Snow in Winter: Original Fiction
So, here's some of that original fiction I've been talking about. I'm not making much progress on the illustrations I *wanted* to do for it, so I'm posting the one I did manage to get done.
This is set in the world of Dark Rising, the original urban fantasy series Lois and I have been working on since high school. The art and story below are absolutely copyrighted to Anissa Roy, and if anybody steals my work I shall rain fire and destruction and lawsuits upon them.
You don't need to know much about the backstory to enjoy this, other than the fact that Arianne is an American-born teenage witch currently living in Paris, where she's managed to fall in with all sorts of troubling people: witches, werewolves, and vampires, oh my.
**I've been editing my Adult Content filter on my LJ. This one is listed as Adult Concepts for its violence.
Pale winter sunlight, magnified by the large, south-facing windows, shone into the bedroom. It touched Arianne, deeply asleep from the flu remedy she’d taken. And it glittered off of Snow, almost blindingly white.
The young woman lay stretched out, her black hair spread across the pillow, one hand lying palm up on the coverlet. Ari had not felt well for two days, and now she had finally been forced to take some NyQuil and stay in bed. Beside her, Ari’s fingers brushing the thick fur of her ruff, lay Snowdrift, the wolf. White as her Arctic cousins, white as her namesake, only her blue eyes, black pads, and black nose interrupted the pristine perfection of her coat. At the moment, Snow was asleep, but her ears pricked at some slight sound, and her blue eyes opened to slits.
Her son, Gavin, lay on the floor in a tight ball, his tail covering his nose. His mother might be able to stretch out and bask in the sun on Ari’s bed, but when he had put a paw up there, Snowdrift showed him her teeth. So he slept on the floor, snoring gently. At ten months old, he was almost as big as she was, and by the size of his paws he would be even larger, perhaps his father’s size, when he finally filled out. His coat was far darker than either of his parents, and so thick as to be almost comically fluffy. Gavin resembled nothing so much as a wolfish teddy bear, especially now, when he was asleep.
Snow listened attentively. The sound she’d heard was not Gavin’s nasal snore, and she doubted Ari had stirred since drinking that bitter-smelling stuff. Humans, always sick, always passing germs around, and drinking remedies that were fouler than their symptoms. Her own hardened Lunaean immune system was resistant to most common illnesses, though kennel cough was always an annoyance. Fortunately Allyson kept them vaccinated…
There. A stealthy scrape, outside the house. Snowdrift’s hackles rose, and her lips lifted. It might only be Sontheimer, coming to check on his beloved, worried all out of proportion because he himself was never ill. But she knew there was trouble in the city - some in the vampire’s Parliament objected to their Master taking a human lover, even a witch such as Ari, and some of them might just be stupid enough to try to harm the girl.
Snow leaped down silently. If it was Sontheimer, she had only given up a moment’s comfort. If not, whoever it was would soon discover their folly in trying to harm a witch under the protection of one of the pack’s greatest warriors.
Gavin scrambled to his feet, tail lashing eagerly. His poor notched ear tried to prick up in excitement, and Snow felt a moment’s grief and gratitude. Grief, that her favorite child had been harmed, scarred for life. Gratitude, that Arianne’s intervention, which had earned the girl a scar or two herself, had saved his life. It was this blood-debt as much as her own affection for Ari that had Snow living here in the city instead of with her own people in the forest.
But here was Gavin, quivering all over with eagerness to play. He more than looked like a child’s toy, he was as friendly and sweet-natured as his appearance suggested. Now was not the time for games, though. Snow held her ears stiffly forward, her tail high, and glared at him. He quieted, ears and tail down, and tried to lick her muzzle.
Snow allowed it for a second, then moved away toward the hall, her posture and gait showing him that she was in hunting mode. Gavin followed her cautiously, trying to be as quiet, though it was hard with feet that were large and uncoordinated. The elder wolf permitted him to follow, only because making him stay would certainly make him whine piteously, and that would alert the intruder. And just then, he also heard the noise, and his friendly puppy face scowled, lips beginning to curl. Snow approved, but asked him for silence with a gentle mouthing of his muzzle.
The two wolves stalked the odd sound, tracking it to the back door. It was the weakest point in the house’s security, but whoever designed this place had assumed rightly that that tall fence and thorny bougainvilleas would discourage any burglar. This was no common thief, however. Snow and Gavin both smelled the strange vampire standing on the back porch, and the young wolf started to growl again. Snow grabbed his muzzle sharply, and he folded his ears back, lifting a paw in entreaty.
She released him, studying the vampire outside. He was fiddling with the door lock, and it was only a matter of time before he managed to force the mechanism. Snow wanted to prevent him from harming Ari, but she also wanted to make certain no one else tried such a stunt. Here was one time when she was glad of her human side. A pure wolf would not be able to plan, as she did now, and even her own son was nothing more than an intelligent wolf, at least until the Change at full maturity which would wake his human consciousness. But Snowdrift had been human more often than she really liked, and even when she walked on four paws her intellect was human as her instincts were always wolf. She saw how she could wreak havoc on the intruder, give him a very clear message about messing with the Master’s Lady, even if she was human, especially since she was Wolf-friend.
Snow trotted back up the hall, Gavin at her heels. At one point, it made a corner, and the light above was not on in daylight. The shadows at the floor level were quite deep, the pale sunlight unable to reach this far up the windowless hall. The white wolf nudged her son down, pressing her muzzle against his neck until he lay stretched in a pool of shadow. Then, admonishing him to stay with a firm glare over her shoulder, she hurried past him and hid herself in Arianne’s father’s room.
The lock clicked, and the vampire slid inside. His own keen nose would note the scent of werewolves, but he knew that Arianne had recently hosted Snowdrift’s litter of eight. Maybe he thought only the puppies were in residence, forgetting that wolves matured quickly and those eight charming balls of fluff were now almost eighty pounds each. It hardly mattered - the other seven were with Silvertip, Snow’s denmate, who had patiently raised her own four and then turned to the less gifted of Snow’s children, leaving the white wolf to concentrate on her precocious son Gavin. If only they and Silver were here, and perhaps Mondavi, father of both litters … but wishing for venison never brought down a deer. Only Snowdrift and her son were here to defend Ari, and Snow meant to do so in such fashion that no arrogant bloodsucker would ever dream of harming the young woman again.
The vampire was a total stranger to Snow. He smelled like what he was, of course, but neither scent nor sight had any familiarity for her. Sontheimer or one of his underlings would not have slunk in like an alley cat, either. This was definitely an intruder, and Snow could feel justified in whatever she did to him. She grinned wolfishly, her tongue hanging out, as she watched from under Everett’s bed.
The vampire proceeded cautiously past her and up to the corner of the hall. He had to know by now that Arianne was in the room beyond him, but the scented oil she used in there had hopefully left him nose-blind to the young wolf stretched out at his feet. Gavin lay stone still, displaying some sense for the first time in his short life, and Snow had time to be proud of him. Then the vampire took another step.
His foot caught Gavin’s chest squarely, and the puppy sprang up, unbalancing him, just as Snow had planned. Now she leaped from her hiding place, her furious battle-roar thundering over Gavin’s barks, hysterical with rage and pain. The vampire had landed on his rump, staring in astonishment at the big puppy barking and growling in his face, and then he apparently realized his danger and tried to right himself. Snow was on him then, teeth tearing his shoulder and leaping away, the wolfish style of fighting: snap, slash, and spring away. Gavin finally figured out what he was supposed to do, and his strong jaws clamped on the vampire’s leg as he tried to get away. One good tug, his neck and back strengthened by months of squabbling with the other pups over a chew toy, and her son had knocked the vampire down again.
Snowdrift leaped in again, teeth meeting in the vampire’s cheek, tearing out a hunk of flesh as she danced away. The white wolf tossed her head back and swallowed the morsel; one of the few ways a vampire could truly die was to be eaten by werewolves, and in Snow’s long life, she had devoured more than one. Sontheimer’s peace had curtailed the hunts and feasts of old, but the warrior still enjoyed the opportunity for a delicacy such as this.
The vampire snarled, and the scent of his fear was rich and sweet as blood. Gavin fought less gracefully than his mother, but his muzzle was stained red, and the light of killing joy burned in his eyes. His puppy yap had deepened to an adult growl as he fought, tearing at the vampire’s legs and stomach. The bloodsucker was at a terrible disadvantage lying on his back, and with the supernatural strength of his kind augmented by terror he managed to roll over, crouching low to the floor to protect his gut. Now he could bring his claws into play, and Snow felt four lines of burning cold rake her muzzle as he lashed at her.
Gavin smelled his mother’s blood, and something inside him snapped. Nearly roaring, he sprang to the vampire’s back and bit down savagely on the back of his neck. The vampire screamed, and Snow lunged in, aiming for his throat. Unfortunately, though werewolves were stronger and healed more quickly - Snow’s cuts had already vanished - vampires were faster. In less than an eyeblink the intruder brought his arm up to protect his throat, and Snow merely laid his flesh open to the bone.
Then the vampire stood up, throwing Gavin to the floor, and leaped over Snow faster than she could turn and lunge to bite him. With two wolves chasing him, he darted out the unlocked door and across the yard at phenomenal speed. He was gone before they could pull him down again, and Gavin raced along the fence barking furiously. Snowdrift was cooler, and she heard Ari calling weakly. Leaving her son to defend the fence, the white wolf went back inside.
The young witch stood in the hallway, hands braced against the walls to prevent her unsteady swaying. The growling and snarling and screaming had awakened her, but by the time she struggled out of bed, there was nothing to see but splashes of blood on the carpet. Looking down at the dark markings, her exhausted but frightened gaze met Snow’s and she murmured in a horrified tone, wondering if she was hallucinating, “Snow, what on earth… Snowy, that’s not blood, is it? … How?”
Snow looked at her, blue eyes scornful. Humans always refused to believe the evidence of their senses. Although, that bitter-smelling drug was still working on her, so perhaps leniency was in order. Coming forward, Snowdrift licked Ari’s hand softly, then delicately caught the young woman’s slender fingers in the same powerful jaws that had torn a vampire’s flesh moments ago. Fortunately, Ari was too stoned by NyQuil to notice the crimson stains on Snow’s muzzle, and followed the wolf’s gentle tugging. Snow led the witch back to bed and shoved her down onto it, then returned to the hall.
The carpet was a mess, and nothing she could deal with now. The walls were liberally splashed as well, but she remedied that with swipes of her rough tongue. Gavin joined her shortly, bouncing around excitedly until his mother wheeled and struck at him. What would have looked like a vicious bite to any observer was in reality just a wolf’s version of spanking; Snow curled her lip back and swung her head sideways, slapping Gavin’s haunch with the sides of her interlocked canine teeth. The big puppy settled down, and after watching Snow a few minutes, began licking the blood off the opposite wall.
When that task was done and their muzzles cleaned as well, Snow trotted into the kitchen for a big drink of water, then headed outside. Gavin followed at her heels, realizing that his mother had some purpose in mind but unable to guess it. Her growls kept him back as she sniffed carefully along the fence, covering every inch of it. At last she froze, and her hackles lifted. Gavin began to growl as the scent reached him; they’d come to the place where the vampire entered the yard. Every one of Snow’s white hairs stood on end, and her ears and tail were lifted aggressively high. Weaving back and forth past the spot, she growled steadily, and then suddenly lifted her leg, marking the place with her own scent. It was a sign of her own dominance and high rank in the pack that she had adopted the more traditionally male gesture.
Snow moved aside, and Gavin rushed in to mark it as well. He was just old enough to cock his leg, but young enough to nearly lose his balance in his effort to leave the highest mark possible. Snow returned and added an emphatic postscript to the scent-message, then trotted away to mark out the rest of the fence. Gavin helped, but in his enthusiasm soon ran dry.
When the perimeter smelled rather pungently of wolf, Snow went back inside, had another drink, and leaped to Ari’s bed again. This time, when Gavin placed a cautious paw on the counterpane, Snow sighed and closed her eyes. He scrambled awkwardly up, circling thrice, and lay down beside Ari. In moments, both wolves were asleep.
That was how Ari’s father found them, his heart in his throat after seeing the blood in the hall and the back door swinging open. Arianne, pale and lovely as any princess of fairytale or fable, lying deeply asleep between two great wolves, who would have looked more regal and fantastic if the gray one had not been snoring.
This is set in the world of Dark Rising, the original urban fantasy series Lois and I have been working on since high school. The art and story below are absolutely copyrighted to Anissa Roy, and if anybody steals my work I shall rain fire and destruction and lawsuits upon them.
You don't need to know much about the backstory to enjoy this, other than the fact that Arianne is an American-born teenage witch currently living in Paris, where she's managed to fall in with all sorts of troubling people: witches, werewolves, and vampires, oh my.
**I've been editing my Adult Content filter on my LJ. This one is listed as Adult Concepts for its violence.
Pale winter sunlight, magnified by the large, south-facing windows, shone into the bedroom. It touched Arianne, deeply asleep from the flu remedy she’d taken. And it glittered off of Snow, almost blindingly white.
The young woman lay stretched out, her black hair spread across the pillow, one hand lying palm up on the coverlet. Ari had not felt well for two days, and now she had finally been forced to take some NyQuil and stay in bed. Beside her, Ari’s fingers brushing the thick fur of her ruff, lay Snowdrift, the wolf. White as her Arctic cousins, white as her namesake, only her blue eyes, black pads, and black nose interrupted the pristine perfection of her coat. At the moment, Snow was asleep, but her ears pricked at some slight sound, and her blue eyes opened to slits.
Her son, Gavin, lay on the floor in a tight ball, his tail covering his nose. His mother might be able to stretch out and bask in the sun on Ari’s bed, but when he had put a paw up there, Snowdrift showed him her teeth. So he slept on the floor, snoring gently. At ten months old, he was almost as big as she was, and by the size of his paws he would be even larger, perhaps his father’s size, when he finally filled out. His coat was far darker than either of his parents, and so thick as to be almost comically fluffy. Gavin resembled nothing so much as a wolfish teddy bear, especially now, when he was asleep.
Snow listened attentively. The sound she’d heard was not Gavin’s nasal snore, and she doubted Ari had stirred since drinking that bitter-smelling stuff. Humans, always sick, always passing germs around, and drinking remedies that were fouler than their symptoms. Her own hardened Lunaean immune system was resistant to most common illnesses, though kennel cough was always an annoyance. Fortunately Allyson kept them vaccinated…
There. A stealthy scrape, outside the house. Snowdrift’s hackles rose, and her lips lifted. It might only be Sontheimer, coming to check on his beloved, worried all out of proportion because he himself was never ill. But she knew there was trouble in the city - some in the vampire’s Parliament objected to their Master taking a human lover, even a witch such as Ari, and some of them might just be stupid enough to try to harm the girl.
Snow leaped down silently. If it was Sontheimer, she had only given up a moment’s comfort. If not, whoever it was would soon discover their folly in trying to harm a witch under the protection of one of the pack’s greatest warriors.
Gavin scrambled to his feet, tail lashing eagerly. His poor notched ear tried to prick up in excitement, and Snow felt a moment’s grief and gratitude. Grief, that her favorite child had been harmed, scarred for life. Gratitude, that Arianne’s intervention, which had earned the girl a scar or two herself, had saved his life. It was this blood-debt as much as her own affection for Ari that had Snow living here in the city instead of with her own people in the forest.
But here was Gavin, quivering all over with eagerness to play. He more than looked like a child’s toy, he was as friendly and sweet-natured as his appearance suggested. Now was not the time for games, though. Snow held her ears stiffly forward, her tail high, and glared at him. He quieted, ears and tail down, and tried to lick her muzzle.
Snow allowed it for a second, then moved away toward the hall, her posture and gait showing him that she was in hunting mode. Gavin followed her cautiously, trying to be as quiet, though it was hard with feet that were large and uncoordinated. The elder wolf permitted him to follow, only because making him stay would certainly make him whine piteously, and that would alert the intruder. And just then, he also heard the noise, and his friendly puppy face scowled, lips beginning to curl. Snow approved, but asked him for silence with a gentle mouthing of his muzzle.
The two wolves stalked the odd sound, tracking it to the back door. It was the weakest point in the house’s security, but whoever designed this place had assumed rightly that that tall fence and thorny bougainvilleas would discourage any burglar. This was no common thief, however. Snow and Gavin both smelled the strange vampire standing on the back porch, and the young wolf started to growl again. Snow grabbed his muzzle sharply, and he folded his ears back, lifting a paw in entreaty.
She released him, studying the vampire outside. He was fiddling with the door lock, and it was only a matter of time before he managed to force the mechanism. Snow wanted to prevent him from harming Ari, but she also wanted to make certain no one else tried such a stunt. Here was one time when she was glad of her human side. A pure wolf would not be able to plan, as she did now, and even her own son was nothing more than an intelligent wolf, at least until the Change at full maturity which would wake his human consciousness. But Snowdrift had been human more often than she really liked, and even when she walked on four paws her intellect was human as her instincts were always wolf. She saw how she could wreak havoc on the intruder, give him a very clear message about messing with the Master’s Lady, even if she was human, especially since she was Wolf-friend.
Snow trotted back up the hall, Gavin at her heels. At one point, it made a corner, and the light above was not on in daylight. The shadows at the floor level were quite deep, the pale sunlight unable to reach this far up the windowless hall. The white wolf nudged her son down, pressing her muzzle against his neck until he lay stretched in a pool of shadow. Then, admonishing him to stay with a firm glare over her shoulder, she hurried past him and hid herself in Arianne’s father’s room.
The lock clicked, and the vampire slid inside. His own keen nose would note the scent of werewolves, but he knew that Arianne had recently hosted Snowdrift’s litter of eight. Maybe he thought only the puppies were in residence, forgetting that wolves matured quickly and those eight charming balls of fluff were now almost eighty pounds each. It hardly mattered - the other seven were with Silvertip, Snow’s denmate, who had patiently raised her own four and then turned to the less gifted of Snow’s children, leaving the white wolf to concentrate on her precocious son Gavin. If only they and Silver were here, and perhaps Mondavi, father of both litters … but wishing for venison never brought down a deer. Only Snowdrift and her son were here to defend Ari, and Snow meant to do so in such fashion that no arrogant bloodsucker would ever dream of harming the young woman again.
The vampire was a total stranger to Snow. He smelled like what he was, of course, but neither scent nor sight had any familiarity for her. Sontheimer or one of his underlings would not have slunk in like an alley cat, either. This was definitely an intruder, and Snow could feel justified in whatever she did to him. She grinned wolfishly, her tongue hanging out, as she watched from under Everett’s bed.
The vampire proceeded cautiously past her and up to the corner of the hall. He had to know by now that Arianne was in the room beyond him, but the scented oil she used in there had hopefully left him nose-blind to the young wolf stretched out at his feet. Gavin lay stone still, displaying some sense for the first time in his short life, and Snow had time to be proud of him. Then the vampire took another step.
His foot caught Gavin’s chest squarely, and the puppy sprang up, unbalancing him, just as Snow had planned. Now she leaped from her hiding place, her furious battle-roar thundering over Gavin’s barks, hysterical with rage and pain. The vampire had landed on his rump, staring in astonishment at the big puppy barking and growling in his face, and then he apparently realized his danger and tried to right himself. Snow was on him then, teeth tearing his shoulder and leaping away, the wolfish style of fighting: snap, slash, and spring away. Gavin finally figured out what he was supposed to do, and his strong jaws clamped on the vampire’s leg as he tried to get away. One good tug, his neck and back strengthened by months of squabbling with the other pups over a chew toy, and her son had knocked the vampire down again.
Snowdrift leaped in again, teeth meeting in the vampire’s cheek, tearing out a hunk of flesh as she danced away. The white wolf tossed her head back and swallowed the morsel; one of the few ways a vampire could truly die was to be eaten by werewolves, and in Snow’s long life, she had devoured more than one. Sontheimer’s peace had curtailed the hunts and feasts of old, but the warrior still enjoyed the opportunity for a delicacy such as this.
The vampire snarled, and the scent of his fear was rich and sweet as blood. Gavin fought less gracefully than his mother, but his muzzle was stained red, and the light of killing joy burned in his eyes. His puppy yap had deepened to an adult growl as he fought, tearing at the vampire’s legs and stomach. The bloodsucker was at a terrible disadvantage lying on his back, and with the supernatural strength of his kind augmented by terror he managed to roll over, crouching low to the floor to protect his gut. Now he could bring his claws into play, and Snow felt four lines of burning cold rake her muzzle as he lashed at her.
Gavin smelled his mother’s blood, and something inside him snapped. Nearly roaring, he sprang to the vampire’s back and bit down savagely on the back of his neck. The vampire screamed, and Snow lunged in, aiming for his throat. Unfortunately, though werewolves were stronger and healed more quickly - Snow’s cuts had already vanished - vampires were faster. In less than an eyeblink the intruder brought his arm up to protect his throat, and Snow merely laid his flesh open to the bone.
Then the vampire stood up, throwing Gavin to the floor, and leaped over Snow faster than she could turn and lunge to bite him. With two wolves chasing him, he darted out the unlocked door and across the yard at phenomenal speed. He was gone before they could pull him down again, and Gavin raced along the fence barking furiously. Snowdrift was cooler, and she heard Ari calling weakly. Leaving her son to defend the fence, the white wolf went back inside.
The young witch stood in the hallway, hands braced against the walls to prevent her unsteady swaying. The growling and snarling and screaming had awakened her, but by the time she struggled out of bed, there was nothing to see but splashes of blood on the carpet. Looking down at the dark markings, her exhausted but frightened gaze met Snow’s and she murmured in a horrified tone, wondering if she was hallucinating, “Snow, what on earth… Snowy, that’s not blood, is it? … How?”
Snow looked at her, blue eyes scornful. Humans always refused to believe the evidence of their senses. Although, that bitter-smelling drug was still working on her, so perhaps leniency was in order. Coming forward, Snowdrift licked Ari’s hand softly, then delicately caught the young woman’s slender fingers in the same powerful jaws that had torn a vampire’s flesh moments ago. Fortunately, Ari was too stoned by NyQuil to notice the crimson stains on Snow’s muzzle, and followed the wolf’s gentle tugging. Snow led the witch back to bed and shoved her down onto it, then returned to the hall.
The carpet was a mess, and nothing she could deal with now. The walls were liberally splashed as well, but she remedied that with swipes of her rough tongue. Gavin joined her shortly, bouncing around excitedly until his mother wheeled and struck at him. What would have looked like a vicious bite to any observer was in reality just a wolf’s version of spanking; Snow curled her lip back and swung her head sideways, slapping Gavin’s haunch with the sides of her interlocked canine teeth. The big puppy settled down, and after watching Snow a few minutes, began licking the blood off the opposite wall.
When that task was done and their muzzles cleaned as well, Snow trotted into the kitchen for a big drink of water, then headed outside. Gavin followed at her heels, realizing that his mother had some purpose in mind but unable to guess it. Her growls kept him back as she sniffed carefully along the fence, covering every inch of it. At last she froze, and her hackles lifted. Gavin began to growl as the scent reached him; they’d come to the place where the vampire entered the yard. Every one of Snow’s white hairs stood on end, and her ears and tail were lifted aggressively high. Weaving back and forth past the spot, she growled steadily, and then suddenly lifted her leg, marking the place with her own scent. It was a sign of her own dominance and high rank in the pack that she had adopted the more traditionally male gesture.
Snow moved aside, and Gavin rushed in to mark it as well. He was just old enough to cock his leg, but young enough to nearly lose his balance in his effort to leave the highest mark possible. Snow returned and added an emphatic postscript to the scent-message, then trotted away to mark out the rest of the fence. Gavin helped, but in his enthusiasm soon ran dry.
When the perimeter smelled rather pungently of wolf, Snow went back inside, had another drink, and leaped to Ari’s bed again. This time, when Gavin placed a cautious paw on the counterpane, Snow sighed and closed her eyes. He scrambled awkwardly up, circling thrice, and lay down beside Ari. In moments, both wolves were asleep.
That was how Ari’s father found them, his heart in his throat after seeing the blood in the hall and the back door swinging open. Arianne, pale and lovely as any princess of fairytale or fable, lying deeply asleep between two great wolves, who would have looked more regal and fantastic if the gray one had not been snoring.