Where Foxes Hunt with Wolves (Folk Lore 2)

The massive gray wolf shot from between the bushes and charged at him with a snarl. Yev didn’t attempt to fight when Burian reared and shoved his paws at Yev’s chest. The wolf shivered, hunched over, and then rose. Within seconds, the fur retracted, the muzzle flattened into a face, and Burian stood in front of him, naked and agitated.

Burian’s skin had always been pale as a sheet, so all the black hair on his body stood out so much Yev had once joked that his brother should shave it all to match the short cropped hair on his head. That joke hadn’t gone down well with Burian’s wife. Everyone was so touchy at home there was little room for laughter. Everything was about position, status, and who was owed what. The three years Burian had on Yev made him more important, even though there really wasn’t much difference between forty-one and thirty-eight. They should have forgotten about silly stuff like age difference once they were out of puberty.

“What happened?” Burian asked and pushed at Yev’s chest, as if prodding was his way of putting an exclamation mark at the end of every question.

Yev stepped back, eager to have his brother’s hands off him. “Nothing. Drunk kid. Told the police he pointed a rifle at me, and they arrested him for disturbing the peace.” Wouldn’t have been the first lie Yev had said to Burian’s face.

“You know that’s not good enough. He’s seen our stash. Not to mention the little cunt shot at me!”

And that was the real root of the problem—stupid pride which was encouraged among the werewolves.

“Maybe you should have been more careful, then. People are afraid of wolves. It’s in their nature.”

Burian’s eyes shrank further, and his narrow hawk beak-shaped nose wrinkled in anger. “Then why did he chase me, huh? I should have snapped his neck! But no. I followed the protocol, and now we have a witness. You were supposed to be on the lookout and make sure no one comes near!”

Yev licked his lips. “I was checking on a reported fire. It’s my job, and I can’t be in two places at once,” he said in a low voice, glancing past Burian. Their shed had been built in a place humans weren’t likely to visit, due to difficult terrain, but it still stuck out like a sore thumb. “Maybe if we invested in making a hatch like I suggested—”

Burian pushed him. “You don’t have a voice! Father makes all the important decisions. You’re here to repent. You being a forest ranger is secondary to the operation. We produce the marijuana, and we move it across the border. You make sure the coast is clear, and that no one ventures into the woods to bother the witch. How hard is that? If you ever want to come back into the fold, get your shit together!”

Yev exhaled, wishing to turn away and leave Burian behind. To not see him ever again. But that would have meant leaving behind everything else. His mother and father, his younger brother, the people he still considered friends, even though they now shunned him. His entire life was tied to the pack, and being forced away was like a thick splinter he couldn’t get out of his swollen, bleeding flesh.

How could he live among people and never have a partner understand what he was?

How could he live with his werewolf pack and always hide that he was gay?

It was a good thing he hadn’t fucked the boy. Burian could have smelled it on him and reported back to Father.

“You’re telling me to live under two sets of rules. The fire might have disturbed the witch too.”

Burian snarled, and Yev did feel a tiny bit of satisfaction at seeing him shiver. They were generally less bothered by cold, even in their human form, but the toughest of werewolves would rather not be exposed to snow when naked.

“Fine. Have it your way. But you need to move our storage, and get rid of the boy. Father would not stand for anything less. He’s a liability and you know it.”

Yev’s face fell, his temples pulsing as blood rushed to his head.

Killing came so easily to Burian and some of their brethren. It had never been so for him. The cold wind blew harder, and this time it was he who shivered. “We can’t eliminate every single person who crosses our path! He’s just a boy who followed you here, drunk. He couldn’t possibly find this place again!”

Burian met his gaze and stepped into Yev’s personal space. “Fuck knows what he’s really seen. Those are the rules, Yev. Or are you turning your back on them again? You got a soft spot for pretty boys like him?”

He might have as well grabbed Yev’s throat, and while they weren’t touching, Yev could sense the bite of sharp claws. “I never got attached to anyone. It’s just common sense,” he said in the end.