didn't want them to hear us. "The mother couldn't control you?" My wolf began to trot up that long, dark path inside me. It was my visual for an impossibility. It was impossible that there were animals inside me that wanted to come out through my skin, but they were still in there, so I "saw" them as walking down a path, when there was no path, no space between me and them. In a very real way, they were me. Intellectually I knew that; to stay sane I visualized a path.
He sniffed harder, as if he would breathe me into him. He settled more of his body against the back of mine. My hands were in the way, so he couldn't spoon me completely, and he kept his face next to mine, so that the height difference put only his upper body against my hands. He had a long torso. I fought to keep my hands still where they lay pressed between the two of us. Cuddling was better than being threatened; I just had to not rush, and not do anything to make him remember he was here to scare me.
"No," he whispered, and used his arm to pull me in tighter to his body.
I breathed, "She forced you into wolf form."
"She couldn't; my master forced me."
I pressed my face into the smooth chill of the mask, letting it hide as much of my face as possible in case the camera could see my face. The scent of his wolf was stronger this way; it made my wolf trot faster up that invisible path. The light was better so that I could see her dark saddle in all that white fur, as she trotted through the light and shadow of the tall trees that lined the path. The trees, like the rest of the landscape, were no place I'd ever been.
I breathed in the scent of him, and down the long metaphysical cord, I smelled another wolf, several other wolves. I smelled my pack and they always smelled good to me, of pine trees and thick forest leaves.
He sniffed harder, hugged me tighter. "You smell of more than just your wolf. You smell like pack. How can that be?"
"I'm the lupa of my pack, the bitch queen."
He snarled behind his mask, drawing back enough that he could see my face. "Liar!"
"If you're powerful enough to shift just your claws, you're powerful enough to smell a lie. I am the lupa of our pack; I swear it."
"But you're human," he growled, and it was almost a yell.
My wolf broke into an easy lope, almost a run, as if to prove the truth of what I'd said. But there were shadows in the dark around her, not us, as if I had called the ghosts of our pack. Their scents came with me, not the sight, but then for a wolf, smell is more real than sight. It's one of the reasons that wolves aren't bothered by hauntings, unless there's a scent to go with it. You can wail and moan all damn day, but if you don't smell like something, a wolf won't care.
I felt the loneliness in the man beside me. Not a loneliness of sex, or even love, but of not having another furry body to press side to side, tail to nose, as they slept. I'd been told that the ardeur was about lust, but my version was more about your heart's desire. What is it that you want, you really want? That part of me that carried the ardeur could see all the way through you to the truth. The man holding me didn't want sex, or even human love; he wanted a pack. He wanted to run in the moonlight with others of his kind, and hunt in a pack. No cat, not even a human one, would ever understand his loneliness.
"You're the only wolf," I whispered.
"We had one other, but he left us." The regret in his voice was like weeping without the tears.
"I know where he is," I said. Jake was one of the Harlequin on our side.
"He's with you, we know that," and this time his voice was a snarl, "but he left us long before that. He betrayed us."
"He did what wolves do," I said. "He took care of the pack, not just one wolf."
"Tigers are not wolves!" He grabbed my arms, sat me up, shook me just a little; let me feel the strength in his hands.