A short while later the cabin door opens and a thin stream of light filters out into the night. Krish left the barricade gate ajar and is leaning against the ancient oak watching. Cungr’s silhouette casts elongated onto the snow from the cabin door.

She admires the angle of his massive shoulders and undulation of his confident gait. The sore left hip causes a slight a hitch in his movement, she wonders how it was injured. Cungr is large for any man, his wolf is larger still. She does not mind that he is smaller than most Tigraata males would be. Few creatures, other than dragonbloods, boast a size larger than an adult Tigraata. The wind sends his robust masculine scent to her, she does not want him to leave and is not thrilled with the prospect of going with him.

Stopping at the open barricade fence Cungr looks around. He can’t see Krish yet and assumes she is lurking somewhere in the shadows, he hopes she’s not far as his feet are getting cold. The only thing available to wear was wool socks and they are rapidly becoming wet as his body heat melts the snow underfoot. Something catches his eye at the top of the barricade slats. He steps out to get a better view rewarded with a sight that makes him shudder. The posts and planks on the fence are adorned with werewolf skulls. There are dozens of them, the ones that won’t fit on the barricade’s peak are nailed further down on the posts. An involuntary tremble cascades through him. How many of his kind had she eliminated? Some look weathered and crumbling, a few have bits of skin still clinging to them. 

“Krish” he calls.

“Over here” She beckons.

Cungr makes his way over to her and leans against the tree next to her. She reaches out, grasping his hand, then closes her eyes listening to the silence of the night. It is too cold for the creatures that scrap and scrabble in the mountain scrub, even the coyotes are hunkered down tonight. In spite of the rancid odor of burned meat clinging to him, Cungr still smells wonderful. The nights are long this time of year so even though the sunset a few hours ago it still is not late.

They stand that way for a time until Cungr broaches a topic that is gnawing at him, “Why won’t you come with me? Do you not want to be my mate?” Recalling the macabre display on the fence he guesses at her answer.

Krish opens her eyes and shifts to look at him. “I have been away from society for a very long time dear. My kind are solitary by nature. Being with your pack for an extended period might send me into a frenzy. That could involve... a lot of death.”

“You said “could”, does that mean you can control it? Are there warning signs or a way to stop it? ” a spark of hope glimmering in his expression. “Have I lost my mind? The fence, all those skulls.” He internally castigates himself.

She drops her gaze looking for the right words and her vision lands on his stocking feet. Damn, she forgot there weren’t any boots his size. His feet must be frozen from standing in the snow.

“Let’s go back in before you get frostbite.” She moves off towards the cabin and is snapped to a halt when his hand firmly grasps her arm.

“Don’t walk away from me! Answer. Is there a way this can work?” He snarls.

Looking down at his hand she resignedly replies, “Come back inside and I’ll tell you what might work. Don't use that Alpha tone with me if you are serious about this.”

Most of the burned meat smell has dissipated when they return to the cabin. Krish notices the dishes have been neatly stacked to one side, new logs set on the fire. Shutting the door Cungr turns to see her uncoiling the bedroll onto the floor in front of the hearth. She sits facing the fire and pats the spot next to her. He sets next to her, stretching his cold toes towards the flames. Krish leans into him. Cungr lifts his arm and pulls her closer to his body, the storm of conflicting emotions settling with her proximity. His wolfblood wants to abandon the conversation, throw caution to the wind, and claim her right now. His rational mind continues to dwell on the skulls decorating the fence. 

Reining in carnal desires he forcefully adjusts his tone. “If you know a way for us to be together, please, tell me.” He pleads. "Listen to me, when have I ever pled or requested something? Those skulls, I should be raging at her right now. Asking who they belonged to." 

Her eyes cast into some distance past as she speaks with a weary reminisce.

“The last time I managed living alongside a pack was during the late 1700s.” She began. “I had done so many times before, the longest stint being an 80 year stretch. The last one broke me. There are some things that overpower my senses, throw me into blood lust. On a battlefield that isn’t always bad, unless you happen to be behind allied lines when it hits. I had noticed the problem back in the 1300s, it began with the increasing smell of hybrids and burned flesh. At that time gunpowder was not in as wide of use so… the effect wasn't strong and usually avoidable. By the 1400s it had gotten progressively harder to deal with. Cannons were everywhere on the field. I changed over to…”

Cungr halts her story, his eyes wide with surprise, “How old are you exactly?” he queries.

Her form trembles with a mildly suppressed giggle “Why does every wolf I meet want to know that?”

"You are talking about things that occurred 800 years ago. Fey don't live but a few hundred. It’s…" he hesitates. Krish stares, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He shrugs, "You are intimidating." She chuckles and runs a gentle hand along his jaw. The urge to kiss her pulls at him, clouding his thoughts.  

Her hand drops, gaze shifting back to the dancing flames. "You have nothing to worry about, just be patient with me. I have been alone a long time, adjusting to companionship will be arduous at first. Not to mention you want to drag me into a crowded pack full of busybodies and expect me to let them into my head."

Contemplating her words he nods in understanding.

She begins again, "First, there are the aversions I have developed. Human hybrids really rake my nerves. They smell off, sick, and it drives me up a wall. Rogues smell the worst and if one appears... well... it is best not to block my path. I prefer to avoid human hybrids as much as possible and won't have them where I eat and sleep."

Cungr, "I can make arrangements to accommodate that."

She nods and continues, "Cooked meat. I can't abide it. I only cooked for you earlier because you need to heal. The smell turns my stomach and kills my appetite."

Cungr nods.

Krish, "Crowds, gatherings, meetings. Please don’t subject me to any more of those than you have to. I can learn to tolerate small groups, but big social functions are a bad idea." She pauses, "Crowds make me think of battle, all the noise, things I can't control. It would be best not to have that bubble up during a party."

Cungr, "Anything else?"

Krish pauses, then swallows hard, "You want a drink?"

Cungr, "Not really."

Krish, "Well I am going to need one for this last bit." She slips out from his embrace and rises to get the moonshine and a cup. Settling in next to him again she opens the growler, looks at the cup, then decides to drink straight from the jug. 

Taking a strong pull from the jug, she offers it to him and he shakes his head no, shrugging she wipes her mouth and begins. "We are going to need to keep who I am under wraps as much as possible. I may have… eliminated a few Arch Alphas in my younger years."

Cungr's jaw drops, he stares in disbelief. After a long silence, "How many is a few?" he inquires apprehensively.

Krish sucks her teeth then replies, "8 for certain, might have been more. There are two or three that may not have died, so I generally don't count them. Perhaps a few more, I wasn't totally positive of their rank. The upside is it was a really long time ago, so there’s a significant chance no one still lives who would remember."

He regards her with a blend of horror, dismay, and skepticism. Cungr recalls stories his Grandfather told about the mythic monsters, Tigraata. How the creatures would slip behind enemy lines killing troops in their sleep. A single Tigraata holding a bottleneck point and denying werewolf forces the ability to advance, wave upon wave of werewolf soldiers crashing against an epically deadly enemy. Tales of these creatures in straight out melee slaughtering hundreds if not thousands of werewolves before finally going down. He had never believed the stories, but the skulls on the fence... This beautiful woman was a terrifying beast. "Can I love someone who has killed more of my kind that she can recall?" Even his wolfblood turned cold by this revelation. 

Sensing his unease she got up and moved to the rocking chair. Krish, "If this is too much, I understand." If he couldn’t accept her that would be fine, as long as he didn’t decide to come after her. Killing her destined mate might finish her sanity off. 

Cungr turns from her and stares into the fire. After a while, he hears her scuffle about, a melancholic guitar melody fills the small cabin.