Page 88 of White Wolf
No one could ever sneak up on him again, and so he knew that Philippe walked up silently behind him, the burnt smell of him acrid against the clean tang of pine sap.
“If our good captain becomes distracted,” he said, “then it will fall to you to lead us, Sasha.”
A few months ago, Sasha would have protested that he was only nineteen, not even his own man yet. But now he was the pack’s alpha, so he only nodded.
What he didn’t tell Philippe was this: he would gladly accept that burden; it was high time Nikita had a chance to rest.
~*~
Nikita understood the mechanics of gutting and skinning an animal carcass, but he’d never done it himself, and watching Sasha do it now, he didn’t care to. It was nasty business, but one that Sasha conducted with expert movements and no fuss, tossing choice bits to the wolves who sat in a circle around him, drooling and waiting. He’d set his cloak, and jacket, sweater and shirts to the side, skin bone-pale in the spring sunshine, steaming slightly with the effort of moving the dead stag around and carving him into steaks. The scar where Philippe had stabbed him was a thin, angry pink line across his pectoral. A physical reminder that he’d died…and come back different.
“Cold?” Sasha asked, and Nikita realized he’d been drifting.
Sasha stood in front of him now, a haunch of venison in each hand. “You shivered,” he prompted, head tilted to the side, assessing.
“Just a chill,” Nikita said, taking the meat from him. It was heavier than Sasha made it look. “Thanks. I’ll put these on the fire.”
“I’ll bring the rest.”
It was early evening, still light, the spring chill just starting to take hold. The others were ranged around the fire that Kolya had built. Katya sat alone opposite Pyotr and Feliks, tired-looking, but pleasantly-so, sharpening her Army-issue knife with one of Kolya’s whetstones.
Nikita pierced the haunches on the spit above the flames and then sat down beside her.
She acknowledged him with a low, hummed note but didn’t look up from her task.
“Sore?” he asked.
“Mm. Yes. Worse tomorrow, I expect.”
“Yes.”
He watched her fingers, their understated confidence of motion.
“He really was a dancer, wasn’t he?” she asked, voice low.
Nikita let his gaze wander across the fire to Kolya, where he sat with Ivan, drinking vodka and sharpening his already-perfect knives with another whetstone. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell his secrets.”
When he glanced back at her, she smiled softly down at the knife. “I can tell that he was. You don’t have to say.”
She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and tired shadows beneath her eyes. He’d never seen anything so lovely. “What he said before,” he started. “He’s a good man. He didn’t mean it, not really. He–”
“I know he didn’t.” She sighed, shoulders lifting and dropping, the motion taking some of her constant tension with it. “I think.” She set the knife aside on the pine needles at her hip and rolled the stone around in her hand. Wet her lips. “I think maybe all of you are.” Sent a careful, sideways look toward Nikita that punched him straight in the gut. In a small voice: “I want to believe that.”
He swallowed, throat suddenly tight. He wanted a dozen absurd, impossible things, things he had no right to want from her, a girl who’d been raped and dragged into a war. “We’re not like the ones who…who hurt you. That I can promise.”
She nodded and glanced away. “I’m sorry I said that.”
“Maybe you should apologize to Kolya.”
“I will.”
~*~
Shewassore, and the deep ache of her muscles intensified as it grew colder, and as dark fell. It was a welcome discomfort, though, the soreness of physical exertion and learning important skills. She felt more capable and less fragile now, more comfortable with the weight of her knife in her hand. As the Germans had proved a few days ago, she couldn’t rely solely on her sharpshooting skills – the enemy might not give her a chance to use them.
On the fire, the venison had turned an appealing deep brown on the outside, crispy at the edges, the savory scent making her stomach growl. Fat dripped off the speared meat and landed in the coals with hisses and splatters.
The wolves sniffed appreciatively, yipping at one another.
