[Backstory Ficlet] v. instincts
Two more to go. And a log in between, I think. ^_~
v. instincts
The day after Haku arrived, his mother prepared meat for dinner, and Yuuta was halfway across the kitchen before he knew it. The first whiff of blood and meat, and he had no recollection of anything in between until his mother made a startled sound. The meat was fresh (if cold), still bloody, and to his horror Yuuta found he still wanted devour it. Haku was spidery threads of hunger and want woven throughout their minds, and it was difficult to separate them out of his own thoughts, which definitely did not include eating bloody-rare meat right off the kitchen counter. Fortunately his mother was very understanding, and made sure their fridge was always well-stocked with meat.
The first time Haku tried to pounce on their neighbor’s cat, Yuuta knew before Haku took the first leap. And while the neighbor lady laughed and scooped up the screeching cat in her arms, Yuuta scarcely breathed, stricken with the realization the only thing that saved the cat’s life was that Haku miscalculated his first jump. And he also knew it wasn’t hunger that drove Haku. It was an instinct that went back generations, so ingrained that it was second only to breathing. It was the instinct to stalk and spring and bite and tear. Through memories not his own Yuuta felt the warm muzzles against his own and heard the nearly-silent padding of feet around him, the pack united in single purpose. The anticipation of the wait, the exhilaration of the chase, and the primal joy of success when the prey was brought down. Yuuta remembered the sensation of pulsing life ebbing away in his jaws, and the taste of warm blood from a fresh kill. Even more than the savor of muscle and bones crunching in his mouth, it was the thrill of the hunt that Haku missed and longed for, with all the desperation of a drowning man.
The sky in light blue, lavender, and pink haunted Yuuta’s dreams, turning swiftly to inky midnight blue, speckled with green. The nip of cold air, the chill of snow under his feet, and a call in the distance. Another voice joined, then another, harmonizing in a song for companionship, to hunt together. It was a warning to those who would dare encroach on the pack’s territory. It was a death-knell to any prey that crossed the pack’s path that night. And he ran to join them, dry snow barely disturbed as he loped over the endless white. There was freedom, an untold rush in the way the horizon opened before him, with the moon silver-sharp above his head, the sky full of tundra’s song-
He woke to a pale and sallow sun. He was inside an enclosed space and he had to fight back a clawing panic rising in his throat. The shift from dreams to wakefulness was no longer paralyzing, but until the moment of disoriented claustrophobia passed, Yuuta had to close his eyes and breathe carefully.
At times Yuuta wondered how Haku could stand any of it. Can’t run, can’t hunt, can’t return to the snowy tundra where he belonged. Passive feeding hadn’t lost its sting. Nor had the confines, physical and metaphorical, being trapped in this world of humans. Yuuta was only seeing these memories vicariously, yet it was all he could do to not scream or go outside and run until he dropped.
Haku flicked an ear at him, and his emotions were still bound too tightly for Yuuta to untangle, but the wry humor and resigned calm were easily discernible. For all that Haku could think and reason like a human being, his instincts and thoughts were those of a wolf. A wolf didn’t live in the past or the future, only the present. Yuuta’s thoughts were like threads, broken and reconnected at will, but Haku’s were like flashes of light, quicker and brighter, rarely staying tied together long enough to be lost in memories or worries.
For all that Haku remained incomprehensible to him, Yuuta was glad of it in moments like these.
v. instincts
The day after Haku arrived, his mother prepared meat for dinner, and Yuuta was halfway across the kitchen before he knew it. The first whiff of blood and meat, and he had no recollection of anything in between until his mother made a startled sound. The meat was fresh (if cold), still bloody, and to his horror Yuuta found he still wanted devour it. Haku was spidery threads of hunger and want woven throughout their minds, and it was difficult to separate them out of his own thoughts, which definitely did not include eating bloody-rare meat right off the kitchen counter. Fortunately his mother was very understanding, and made sure their fridge was always well-stocked with meat.
The first time Haku tried to pounce on their neighbor’s cat, Yuuta knew before Haku took the first leap. And while the neighbor lady laughed and scooped up the screeching cat in her arms, Yuuta scarcely breathed, stricken with the realization the only thing that saved the cat’s life was that Haku miscalculated his first jump. And he also knew it wasn’t hunger that drove Haku. It was an instinct that went back generations, so ingrained that it was second only to breathing. It was the instinct to stalk and spring and bite and tear. Through memories not his own Yuuta felt the warm muzzles against his own and heard the nearly-silent padding of feet around him, the pack united in single purpose. The anticipation of the wait, the exhilaration of the chase, and the primal joy of success when the prey was brought down. Yuuta remembered the sensation of pulsing life ebbing away in his jaws, and the taste of warm blood from a fresh kill. Even more than the savor of muscle and bones crunching in his mouth, it was the thrill of the hunt that Haku missed and longed for, with all the desperation of a drowning man.
The sky in light blue, lavender, and pink haunted Yuuta’s dreams, turning swiftly to inky midnight blue, speckled with green. The nip of cold air, the chill of snow under his feet, and a call in the distance. Another voice joined, then another, harmonizing in a song for companionship, to hunt together. It was a warning to those who would dare encroach on the pack’s territory. It was a death-knell to any prey that crossed the pack’s path that night. And he ran to join them, dry snow barely disturbed as he loped over the endless white. There was freedom, an untold rush in the way the horizon opened before him, with the moon silver-sharp above his head, the sky full of tundra’s song-
He woke to a pale and sallow sun. He was inside an enclosed space and he had to fight back a clawing panic rising in his throat. The shift from dreams to wakefulness was no longer paralyzing, but until the moment of disoriented claustrophobia passed, Yuuta had to close his eyes and breathe carefully.
At times Yuuta wondered how Haku could stand any of it. Can’t run, can’t hunt, can’t return to the snowy tundra where he belonged. Passive feeding hadn’t lost its sting. Nor had the confines, physical and metaphorical, being trapped in this world of humans. Yuuta was only seeing these memories vicariously, yet it was all he could do to not scream or go outside and run until he dropped.
Haku flicked an ear at him, and his emotions were still bound too tightly for Yuuta to untangle, but the wry humor and resigned calm were easily discernible. For all that Haku could think and reason like a human being, his instincts and thoughts were those of a wolf. A wolf didn’t live in the past or the future, only the present. Yuuta’s thoughts were like threads, broken and reconnected at will, but Haku’s were like flashes of light, quicker and brighter, rarely staying tied together long enough to be lost in memories or worries.
For all that Haku remained incomprehensible to him, Yuuta was glad of it in moments like these.