Fic: Stalked
Title: Stalked
Author: lyras
Characters and pairings: Remus, implied Fenrir Greyback; implied Remus/Sirius and Remus/Tonks
Rating and warnings, if any: PG-13
Prompt, if any: None
Summary: Trying to infiltrate Greyback's pack preys on Remus's mind while he sleeps.
Remus hears the wolf before he spies it: a growl that is little more than wind in the oak branches smothering his breath.
No, no. He opens his eyes and pulls the covers up around his face. As a child - except that what the wolf left was not so much of a child - he played a game in which the wolf would not find him as long as every inch of his body was covered. This is how he must be: still and silent in the darkness.
But as he closes his eyes, he hears the wolf growling once more, and this time it creeps from its lair, a darker shade of dark, except for its blinking beacon eyes.
You pad behind; this is no place for you to assert independence. Others take their places down the order, some wilder than others, because the wolf always loved cubs, and sometimes afterwards there was no one to bring them back to humanity.
What would a wolf want with humanity anyway? It's an intriguing thought; you must have it for a reason, but currently you're occupied with the scent that the pack is following, which reeks of October leaves and something you can't place. Something like despair.
You drop behind the wolf, who has halted in the undergrowth by a clearing. The others arrive silently, awaiting the signal, and you strain your eyes looking for the quarry.
At first it's just a man-shape, but you quickly pick out details: tall for a human, and thin, with untidy hair, and...
The laugh rings out just as you spring in answer to the wolf's growl; just as, in turn, the human produces a light, and you glimpse that beautiful, bitter smile.
Remus breathes shallowly under the duvet. Don't think of Sirius; don't think of his wasted beauty and pointless laugh as he fell into oblivion. Don't think of Dora; don't think of her mouth that is full and warm like Sirius's. Don't remember even a strand of her hair, or the scent of her - especially not her scent. Because if he does, the wolf will sniff it out, and Remus will know his father's pain.
Remus opens his eyes in the darkness. The wolf is coming.
Author: lyras
Characters and pairings: Remus, implied Fenrir Greyback; implied Remus/Sirius and Remus/Tonks
Rating and warnings, if any: PG-13
Prompt, if any: None
Summary: Trying to infiltrate Greyback's pack preys on Remus's mind while he sleeps.
Remus hears the wolf before he spies it: a growl that is little more than wind in the oak branches smothering his breath.
No, no. He opens his eyes and pulls the covers up around his face. As a child - except that what the wolf left was not so much of a child - he played a game in which the wolf would not find him as long as every inch of his body was covered. This is how he must be: still and silent in the darkness.
But as he closes his eyes, he hears the wolf growling once more, and this time it creeps from its lair, a darker shade of dark, except for its blinking beacon eyes.
You pad behind; this is no place for you to assert independence. Others take their places down the order, some wilder than others, because the wolf always loved cubs, and sometimes afterwards there was no one to bring them back to humanity.
What would a wolf want with humanity anyway? It's an intriguing thought; you must have it for a reason, but currently you're occupied with the scent that the pack is following, which reeks of October leaves and something you can't place. Something like despair.
You drop behind the wolf, who has halted in the undergrowth by a clearing. The others arrive silently, awaiting the signal, and you strain your eyes looking for the quarry.
At first it's just a man-shape, but you quickly pick out details: tall for a human, and thin, with untidy hair, and...
The laugh rings out just as you spring in answer to the wolf's growl; just as, in turn, the human produces a light, and you glimpse that beautiful, bitter smile.
Remus breathes shallowly under the duvet. Don't think of Sirius; don't think of his wasted beauty and pointless laugh as he fell into oblivion. Don't think of Dora; don't think of her mouth that is full and warm like Sirius's. Don't remember even a strand of her hair, or the scent of her - especially not her scent. Because if he does, the wolf will sniff it out, and Remus will know his father's pain.
Remus opens his eyes in the darkness. The wolf is coming.