Where Foxes Hunt with Wolves (Folk Lore 2)

He would remember it forever for the joyous tumult it brought to his heart, for the smoky scent, the orange glow of the fire, and he would be forever grateful to both his parents for letting this happen no matter the outcome.

“I’ll do whatever I need to,” he said, but his smile dropped when the witch faced him with a mean-looking bone dagger and a small cup in her other hand.

“I need your blood. And you,” she said to Radek. “Undress.”

Radek’s upturned nose scrunched, and for a terrible moment, when Radek glanced at the boiling soup topped with red and green foam, Yev worried he might back out and Yev would have to kiss goodbye to his innermost hopes, but Radek bit his tongue and did as told.

Yev’s face tingled, but he stepped closer and removed his top, offering her his left arm. As he approached, he recognized notes of mint in the secret mixture, but it could contain werewolf teeth, for all he cared. If his relationship with Radek could really be recognized by the pack, like Mom suggested, he was ready to make any sacrifice.

“What should I do?” he asked, seeking the attention of the witch’s watery eyes, covered in goosebumps despite the warmth of the fire on his bare skin.

She giggled like a young girl, swiping her gaze down his chest in a way Yev had been scrutinized many times. “You just give me your blood, then stand beside the cauldron looking pretty. You on the other hand,” she said to Radek whose face turned dark red under the freckles, “will be submerged from head to toe.”

Yev winced when the witch grabbed his hand with her bony fingers and pulled it above her mixture. He’d expected the steam to feel scalding, but instead sensed only a pleasant warmth.

Moments later, the blade opened his skin, and blood spilled into the cauldron, hissing as it came into contact with the potion. White smoke slowly ascended from the surface, but by the time the layer was dense enough Yev could no longer see the liquid, the witch let go of him, and he licked the wound, shaky on his legs, even though the amount of blood he’d just lost wasn’t so great. His skin tasted of the mint he’d smelled earlier, some herbs, and a sweetness he couldn’t identify, but when he glanced at Radek’s naked form next to the fire, he spoke to the witch again.

“Is it not… too hot?”

“It won’t be,” the witch said, as if jumping into boiling soup were perfectly normal.

Yev’s mom approached and patted his back, whispering reassurance, but there was discomfort in the way Radek stood hunched forward, covering his genitals. For a moment, Yev wanted to join him, tell him that nothing would change between them if he didn’t want to go through the process, but the boy must have made up his mind, because he raised his head and carefully stepped on a tree stump by the cauldron.

Yev’s skin itched at the sight of Radek’s tempting body balancing between the fire and the huge pot resting in the grass, so he came closer and took his hand. It was sweaty in his, but when their eyes met, Radek’s sweet mouth curved into the most brilliant of smiles that etched itself into the back of Yev’s brain to remain there forever. Reassured, he used Yev’s hold for balance as he gingerly lifted his leg and dipped the very tip of his toe in the fog-like steam. It invited him with herby fumes.

Yev swallowed, monitoring his partner’s every move in case the cauldron was in fact filled with something that could hurt him, but once Radek dipped his whole leg in, it became clear he wasn’t in danger. Yev was a grown man, used to disappointment and finding strength in little joys, but seeing Radek carefully lower himself into the potion until the tips of his lush mane touched the surface and disappeared in the foggy layer on top turned his blood golden. He had never felt so happy in his life and they weren't even mated yet.

Yev wished he could hold on to him forever, but Radek submerged his hand too, offering an awkward smile instead.

“It’s hot but also… smells a bit like toothpaste?” he said softly.

The witch shook her head. “You’re not here for an analysis, boy.” She approached the cauldron with a massive iron lid that appeared so final and menacing Yev fought the instinct to protect Radek from whatever she might want to do.

If she noticed his unease, she chose to ignore it. “When we chant, you need to submerge completely and only rise to the surface once I lift the lid. Understood?”

Alarm rose at the back of Yev’s neck. “Won’t he drown?”

The witch side-eyed him in an expression of lost patience. “He’s a man, not a stone,” she said and pushed Radek’s head down with the cover, as if he were a piece of meat to cook for her next meal.