Relating

Cooked meat! She had not had that for some time, though never in a strange, liquid form, delicious hunks of meat making her regret eating so soon when something so mouth-watering was waiting. She devoured it voraciously, nodding her appreciation, though he laughed at her again and did the same. There was no time to eat delicately, eating for purpose and function, even though it had been made even more delicious by the process of roasting it over the fire.

It was one of many things that she had to learn from him, even though there was so much she could teach him too. She could tell he was absorbing things from her, trying to scent the air as she had, though it had been the wolfess who had followed the beaver's tracks straight to the dam. She had shown him how to move quietly, silently, folding a foot over a twig or a pebble so that it did not make a single sound as one moved and stood, as quiet as an owl in the dead of the night, silent on their wings. Yet they could hunt during the daylight hours as well as at night, or any time of day that they pleased, finding different ways to tackle different prey.

They worked together, using their strengths to their benefit, the wolfess chasing a herd of small, nimble deer towards him, letting his long stick with the tooth fly, one after the other. He didn't get all of the deer that they would have wanted, but he impaled two, which was more than enough for them on a hunt. The human seemed a bit standoffish when she used her strength to move some of the larger rocks around the cave, helping clear the ground, though she noticed too how he went out of his way to show what he could do too.

He didn't have to move the rocks or show raw feats of strength, but he did it anyway. In a way, dimly, she was reminded of her time with the pack, when male wolves strove to prove their strength to a potential mate. So that he would not appear so despondent, making that funny expression with the corners of his lips turned down, she nudged him lightly for help in moving some of the rocks, even if she could have moved them on her own.

One night, as they lay there in quiet companionship, reminding her of the single wolves that she had curled up with when she'd struck off on her own, she looked curiously at the human. Well, she did that a lot, but it was different that time when he wasn't even looking at her. He was sleeping and yet...surely he had to be cold? He had skin, just skin, not her thick coat of fur, and she shifted over to lay next to him, all to keep him warm. He was her only packmate, after all, and she did not want him at all catching a chill.

He grumbled, however, rolling against her, pushing her away, his lips and expression contorted. It was not a wolf's snarl and yet it was a sign of displeasure as he grunted and pushed until she was back giving him space, though not quite where she slept usually in their cave. Of course, the human was merely too warm with both the fire and her fur, comfortable as he was, yet all she saw was a packmate who was being ungrateful -- she was only trying to keep him warm! After all, he ran during hot days without fainting, his stamina beyond hers in that weather, so he had to need to keep his body temperature much higher than she did.

Didn't he?

There were many questions and impressions in her mind, but not everything was meant to be answered, not even as they grew closer, the distance between their sleeping spots decreasing, day by day. When they were not hunting or gathering food, especially for the human as he needed to eat a lot more frequently than she did, they rested, relaxing together, though he also showed her a little of what he did.

Wolves, of course, rarely needed to make teeth to hunt with, not when they had their own. And yet the human had shown a canny, cunning ability to make his own teeth and claws, sometimes even one at a time. The long stick had a single, large tooth at the end and he showed her how he carved it from rock, sharpening it with another, harder rock again and again until it came to a point, then lashing it to the stick with tough foliage or parts of an animal they had killed. He had learned how to take more than just the meat of animals, for which she was impressed, other parts of them suitable for other things. Yet the knowledge of that, when their interactions were devoid of a common language, piecing together things through body language and grunts and drawings, would only come in time to her. Especially when she was so much less dependent on tools than he, as a human, was.

Wolves knew how to make fire too and yet she was forced to huff and grunt and lift her tail stiffly out at him when he tried to show her. With her fur it was not something that she had needed all that much, though he diligently lit a fire every evening, which did, at least, serve to keep wild animals away. Some would be brave, coming up to the glow of the fire, sparks leaping and dancing, but they would easily be chased away with a blazing stick, leaves flaring up to show them what fire could do to them. Animals, more so than the wolf or the human, had a respect for the danger of fire, whereas they could both control it and use it as they willed.

She tried to show him how to light it, tired of him trying to show her, repeatedly, but it took her just as long to light it herself. Not needing to light a fire meant that her skills were rusty, rubbing the sticks together over a certain little rock that she had learned, long ago, that was good at setting a spark. But the main part was increasing the friction of the sticks until they set a spark of fire into the nestled tuck of dry leaves and sticks beneath, to feed the growing flame.

Even though she was trying to show him that he didn't need to tell her how to do something so simple, he still crowed and threw his arms up, startling her, when she succeeded, tossing the sticks at him triumphantly. A bark of laughter burst by her lips when the sticks hit him in the face, the heat of one startling him, but no harm was done, not as she fed her fire. Her body warmed through with contentment, though she would soon have to move away from the fire itself as it grew, too warm for her comfort, happy where she was for the moment.

Yet sleeping was difficult for her in a time when she always felt as if she had to be alert and on edge, always looking out for danger. She should have been more comfortable with the human after some time together, though she still woke frequently in the night, turning her gaze from him to the open air, reassuring herself with a few quick sniffs of the air that all was well and that all was just as it should be.

They did not hunt every day, much to the human's discontent, though the wolfess became quite good at fishing. It was even something that she came to find relaxing, learning how to cast nets into the water and sitting on the bank, watching the fish come by. Before, she had fished by splashing through the water as a younger wolf, grasping at fish in her jaws, though it was something that had only ever been successful when the fish were returning to spawn, leaving the rivers teaming with many, many fish. With so many all leaping and squirming and flapping, as they leapt out of the water, against one another, even the most foolish of hunting wolves could not fail to return with a mouthful.

She appreciated the quiet of it, however, how she could access a supply of fresh fish whenever she wanted it, though some fishing days were, indeed, more fruitful than others. Learning from him but putting her own learning into play, she took the long stick with the long tooth, his spear, down the river some to where the water was clear and she could stand as still as a fishing bird, copying their style. For there was much to be learned from the animals around them and, of course, from the human too, even if the wolfess could have turned it into something that better suited her style of hunting too.

Standing still at the edge of the water, or, sometimes, even in the middle of it, did not impinge on her stamina, though it did test her patience. And a wolf had plenty of that, perhaps even more than a human, for he sat on the shore sometimes to watch her, quiet, as still as a stone that had not been worn down by the passage of time. A wolf pack, after all, could follow a wounded deer or elk or other large prey for days on end, sometimes even weeks if needed, taking them down the course of the injury or sickness that would, ultimately, fell them. Sometimes it was the wounded or injured prey that was easiest for them to pick off, for wolves held no pride about them when it came to taking down the largest or the strongest. The only thing they were concerned about was feeding themselves and their pack. There was no place for bravery when it could have just as easily been termed stupidity. Fighting bigger animals without due cause was not how the wolf packs survived.

She lunged suddenly, the clouds overhead muddying her figure from the fish in the water, the sharp tip of the long stick striking true. It pierced the water in a shattering spray of crystalline droplets, glinting in the moderate light, and pulled back with a squirming, desperately flapping fish on the end, impaled clean through with no hope of escape.

Of course, all the other fish were long gone by the time she stepped back out of the water, but her strategy allowed her to choose the fish that she caught, more easily taking the plumpest and the juiciest so that they may feast on readier flesh. The human stood from where he had been watching, showing his teeth in a grin that she no longer found off-putting. Not being a wolf, she had come to understand that he didn't know that showing his teeth like that was not something that wolves did, other than when they intended to be threatening or intimidating. It was too ingrained in her instinct, for her to return the expression to him, instead panting happily, her tongue lolling out.

The spear was his, but perhaps a little thick and a little heavy for what she wanted to use it for as she practised and honed her fishing skills. He helped her refine it, for the sharp head did not need, really, to be a separate piece to the spear for fishing. A long stick with a whittled down, sharp point would do her even better, lighter to wield and positioned such that she could lunge and strike with ever-greater precision, her skill growing and growing. Even though the wolfess tried to show him how to fish in that way, she was still learning and improving herself and it was not something that the human seemed to have a particular aptitude for.

Still, it was good for them to both benefit, the wolfess doing more than her part of hard labour, clearing a route for them to reach a good hunting ground more easily so that they did not have to go through a narrow canyon in the rocks. Predators could have lurked there and clearing a path, which was swiftly becoming increasingly well-trodden for them, though they had to be just as careful about walking over the same routes again and again. That was something that the wolfess knew and not him, not all the time, though he seemed keen to find a routine, a path that worked to reach a certain spot and not worry about anymore.

However, with her sense of smell, she was easily able to lead them where they needed to go without even marking a route, only ensuring that the way was clear so that they did not need to expend more energy than needed when hunting and gathering food. There were some especially fantastic berry bushes, flooding a copse of trees, that were highly desirable as the hottest time moved into a cooler time, fruits ripe but not for long.

To her surprise, the human didn't seem to need to give the berries a sniff before gathering them: some were poisonous to wolves and she assumed humans too. It was strange to her how he consumed more fruit than wolves, a lot more, though she was content to assist him in foraging and gathering, enjoying the quiet companionship.

They gathered the berries into carriers that they had woven with reeds and grasses, carrying them back so they may eat them for longer, though the human would not have been able to get there by himself. It was not as if she could direct him there alone either, for the way was snarled with vegetation and that was one time that the wolfess didn't want to clear a path when it was so well guarded by thick, dense vegetation. If she opened it up, other animals, larger animals, would make their way through, meaning that they would have more competition for the berries than merely small mammals and birds.

With the weather hotter than ever, the wolfess could not afford to drag out a hunt for deer while she sweated from the glands on the pads of her paws, panting to cool herself down. She had hastened him out in the early morn, but the day was swiftly growing clammy around her and she frowned, hunkering down in the bush to wait for the right moment to strike. That time, she had learned from him and taken a spear, learning to hunt with it. However, the need to feed surpassed, sometimes, her desire to learn.

The sun shone down, patterning the ground with shadows through the leaves of the trees, concealing her further as the pattern broke up her image. However, to her annoyance, the human moved too quickly, snapping a twig that startled the deer before she was ready for them.

She grunted as they both gave chase, though it was a futile one. They were too quick! Her lungs swiftly burned and she barked at the human, admonishing him in her language for breaking cover and leaving them with empty bellies for the night. The deer streaked, as one being, across from the trees, streaming down a hill, and she slowed to a halt, panting heavily.

Yet, while she tired, the human continued running and she shook her head at him. What was the point of wasting energy? Her stamina had failed her at a sprint, her muscle serving her better as she sat down, waiting for him to tire.

And she waited...and waited... Until, to her shock, the human returned with one of the smaller deer, one that was a size that he could carry, even as a dead weight, slung over his shoulder! She leapt to her hind paws and barked, though he only laughed at her, an expression on his face that she had learned over time.

It was a face that meant that he knew he could do it anyway: she should have believed him.

Panting softly, the wolfess parted her jaws lightly and shared in his joy at a successful hunt. Even if it had not been quite the hunt she had been expecting!

Some things he could not do without her and some things she did not think she could do without him, for their skills greatly complemented one another as they grew. The cave became home, decorated with paintings, though they relied more on body language as time went on, from the flick of one of her ears to the downward turn of his lips. The tiniest twitches of muscles and even the stiffening of her tail were all a means of communication when language was still so very rudimentary, finding different grunts and sounds that meant different things. In a way, they built their language between themselves, though most of it came simply from being so in step with each other, always paying attention.

Sometimes, they left their cave entirely, ensuring that there was no food or anything there that would attract animals, though they did not travel for long. She was the kind that might have travelled without stopping, a true nomad with no home, but they had made something of a home for themselves there. The human had shown her that he had been there for one long cold so far, the hardest time for hunting prey and finding food.

They always wanted to return to the cave, however, no matter how far they travelled, even if they did create other camps further up into the mountains, places that would be fruitful for them for gathering bird eggs from the cliffs in months to come. The highest slopes would not suit them when the snows came, so they advanced further down the plains, where the river became slower and more undulating, weaving back and forth across the land. There was less cover there, though some trees did line the river in places, taking their moisture from the most dominant water source. They allowed them some cover to hide and use throwing knives, even small snares, to trap the smaller animals that came down to the river to drink, letting a basic need bring their prey directly to them.

Where he showed her how to make the tools that he found most useful, lacking her teeth and claws, the wolf showed him how to braid animal hair into strong lengths of rope, things that could be better used to lash shelters together, expanding their cave a little. There was more than enough space in there for the two of them, but they made it their own, even if they were only their little pack of two. And, still, the cave paintings expanded, even if they were no longer purely direct communication between them, painting their lives, their hunts, their tools, the different animals that they encountered.

She still did not sleep as easily as before, whimpering in her sleep, in the grip of nightmares. The fire might have danced, but it could not ward off the darkness that plagued her mind, rolling over, clawing at the air, fighting off an invisible attacker that had assailed her pack, but, alas, not one that she could force back. She had been a few miles away, hunting for the young of the pack, when the attack had come, though the only evidence they left behind, amongst the bodies, was that they had used spears and arrows.

Yet she was brought back to the waking world, whimpering and blinking rapidly, in the arms of the human, who had crossed the space between their sleeping areas, the soft hides and furs that they bundled themselves in for the night (she had fewer than him), to wrap her in his arms. At first, the wolfess fought, struggling, thinking that she was still fighting off an attacker, yet his scent reached her just in time for her to relax into his arms, the strength of them, even though it was still less than hers, soothed her.

It was good to be held, like she was back with her pack. But he stroked her, rubbing her head and pressing his forehead to her, murmuring and soothing as he called her to breathe in time with him.

She showed him that night, wanting to reveal it all for him, drawing on the ground what had happened to her. It was the best way to convey the story, drawing herself first with a circle around her and then the rest of the pack with her parents at the top, signifying their position. The murderers... They were harder to draw, thicker lines adorning them, adding in the bows and arrows.

He watched intently and she shuddered with breath, pressing on. Then, she erased all figures...except for herself. Only her.

He took her drawing stick from her, showing his history, for she saw it clearly in the picture story, taking away the tail from her figure of a wolfess to show himself. Then, he drew a figure next to him to represent what she assumed was his mate, another couple of smaller ones. Cubs? Other figures followed: they must have been his family.

Like her, her heart pulling for him, he drew a second set of figures, all brandishing weapons -- and erased every figure except for himself.

Like her, he had been left alone.

She drew him into an embrace, arms tight around him, their foreheads resting together. Long, deep breaths, holding one another tightly, brought her back to the world of her new pack and her heart tugged for him, knowing that he knew where her mind had gone in sleep, that he was just the same as her.

Their relationship changed after that night, choosing a new animal hide to sleep on and setting up a shared sleeping space, for she wanted to be close to him and he chose to be close to her when they were not hunting or similar. Whenever he had the chance, he was by her side, and the wolfess relaxed increasingly into his presence, as if he had always been there. It was good to have someone, a partner that she could rely on, trusting him as much as she had the pack she had run with, though it was not something that she had ever expected to find after she had lost her pack.