A Wolf at the Crossroads

The path was a winding ribbon of silver-grey dirt, flanked by trees with bark that looked like braided copper. As I crested a small ridge, I spotted a guy standing at the bottom of a grassy slope. He had his back to me. For a split second, I considered calling out.

My social skills were non-existent back home, but here? I was a New-Worlder with a mouth full of small fangs, well two fangs, maybe I could manage a "Hey, which way to the city?"

Then he leaned down. He started digging into the earth with his bare hands out here in the middle of nowhere. Nope, I thought, not today, Weirdo. I wasn't about to risk getting murdered or roped into some grave-digging ritual within my first hour of being here. I picked up the pace, my boots thudding harder against the dirt, and started muttering to the only person who ever listened, myself. "Unbelievable," I hissed, my voice a jagged whisper in the woods. "Just... absolutely typical.

I walk through a literal void, and the first person I meet is a psycho-hag who thinks 'soup' is a synonym for 'mutant-serum.'" I felt my canine graze my lip, a constant, sharp reminder of what she’d done. "’Interesting path,’ my ass," I grumbled, mimicking her raspy, rattling voice.

"'I don't have the patience for years, sweetie!' Well, maybe I didn't have the patience to be turned into a damn vampire by a woman who lives in a dirt-mound! Who does she think she is, poking around in my DNA like it’s her business?" I kicked a loose stone, sending it skittering into the woods. "She just had to interfere. Couldn't just give me a map and a sandwich.

No, she had to give me a 'nudge.' I hope she chokes on her hedgehog.” I reached up, checking my fingernails for the tenth time to make sure they hadn't sprouted back into claws.

They were still short, but the skin underneath felt... restless. "If I get to this city and find out I’m glowing or something, I’m going back and I’m knocking that cauldron over. See how she likes a 'nudge' into a flooded kitchen." Eventually, the trees began to thin, and I reached the fork in the path and came to a dead stop, staring at the blank, jagged post like it was going to sprout directions if I glared at it long enough. "Which way did that old crone say the town was?" I muttered, my fingers twitching. "Left? Right? Left first and then, right? Why does everything have to be a riddle with her?" My jaw tightened, the tips of my new fangs grazing my lower lip. It was a sharp, annoying reminder of the "nudge" she’d given me. I hated being told what to do, but I hated being standing here like an idiot even more. I scanned both paths. They looked identical. "Fine. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe... Right it is!"

I had barely taken three steps onto the right-hand path when a low, gravelly voice stopping me cold. “Wrong way.” I hadn´t heard footsteps, not even a single leaf crumble. I turned around. The man that was digging in the mud was standing behind me. He was light skinned, with hair as black as a raven's wing that fell over his forehead, nearly hiding two jagged white scars that cut across his left eyebrow. He was dressed in survival gear that looked like it had seen a hundred battles. A high-collared vest of dark, weathered leather over a tunic of rough charcoal linen. Braided leather straps crisscrossed his chest, holding two small, bone-handled knives and muddy roots that wet his vest. His trousers were tucked into heavy boots caked with the very mud I'd seen him digging in earlier. "Are you stalking me?" I demanded, my voice sharp with suspicion as I shifted my weight, ready to bolt or bite. He jerked his head back slightly, as if surprised by the accusation. "No," he said, his voice smoothing out. "I'm going to the city. Just like you." Then, he smiled, a nice smile. Canines that were even longer than mine, curved like white daggers. His bottom teeth were elongated too, jutting up slightly over his lip.

He looked like a wolf. A beautiful wolf. Despite the cold spike of suspicion in my gut, I couldn't deny it, he was beautiful. In a jagged, dangerous sort of way. He had a presence that felt both ancient and raw, a masculine grace that made my heart do a traitorous little skip against my ribs.

"I saw you back there," I said, my voice hard, refusing to let the attraction show. "In the dirt.

Were you burying someone?" He let out a short, bark-like laugh. The sound was rich and melodic,

a perfect contrast to his sharp, predatory appearance. "No," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I was digging for roots. Medicinals. New-Worlder i presume.” He turned away, adjusting a leather strap on his shoulder. "I'm heading the right way now. You’re welcome to follow, or you can keep playing games with yourself at the crossroads." He started walking, his movements fluid and silent, as if he were part of the forest itself. "How did you even know I was going to the city?" I shouted after him, my boots clattering as I scrambled to keep up.

He paused and looked back over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his scarred eyebrow. "You were talking to yourself. Quite loudly, I might add. Something about 'old hags' and 'flooded kitchens'?" Heat rushed to my cheeks. Mortifying. Of all the people to overhear my unhinged internal monologue, it had to be the wolf-guy with the perfect jawline. I bit my lip, carefully avoiding my new fangs and fell into step a few paces behind him. "What’s your name?" I asked. "I don't care for small talk," he replied, his voice sharp and dismissive.

I didn't miss a beat. "Fine, let’s skip to the big questions then," I countered. "What is your greatest dream in life?" He turned to look at me, offering nothing but a slow, weary shake of his head.

"Suit yourself," I snapped. If he had no desire to speak to me, I certainly had no intention of wasting my breath on him. We continued our journey, the silence between us heavy and unbroken.  

I didn't trust him, not for a second.

We walked together in a tense silence until I couldn't stand it anymore. I reached into my pack and pulled out an apple, the skin cool against my palm. I could feel his eyes on me, watching with a sudden, sharp curiosity. Just because he’s an asshole doesn't mean I have to be one, I told myself.

I held it out toward him, offering a silent peace treaty. He extended a calloused hand, and I let the fruit fall from my palm into his. He took a bite, the crunch echoing between us, and I could tell he found it good. Then he tossed the apple back at me. It flew faster than I expected, and I barely managed to snatch it out of the air before it hit the dirt. "Careful!" I snapped, my heart jumping.

"There," he said, completely ignoring my irritation. He pointed toward the horizon.