She Walks in Beauty

IV. Facing

Rúna scrutinized her reflection in the polished ice. The small version of her true form was not so different than a human's, which made it much easier to learn that form than that of an animal. The muscles and bones, the nerves and sinews, these were the same. And yet, as she knelt here and looked into the frozen stream, she couldn't help but feel unprepared. She ran fingers over her skin, no longer sheet white, but light brown. The sun would turn it even darker if she spent time beneath its rays in this form. Her hair was ash grey, barely different from her true form's. It was her eyes that unnerved her the most. No longer were they bright onyx from corner to corner, instead gold rings around small dark pupils. She had little experience with human eyes, so she stuck with the familiar coloration of a wolf's.

Her time with Terese was spent in beast form, but it was an education all the same. The woman had been nothing but kind, though even with her assailants vanquished, Terese's nightmares were intense. Some did not even have the kindness to wait until the human was asleep. Whatever agonies Terese had endured, they had left indelible marks on her soul.

It wasn't right.

Since the battle, Rúna had been far more vigilant than their first meeting. She never wanted Terese to feel afraid again. And so she made certain to patrol the terrain, leaving great claw gouges in the bark of trees and other sign indicating a great predator. Hopefully, the primal fear of being devoured would dissuade the hunters after Terese.

She rose from the riverside. Terese would miss her if she lingered much longer. She'd just missed singing enough to take a break from her wolf form. Howling was not the same. She wished she could carry a proper conversation with Terese, maybe soothe some nightmares with more than a presence alone, but she had yet to think of a way to do so short of revealing that she could shift shapes. She didn't mind the idea of Terese knowing, but it was a secret that needed to be kept when beyond Stormhenge and the safety of numbers.

Rúna pulled in a deep breath, savoring the ache of the cold in her lungs. Her wounds didn't even bother her on a deep breath anymore. Terese had cleaned them and bandaged them well. It had been weeks and they were all but gone, remaining only as fresh scars. She was fortunate that the hide of a winter wolf was so thick, an armor worthy of the warrior contained in it. Swords were ill-suited for combating Ash Kordh's dangerous predators.

She shifted gracefully back into the form of a wolf and padded back to the ruined cabin. The birds that had not flown south for the winter sang under a clear sky, a sign that there hadn't been a disturbance in her absence. She made certain to announce her arrival with a huff at the doorway before squeezing in. She'd been able to push the wall back out after the battle, but it still made her cautious.

Terese sat inside by the fire, secure enough in the warmth to take off her gloves. She was working away on mending a rip to the sleeve of her outer shirt, since the weather was decent at the moment. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her stitches far neater than Rúna's had ever been. Still, there was not an air of peace in the cabin—Terese seemed lost in dark thoughts.

Rúna took a seat beside her, bumping the human with her nose.

Terese looked up with a wan smile. "Welcome back," she said, weaving her fingers through Rúna's thick fur. "I've almost finished with the shirt."

Rúna huffed and laid down.

The human sighed, but said nothing of it as she returned to her work. At least, not for a long moment. Here beneath the bright light of the sun, Terese was little better than she was under the dark of night. The lines of worry carved into her face seemed even deeper than they had before. A half hour passed without words before Terese finally whispered, "You would have hated me." Her fingers quivered slightly on the stitch.