SciFi and Fantasy Stories: The Willow 02

Lynen Elderflower

Willow pushed past the Master Magician, grabbing her cloak from the chair behind him. “I’m going whether you like it or not!” She shouted, snatching back her hair tie from her father. He grabbed her wrist, forcing her into one of the chairs.

“Now you listen to me my girl!” he snarled, thoroughly fed up with Willow’s rebellious attitude, “You’re still weak, you can’t go to the Royal Court.”

Frowning hard, she pushed him away, collecting her daggers from where they hung on the wall. “You’ve been using that excuse all week! I’m fine now, and you know it!”

“You’re not, I know you, you’re not well.” Willow tried to push past him but he blocked her passage, holding her back.

“Let go of me! You can’t keep me here! They’ll be expecting me.” She looked at his expression, her eyes narrowing. “This is because you don’t want people to see me, isn’t it? It is! Why don’t you want them to see me? What didn’t you tell them?”

Fabian narrowed his eyes in return. “Sit down!”

Willow pushed him away from her again, fastening the cloak about her shoulders. “No! I’m not a child anymore, you can’t order me about!” She looked at him again, studying his eyes. Her jaw clenched suddenly. “If I find that you tried to stop me being the assassin…”

Fabian suddenly smiled, “You’ll do what? What can you do? You’re just a girl, you’ve no connections, no friends, no where you can go.”

Willow’s fists clenched. “I hate you!” She screamed suddenly, shoving him across the room and running to the door, willing herself to remain focused. “I hate you for what you’ve done to me! If you tried to stop me being the assassin I will never come back! I promise you that. I hate being a magician! Why would I want to be a magician? I hate magic! I hate hiding! I hate this place! And I hate you!”

Throwing the door open, she marched out, running as fast as she could to the Royal Court. Her father would be there of course, but he wouldn’t dare to do anything in public.

#

Willow sat in The Lady’s court in one of the high backed seats, opposite Marty Wolven. The wolf-hybrid was smiling at her slightly; it seemed he had gotten over the death of Vixen. She was distinctly starting to dislike Marty, especially after she had heard that he had also been nominated for the position of The Lady’s Assassin. He smiled knowingly and began to wash the back of his ears, preening the white mark on his cheek. He seemed uncomftable without his tunic and shirt, and Willow wasn’t surprised; she remembered how self-confident he was, and how strict The Lady was on dress style, his attire was most likely to do with Thomas, he was always very careful of wounds on fae.

She looked away from him and surveyed the others assembled in the large ring that made up the Lady’s court. The Master Magician sat in his appointed place, next to The Lady’s thrown, his ceremonial cloak worn casually and easily. If Willow did not receive the position of assassin it would be her sitting there, wearing the cloak; she wanted none of it, she wanted to stay unnoticed, hidden in her soft green clothing in the shadows of the court. She removed her gaze from the Master Magician quickly when he turned his head; he had been against her nomination from the start.

There were nearly thirty gathered; not a full court, but not empty either. Some she knew in passing, but none very well. They were an assortment of faeries, some she knew to be friends of Jander, the current assassin, but only because of their squirrel like appearance, there were called near-squirrel fae. One of them was slightly larger than the rest, a deep red colour, his tail long and lush; he leant over the arm of his chair and began to talk to a pale blue female near-squirrel fae. Willow watched them for a while, smiling slightly; they reminded her of the summer before.

A hybrid walked into the chamber, and for a moment Willow couldn’t tell her species; then she realised, another wolf-hybrid, female this time, but her colour was so light she was almost cream. Willow had never seen that colour in a wolf-hybrid before, and she had a feeling it was rare by the way the hybrid held herself. She took the seat opposite The Lady’s thrown, exactly between Marty and Willow. She curled up in the chair, elegant with her head slightly raised, as if she were a high-born fae; but her eyes betrayed the wolf in her with that hungry wild look in them. The hybrid stared directly at Marty, trying to make eye contact whilst looking the male over. Marty caught her gaze and frowned sharply, daring her into a fight. The beige looked away, eyes downcast. Marty snorted slightly, disgusted by her human behaviour.

Thomas the Rhymer hurried in, bowing slightly and lifting his hat to any female he passed, not that they noticed. He slipped into the seat beside Willow and smiled gently; she replied likewise, trying to hide her nerves. He patted her hand,

“It’ll be alright, Willow,” he whispered, “just you watch.”

She turned to him, surprised, “You haven’t called me Willow since I was seven.” She whispered back, “And how do you know?”

Tom shrugged, “I get a feeling sometimes.” He was surprised himself, he hadn’t meant to say anything at all, and then all of a sudden he had felt a surge of magic and out it had come before he could react. He hated it when that happened, it was so inconvenient and it was the only thing that could get him into trouble.

The Lady stood and called silence to the chamber. Willow stared at her in awe; even after all these years she still couldn’t get used to the unsurpassed beauty of the Queen of the fae. She was not beautiful as a human would recognise beauty, for she was fae, and to be beautiful as a fae you were anything but human.

Her face was not technically a face, it was more of assortment of features than anything else: From the very top, two long straight horns swept backwards, ridged slightly; beneath them were a pair of rams horns with living plants entwined in them, in spring they flowered and The Lady gained a green, blue and red mane; the nose was very like that of a horse but without the length of the face; the eyes were slits, black, but so clear was their gaze that no mortal could look upon her and keep their heart’s secrets locked away. Her body was more human than the face, but the legs were that of a goat, the upper chest area more lion than anything else; but she did not posses a tail as many did, it was one thing that marked as her different from most fae.

She was the Queen of the fae, the good fae, but it would have been so easy for her to have become the Dark Queen. The boundaries between good and evil were thin and indistinct in this world, and who was to say what was right and wrong, that was something humans had come up with; for a moment Willow wondered if she really were on the ‘right’ side of the fae.

The Lady announced the current situation and invited Jander up onto the dais to give a speech. The mid-blue near-squirrel fae scrambled up and gave his set piece, he read out the nominees carefully and slowly, also calling out who had nominated them. Willow frowned sharply when he got to Marty, she could have sworn he had just said that Fabian Thomas had nominated Marty Wolven. She decided she must have misheard and left it at that.

“Does anyone wish to nominate another?” he asked, not really expecting any answer, it was just a matter of formality that had to be passed. Willow tapped her finger impatiently, she was nervous and she didn’t like it.

“I wish to place one.” A voice came from the back of the chamber and all, except Marty, turned to see the cream wolf-hybrid standing up, head held up high. The Lady smile slightly with yellow lips,

“Prove you are my loyal subject and an accomplished assassin and the nomination will be placed.” Her voice was deep and rich, as you would imagine a lion’s to be, it was just as strong as well, powerful beyond compare, “My loyal subject?”

The hybrid smiled and tossed her head, “I am female.”

She seemed so self-assured that Willow felt like laughing at her; The Lady did, “My dear that proves nothing. Our other candidate is Marty Wolven, a male; in case you hadn’t noticed, which I doubt considerably.”

The hybrid looked down at the floor, embarrassed, “I don’t know how else to prove myself.”

“I shouldn’t worry; my Master Magician can tell that quite simply. Fabian?” She turned to him; he seemed to be enjoying this, a small smirk had touched his lips and there was a hungry look to his eyes. Willow hated him in that moment and knew that she had not misheard Jander; and she hated the she-wolf for destroying the natural order of the transition, it was meant to be simple, the position was passed onto the apprentice, both Marty and Willow were apprentices and it would be left to The Lady to choose. But now… now these had been disturbed and she felt threatened by the presence of another. She watched the Master Magician’s face carefully, watching for signs that he had planned this. Yet all he did was simply nod whilst The Lady smiled her thanks.

“And now to prove your skills, who will you fight? Marty Wolven or Master Thomas?”

The hybrid looked around those assembled, clearly confused, “Master Thomas.”

The Lady nodded, “Rise please.”

Willow was about to stand when the Master Magician did so, holding up his hand to halt the proceedings, “Master Thomas still recovers, I beg leave and ask the challenge to be passed on.”

“Very well. Marty Wolven, you are called to duel to prove your skills and win your place as my assassin.”

Marty went to stand, and this time the cream hybrid raised protest. “I’ll not fight an invalid, honour forbids it and I cannot show my skill against one maimed.”

“Honour!” A deep voice came from the edge of the dais and the near-squirrel standing there. Jander tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms, whiskers twitching. He turned to The Lady, “Madam, if you’ll permit me speak to this hybrid I’m sure I can decide on who would be best.”

She nodded vaguely and they left. Willow refused to meet the eyes of either the Master Magician or Marty. She turned to Tom who seemed interested but no absorbed in the unfolding events.

“Did you know this was going to happen?” she asked, suspicious now of what he had said earlier. Tom shook his head quickly and then turned to meet her gaze. There was something different about her, and not just the heavy, concealing cloak. Tipping his head to the side he frowned and remembered Fabian’s words. He leant closer to Willow and spoke in a whisper.

“I’m not sure what I meant. I know you won’t become assassin, your… your father won’t allow it. He wants Marty to take the position, for it is certain death to take on the next assignment.”

Willow stared at him, incredulous. “My father may not like Marty, but he wouldn’t go that far, he’s not like that.”

“You underestimate him, Willow, I’m surprised.”

Willow sensed his mocking tone and went to stand; his hand grasped hers and pulled her back into the chair. He hissed, “You need to see this.” She relaxed a little, pulling the hood of the cloak about her face.

Jander scampered back in moments later and approached The Lady, his sharp claws making light work of the climb up to her shoulder height. He handed the black sword pendant over to The Lady. Unnoticed, the cream hybrid resumed her place.

The Lady slightly as Jander spoke to her; the Master Magician turned away in disgust. The court held its breath. At length The Lady stood,

“I will speak to the nominees alone, I’m afraid the rest of you will have to leave.” There was a subdued mumbling as they left, several gave the cream hybrid threatening looks as they passed; they had only ever half trusted Marty and the arrival of a new hybrid was not welcome.

The Lady watched them leave and the sat back down. “Lynen Elderflower has been recommended to me by Jander, his preference I hold above all others and so it is to Elderflower that I give the task of retrieving the head of the leader of the People. Lynen Elderflower, please step forward to receive your mark of office.”

Willow watched the hybrid take the pendant and felt her heart go cold. She had sworn to herself she would not return to the Oak, and she had never been known to break a promise, she was not about to start now.

Thomas tightened his grip on her arm, preventing her from leaving. Willow studied the ground hard as she heard those still in the hall file out; closing her eyes she bitterly regretted making that promise to herself. She looked up at Tom, only to find he had gone; there was only Marty Wolven left, standing in the centre of the chamber.

“Willow, I need to talk to you, alone.”

She looked away for a moment and then nodded numbly, standing to take his offered hand. Marty, surprised at her willingness to talk, led her to one of the quieter parts of the Higher Realm.

Willow looked about and held her breath in awe. She had not been to this place for over a year, she had even forgotten where it was. The oldest, tallest and strongest of the Higher Realm’s trees lived here: their broad canopies nearly out of sight above their heads; their colours rich and alive, red brown trunks of deep richness, the green of their leaves, and those of the vines twisting around them tightly, were mottled, a rich selection of every hue available to the greens, from green blue, light and fresh, to the heavy black greens that oozed strength of life; their roots were thick and strong, reaching deep inside of the earth, the rain had worn away the top soil, exposing thick, twisting roots that became their own type of jungle. Willow let the hood of her cloak fall back, letting her hair tumble down across her shoulder and back and breathed in the heavy air that was filled with the smell of the earth; how she remembered that smell, the intoxicating mix of life and energy, the smell that made you want to run.

Marty gasped behind her, breaking her train of thought. She turned quickly, pulling the hood back over her hair and face. His head tipped to the side, ears pricking up, eyes wide and puppy like, a begging look in them; he seemed hurt by her actions.

“Why do you hide, Willow.” He stepped forwards, reaching a hand forwards to remove the hood. She jerked back instinctively, bumping into one of the roots.

“Marty, don’t, not now.”

“But Willow, you shouldn’t hide.”

“I want to.”

He moved forwards once more and caught her arm as she went to push him away, pulling her close. Catching her gaze he held it there, and so slowly she didn’t notice, pushed the hood back. The hair and face came into view once more and Marty smiled gently at her, stroking under a deep green eye, sweeping his hand over her ear to tuck the soft, willow green hair neatly behind it.

“What are you hiding?” he whispered lovingly. Willow opened her mouth to speak, but no words came from her parted lips. Marty smiled once more and bent his head towards her. “The wolf has your tongue,” he whispered, “but the wolf shall give it back.”

Suddenly realising what he meant she pushed away and ducked under a root, still unable to find her voice; she had to move, and move fast, Marty was quicker that she and she had no intention of being caught. He was after her like lightning, a silent pursuer in the stillness of the ancient grove. She turned, ducked and sought refuge in the maze of roots; some of it looked familiar, but she’d turn a corner and be lost again, looking up was like watching a picture spinning round and round. Disorientated and dizzy, she tripped, spinning as she did so.

A hand caught her underneath her arms, hauling her back up before she reached the soft earth. Marty Wolven held her close, and then let her go, stepping back to a respectful distance.

“I’m sorry Willow, I truly am, I didn’t mean to… it was just this place. I only wanted to tell you that I am grateful for your help with Legaraus. I never wanted to take your place as assassin; and I wanted to give… to give you this.”

He held his closed fist out and let her approach at her own pace. She seemed so wild, nervous around contact from one who was stronger and bigger, a possible threat. He looked again at those deep green eyes and frowned thoughtfully: Where had those brown eyes gone? And what had happened to her honey coloured hair? Not that the green wasn’t just as beautiful.

Her hand touched his and he opened it slowly, palm upwards, exposing the ring. She smiled as she looked on it and took it from him, turning it over slowly; the small smile that touched the corners of her mouth widened. Her sharp eyes found the inscription and the smile fell away; hastily she put it back in his hand, shaking her head and moving away.

Marty sighed slightly and moved forwards, trying to make his movements as smooth as possible. “Willow, please, take it.”

Backing up against one of the roots she shook her head, the willow green hair falling across her chest, accentuating her shapely curves. Marty found his brow creasing and stopped himself, now was not the time for anger. Stepping forwards again he extended a hand.

“Willow, come here.”

He hadn’t meant to say that, logic said that she would just run away from him; but she stepped forwards, taking his hand and letting him drag her close. She looked deep into his eyes and a thousand memories flooded back, all those tiny moments in time that she would never forget; but she still couldn’t speak.

Smiling gently, he stroked her face with his finger tips, “Oh, Willow. What troubles you?”

Desperate to answer she tried to speak but all that came out was a faint whisper. Standing on her tiptoes, she leant towards his ear, whispering,

“I’ve made a promise and I can’t go back, not ever. I can’t go back to the Great Oak or the Master Magician.”

Marty took her shoulders in his hands and held her in front of him, shocked at what she had just told him. That was the one thing he had expected never to hear from her; that she would leave her father and home.

“But why Willow, why did you make that promise?”

“I wanted that position.” She whispered and closed her eyes, looking down and to the side. Marty sighed and held her in a tight embrace and tried to think through what this meant.

“Willow,” he said at length, “what will you do now? Where will you stay? Your father will hunt for you, you know that.”

“I know, I don’t know what I’m going to do, I can’t stay in the Higher Realm.”

Marty released her from the embrace and looked at her face carefully, he had an idea. “What about the hybrids? You could stay in one of the villages, no one can enter there without being seen and the hybrids count you as a friend.”

Willow looked up at him, “Are you sure?”

Marty nodded, smiling broadly. Gripping her hand tightly, he started running through the maze of roots. “Come on then, I know just the place.”

Karen

Marty stepped into the village and it fell silent in a wave as they realised who had just stepped into their place. A hybrid village, there were only females and children here; the presence of a male was disturbing to them all.

Seven young female wolf hybrids were gathered about the well, buckets balanced on hips and on heads, their clothing made of silk and brightly coloured; they all wore wrap round skirts and wrap round shirts that were made to accentuate curves. Marty frowned slightly at their clothing and then remembered it was nearly the full moon, he really shouldn’t be here.

The grass of the square was covered with small children, all them open mouthed. The younger held Marty in awe, the older girls saw him in fear whilst the older boys, especially those about to become men, looked at him with fear and knowledge that he was what they would become.

Older hybrids stood gathered in front of houses, their conversations broken off; they glanced from Marty to their children and then back again, anxious that a male was in their village.

The square stayed silent, though the faces changed, they became angry.

A door opened with a clatter on the opposite side of the square to Marty and an old she-wolf hybrid stepped out. Her presence changed the atmosphere of the place; though she herself was a hostile and threatening presence, the rest of those assembled ceased to be. Her hair was white and grey, but she still dressed as the others with the brightly coloured cloth wrapped closely about the body. Her eyes, under the heavy whiskers of her eyebrows, fixed on Marty’s imposing presence.

“You are welcome here wolf, this place is haven to you.” She said as a matter of formality, her voice coarse and as grating as sandpaper on newly sawn wood.

Marty bowed low, “I thank you for your hospitality and give you my word that I offer you and your people no harm.”

A young she-wolf broke ranks and ran to its mother, hiding in the folds of cloth. Marty took this as his cue to enter the old she-wolf’s house and looked upon the young cub with pity. She shouldn’t be scared of her own kind, it wasn’t right; and those young boys needed adults to teach and prepare them for the way of the world. He sighed, shaking his head, and stepped through the door after the old she wolf.

“You’ve come at a bad time Marty Dener.”

Marty shut the door quietly and stopped down to pass in to the sitting room. His face carried no expression as he turned to survey the room.

“I no longer carry that name, I am Marty Wolven, you know I left my family name behind when I became an adult.”

She snorted in contempt and gestured for him to sit next to the cold fireplace whilst she went to put the kettle over the kitchen fire. The front room was pleasantly cool, the floor made of hard compact earth with a fine layer of dust over the top; it reminded Marty of his mother’s home. The house was far too human for his liking, with net curtains over the glass paned windows, a brick fireplace, stairs to a second floor, and soft furnishings. Yet it was nice none the less.

“The moon’s nearly full, Marty,” came the voice from the kitchen, “you know better than to come here now; they’ll think you’re lusting.” She appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised questioningly. Marty growled,

“I’m not; at least, not for them.”

The old she-wolf cackled loudly and sat down heavily in the rocking chair, pushing it backwards. “No more love potions, Marty,” she jested, “you know I don’t dabble in that sort of magic. Why have you left your family name behind, Marty? You’re not even out of your teens yet, you’ve only just left the life of the village.”

Marty shrugged and smiled slightly at his Great Aunt, “I’ve left this life now, I can’t go back. Why prolong the ties?”

“Because you have come back, you are here now. What do you want? I do not wish for the girls to be stressed any more than they need to be, it’s a difficult time for us.”

Marty sighed, “I know. I need help, I…”

Marty’s Great Aunt held up a hand, “A cup of tea is the best thing to discuss this over, and while I make it you can tell me what’s been happening since you were last here; and don’t leave anything out, you know I have spies in The Lady’s Court.”

Marty looked into the empty grate, sighing; he would have preferred to make the tea and let her talk, but he knew that she would never of allowed it. Smoothing out the creases in his trousers and then gently massaging the aching shoulder he began to speak.

“Lynen Elderflower was made the Lady’s Assassin.”

The she-wolf put her head round the door, frowning, “Elderflower? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, Ethel.” He replied as she disappeared once more. China clinked and the kettle began to hiss, making such a racket as to deafen Marty. A hand touched his knee, and he jerked, whipping his dagger out of concealment before he could think. Big, yellow eyes looked back at him in terror and he stayed his hand; it was just a cub. Smiling, he laid a hand on the cub’s head and smoothed out the hair. The kettle ceased to hiss.

“What would your name be, child?” he asked softly, aware that it must be very frightened after his threatening movements.

“Karen.” The girl paused, unsure of herself suddenly, “Are you… are you Marty Dener?”

He smiled again, “Marty Wolven, but aye, I was Marty Dener once. You’re a brave cub to be here, there aren’t many who’d approach me.”

Karen looked back at him evenly, “I’m not part of the many. Did… did your mother leave you here when you were a cub?”

Marty smiled and shook his head, “No, Ethel is my Great Aunt.”

“Oh. My mother left me here, she didn’t want me anymore. I don’t like the other cubs, they think I’m silly for wanting my mother back.”

Marty frowned slightly, tipping his head to the side. He held his arms out to the girl and gestured for her to climb up onto his lap. Once she was settled he asked, “What other cubs?”

“The cubs here,” she answered, her voice muffled because her face was hidden in his tunic “they don’t understand.”

“Why not?”

“Please, sir,” a voice said from behind as Marty jerked round, surprised that another had snuck up on him, “we don’t have mothers, we assumed she wouldn’t either.”

Marty frowned as Karen gave a large sniff. “Why would you assume that?”

The boy shrugged, “She’s here in this house, none of us have mothers, this is where those without a mother come. So we assumed.”

Marty nodded and stroked Karen’s hair gently. The boy looked at the two of them sitting quietly with something like envy and then said, “Can I have a cuddle as well?”

Marty sighed, smiling and nodded. The boy scrambled up and settled down. “You know you’re the first Karen’s spoken to apart from when she’s cried.”

Karen gave another loud sniff as Ethel bustled in with a tray pilled high with tea pots, cups, saucers, cakes and biscuits. The boy and Karen jumped off of Marty, looking silently up at Ethel as the old she-wolf poured out the tea. Marty smiled, but it soon faded as he realised just how human the hybrids had become.

Ethel shooed them away from the food and passed a cup of tea to Marty. He took it clumsily, unsure of how to hold the saucer without the sure grip of human fingers. He did the best he could, balancing the delicate china on his claws. A plate was handed to him with a large piece of cake and several biscuits. Marty looked at Karen and the boy who gazed longingly at the food with large open eyes. They lifted their noses up, scenting the air and trying to act as a wolf pup, licking under the chin to gain food, though their human nature held them back from physically licking.

He handed the plate to them whilst Ethel looked on in mock disapproval. “You spoil them you know.” She told him as the two cubs went to sit in a corner, there was a couple of scuffles and a fair bit of growling, but they settled down eventually with Karen coming out on top, Marty wasn’t at all surprised.

Ethel smiled, “Now Marty, what was it that you wanted?”

“I need a place to hide someone, to be specific...”

Ethel cut him off, “Not here, not in front of the cubs. Come, you were going to tell me about the assassin’s position. Lynen Elderflower you say?”

Marty nodded, “She was a late entrant, Jander himself approved her.”

“Do you know who placed you there?”

“No, it was a surprise to me, but Tom is sure that the Master Magician placed me there, he’s determined to be rid of me you know.”

“So I’ve heard, but you did make his daughter make an impossible choice.”

“And to him she made the wrong choice. It was her choice, hers to make…”

“Marty! Be at peace, what is past is past.”

Marty sighed and looked at the two cubs; surprisingly they had already scoffed all of the food he had given them. Ethel gave them a sharp look and they disappeared up the stairs, where Marty could hear the playful fighting of several cubs. He raised his eyebrows,

“I see you’ve been collecting cubs.”

Ethel sighed, “More are dying in childbirth, I can’t be everywhere at once, and their children end up here with me. I need another who knows of healing to help me; I’m becoming far too old to dash from house to house.”

“Why don’t you find another?”

“None have the talent; I hate to say it, but I fear they’ve too much human blood. Now, who did you want to hide?”

“Willow Thomas, she’s had to leave, if she goes back to her home her father will kill her for what she said.”

Ethel leant back in the rocking chair and took a sip from her tea cup, she seemed worried. “What did she say?”

Marty shrugged, “I don’t know the details. But she told him that she wouldn’t be returning if she found he had kept her from the assassin’s position.”

Ethel sat silently for several minutes, thinking it over. Willow was a friend of the hybrids, and the Master Magician was no friend of theirs, but it was dangerous to even contemplate hiding her in the village. Marty had never asked so much of them before, but it wasn’t just for him, it was for Willow as well. Ethel Dener sighed,

“If I put it to the council they will never agree, it’s too dangerous. But… the village will be empty for the next week or so apart from children, who will all be staying the hall. Bring her here this afternoon, as a visitor, when the women come back they will assume she left in the night; but she will have to stay in the attic room.”

Marty nodded thankfully, “I owe you a large debt.”

“No, we are repaying the one we have with Willow, there is a whole life’s worth of debt to be repaid there. Go, fetch her now.”

Marty stood, surprised at the sharpness in her voice and went to leave. He paused at the front door as he heard Ethel’s voice once more,

“We will repay our part of the debt through this; you will repay the rest Marty, after all, it is your debt.”

Marty looked at the floor, brow creasing, he didn’t need reminding of that, not now. He left the house, his heart heavy with memories and his eyes moist. The young she-wolves watched from their doorways, some with fear, so with open interest. He returned none of their gazes, they were a world away from him now, he was no longer part of the safe, close-knit community that they had; he lived in the wild, in dangerous, dog-eat-dog society of the male wolf hybrids.