“Don’t mind the commotion, Grand marshal.” The wolf escorting Haru and Mammon said aloud without looking back. “They don’t get to see one of their own come back as royalty.” He wasn’t the biggest or the smallest wolf here, perhaps measuring closer to three meters in height, but something about his mild mien put Haru at ease. His voice was deep, restrained almost, again astonishing Haru. It would never cease to amaze, such clear words, from a being whose fangs did not seem to allow.

“Interesting way of putting it, soldier.” Mammon said.

“Everyone here remembers who you are, sir; where you came from.” The wolf replied, which maybe sounded more like a mirthful grunt.

“Well, memory is a monster of its own. I was quite an infamous anomaly. People tend to hold on to those kinds of memories more often.” Mammon said. To that, the wolf spared Mammon a glance as though he was seeing the Grand Marshal for the first time. “That’s not what I meant.” He said, returning his stare ahead once more. “Most wolves don’t see you like that; not anymore. You are quite the inspiration.”

Mammon cocked his head, and Haru never wished so hard he could read minds. Perhaps there was a hint of pride in his lowered gaze, but it was still hard to tell. Mammon’s placid expressions rarely welcomed trust, something Haru often attempted to keep in mind. He recalled one of the last times they went grocery shopping. Haru had always thought Mammon enjoyed the attention he received from the cashiers and shop assistants, and although he would smile candidly at them, it turned out that they only soured his mood. He would highlight their blatant lack of decorum even though they knew he was with his mate. There was no use explaining to Mammon that to those women, they would not look like a couple. Mostly however, it was their lack of attention while cleaning the aisles that would set him off. There were a few occasions when the facade would break, and Haru could distinctly spot the passive aggression behind his lover’s polite words. It was when Haru was the recipient of such flirtations. Even then, it was so well repressed that Haru felt like he had barely scratched the surface when reading Mammon-san’s— NO! When reading Mammon’s interactions. Still, seeing his wolf's jealous peeves felt like a minor victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“What is your clan, soldier” Mammon asked the guard as they continued their walk.

“Daius, sir.” The wolf replied, while gently clearing their path while the street was becoming narrower and crowded with onlookers.

“Daius, the Grey? I thought your fur looked familiar. Is old man Daius still around?”

The wolf spared Mammon a quick examining glance with the corner of his eye. “Dead. Ten red moons ago.”

For a moment, it looked as though Mammon wanted to add something, but then decided not to. Instead, he offered what looked like a sympathetic smile. Haru proudly recognised this. He was holding himself back from saying something untoward.

“No need to hold back,” Their guide added. “He was a ripe old bastard, most of us are glad he’s gone. Guerrilis, his son has taken over and is keeping the clan healthy and happy. He suffered a lot at his old man’s hands, but he’s more level-headed and less thirsty for blood.”

Mammon smirked before he asked, “What do they call you?”

“*Faolán, sir.”

“A fine name. Somewhat ill-suited. You’re all things except little.” Mammon said, triggering a perky grunt from their guide.

“My father had a soggy sense of humour.”

Their walk halted when Haru gasped. They all looked down to find a little wolf tugging at Haru’s clothing with his small hands. He was scrawny. What little clothes he wore were in tatters and his face was smeared with a mix of dirt and old bruises, as though he’d been unwillingly rolling around in a puddle of mud and fists. Haru immediately noticed the surprise in Mammon, perhaps attempting to determine whether he was seeing a vision of his child self in front of him. The lanky little wolf looked more human than wolf. His only prominent features were his fluffy ears and a long scruffy tail. His skin was dark, giving the impression that if he were a full wolf, he would have black fur all over. Right then however, his fur was wispy, letting one see through his bare skin and long fingers. His eyes were red orbs, burying themselves in Haru. His bony fingers tugged Haru’s thick jacket and pulled it under his small nose. “Smells so… good.” He said, unable to take his eyes off of Haru, his small face flushing a furious crimson. If he were a human child, he would not be over six years old.

“Rudi, what are you doing out here?” Faolán sighed. “Go home! I saw your mother earlier, she’s furious, looking for you! How many days has it been this time?” 

She's not my mother." The child snapped. Then, taking another deep inhale at Haru's clothing, he muttered, "So… good. So... pretty.”

“So what?” Mammon said, already pulling Haru closer to him.

“I’m sorry, Grand Marshal. He’s a bit of a troublemaker. C’mere you.” Faolán yanked Rudi, pulling him off of Haru. The child hardly protested but kept his eyes on Haru while Faolán propped him on his arm. “Behave you. This is Rudi, our resident problem child. Don’t let his skinny look fool you, he does this a lot. He’s only a clueless brat when he sees human souls.”

“No!” The wolf-child said stubbornly. “This one is different. He’s so much prettier.”

A flustered chuckle escaped Haru, but when he looked up at Mammon, the grand marshal kept a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.

“This little waif…” Mammon met the child’s red eyes, and the child faced him boldly before looking away and holding tightly on to Faolán’s large neck.

“Is he alright?” Haru asked.

“He’s fine. Or he will be. For now, I’ll need to get him to his parents.” Faolán’s tone already stomped the child’s protests. “Oi, shush! You’re driving everyone mad. And you’ve been missing practice. Let’s go see your father now.”

Haru noticed Mammon’s gaze lost on the little wolf’s scruffy tail. His expression one that Haru was not too familiar with; uncertainty, or confusion perhaps? Those red eyes, the dark yet bare skin; Haru could clearly see how this might trouble his wolf. Rudi was a half-wolf.

“Mammon-san?” Haru wrapped his hand around his lover’s.

“It’s nothing, please don’t worry, Haru.”

Again, instead of words came the reassuring glance, a squeeze of their joined hands. Then Mammon checked with their guide how far they were from their final destination. This time, Haru did not feel like losing himself in thought, but he did wonder how long his wolf would keep him in the dark. He had had the discussion with Mara before, about a demon’s ability to read the thoughts of humans, and Haru had dismissed her wishful musings about wanting such an ability. At the time however, he couldn't fathom the idea of ever seeing Mammon's lost stare as he did now. 

“How are you feeling, love?” Mammon tugged his hand. He reached closer, feeling his forehead. It was only Haru’s third trip to Hell, but he was already acclimating to the toll the journey took on his human body. It was still never enough to relieve Mammon’s concerns. “I’m fine, Mammon-san.” Haru straightened himself, letting his flustered eyes stray everywhere but where they should be.

Mammon held his chin and pulled his eyes to him long enough to let his neck redden. “I’ve been enduring it all this while, but again you force my hand. Just last night we agreed there would be no more of this Mammon-san. What more must I do to erase it from your lips?”

“I will, I’m trying… Mammon. P-people are looking.”

“People? What a notion. This is Vargr Haru, let’s keep that in mind. I guarantee that you’re the only person here.” Mammon said with a satisfied smirk, holding Haru’s hand once more and resuming their walk toward the Chieftain’s residence. 

                                                                                              ***

*Your memory is a monster. You forget—it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with a will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!” ― John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany.

 *Faolán: Irish Gaelic name composed of the word faol "wolf" and a diminutive suffix, hence "little wolf "which is pronounced Fay-lan or Fay-lawn.