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However old he got, Iosef would never forget that day.

It was nothing special, perhaps. Likely, no other wolf in Antianeira would have remembered it, would have taken any note at all of that single period in time.

But Iosef remembered, because it was burned into him, a deeply-ingrained part of his very being.

He had been young, barely out of his adolescence, although he had already shown promise as one of the best and most loyal slaves in the pack.

The sun was shining that day. He remembered that, because of the way it glinted off of Abaddon's pelt.

Abaddon was another slave, older and well-established, and Iosef had always admired him for his strength and his willingness to help the younger members. He had taken a particular liking to Iosef, having trained the pup from his youth, raising him amongst the slaves when his mother had pushed him from the family den when he became old enough to leave her side. The older slave had been like a father, or an older brother, or a mentor -- a figure of immense respect.

And, on that day, Iosef had been struck by how lovely the sun looked, gleaming on the other male's pelt. He was struck, too, by the way his muscles rippled beneath his pelt, by the liquid grace with which he carried himself. Iosef watched his fellow slave, and felt something stir inside of him that he could not comprehend, and found himself thinking things that he could not believe he would ever think.

Swiftly, the larger male turned toward him, closing the distance between them. Iosef's heart stopped in his chest, his stomach doing a slow somersault. He's read my mind, he thought, irrationally, and panicked.

But, of course, Abaddon had done no such thing. "Lollygagging are we, Iosef?" He gave the younger male a stern look.

"N-no sir," he said, shaking his head rapidly. He felt his limbs quiver.

"Good. Then back to work with you." The larger male nudged Iosef in the shoulder, pushing him gently away from the shade an on to his duties.

At his touch, Iosef's skin exploded with sensation, a shivering tingle that ran down his spine, unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He shuddered, and ran, and glanced over his shoulder for a fleeting last look at Abaddon, trying to understand what had just happened, and why his heart was still beating so fast.

Alkaia had always favored the young slave. It was folly, of course, to feel such emotions for a low-ranking, worthless male, but Alkaia thought she deserved a little folly.

She was older than him, although not by much; she had grown alongside his sisters Terreis and Varia, had trained with them and become almost like a sister to them -- closer even than the normal bonds of Sisterhood within the Antianeira tribe. And so, it became only natural that she would choose the company of their soft-spoken, gentle-eyed little brother; she had, after all, spent most of her life in his company.

She was fascinated by him. Though she would never admit the extent of her infatuation to the Sisters, she often caught herself watching him as he busied himself with his duties, always so quiet, so gentle, so well-mannered. He was the antithesis of everything she had been trained to hate in a male; he was loyal and demure and delicate, and stood out even amongst the slaves as something...exemplary.

She was also intrigued by his apparent coyness. Alkaia was quite a beauty, and she knew it, although she was not vain. And yet -- though she was accustomed to inappropriate looks from males, and had punished her share for insubordination when they had eyed her too hungrily -- Iosef never seemed to admire her. And that, more than anything, excited her.

It was customary for the females of the tribe to take consorts from amongst the slaves. Pups needed to be born, after all, and when Alkaia came of age the slow-building pressure to start a family had begun to swell in her. Many of her age-mates were choosing consorts, and she knew who she wanted to father her pups.



Iosef had accepted Alkaia's advances with grace, although he was admittedly caught off-guard by them. He? The father of her pups? He wasn't sure what to say. Surely there were better-qualified males in the pack.

But Iosef, even as a young adult, was a good slave, and good slaves did not disobey a direct order from their superior.

"Thank you, for accepting my invitation," she said, stepping aside to allow him into her den.

He had not been inside a female's den since he was very young, not since he had been removed from his mother to live amongst the other slaves. He was surprised at the size of it. He glanced at her, although afraid to meet her eyes, and offered a nervous smile.

She smiled back at him. Tentatively, with all the care of youth and inexperience, she closed the distance between them, feeling awkward. "I've...I care for you, quite a lot, Iosef." She said, and forced him to meet her eyes. His were liquidy and violet-colored and she struggled not to fall into them. "It will mean a lot, to bear your pups."

He swallowed, hard. His heart was pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing too quickly through his mind for him to comprehend. "I...care for you, too," he said, and meant it, although he wasn't entirely sure what it was that he meant.

This is what he should want. This is what every slave in the pack would have killed to have, a night alone with a beautiful warrioress, the chance to have his genes passed on and born to a strong litter.

So why did he feel so terrified, and so very, very confused?

She closed the distance between them, brushed against him, her fur against the silk of his own fine pelt, her nose against his cheek, warm breath in his ear. She licked the side of his muzzle, and nudged him gently, lovingly.

Alkaia paused, brow furrowing. He hadn't pulled away, precisely, but there had been a certain stiffening...a certain uneasiness...She withdrew from him, regarding him with sudden, wary eye.

She knew.

He didn't know how she knew, not when he was so very confused on the topic himself. But she knew. He could feel it, in the way her eyes lay upon him, in the coldness that was left between them when she withdrew from his company. She had reached out to him, inside of him, and found only hollowness.

"Oh." She said, and that single syllable resonated in the den.

It hung there, heavy between them, and Iosef hung his head and trembled and wished that he could think of something to say.

----

Alkaia took him as her private servant. He still did his duties for the pack, but ultimately, he answered to her, and everyone in the pack came to recognize the arrangement and to accept it. Alkaia told herself she was protecting him. She told herself that, if the others ever found out about his abnormality, that he might be shunned, or even killed. She was afraid that, if ever chosen by another female, his secret would become apparent to them as it had been so clearly obvious to her.

But in her heart, Alkaia was still in love with him, and though she would never admit it...she kept him near to her, in case he might ever change his mind

Iosef had not wanted to leave, but the females had all insisted that he run. The pack was crumbling, they said; if he stayed, he would certainly be slaughtered in the in-fighting. He was a worthless fighter, too weak and too soft, and besides, his family needed him.

It was that, more than anything, that had convinced him to come. His family needed him; his mother, his sisters...Alkaia. For a long time, they had wandered, the group of them, their own small pack capable of facing the world, of braving anything that lay before them.

But it hadn't been long until they had grown restless. It wasn't Varia's fault, the things that happened -- not really. If it hadn't been her, it would've been one of the others. His abandonment was inevitable.

"He's weighing us down," he heard her say, in a low voice to the others. He wasn't supposed to be listening. He was supposed to be digging a temporary shelter, but he could not help but pause in his work to overhear the words spoken about him. "He's slow, and weak. You all know it."

"He's been a loyal slave for his entire life," Alkaia said, and Iosef could hear the bristling in her words. "And your brother. Surely that must mean something to you."

"We're not in the pack anymore!" Varia hissed back, and there was threat in her words. "Maybe being a slave meant something back there, but it sure as hell doesn't here. Brother or not, he's a worthless male and he's going to get us all killed if you insist on coddling him any more!"

Iosef's eyes stung with unshed tears, not because of the coldness of his sister's words, but because he knew it was true. He was weak. He was worthless. He couldn't keep up with the well-muscled warrior sisters. He couldn't even keep up with Mother, and she was well in to her middle age.

He lowered his head, fighting back the tears as best he could, and threw himself back into his work with twice the effort.

Varia left soon after. Terreis, too, though she had been reluctant to part with her family...she knew she must see to her sister, to watch her back as she had done all her life.

They had begged the others to come with them, to leave Iosef while he slept, and Mother had nearly consented to it...but Alkaia refused, standing firm. She would not leave him to die in this lonely forest.

Reluctantly, Mother had stayed behind with Alkaia. "Your softness will be our undoing," she said, in a low voice to the fellow warrior -- but her eyes lay upon Iosef with softness, a conflicted emotion burning in her. She loved her son, as much as any mother could love a son, and though she knew he was worthless...she would see the end, whatever would come of it.

"What's this, then? Come here, beautiful! No, no, come here."

Iosef cowered, realizing he was surrounded. The wolves that circled him were large and unruly, the sort of brutes that occasionally lived as slaves at his pack -- but more often, were so poor at their job that they did not last.

"Aw, lookit 'er! Poor little thing is shy." One of the wolves that circled him now had a thin, weasely voice that made Iosef's ears hurt.

It was easy enough to mistake him for a female, from a distance -- his general build and demeanor were feminine, and spending all of his time with females had also slightly altered his scent. And so, when these five wolves had stumbled across him drinking so demurely from the river, they had believed him to be a dainty, silk-furred female, one ripe and delicious for...consumption.

Iosef let loose a whimper, as one came close enough to touch him. The large-bodied wolf brushed against him, and Iosef trembled with loathing at the invasion of his space.

"What the..." The beast's eyes narrowed, and he let loose a snarl; Iosef could smell his breath, hot and sour, in his face, and he recoiled. "You little b*****d!" He snapped, narrowly missing Iosef's throat, and the blow hit his shoulder, pushing him back. "You sneaking little cheat!"

Iosef scrambled to regain stable footing and, desperate now, ran. He darted between two males that worked to close in on him, squeezing between them, pressing forward with terror singing in every nerve. He ran, and knew that all the beasts of hell were at his heels.

--

"Alkaia! Mother!" He cried out, his voice -- like the rest of his body -- shaking. "Please! Help me!"

He realized, in hindsight, the extreme foolishness of what he had done. The wolves at his heels were fueled with rage and ignorance, and outnumbered the females. Trained warriors or not...he had placed those he cared for the most into extreme danger.

"Iosef, what -- " Alkaia stopped, catching the scent of the males, and her eyes widened. She looked at him, and -- in the way that she could always tell what he was thinking, just from his eyes -- she understood. Perhaps not everything, but...enough. "Get out of here!" She hissed.

His mother was already on the offensive. Though a wolf getting on in her years, she was a frightful sight to behold when angered, and Iosef could not stop her as she stalked past him, trotting out to meet the strangers head-on. If she was to die, she would do it fighting, the way a warrior should.

"Alkaia! Don't..." he whined, desperate; this was all his fault, he could see it now. He should have never brought those wolves back here! He should have died in service to the wolf that had shown him so much kindness....he turned to join his mother.

"No!" Alkaia snapped, pushing him back violently. "You can't fight! You'll never last. You'll die!" Tears had welled in her eyes. "Iosef, please. Just go. Run, before they get here."

Below, at the base of the hill, he could hear his mother's snarls, the sound of yelping that hinted that the fight had begun. He hesitated.

"Iosef..." she touched her muzzle to his, closing her eyes for a moment; a single line of tears leaked from the corner of each eye, down her maw. "I love you."

"I know," he replied, and choked on the words. He nuzzled her back, desperately wishing he could comfort her, and at that moment his chest burned with love for her -- but not the kind that she needed. Never that kind, and he hated himself for it. "Alkaia, I'm so sorry."

She licked his cheek, and backed away, giving him one last, sorrowful look. "Go. Now." And, without further words, she turned and ran down to join in the battle.

He came back, sometime later, although he knew he shouldn't.

He had become frightened, all alone in the wilderness. Frightened, and lonely, and uncertain, like a little pup that had lost its way, he had slowly made his way back to the small hill in the darkness. It was quiet, deathly quiet, and his heart sank further with each step that he made.

The warriors had made a valiant attempt. Of the five wolves that had followed him here, three lay dead upon the grass. But among them, were the two other bodies he knew he would find.

He wept. Shamelessly, and like a child, he sobbed into the uncaring night, curled against his mother's cold body as though it could somehow bring him comfort. He apologized, and screamed, and begged, and thought he would die from the pain in his heart.

Then, when he could cry no more, he began to dig. Two graves, side by side, as deep as he could manage. He whispered words over them, and lay across the freshly-churned earth, and cried a bit longer until he could sleep.

--

It was weeks before Penthesilea found him. He had wandered from the location, afraid of being found by the wolves that had survived, but his wandering was without purpose or plan. He barely ate enough to subsist upon, and wished, some nights, for swift death.

His queen's return had been a godsend, bringing purpose back to his life, and he had fallen seamlessly into the journey home. His love for his queen was now absolute: she had found him, in the dark place he had hidden, and had given him purpose in living once more.

And so, carefully locking the memories away into his mind, Iosef threw himself wholeheartedy into his work. But he could never truly forget...