Jackson opened the door across the hall from his room, then stepped aside and gestured for Wren to step in ahead of him. Wren hesitated, then stepped forward. The room was dark and smelled faintly of disuse. Jackson stepped in behind him and Wren forced himself not to whip around. He didn’t like people at his back.
“Light is here,” Jackson said and the lights came on. Wren turned around at a normal, sedate pace, in direct odds to the pounding of his heart. Jackson had his hand on a panel at the door. “Bed, couch, bathroom.” Jackson pointed at each thing in turn. “Just come to my room when you wake up in the morning. Kia’s bringing breakfast up.”
Wren stared over Jackson’s shoulder. The words Jackson said were all normal, easy words… They just didn’t make any sense. Why was he leaving Wren in this room? Where was his cage? The bars with the slot so food could be pushed in to him. The flat pillow and thin blanket.
“Oh, actually just wait for me and I’ll knock in the morning. Good night, Wren.”
Jackson left and shut the door behind him. Wren glanced around the room. The bed was large and covered with a thick quilt. The couch was only large enough for two people, but the cushions look fit to burst with all the stuffing in them. Forgettable artwork hung on the walls, random faces of people Wren didn’t know. A small vase with a couple flowers sat on the nightstand.
Wren breathed in deep. The room obviously wasn’t used often, but someone had recently been in here. The entire house smelled of wolves, and he hadn’t met the wolf whose smell was strongest in this room.
He glanced back at the closed door then took a hesitant step toward the bathroom. Nothing happened. He made it all the way to the door and let his hand rest on the handle. It was quiet outside his room. Jackson’s room across the hall had the low-level humming blocking out any sounds from within.
His heart started kicking up. His palm was sweating where it rested against the metal knob. There was no sound. No noise. Jackson showed him where the bathroom was. That meant he could use the bathroom, right? His breathing shallowed out as his mind spun. Should he risk it? Open the door and face the consequences if he misunderstood?
He turned the knob.
Nothing happened. No noise. No sound. No alarm. Just a dark bathroom. He used it quickly and left the room exactly as he’d found it.
His skin was crawling and his muscles were jittery. If something was going to happen, he wanted it to happen now. Delayed punishments were always worse. Never knowing when it was going to happen. Wren stripped off his clothes and shifted.
The wolf settled over and calmed the anxiousness in this skin. He shook himself. His fur was clean. As in clean-clean. Clean in a way it hadn’t been in years. It was thick and full and there were no tangles. He shook again.
His fascination with being clean only lasted a couple minutes, then abruptly, he was exhausted. His limbs felt heavy and he let out a silent yawn. The bed was obviously off limits to sleep on, as well the comfortable looking couch. The rug was soft and plush. The only portion of floor that wasn’t covered in the thick carpeting was the small section of brick in front of the empty fireplace.
That would be his best bet. The bricks were smooth and cool, much better than the rough concrete he’d lived on before, and yet, he wanted nothing more than to return to the carpet. The soft strands beneath his paws was a level of decadence he’d never experienced before. He curled up and flopped his tail over his nose in an attempt to get warm… then realized he didn’t need to do that. The room wasn’t getting colder. Even the stones he lay on were slowly warming beneath him.
He tried to stretch out, but the feeling of wrong hit and he curled back up.
The patchy fur he’d used to have would have been enough to keep him warm here. It was a comfortable temperature. Wren forced his eyes open. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to sleep? Maybe he was just supposed to be waiting until the morning?
Except… no. Jackson’s first command was to go to his room when he woke up in the morning. Then he changed it though. He said to wait and Jackson would knock on the door in the morning.
Oh. Ok. Yeah. This was the punishment then. Surround him by all these nice things that he couldn’t touch. Deprive him of sleep. Wren almost regretted telling Jackson his name. It made the punishments just that much more bitter to hear the name his mother gave him at the end of the poisoned words. The allure of hearing it again, hearing it after all these years of being nothing more than a string of numbers, it had been too strong to resist.
Wren stood and shook out again, then sat on the stones and stared at the door. He would sit and wait for Jackson to knock.
It was probably because he ate those sweets earlier. Kia had pressured Jackson into letting him eat them and now Wren was going to pay for it. But that’s fine. A little sleep deprivation wouldn’t be too bad. If it was only one night then he’d be just fine.
The humming across the hall shut off. Wren listened to the door shut with a snick and light footsteps fade away down the hall. There was a rustling in Jackson’s room and then he could make out the gentle whooshing of Jackson’s breathing.
Wren listened to that. He would focus on Jackson’s breathing and get through the night like that. It’d be much better than staring in silence at an unchanging door.
Just one night like this wouldn’t be bad. Then tomorrow he would know better than to accept the human food. Jackson’s remark about Kia bringing up breakfast… It was probably the next bit of punishment. He was given a taste of how good the food is here so now he’ll know exactly what he’s missing out on. Just one night to get through. He’d forget the taste of the food soon.
Jackson’s breathing had evened out. Wren wanted to lay down, at the very least. But if he were to lay down, he’d fall asleep. He locked his front legs. Just one night, he repeated, just one night.
A knot grew in his throat. It was the same thing he’d tell himself when his previous owner would hook the leash onto his collar to lead him to his next fight. Just one more fight. Just one more and then he’d let Wren be done. He’d let Wren go home. Just one more fight.
There was always one more fight. There would always be one more night.
He couldn’t cry as a wolf, but it didn’t stop his eyes from burning. It didn’t stop his throat from aching or his sides from shuddering as he tried to keep his breathing even.
Just one more night, he forced the thought through his mind. Tried to force himself to believe it. Just one more night.
Kia shoved his laptop towards him as he fell face first onto his bed. “What am I doing, Kia?” He turned his head to her.Her gaze was sympathetic. “A good thing. You know as well as I do that the chances of him being alive this time next year was next to none. Besides, it could always be worse. According to this some former fighters are near uncontrollable without constantly manipulating the collar.”Jackson pulled the laptop on top of him. ‘Severity of Aggression in Rescued Fighter Wolves.’ He scanned through the article. A lot of it wasn’t very optimistic. The best results seemed to come from wolves who were saved at a young age. They were successfully switched to other positions with fairly minor leftover effects.“Did you notice the ages?”“Yeah.” The oldest wolf they had ever rescued was 22 and he was damn near feral according to the article. “I think once they found out
Jackson showered before going to get Wren. He assumed Wren would be enjoying his time alone to relax, or maybe Wren was sleeping in. He hoped Wren was sleeping in. Which is why it took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing when he opened the door.Wren stood leaning back against the fireplace. His arms were crossed when Jackson opened the door, but fell to his sides as he stepped into the room. Dark circles were under his eyes, clear even from across the room. His hair hung in loose waves around his shoulders. Jackson glanced over. The bed was either perfectly remade or Wren had never touched it. “Good morning,” Jackson said, looking back at Wren.Wren didn’t answer. Jackson hadn’t expected him to.“All right, follow me.”Wren followed. Jackson had him sit at the table again. All at once, Jackson was overwhelmed. Wren wouldn’t talk. Wren wouldn’t sleep. Wren wouldn’t… No. He stopped. He
Wren floated in the river near his home. The water in his ears muffled the cries of his baby sister and the laughter of his mom. The sun warmed his face. He couldn’t figure out why his chest ached when it was such a pleasant day. The scent of his mother’s lavender water was surprisingly strong in his nose. It brought a smile to his face. That scent had never come with anything negative. That scent had never hurt him.The river pulled him down stream and he heard his little brother banging a stick against a tree. He frowned. The day was peaceful and calm and his brother always had to be so loud. He opened his mouth to respond, but remembered his mother’s unhappy frown when they fought and closed it.He kept it shut and the banging kept going on. It would pause. Then three rapid bangs would happen. Then a pause. Frustrated he opened his eyes and froze.There was no river. There was no forest. There was no mother, or brother, or baby sister. The s
It was a little intimidating, just a little, to see the massive wolf come sprinting straight for him. Wren’s ears were flattened back, his head and tail held down low. It wasn’t a friendly approach, but it wasn’t aggressive either.Wren slowed to walk and slunk into the gazebo. He crawled under the table and lay down. Jackson stared at Wren’s tail - the only visible part of him from where Jackson was sitting.“Kia will probably be out there for awhile.” There was no response, but Jackson hadn’t expected any. When Wren was human he barely responded, as a wolf, Jackson figured it was useless. “Why don’t you get up on the bench? It’s more comfortable than the floor.”To his surprise, Wren slowly crept out from under the table. His ears were still flattened tight to his head. He stepped up on to the bench and lay down. Jackson held back his laugh. Wren was almost too large to fit, but he squeezed his
Jackson left Kia in charge of showing Wren how to use the tub and shower. She joined him not long after. “You showed him the selection of soaps?”“Yeah. He seemed a little overwhelmed so I pulled out the ones you use in case he just wanted to stick with that.”Jackson hummed. Kia’s hair was stuck in unattractive clumps. He thought he saw a twig buried in the thick strands. “You might want to shower too.”“Yeah.”She fell onto his bed instead. He pulled his feet out of the way just in time for her land with a muted thump. “He was protecting you earlier.”In the gazebo, when he’d growled at Kia. “That’s what it was? Thank God. I thought he saw you as a threat.”She snorted and rolled her head to the side to look at him. “Nope. He was just telling me to watch it. I just can’t decide if that’s a good sign or not.”Yeah. He kne
Kia sat up and cocked her head to the side. “Wren’s out of his bath. Want me to go get him?”“Yeah.”Jackson was just assuming Wren wouldn’t feel comfortable coming over by himself. To be fair, Kia was the only who really felt comfortable just coming into his room.Kia came back with Wren following behind her. Jackson stared. Wren’s hair was messy, wet, and dripping onto his shirt. He clutched a comb in his hand. his jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders tense. Jackson dropped his gaze back to the comb, then looked back at his hair.“Do you want help combing your hair?” It was a guess, but it was a good guess. Wren’s jaw unclenched at the words and there was only a moment of hesitancy before he nodded.Wren sat in the same chair as before. Jackson took the comb from him, carefully brushing his fingers against Wren’s in the process. Wren didn’t flinch away. Jackson grinned and m
Wren had been through a lot in his life. He’d hurt countless wolves. Countless. He’d been stuck in the same routine of fighting and fear for so long that he’d forgotten what the fresh fear of a brand new situation felt like. The market hadn’t even scared him. He knew what was going to happen. He’d be purchased by a different owner who would run him in the fights again.It hadn’t happened. He never thought it would be scarier to go to someone who wasn’t actively hurting him.He had no control over the whine that left his throat. The first touch, the bending of his fur, he was prepared for pain. Jackson hadn’t hurt him so far. He hadn’t given a single indication of getting enjoyment out of other’s pain. Wren tried to remember that. Jackson’s touch wasn’t forced. Jackson’s touch wasn’t a precursor to pain.So far.Wren held out as long as he could. Every absence of the hand,
Wren whined without realizing he was doing it. His mind was completely caught on the word free. No more collar. No more fear of paralyzing heat, of the inability to move, to escape.Jackson’s hand was gentle on fur. He whined with each stroke. He forced his brain to slow down, his breathing to slow down, to match the pace of Jackson’s strokes.What would Wren do if he was actually free to do as he pleased? A couple days ago and he would have sworn up and down that he’d be happy to hear this news, and part of him was, but… what would he do? He didn’t know how to do anything except fight. He couldn’t… What would he do?“You’re ok.” Jackson spoke from above him and Wren realized his whining was getting louder. “It’s ok if you want to stop. If you don’t like this then we don’t need to do it.”Jackson’s hand was hovering over Wren’s head, n