“There are three settlements in the western half of Washington, and five in the east half. Each constitutes a small community beholden to older ways – they choose to largely shun newer technologies and live through their magical abilities. The agency provides them aid and ensures their secrets are maintained. That is all.”

~ Bek Trent, M.A.S.O

Night within the humans’ den is comfortable. Food comes to them, served by the woman with eyes like a young wolf’s – blue as the sky. She has a name even among the beasts. They call her onkelrha, a term used in the old days for those who animate the inanimate. To the wolf, she is also one of the sole points of contact between the tree wolves and mankind.

When the onkelrha leaves them, silence descends. Only wolf and girl remain, and among them, only one truly understands what it is to be nerske - to be a beastspeaker. Soon enough, the girl falls swiftly and deeply asleep, possibly finding solace in her tenuous familiarity with the wolf, or possibly too weary to raise her head from her pillow anymore. The wolf understands such simple things, and accepts them with the grace of one both tolerant and relieved.

The two of them will be a pack now. This means that they will roam the lands together, though their minds might be so different as to make companionship all they share. The slight relaxation in her back and brows even suggests that the wolf is, in a silent and guilty way, glad to have a moment alone with this human before they meet the alpha together. She nuzzles closer to the girl’s warm body, then slowly lifts her head and settles it on the human’s leg, eyes trained on the frosted window. Peace surrounds them, leaving her to watch the world with eyes as clear and penetrating as spring water. In time, those eyes darken with the drift of thought.

Elorian.

She claims the name now as her own. Before the girl and the demon called on her, her name was only a scent, a sound, a way of moving - such are the call names of a wolf, and they speak of all of parts in equal measure; stealth and grace and savagery, the sinister glint of crescent teeth, the gleam of a predator’s eyes, the moonlight in silvery fur, the eternally loyal mate, and even the timbre of her voice. Her name was never so singular.

Elorian.

It settles over her like shackles, summing her up in a single, simple utterance, and yet it is a sweet sort of possession; the wolf seems pleased by it.

Eventually, a subtle rattle from the lower reaches of the house draws her attention. There is a faint glow of daylight beyond the window now. The world stirs, and Silver with it, rousing slowly and stiffly. Her hiss of pain fills the small room. And then the door clicks and the onkelrha returns. She has food, and the wolf knows it will satiate her from the scent alone. There is silence for a while thereafter, but the woman does not leave. Instead, she pulls at the drawer beneath the bed again, and rearranges the dragon eggs into a narrow backpack with careful and practiced ease. When she finds the scales, she hesitates, but moves them carefully, pinched between a thin square of fabric. The girl watches curiously, until finally the onkelrha settles back into her chair to speak.

“Lieno and our son and daughter went out to the great bird’s nest today to tend to her. Saving you very nearly cost the beast her life. In their stead, I would like you to help me.”

“Help you?” the girl asks, sounding surprised.

“There is some work I need done in the barn, and you should stretch your muscles if you want them to heal properly. Are you feeling well enough?”

After a moment, the girl nodes mutely. The wolf senses her uncertainty, and the girl winces again as she rolls her shoulders. Regardless, the onkelrha has her up before she can protest, shaking out the clothing from the drawer. There are more layers in the human wardrobe than the wolf cares to count, and then the backpack over the top of them. Together, the wolf and the girl are led out of the house and into the snow to stand before an old but well-kept gray barn easily the size of another of the humans’ dens.

After a moment, the onkelrha slides her hands between a recess in the aged wood and pulls one of the heavy doors open, motioning for the girl to do the same with the other door. She does, wincing again. The wolf hovers close behind her, peering into the gloom beyond the doors. Damp and dead grass and hay leave a pungent odor in the air. A fog of dust has settled in the barn, lighting everything within with a soft white glow. A single window high up above the overhead beams sends fickle rays of white light into the room, casting crisscrossed shadows and filling the edges of the great space with impenetrable darkness. It is not, however, the darkness of the shadow beasts; there is a lightness to the air that the wolf knows well. Small things live here, and small things do not dare live in the Zaras’ path.

Some of those small things remain even now. Birds – crows that perch among the rafters, eyeing them curiously and ruffling their black feathers before barking hoarse greetings. In the dim lighting, their feathers look oily, their beady eyes expectant, but the humans ignore them, and so does the wolf. Perhaps one is the strange crow from the other day, but if so, it does not mock her now.

She makes her way through the dry warmth of the barn, picking out a bed amidst a stack of canvas out of the way of the humans’ work. Hours pass. The humans speak lightly, quietly, as they move from place to place. The girl is over-awed by the onkelrha’s mysterious abilities – she has turned much of her magic towards the tightly woven ropes of her kind, and the ropes listen to her as she commands them to knot, to hold, and to pull. Silver, however, does not seem to notice the glinting copper spider that sits in the rafters, sometimes shifting the ropes, sometimes merely sitting still as stone in the white gleam of the window. As the alpha suggested, the girl struggles. Her magic seems to escape her time and again, but the onkelrha forgives her mistakes with little more than an understanding smile.

So it should be.

But their time, the wolf knows, draws to a close. The alpha will come soon, for her and the girl. The onkelrha also knows, and glances at her knowingly. There is so much meaning in that stare that, even to the wolf, it is surprising.

“Watch over her,” the woman seems to say, “keep her safe, dear wolf. You are all she has.”