There are great advantages to living in a human community, Jongdae thinks, and just in the same way there are great disadvantages to it. Personally he believes the positives outweigh the negatives, if one were to stack them up and compare the impact they have on his daily life. On the plus side – and this is the biggest plus of them all really – he’ll always have a roof over his head and a warm meal waiting for when he gets back from work. A safe home. On the negative he does have to work in the first place, which is a hassle even though he doesn’t actually dislike vending guns for a living – makes it easier to keep up to date with things.

Disregarding the work deal however, another good point would be the comfort and freedom that comes with the ability to use one’s limbs for niftier things than running, swimming or digging holes. Like, say, painting… and turning the pages of the morning paper… and playing games on his phone. Or just changing the TV channel as he lounges on the couch in his sweats and mangy old tee.

Alright. So maybe being confined to his human skin all the time isn’t that good as far as exercise is concerned. Also, admittedly, there is something slightly dissatisfactory about being forced to stay a normal, inconspicuous person all throughout the day, with the knowledge that he’ll have to constantly look over his shoulder to ensure that no one follows him into the woods when he gets the urge to let loose. Jongdae would go so far as to deem it quite inconvenient, especially as the town acts as the area’s most popular hunting hub during the fall season, at which time it’s right out life-threatening to dash around the underbrush.

That doesn’t really stop any of them of course, though they have strict rules for going out when they know there’ll be humans with rifles stomping around their unofficial backyard looking for something to shoot.

Today, for example, Jongdae’s stuck out in the pouring rain with the runt, watching the big puppy frolic in the depressing weather. “Never go out alone on the weekends,” Minseok always says, “that’s when they have time to track us, and I don’t want anyone getting in the way of a bullet.”

Frankly Jongdae doubts anyone in their right mind would go hunting in such ty weather.

This past winter was a nasty one, all fluctuating temperatures and snow, and rain, and ice and slosh. And now, when spring is finally coming around the corner? Mush.

Jongdae glowers at the muddy ground, piles of white littering parts of it – some of the snow will still be there by June, he swears – with moss and twigs and pine needles covering everything else. He knows it’s just earth and water, but still wants to whine at the way his paws sink into it with each step. Seasonal transitions are always the worst. The winter is usually fine – this one having been a rare exception – when everything is frozen, but a lot cleaner, snow and ice hanging from the laden branches of the evergreens. Bright and sparkling and all over pleasant, despite the severe cold. Summers are just as good. They’re cool, sure, but fairly dry and with lots of daylight hours.

Spring on the other hand seems insistent on making his life harder by any means, and Jongdae does not like it at all.

The runt yips from where he’s prancing about a few yards ahead, seeming entirely unbothered by the way the water is clearly starting to seep into his fur, wet snow falling from the branches he snaps at with every leap off the ground. Jongdae barks back grouchily, just to let him know that he’s not enjoying himself. Maybe, he thinks to himself with only a hint of envy, Jongin is so open to playing around in the dirt because it doesn’t show on him in the first place. His own fur is a steely grey with a bunch of coaly specks, and his belly is so close to white that it seems to attract dark smudges whenever he sets paw out the door. Jongin on the other hand is a full brown, hints of maple and ochre making themselves seen whenever the sun’s out. Mud just adds to the mix of hues that are already there.

With a heavy exhale, and a pretty violent shiver, Jongdae settles his tush on the sloshy ground. He’s hoping that flattening his ears, dropping his tail in a puddle – which he already regrets– and looking generally miserable, will make the runt realize that not everyone finds the day’s weather as fun as he does.

It would have been a decent plan, if not for the fact that it takes Jongin almost twenty minutes to notice the silent protest.

By the time they’re at the porch, having used the rain and nightfall to their advantage as they snuck through as many dark patches as they could, Jongdae is shivering like a new-born and glaring daggers at an awkwardly smiling Jongin. They’re both soaked to the bone because the runt forgot the one thing he’d been asked to bring.

“I knew this would happen,” is the first thing Minseok says when they walk through the door, soppy clothes dripping cold water onto the tiled entrance hall floor as he shakes his head at them. Jongdae doesn’t even feel guilty.

“I did too, and yet here we are,” he retorts with little humour as he cringes out of his jacket, by habit ignoring the ‘sorry’ Jongin murmurs as he does the same. “I’m starting to think we should just build a shed out there because clearly it’s impossible to find a dry place to store our stuff while we’re on a run.”

The shuffling of slippers on hardwood floors gives another presence away, and Jongdae smiles gratefully as he accepts the towel handed to him with a tired ‘thanks’. Yixing returns the smile, dimple showing faintly, and then shakes her head in much the same way Minseok did when he laid eyes on them. “You were unlucky with the weather is all,” she says airily and brushes a few strands of black hair behind one ear. “I’m sure Jongin will remember to bring a bag next time.”

“Maybe he’ll even remember the umbrella,” Jongdae huffs as he rubs the water from his hair, whining low in the back of his throat when he has to bend over to undo his shoe laces to get the soggy boots off, chilled joints protesting. Sometime during his struggles, Jongin is shuffled inside by Minseok, and the towel is plucked from his own shoulders as Yixing helps get the few drops he missed himself.

Jongdae has long since decided that she’s a pretty curious person, Yixing. She showed up on his and Minseok’s doorstep almost three years back, looking a ruffled mess but smiling brightly all the same, and she’s just made herself at home since then. Jongdae assumes there’s a reason she came, but he never asked and she never told. It doesn’t seem like Minseok knows either. But they’d both agreed many times that she’s been nothing but great company – apart from the few times she mysteriously goes missing – and that there’s really no questioning her being there anymore. She cooks and cleans and does the shopping and laundry, and despite the sort of impression that might make for, Yixing is always quick to remind them and anyone else that it has nothing to do with gender roles and all to do with circumstances and preferences. In other words she just can’t be bothered finding a job, so she makes herself useful in other ways.

Which is totally fine by them.

“There’s hot cocoa waiting in the kitchen for when you’ve changed,” she tells him when he’s finally deemed dry enough to walk inside, shooting him an easy smile as she shuffles into the small sitting room with a yawn. “Don’t take too long or it’ll go cold.”

More often than not, Jongdae reverently praises whatever deity made her turn up on their front step.

The rest of the evening is spent in relative calm and relaxation. Sundays are always the same in that they’re the last chance to rest and recharge for the week to come, and Jongdae reckons all of them have mastered the art of unwinding. This may be in part due to the environment, what with the crackling flames of the fireplace and the quiet nature of the town and their neighbours, but he chooses to believe it’s mostly due to the level of comfort between the four of them.

While Jongin sometimes seems to struggle to stay silent, the nights they spend together in the parlour have worked their magic on the runt, and he’s often the first to pass out on the fluffy rug, nestled as close to the fire as he dares. The rest of them often use the time to catch up on their reading, or in Minseok’s case the odd work report that he by some weird force hasn’t managed to finish until then. Jongdae grimaces at the sheer thought of a desk job – he can’t imagine anything more boring to do all day than study statistics and jot down any miniscule change that’s been happening, like, the past three decades.

Tonight though, the usual silence is interrupted by the emergence of a slightly concerning topic, brought up not too long after they’ve all settled down, Jongin already snoring softly.

“I wonder if things are really as bad as the journalists make them seem…” Yixing murmurs from her corner of the couch, small lines appearing between her brows as her eyes scan the pages of a regional paper. Jongdae doesn’t like being disrupted while reading, but that tiny frown is enough to make him reconsider his initial urge to complain. “You haven’t noticed any unusual activity in the nearby packs, have you?”

The packs she’s referring to are all of the exclusively canine type. All in all, there are three of them in different directions that they sometimes bump into, an average of eight wolves in each, but they seem to know not to get too close to the borders. Animal instinct one could call it. Though Jongdae would be lying if he claimed not to enjoy the few times their paths cross – the alpha pairs aren’t particularly friendly, but the yearlings are playful to a fault. It’s been a while though, since even a whiff of any outsiders last lingered around home.

“I haven’t even seen any of them since before Christmas?” Jongdae answers hesitantly, dog-earing the page he’s on before closing the book he’d been wrapped up in. Minseok too drags his gaze from the novel in his hands, a dark frown on his face as he shifts deeper into the plush armchair. “No talk about this at the office either, huh?”

“Not a word. What’s the deal Xing?”

Yixing, not at all taken aback by Minseok’s grim expression, passes the newspaper by Jongdae for him to get a proper look. “More activity than usual, apparently. It seems strange,” she murmurs, casting a quick glance to Jongin’s snoozing form, no doubt thinking to keep him in the dark about any trouble until it’s confirmed.

“It does,” Minseok agrees as he scopes out the article in question. “There’s no way increased lupine activity would have gone undetected by us – not to mention our colleagues around the state. But these supposed sightings…”

“…you’re saying there might be a rogue roaming around our backyard?” Jongdae voices out, not entirely sure what to think of that particular possibility. “Without notifying us?”

“Not everyone is aware we’re living here Jongdae – none of us have attended a gathering in the three years I’ve been here, and even Jongin just happened to stumble over this town on his way to nowhere.” Though she’s smiling vaguely, Jongdae wonders about the vacant look in Yixing’s eyes as she rests her chin in her palm with a sigh, gaze directed at the flickering flames.

“Whatever the case,” Minseok hums, putting the paper aside in favour of picking up his book again, “we shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions. There may be a rogue, or there may not be one. And even if there were it could be a regular stray wolf for all we know, not another shifter.” He flips through the pages idly, and Jongdae gets the feeling that this is all they’re going to say on the matter, his thought confirmed in a heartbeat. “Either way, we shouldn’t worry too much about it – we’ll find out soon enough if anything unusual is happening.”

Figures Minseok would end it at that, with an unspoken promise to find out the truth looming over all of their heads. Jongdae scrunches his nose as the man returns to his reading, too ponderous now to return to his own novel. Somehow the rug is looking a lot more appealing than before, despite its current occupant. He considers it for a brief moment, then turns away with a grunt, getting to his feet.

For tonight, it might just be better to go to bed early.

*

Nights shouldn’t be so dark. Kyungsoo can feel it somehow, a tingle under his skin that won’t let him sleep no matter how many times he shuffles about and makes himself comfortable. The moon is new, and the clouds hiding her behind their thick veil block out what little light might have otherwise fallen on the forest beneath.

Instead, Kyungsoo is left with a hundred shades of black that seem to creep ever closer to him, shadows slithering across the fallen needles and damp moss. Abysmal holes gape at him from between thick trunks, the rustling of leaves whispering horrific secrets into the wind as it ruffles his fur, sending tremors throughout his body that he refuses to acknowledge. Somewhere in the distance he can hear an owl hoot, and he catches scent of prey a ways east. Perhaps there is still light that far off. Enough of it to hunt.

His gaze settles on the silvery bundle of fur at his back, the rhythmic rise and fall of the other’s chest accompanied by a light wheezing sound, lips pulled back and teeth bared from the strain and discomfort.

Kyungsoo knows he can’t leave the runt behind. He may be harsh, but he isn’t heartless.

But the odd tingle remains, transitioning into shivers as he watches the patches of absolute darkness stare back at him. Teasing. Goading. Beckoning for him to get up and run, to play with them until the clouds disperse or the sun rises above the mountains’ jagged ridge. Instead, Kyungsoo grits his teeth, tips his head back, and lets out a piercing howl.

The runt’s quiet whine, questioning, wondering why he isn’t asleep, makes him fall silent again. He snuggles just slightly closer, dark and light furs contrasting sharply where they tangle together, and they both settle into place after a bit of shifting about. For once, and only because the alternative is too unappealing, Kyungsoo allows himself to relax in the company of another, just enough to close his eyes for a short while.

What harm can an injured half-pup do either way?

*

It’s still dark out when Minseok wakes from his deep slumber. The cold has seeped inside overnight, shivers coursing through him as he sets his bare feet on the floorboards, making him hurry out of his room and across the hall to the bathroom for a steaming shower.

He’s fairly sure none of the others are up yet, and takes his time under the warm spray, rubbing the knots out of his shoulders as best he can, heat making his muscles relax until they seem to weigh him down rather than keep him standing. Exactly the way it’s supposed to be, he thinks, because all he needs to get through the day is this one moment of absolute peace and privacy.

Looking at his own face in the foggy mirror once he’s out though, Minseok can tell that the tossing and turning he’d done before finally drifting off earlier in the morning has left its mark, dark circles under his eyes a clear sign he needs more rest.

The subject of rogues always seems to make him unsettled. He’d blame Yixing for bringing it up, but she had all the right to do so, and Minseok’s thoughts stray in that very direction quite well on their own anyway, more frequently than the others seem to think. There are many reasons not to dwell on it though, and even more reasons to not get impatient and run off in search of a trespasser who may or may not exist in the first place. Besides, Minseok is fairly certain that most any issue between wolves – half-man or not – can be resolved without resorting to physical means.

Whatever restlessness he feels due to the subject really ought to be directed towards something more productive.

Like work, which he’ll be late for if he doesn’t hurry. He realizes this only when Yixing meets him in the hall, straightening his shirt collar with a sleepy ‘good morning’ before padding past. She usually gets up only after he’s left, as far as he knows, and he’s learned to use the others’ states of consciousness as a surprisingly accurate way to measure time. Right now he can only assume it’s at least seven forty-five, which means he should be well on his way already or risk getting on his boss’ bad side.

The air is crisp and fresh when he hurries out the door, his breath condensing in tiny puffs of smoke, a couple of big puddles reflecting the pale grey sky overhead. Minseok doesn’t mind the rain, but he’s relieved that it’s let up, sighing as he slides into the driver’s seat. Cars are a pet peeve of his – too much noise and fumes – but he has little choice lest he wants to rip his clothes off and run to work on all fours. Which really isn’t an alternative as much as a private joke for him to chuckle at as he pulls out of their driveway to take off down the road, speeding only slightly as he goes.

Adlet Creek is by no means a big place, the town’s population no more than roughly seven thousand and the seasonal addition of temporary visitors, but it is fairly spread out. While Minseok and the rest live fairly close to the so-called centre of town – the only place where deliveries are regularly made to stores and also the location of both sheriff and post offices – there are quite a few landowners who are counted as fellow townspeople though they live quite a ways off. Going from one side of Adlet Creek to the other, which is exactly what Minseok does every weekday morning, takes about ten minutes by car on a good day, twenty when the snow’s thick on the ground. Today it’s just a bit slippery, chilled ground freezing the shallow puddles and thin layer of moisture on top, and he makes sure to drive just that much more carefully until he pulls into the half-full parking lot outside of his work place.

“Well, well… don’t we look ready for a day of hard, gruelling paperwork?” Mrs Eleanor Roose teases as they run into each other by the steps, and Minseok flashes an easy smile as they walk up to the old brick building.

“Migraine,” he supplies and slows his steps, despite still being in a bit of a hurry finding comfort in his colleague’s equally late arrival, and holds the door open for her so they can head to the elevators together. Eleanor is usually pleasant to interact with, if only because she tends to go off once the topic has been established, and he only has to nod along every few sentences. He shoots her a jovial smile as the doors close in front of them. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, don’t get me started Xiumin – you know how the weather was absolutely horrible last night?” Cue the nod, and the lady bursts into a rapid monologue on how her favourite suede boots were ruined and how atrocious the sheer notion of rain has become to her. This, Minseok thinks, is quite ridiculous considering the fact that they live north of the pole circle and are used to several feet of snow and biting blizzards, but agrees with a faux hum of understanding. Not even five steps out the elevator though, another co-worker catches his shoulder with an excited fervour that has Minseok’s stomach turning uncomfortably as Eleanor pauses mid-sentence. “Something wrong Mitch?” she asks with a raised brow and sharp press of lips, clearly disliking the interruption.

Minseok frowns a bit as the grip on his shoulder tightens, Mitchell all worked up as he quickly pushes them towards one of the conference rooms. He wishes he’d at least be allowed a cup of coffee first, but when Mitchell Tall finally opens his mouth, that feeling quickly goes away, replaced by a mixture of confusion and inexplicable trepidation.

“They’re back!”

Word count: 3546

Right, chapter one... not all that interesting yet perhaps but... y'know, gotta start it off with some sort of introduction, right? I'm still dealing with the characterization, but I think everyone's personalitites will show a  bit more when there's actually more going on.

Anyhow, please let me know what you think (or if you find any spelling mistakes that I made despite tripple-checking).

Ta.

/argenou