Fenris' eyes lingered on Beowulf's form, still terrified by it.
'How is that even possible?' he thought, shifting back slightly. 'It's not even the full moon yet. If he's like this now…'
Fenris shifted another step backward.
"Coward!" Beowulf roared.
Fenris stopped, frowning at Beowulf with murderous intent. Speaking in his current form required more concentration than usual in his human form, and yet, Beowulf used this to mock him.
Beowulf, in his giant dark wolf form, began to chuckle. "Am I wrong?"
Fenris growled, baring his fangs. Beowulf smiled at the sight, revealing even more of his own. He spread his arms, welcoming Fenris.
"Come at me."
Letting out a mix of a bark and a roar, Fenris dashed towards Beowulf.
Moments later…
Fenris lay on the grassy field, eyes fixed on the moon. He had lost, obviously.
His form returned to that of a human. That tended to happen when a wolf was exhausted, or in this case, beaten to the verge of death. He coughed up blood, most likely the result of his guts reforming.
They would heal quickly. But his body was covered with claw scratches and bite marks. Those would take quite a while, even with the moon aiding his healing.
At first, he didn't remember much. But then it started to come back to him, piece by piece. He remembered attacking Beowulf like a wild animal, only for the giant dark wolf to prove he was far more wild and feral.
He was picked up, grabbed, bitten, and shredded like a toy over and over again.
And yet he still lived.
'I suppose that brute can hold back,' Fenris thought, agonized.
"Hey, brother. You don't look too good," Buck said.
He stood over Fenris, smiling, trying to cheer his childhood friend up. It hadn't worked. The moon was calming to Fenris, but Buck wasn't. Fenris would have told him to move, but the pain wouldn't let him.
"I know what you're going to say."
"Buck, shove off! Buck, leave me alone! Buck… stop putting stuff in my pockets."
"The last one's unrelated, but it's just so fun to play you."
Fenris' lips began to quiver, revealing a few fangs.
"Be calm. Be calm. I'm here to help."
Buck extended his hand, though not to help Fenris up. Fenris stared at it, considering taking it.
"What's the matter? You're in pain, aren't you? Take it, or I'm just going to keep talking. And I know you hate that."
Fenris grunted, rising only slightly and taking Buck's hand. Then it happened.
The veins on Fenris' hand began to darken and pulsate, and so did Buck's. Fenris' pain began to lessen, and Buck's increased.
"Gods, that hurts," Buck said, sitting on the grass next to Fenris. He put on a tough smile as he bore through it.
Fenris' pain started to lessen even more. He turned his gaze to Buck. He was barely able to put on a front; he was suffering. Scratches similar to the ones all over Fenris began to appear on Buck, and yet his grip remained strong.
"That's enough," Fenris said, retracting his hand. His pain had returned, though not as badly as before. "You shouldn't have done that."
"Of course I should have. We're brothers," Buck said.
"We're not…" Fenris paused. To say this would be the thousandth time Fenris had corrected Buck wouldn't be much of an exaggeration. So why keep bothering?
They both sat in uncomfortable silence for minutes. Keeping quiet was easy for Buck—he knew when to shut his mouth, at least when it counted.
"You did this too? Fighting… that," Fenris broke the silence.
"You mean Beowulf?" Buck said. "Yeah."
"And you won!?" Fenris asked, baffled.
Buck let out a huge laugh, accompanied by slight tears rolling down his cheeks, making Fenris frown deeply.
"Win? Hells no! There is no winning when it comes to going against Beowulf. He's a monster. I mean, we're monsters too. But him… he's a completely different breed, my friend. Trust me."
Fenris let out an exhausted sigh. Not physically, of course. Under the moon, his stamina was nearly limitless. No—this was mental fatigue just from thinking about it.
'This is no different from survival,' he thought. 'I'll do anything to see her again.'
Fenris' stomach growled loudly.
"Looks like someone's starving," Buck said jokingly.
Fenris stood and walked away, ignoring him. Every step sent a sting through his healing muscles, but he refused to limp.
"Where do you think you're going?" Buck asked.
"Where do you think?" Fenris replied. "You know what happens when a werewolf gets hungry, and I don't see any prey around here."
Fenris looked past the barrier and into the forest beyond. 'There should be a few deer out there. Maybe even an elk,' he thought.
His fangs began to emerge, and a sly grin spread across his face. He couldn't wait to hunt.
That was until he felt a pull at his elbow.
He turned to Buck, growling. Buck remained calm, unmoving, giving Fenris a stern look.
"You can't leave," Buck said. "Not even for a while. Not unless Lycan says so."
"So you're telling me I'm trapped here?" Fenris said, annoyed.
"Yep," Buck replied. "Unless you want to go back to looking over your shoulder for hunters."
Fenris hissed before forcefully pulling his arm from Buck's grip. "Then what the hell am I supposed to eat?"
Buck led him to the stone hall nearby. When they entered, Fenris sat awkwardly at a large dining table, staring at a headless roasted bird.
His eyes drifted to the other members at the table. To his side sat Buck. In front of him was Gwendolyn, fixing him with a rageful glare. To her side was Beowulf, devouring the meat on his plate without a care in the world. At the very end of the table sat Lycan.
His seat was larger and more grand, and he ate with golden cutlery and civility. Fenris couldn't help but snort at the sight. He wasn't sure if he found it pathetic or performative, even if Lycan was a noble.
His claws landed on a large drumstick. He reached for it—but it was grabbed by another.
"Buck," he whispered, wrathful. He knew better than to play with his food.
He turned to Buck, but the jolly wolf had both hands up in surrender.
'If it wasn't him…'
Fenris gazed past Buck and saw the thief—a girl with long, curly, messy red hair all the way down to her waist—gobbling up Fenris's drumstick.
Feeling his gaze, she turned to him. Her bright, green, radiant eyes stared into his dull, grey, and rueful ones.
"First come, first serve. Deal with it," she said, mouth full.
"Aria!" Gwendolyn screamed, banging her palms on the table.
"What!? It's not like that's the only thing on the table. He can get something else," Aria said defensively.
"That's not the point," Lycan joined in, wiping his mouth with a fine handkerchief. "You are a lady. Act like it!"
She deflated and began to mutter. "Why does everyone treat me like I'm a child?"
Maybe Gwendolyn wouldn't have heard her, but the rest of them certainly would. Perhaps it was just a little protest from her.
Beside her was a boy looking to be her age, also with red hair—well, more reddish-brown than the fiery red like hers.
'Are they siblings?' Fenris thought.
His eyes were dimmer and a different color: dark blue. While Aria, only moments ago, sat proud and uncaring, the boy's position seemed a bit hunched. Not just because he was trying to console her, but maybe out of practice of keeping his head down.
"It's okay. They're just looking out for you," the boy whispered. "Just because they said it harshly doesn't mean it didn't come from a place of care."
Aria seemed a little like her old self again, taking a slower bite from the meat. "Thanks, Alden."
Alden turned to Fenris, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry about my sister's actions. I hope you can let this go. After all, she isn't really wrong. There is more than enough for all of us."
"I suppose," Fenris said, turning away.
Alden was right; there was enough. He took another drumstick and chowed down on the meat and bones. His wounds began to seal up, and his hunger diminished, but still—it was missing something. It didn't take too long to realize what.
'Satisfaction,' he thought, disappointed. That was what was missing. Earning a kill and devouring it added a certain flavor that couldn't be replicated.
"The meat isn't to your liking?" Lycan asked, noticing Fenris' dissatisfaction.
"It's fine," Fenris said halfheartedly.
He turned his head constantly, observing.
"Looking for routes to escape?" Lycan asked.
Fenris stopped, but didn't answer.
"That's not needed. You are safe here, Fenris."
"I'm not safe anywhere," Fenris said. "And also…" He looked around some more. "Where's your pack, Lycan? Is this it?"
"No. It isn't," Lycan answered, the sides of his lips quivering. "They've already ventured into the other world."