He could argue that her raven's wing hair should be worn loose and free instead of bound in a tight braid.

Her teeth were too blunt and white. Her tiny hands were too dainty for hard work. Her curves too boyish, lacked femininity. And her breasts, he wished he hadn't noticed them at all. She wore nothing under the thin t-shirt. And the wine color of her areola showed through the pale, delicate shade of pink. Indicating just how indifferent or completely oblivious she was about her body.

Her nipples peaked to ripe points straining against the t-shirt as he scrutinized her with the same intensity as which she'd done the same to him. She couldn't be bothered to wear one of the bras the females had undoubtedly provided her with? Well, actually, he liked that part. The male in him cackled with masculine glee and had to wonder if she wore panties beneath the thin cotton pants. Shamed by his thoughts and his bad behavior, he forced his eyes to the floor. He was being childish and a bruit. He deserved the stiffness and the agonizing tightness building in his groin as punishment. Her world was obviously very different than his. And until he knew more about it, he had no right to judge. And decidedly no right to think the thoughts he did.

Tala was the key to whatever was going on inside of him. She had the explanations he so desperately needed. The strangeness of himself had been increasing exponentially over the past weeks. And it had become worse since his encounter with her.

He craved food. He walked freely in the daylight without the burden of pain assaulting his eyes. There was an instinctive wildness to his every thought and movement. He understood the woods and the creatures in it in a way he never had before as if he were one with them. He was more territorial almost defensive about all the things he considered his. And his primary instinct was to protect what was his. Mine was a very loud shout in his head, a raw and almost primal drive. His insides rippled with an almost uncontrollable male aggression. He wanted to rend flesh from bone with his teeth. And tear at the soft underbelly of all the life around him with imaginary claws. He was spirit. He was man. And he was alive in a way that was so different from anything he'd ever experienced before. And only she could explain why. "Tala, what's happening to me? What am I?"

Chapter 54

Tala blew out a breath and set the empty coffee mug on the table in front of her. She hadn't expected him to ask such a direct question. Or to have it asked in such a despairing tone of voice. He was afraid. Afraid of himself and what was inside of him. The wolf remained dormant. Being around her was making it so much more difficult for the man to maintain control. How could she best answer his question? He had to be ready, prepared for when the wolf sprang free. She read the terror in his dark eyes. And knew she owed him the truth of what he was and what he would become.

She didn't completely understand why his brother had kept his family such a secret. Knowing the Great White Wolf there was a good reason why. He never did anything without a reason. And in keeping their secret and his, he'd hidden them, protected them, and jealously guarded them from his own brother. Maybe, the best explanation was found at the beginning instead of the end. And it was there she should start.

"The Great White Wolf, Psaiwiwuhkernekah Ptweowa, wasn't always one with man. He was guardian of the spirit world and Kokumthena's most cherished companion. Being a spirit wolf, he longed to roam and to hunt. Lonely for those of his own kind, of which there were none. He was spirit fashioned after the true wolves of the world down below. There was only him. He had been such a faithful companion and so diligent in his service to Kokumthena. She could not create another like him, for he was born of magic and spirit rather than flesh and bone. But, he was so alone, desperate in his longing for what he could not have. A mate. She sent him to the human world to search out a suitable female. A natural wolf Kokumthena could gift with spirit.

A hunter of unnatural speed and ability caught the scent of the Great White Wolf and became obsessed with his magnificent pelt. Thinking the pure white fur would make a fine coat he hunted the wolf for weeks. The wolf knew the male was tracking him and had made a bit of a game out of confusing the human. But, the hunter was every bit as cunning and sly as the wolf and he beat him at his own game. Cornered, the wolf begged for his life. But, the hunter wouldn't hear of it. He wanted the coat made of the wolf's fur badly. His heart hardened by greed, he killed the wolf with his spear and began skinning him.

"Kokumthena was outraged, saddened and heartbroken over the death of her only companion. Angered and out for vengeance she confronted the hunter that had killed her best friend. Only, she could not. For the hunter wasn't any ordinary hunter, he was the brother of her first Son. And her magic flowed through his veins. She could no more break the heart of her favored warrior by killing his brother than she could reform the wolf's broken body to give it life. Unwilling to cross the Great River and leave her alone and the barrier unprotected, the wolf's spirit remained by her side. As a reward for the wolf's faithfulness and as punishment for the hunter's cruelty she merged the wolf's spirit with the hunter's body and the two became one."

"My brother," Drew said. His heart was heavy with the realization of the depth of the secret his brother had kept from him for almost two centuries.

"Yes. He had a wife, a human wife. And she bore him many fine children. Kokumthena gave him a gift, a rare and precious gift. His children carry the spirit wolf within them. And through his children and his children's children, both your brother and the Great White Wolf fathered a race."

Drew gripped the arms of the rocker. The wood groaned from the strain beneath his fingertips. He'd never hated his brother. But, he did now. How could he have kept such a secret from him? His brother lived two completely different and separate lives, neither one of them a lie. But, neither one of them was the whole truth either. "Why?" He shook his head, his fingers clenching and unclenching in fists, rage mingling with disbelief and confusion as he tried to process every word she said. "Why didn't he tell me?"

Tala nervously licked her lips. Her wolf prowled the surface of her mind, clawing for freedom. Sensing the danger of Drew's trembling rage. Whatever hold he had on his wolf was slipping and he was on the verge of giving himself over to the Great White Wolf's power. So much raw energy and power rippled along the surface of his body, leaching form every pore, tearing at him with waves of magic so intense that he could barely hold himself together. Gently, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his knuckles, prying them free from their grip on the poor chair arm. Clasping them tightly with her hand. "I'm sorry. I truly, truly am."

Drew stared at their intertwined fingers. Her hand was so tiny, so dainty, gripping his with such strength and courage, with hope and complete trust. He was otherworldly. And so was she. In a fit of rage, he could have torn her apart. And she could have released her wolf's power, and ripped him limb from limb. They were locked together in a world and in ways he could scarcely understand and she had not the words to explain. "I can not father children." He regretted the statement as soon as hit left his lips. His observation of that simple fact made no sense and was completely out of context with the truth she'd revealed. And yet, what he'd said meant everything.

Tala smiled and basked in the warmth of his grip on her hand. She'd thrown a great truth at him today and expected him to understand something beyond the ordinary realm of comprehension. Drew was trying as desperately to sort through the truths as she was to reveal them. "I think that's what your brother was protecting us from. My family, we are born like this, of flesh and blood and spirit. The wolf is in us from our very first breaths to our last, one with us from the time of conception and the spark of life created.

"Your brother was what you are before he became one with the Great White Wolf. It isn't only wolf magic that flows in our veins. Your brother's blood does as well. You father your children, your race, through blood, not by birth. Your blood. My blood. His blood. The magic in the blood and the family through which it flows makes the impossible possible. Don't you see? What would the ability to father children born of a mother be worth to one of your kind? What lengths would someone go through to possess such a rare and precious gift as a real, flesh and blood, child?"

"He hid my family from me to protect them."

"No Drew, to protect all of us," Tala said. "What I have told you, nobody, not even those closest to you can know. Such secrets make enemies of friends. The truth must remain unknown. We have always lived a life of secrets. As I suspect, have you. If you must share it, do so discriminately. My life and the lives of your family depend on it. There are those that would kill to have what you have."

Drew released Tala's hand, regretful for the force he must have exerted on her delicate fingers. She was not as fragile as she appeared. Her hand was undamaged. And for that, he was grateful of this one small favor. "And what of the Great White Wolf? Did he die along with my brother?"

Tala closed her eyes. She could not bear the weight of the grief she saw in his eyes. He still mourned his brother. Through the storm of his anger and the fury of his rage, in death as it must have been in life, he could not turn his back on him. "The Great White Wolf waits for you to understand, for you to accept. He is not a patient wolf. Even now, you can feel him prowling inside of you. He is so eager to be free. You are one with him, together, yet separate, two halves of the same whole.

"Everything that you sacrificed. Everything Kokumthena took away from you when she gave you her gift. You have it back. You can eat. Look into the beauty of the sunlight. You have strength and power the likes of which you cannot yet understand. You have a family eager to meet you. Great, great, great, great, so many greats back nieces and nephews waiting for you to call them home. I know you don't see it for the gift it is. And now the weight of this secret is so heavy on your shoulders. I can see the burden of it in your eyes and on your expression. And I am sorry. Drew, you can have children. Rebuild what time snatched out of your grasp. Whether you want this or not, whether you accept it or not, the wolf is in you, an inseparable part of you. And he will not be denied forever."

"You sound so certain of that." Drew shut Tala down. He could not listen to another word, true or not, out of her mouth. Overloaded by the weight of things, the truth of things that should not be, he launched his body from the chair.

"I am."

Drew stopped his pacing long enough to pin her in his stare. Dragging a hand through his hair, he drew a long breath. "I need time."

"That I don't have. Drew, I came here for help. Your family needs you. We are a dying breed. Fewer and fewer young are born each year. Mothers die in childbirth and children who survive are lucky to live till their first year. Humans encroach on our territory. Game is scarce. Since your brother's passing we are in greater danger than ever. My father is Pack Master. But, not even as great as he is can he fill the void left by your brother's death. We must have the Great White Wolf to unite us. Without him, we will die. And the few of us that are left will be scattered to the wind.

"We need a new home, a safe place to hunt and to live, to regain our strength. Drew, please hear me. Listen, please. Can you really turn your back on us now? Bring your family home where we belong." Tala was on her feet and across the room. Pleading with him. Stretching her fingers to grip his arm to keep him from leaving. "Your brother died for us, Drew!"

Drew reacted, not to her touch but to the sheer desperation in her words. He twisted out of her reach before she could make contact. He needed his anger. And her touch would zap his rage of its strength. He wanted no more burdens. No more responsibilities for lives he could not control than he already had. "My brother died at the hands of the Windigo. The bastard responsible didn't even know you or your pack existed."

"Your brother died trying to prevent their escape from the spirit world. I know, or rather my wolf does, she was there. We failed and many suffered. When the Great White Wolf was attacked in spirit form, your brother's body could not withstand the assault and he perished. When one dies whether in the spirit world or this one, so does the other. It is a risk we willingly take. We fought so bravely and many of my family were killed in the battle. By turning your back on us, you turn your back on them and on your brother. His legacy is one of family, of flesh and blood. And you spit on it and dishonor his memory and the cause he died to uphold."