DS fic: Pack Of Lone Wolves, by kuonji (G)
Title: Pack Of Lone Wolves
Author: kuonji
Fandom: Due South
Characters: Diefenbaker, Benton, Ray
Pairings: none, possible Fraser/RayK
Category: character study
Rating: G
Words: ~1500
Summary: Diefenbaker is not a wolf.
Pack Of Lone Wolves
by kuonji
--Hybrid--
Wolves have a strict hierarchical structure. Each fights for his place and each does the jobs that his position demands. A wolf who does not follow the rules, or a wolf who is simply different -- in temperament or fur color -- may be driven out. A wolf alone is without protection and family. It is considered destitute.
Diefenbaker is not a wolf.
Dogs have the same instinctive need for a hierarchy. Yet they are less clear about their roles. They are confused sometimes, the small breeds dominating the large, the clawless humans dominating their sharp-toothed kennels. Some humans are capable of being masters to their dog companions. Some are not. By virtue of what they call money, though, all humans are considered their dogs' owners.
Diefenbaker is not a dog.
His sire had been a lone wolf. His canine dam had been seduced away from her human owners. Or perhaps she had run away first before his sire met her and took her for his alpha female. They had been overly optimistic. Their pack had not grown. No wolves had joined them, and they had perished one winter, leaving Diefenbaker alone. Diefenbaker had been the lone surviving pup of a litter of three.
Before Benton named him, Diefenbaker was simply called Brown. It's not so much a comment on his puppy fur color as a description of disdain and suspicion. Wolves did not like him; he was unimportant and useless. Dogs did not trust him; he was odd and dangerous. He was alone. And he learned to prefer it.
Until Benton.
Humans pretend that they are all equal, even though in working together, they make it clear that is not true. Humans -- even Benton -- lie and make excuses, for others and for themselves, and many pretend to be wolves when they are actually dogs. Or vice versa.
Diefenbaker is not a human.
He is himself, and he does not wish to be anything else.
***
--Choices--
Benton has never tried to be either master or owner to Diefenbaker. They both prefer the freedom of it.
Benton likes to talk to him, and so Diefenbaker has learned a few human languages. This is perhaps unusual. Perhaps not. He enjoys the ability to interact with the humans around him who seem so unnecessarily alien -- even intimidating -- to his brethren. It is his own small joke on the rest of the world.
Diefenbaker speaks a language of his own, too, comprised of growls and woofs and whines that Benton understands like no other being can.
Benton calls the two of them by human words: Partners. Companions. Family.
Diefenbaker calls them by a wolf word which means all those things: Pack.
They make a strange pack, surely, he and Benton. They are both too independent, too mistrustful still, too stubborn. Yet, they are a small but effective team, with a loose power structure that is tailored uniquely to them.
Diefenbaker has never wanted to be alpha. He doesn't want the responsibility of making pack decisions himself. It is much easier to have Benton lead -- and then decide whether or not to follow.
He follows Benton into most things, sometimes even when he does not agree.
Humans have another word, which wolves and dogs understand, too.
It is love.
***
--Deaf--
After Prince Rupert Sound, Diefenbaker can no longer hear with his thinly furred, sensitive ears.
He doesn't miss it, precisely, though it had taken a while to get used to. Like a sprained paw. Or staring past the sun's glare. He can still understand others when he wants to -- through the combination of sight cues, scent, feel, and that special hearing that wolves have.
On clear nights, he howls at the moon, and he hears the answers.
***
***
Diefenbaker is restless tonight and filled with anticipation. He bounds across the fields and makes larger and larger circles in the snow.
Sitting back abruptly, he points his muzzle to the sky and lets out a long voice to his emotions. Blood thrums through his bones. His senses are taut tonight.
Answering howls come in from somewhere to the west. It's a full moon after a storm, and excitement laces the air.
Having made his presence known, Diefenbaker begins with the customary pleasantries: The night is cool and clear. The moon is high. I am a quarter days' trot from our den. This is our territory. Do not come closer.
He continues with specific reports: Hunting has been good. The geese have migrated. Musk ox are one day south, but I do not claim them for my pack. My pack is strong. My pack is generous. My pack has shelter and food and no enemies challenge us. Be envious of me.
After a few minutes of listening, he is satisfied that none of his fellows are as well off as he. He says so, and no one dares gainsay him, as is right.
A closer howl startles him. His hackles raise for a fraction of a second, before he recognizes the source.
Ray.
This is Ray of the tasty hair and the clean, pure scent. He is one of the members of their sparse pack. Diefenbaker loves this human, who is as independent and stubborn as he and Benton are.
Ray sits on his haunches in the snow and speaks straight upwards the way wolves do, letting the hood of his parka fall back to show his relaxed face. At first it is meaningless sounds of joy and wild freedom. Then, I like cheese and caribou entrails, he says, unexpectedly.
Diefenbaker knows for a fact that the latter is untrue, but since there is nothing wrong with his sentiments, Diefenbaker does not correct him. It's possible that Ray has changed his mind. Entrails are, after all, very tasty.
The cold is invigorating. My paws no longer have feeling. I long to take a swim.
Now Diefenbaker decides that Ray is in fact making a joke. He lolls a loose wolf laugh in response. Indeed, that human grimace called a smile stretches Ray's face as he lowers his head again.
"Come on, Fraser," Ray cajoles, slightly breathless. "It's a full moon. We're in the middle of nowhere. Make like a wild thing for once." Diefenbaker agrees vociferously with him.
"Really, Ray," Benton says, but a smile, too, twitches at his bare, wind-chapped lips.
I dance in the sky. I gallop across the tundra. I come from the city, but the wilderness is my territory, too, Ray cries to the stars, and Diefenbaker is filled with exhilaration alongside him.
Gripped by feeling, he raises his voice and he calls to his pack. They all have different paths and different needs, and that is as it should be. But tonight, he wants to hear them whole in harmony. He speaks of his love for his packmates and exhorts an answer from them.
Ray beside him joins in. Benton is silent.
Diefenbaker redoubles his efforts. He does not know if it will work. But he has lived with humans for a long time. He has attained faith in them.
He calls long and clear into the open night sky. He listens hard with his inner ears. He believes firmly in the strength of their bonds.
The night is warm and humid, comes a tentative reply. Excited, Diefenbaker howls back a greeting. I am here in my den. We are safe and fit, the answer continues. We send greetings. This is followed by, I am confused. I may be unwell.
Diefenbaker shakes his fur and cavorts like a puppy. Ray stares at him and says, his lips forming the words uncertainly, "Was that...?"
Benton doesn't answer, but he pets Diefenbaker's head in a rare show of affection, and he mouths Thank you in front of Diefenbaker's face, expressing appreciation and amusement and wonder. And love.
Ray -- perhaps ignorant of their conversation, perhaps not -- shakes himself hard and announces suddenly to the sky, I am an alpha bitch in heat, looking for a mate, which makes Benton's smile widen. I make strong pups, Ray adds, with an enticing lilt that causes Benton to drop his head and put a hand over his eyes as he makes gasping sounds of mirth into his chest.
When a naïve young wolf from the west answers in the affirmative, Diefenbaker rolls on the ground with his tongue hanging out, unable to contain himself. Benton leans into Ray's shoulder to smother his howls -- of laughter -- into Ray's scarf.
I am happy, says Ray from far away.
I am happy, says Ray from beside them.
And finally, finally, Benton throws his head back and joins in for real. He buries one gloved hand in Diefenbaker's scruff. The other, he digs into Ray's furred parka hood.
Together, they sing:
My pack is healthy and well. We are strong. We are content. I am home.
END.
If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:
Hazards In The Discount Aisle (Due South), by kuonji
Didn't See That Come-Around (Due South), by kuonji
Untitled (Due South), by mergatrude
What We Talk About When We Talk About Wolves (Due South), by Penelope Whistle
Julie's Wolf Pack (novel), by Jean Craighead George