I sit at the fire, weary, worn.
Rushed whispers of warnings,
dance round in the night.
Death lurks in the dark,
stay away from the woods,
be wary,
be scared,
be cautious.
Don’t say you weren’t told,
those beasts will come to eat you alive.

Flames crack.
Heart skips.

Branches snap.
Breath catches.
Steps stalking,
Circling softly around.

I don’t turn.
Eyes steady on the flames.

I feel you weaving through the trees,
in and out of shadow,
eyes catching firelight,
glinting of fang where the darkness parts.

Circling so close now that the woods have gone quiet.
No breath but mine  — and yours

They said I should be afraid.
Said my pulse would give me away.

It does.

No fear,
No doubt.
Just the pulse of knowing.

I smile.

You step towards the fire,
shaggy and lean.
Shaking the fur from your bones,
your jagged frame softens.
You sit beside me,
and draw me in close.

My wolf.
My protector.
My love.