The Wolf & The Witch
Dire Wolves

Snow was up to Lestat’s knees, and if they had any hope of arriving home before the night froze them solid, he had to carry both the witch, and the young girl Suzu. Lestat bundled them both up in his arms, and he shut his eyes, and ignored the pain in his back, and side. He trudged forward with heavy feet, mile after cold mile, hour after white hour, as day slid its way to night across the snow.

Claire kept an eye on the mountains to their right- as long as she could still see the mountain they were going in the right direction. Although, directing him wasn’t all that difficult- they were going north, and the blizzard was coming at them from the north, so he simply had to walk face first into the snow and driving wind. She brought water to his lips, and food, and she wiped snow from the folds in his clothes. She kept his face warm with her hands. She looked up at him- eyes closed against the cold, face set like stone against what had to be a heavy combination of exhaustion and pain. But he didn’t complain. If anything, he was holding her even more gently, and tenderly. Suzu was in his other arm, asleep, and Claire had to wonder what it would be like making a family with Lestat. What kind of father would he be? Did he even want kids at all? She started to ask when, behind them, on a far mountain, over the noise of the wind and snow, a howl. And then another.

The sound of the wolves howling came up the valley and ran over Lestat like a swarm of earwigs. His skin crawled. He sped up; he tried to run but couldn’t- snow, and water skins, packs, and Claire, the girl and an iron pike, aching ribs- he was too weighed down to run. He kicked his legs forward, straining his back, grimacing. He kicked harder, shoving snow out of his way, and stumbled forward into the driving white dark. No good. He could not outrun these wolves.

Lestat knew no matter how strong he was, or how fast, or skilled, that he would eventually lose. Even if nothing else took him, old age would catch him, just like it had Megolte. Lestat had always thought that he had the skill to rule lands, command armies, overthrow cities- both the skill and the power, but he chose not to. Leading others was not his calling: he didn’t like people that much, and he preferred to be alone. Skill, and power, and strength fade, and he knew his would fade; he knew he would not win forever. But he also knew, if there was one thing in this life he was not going to die to, it was a wolf. Never a wolf.

He slowed his step, and the snow crunched as he came to a stop. His eyes were still closed. Another howl ran up the valley and Lestat turned with Claire and Suzu in his arms, and faced it. His hood whipped in the wind. These goddamn wolves. He knew the young girl was awake, because she was clutched tight to his arm. “Suzu, we are not going to survive this fight without Claire. Climb down, and hold onto her. Hold her tight around the waist and help her stand. You are her leg. Brace her, and stand strong.”

“...I... I can’t.” The young girl’s voice was torn and tattered from the cold, and the wind, and fear. “I’m… I’m not a wear-wolf. I can’t fight.”

“Yes, you can. I will not let you die. And your father was wrong- you can be a wear-wolf. Hurry up.”

The young girl paused, and listened to the heavy thud of paws smacking the earth, getting closer, and closer. She felt Claire squeeze her shoulder, and she climbed down, the rope trailing behind. A sound like thunder rolled up the valley, against the wind, and the young girl held tight to Claire, and helped her balance.

Lestat took the blankets from both girls. “Claire- the jar of oil.” He held his right hand open, palm up, cuffed to her left.

She looked up at him and wobbled. She could feel the vibrations in her feet, and her hands shook, and her fingers trembled; she reached behind his shoulder, into her pack, found it, and dropped; she pushed a shirt out of the way, and dug down in her pack with one hand, and couldn’t get it; she had her fingers on the jar and couldn’t hold it. The wolves were coming, and it was dark and- “I’m… I’m scared.”

“Don’t be.” The wind, and snow, the pain and exhaustion, the darkness and the dire-wolves: Lestat’s voice was calm, and controlled, and had no trace of fear in it. He squeezed her hand, and turned to her, and turned her to face him. He almost hit Suzu in the chest with his knee. “Look at me.” She did- she brought her eyes up to his, biting her lip, and frowning, just slightly. He brought his cuffed hand up to her face and touched her cheek. Snow and wind and ice whipped past their hoods. “Claire, we will not die to wolves. Everything else, anything else, in this world might kill me, but not wolves. And because you are mine, because you belong to me, they will not kill you either. All wolves bow before us.”

Claire swallowed, and nodded, and reached back and grabbed the jar of oil, and handed it to him.

Lestat sloshed oil on the blankets and tossed them off to left. Then he slipped his cloak off and dropped it into the snow, then splashed oil on his shirt, then he dipped arrows into the jar, coating them.

Then Claire realized what he was doing. “I’m not… I’m not setting you on fire.” Snow shredded her voice and the wind threw it to the ground.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, and squeezed her hand.

The dire wolves came thudding out of the blizzard and approached them, and Claire brought her bow up and notched an arrow. Lestat planted the base of the pike in the snow. It was too dark, and the snow too heavy, for them to make out the wolves clearly- just large black shapes, jagged in the dark. But they could smell them: matted fur, and breath that smelled like entrails and infection. They could also feel them- each step a heavy thud that rattled their feet. The last time they had faced these same wolves one went left, to flank them. And same as before, one of the wolves broke off, to the left, circling them.

“One at a time,” Lestat said, and turned Claire and aimed her left hand at the blanket. He knew what was coming- as soon as they turned away from either wolf, as soon as they were surrounded, whichever wolf was at their back would attack. And there was no need to wait; he faced the wolf flanking them, to the left, and offered up their back to the other wolf.

Claire ran magic down her arm, lit the arrow on fire, and shot it at the blanket, then another, and that wolf jumped back, afraid of fire. But the blankets were small, and the wind hard, and the other wolf was on them.

Lestat was turned away, but listening, sniffing the air, and he knew: wolves swipe an enemy, or prey, head on, and they simply bite down on the neck from any other direction. He waited a moment, and another, knowing a large open mouth full of fangs was coming down on them. He spun and threw the jar of oil. It shattered on the wolf’s face, but didn’t slow it down. The wolf drove them into the snow, into the ground, with its snout, and opened its mouth, and Claire set the oil on fire. Flames flashed across its face and it roared out and leapt back.

Lestat rolled to his feet, dragging the women with him, and planted the pike. All he could see was a black shape against a blacker night, blurred by snow. But he didn’t need to see- he knew the other wolf was in the air. He felt Claire climb to her knees, he felt Suzu on the rope, and he planted the base of the pike in the ground, wrapped both hands around it, and held firm. The dire wolf was in the air, and there was nothing it could do but crash down on them, impaling itself. The pike went through its throat and out the back of its skull and the wolf fell onto them and buried them under tons of fur and flesh.

The dire wolf choked and hacked and sprayed the snow with blood. It tried to stand, to swat them. It tried to move, to breathe, but it could do neither. It collapsed into the snow and died.

The wolf and the witch were being crushed to death, but this time there was no floor to fall through- no shallow sewer to save them. Lestat turned into Claire, overtop her, and pushed into the ground with his left hand, and raised the chest of the dire wolf up just enough for Claire to breathe. She gasped, and scooted her way out from under the wolf, pulling Suzu behind.

As soon as Claire was out she took his arm in both hands. “Suzu, help!” she ordered, and the two women grabbed his arm and pulled him out from under the dead wolf.

Lestat was just getting to his knees when he saw a huge open mouth closing down, and jerked Claire and Suzu back, just out of the teeth of the remaining dire wolf. Its face was black and smoking, and it was the same wolf from before- missing its left eye. Claire brought her bow up, lit an arrow and fired it and the wolf flinched. Another arrow, another flinch. Another arrow, and the dire wolf pulled its huge paw back and swiped.

Lestat jerked the iron pike free and brought it up like a shield, bracing it with both hands- the wolf hit the pike and sent them flying through the snow, with Suzu trailing behind by the rope on her waist. The pike flew out of his hands and the bow shattered. Lestat dug himself out of the snow, coughing, aching, and climbed to his feet, and helped Claire stand. He was just turning to face the last wolf when a paw smacked them again, and again they went flying across the snow. That smack hurt. Lestat felt that in his ribs. He felt the sharp edge of claws gouge his back. He shielded Clarie, and Claire shielded the girl, and they went sliding through the snow. Neither the wolf, nor the witch, climbed to their feet this time. Lestat groaned, and reached around to his ribs, and started unlacing his shirt.

The dire wolf walked over slowly, angrily, ready to feast. Thud, thud. It approached the three scrawny humans, and leaned its large snout over them, and opened its mouth.

Lestat turned and threw his shirt into the wolf’s mouth and Claire ran magic out of her body and set it on fire. The dire wolf choked on the burning shirt, and spit flames, and bright chunks of flannel, and turned its head to the side just enough.

Claire wasted no time- as Lestat had done before she grabbed an arrow, set the end on fire, sprung up and jabbed it deep into the wolf’s right eye. She had to jump to reach it, and her leg failed- she got its eye and crashed back down.

Lestat scrambled to his feet, grabbed her and Suzu in his arms, and ran.

The dire wolf howled and roared with fury. Blind or not, it could still replace these scrawny humans. It smelled them, moving through the snow, and it turned, and charged.

Lestat grabbed the iron pike out of the snow, then dropped Suzu and kicked her away from them. She rolled through the snow till she was at the end of the rope. She stood, and looked back at him, curious, scared, covered in snow, and turned just in time to see the dire wolf’s wide-open mouth. Tendrils of smoke crept white past its white fangs, and blood ran black down its jagged snout.

Lestat hurled the iron pike at the dire wolf with his left hand and Claire jerked the rope, pulling Suzu out of the open mouth. The pike slipped between two ribs and straight through the wolf’s lung and shredded the bottom chamber of its heart. The dire wolf hit the ground with a heavy thud. It wheezed, and coughed, and growled, and rose back to its feet. Lestat grabbed both girls in his arms and pulled them away.

The wolf took two steps and fell back to the ground. Then it crawled after them, and Lestat pulled them back; the wolf kept crawling, and Lestat kept backing up.

He continued to carry them out of the reach of the dying wolf for nearly thirty minutes, no coat, no shirt, in the driving dark and static white blizzard. Snow was in his face and hair. His back ached, and his ribs were on fire; he was shivering, and his teeth chattered. Claire tried to offer him her cloak and he refused. Her leg was bleeding where stitches had pulled open, and both her, and Suzu, had ugly bruises around their waists from the rope.

The last dire wolf finally collapsed in the snow, and Lestat walked all the way back to his cloak, picked it up, retrieved the iron pike, and sat them down against the side of the dead wolf. He cleaned and stitched in the dark, then held Claire and Suzu in his arms, and covered them both with his cloak.

Lestat stayed awake until he felt them fall asleep. First Suzu, then Claire. Their breathing slowed against his chest and he felt them go limp in his arms. He leaned back into the soft, warm black fur of a dead dire wolf, and shut his eyes.

*

Suzu woke cold, and hungry, and very sore. And partially covered in snow, but alive. She looked over- Lestat was holding Claire in his arms, her left hand behind her back because of the cuff, and they were snuggling, and whispering, and she was touching his face with her right hand. Suzu blushed, and looked away.

Lestat heard her, and looked over. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

She looked up and nodded.

Once again he carried both women north, through the snow and ice. A few hours later they came to the edge of a glacier- a gray flat margin, sharp, as the edge of folded paper is sharp. And, sure enough, as they approached, he saw a crack in the ice, and women standing outside, watching, waiting. Fires burning to the side.

“That’s my mom!” Suzu shouted excitedly, and clambered down out of Lestat’s arms. She took off, straight towards a brunette woman with honey-hazel eyes, but then the rope at her waist caught and she fell. Claire untied the rope and smiled as she watched the young girl struggle through the snow.

Suzu ran to her mother and jumped into her arms and hugged her, and cried. She buried her face in her mother’s chest, and wept- the fear, and pain, and loss ran warm down her cheeks. She had lost her father, and her grandfather, and she had almost died many times over. She would be dead without Lestat and Claire. She turned back, to call to them, to introduce them, to thank them, to hug them, and they were gone. Snow, and ice, and wind, and the gray day and the empty valley full of frost as far as she could see.

The handsome weika, and the beautiful wear-wolf, were gone.

Not even their footprints remained.