The Hunt 6/?

[soncnica]

Title: The Hunt 6/?
Author: soncnica
Rating: 'NC-17' for the whole story but 'R' for now
Genre/pairing: Jared/Jensen AU
Characters: Jared, Jensen
Word count: cca. 7.600 this chapter
Summary: It's the time of The Hunt again. And this year Jensen has to particapate. Jared is a werewolf who hasn't found his mate yet in all the years he's been participating in The Hunt. But this year... he smells something he wants.
Warnings: *takes a deep breath* werewolf!Jared, bloodplay, branding, barebacking, biting, mental links, chuffing/presten, scenting, skitish!Jensen (but not too much, he is a man after all), language, dirty talk, knotting, death of minor character(s), age difference (Jared is 28, Jensen is 18), NO CHARACTER DEATH (Jared and Jensen survive, he), NOT UNDERAGE, NO BESTIALITY (that means no wolf!Jared/Jensen okay a little scene, but it's 'you blink and it's gone' trust me), and a lot more warnings to come. I'll post warnings with chapters, so THIS CHAPTER: branding, chuffing/presten, scenting, a bit of biting, pain, idk if you find anything else, let me know! 
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is not mine! NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION!
Art: YESSS ART!!! Go HERE and check it out... the super awesome witchcraftx13 made it for me... it's umm how Jared lookes like when he's a wolf. SO PRETTY and EXACLTY how I picture him to be in my head. THANK YOU SO MUCH!
A/N: Writen for this prompt at spn_hardcore animalistic behavior meme.


Finally!!! *pumps fist in the air* This chapter is a monster!!! A MONSTER I tell you... maybe you should go to the toilet before you start reading, LOL... because it's the longest chapter I've ever done!! And I'm soooooo nervous about it, like... I know exactly how Jensen feels in this chapter... the fear! It's bordering on pain! okay okay... I'll go away now and leave you all in peace to read this... THANK YOU ALL SOOO MUCH !!!!

 Enjoy...

He woke up sweating and shaking, the ceiling spinning before his wide open eyes, the silver of the moon illuminating it, casting shadows of tree branches over the wooden beams. He choked on a breath and a gasp, didn't want to wake up his mother who was softly snoring on her bed; oblivious to her son's sleepless night.

He breathed quickly, not being able to catch air from the room fast enough, his lungs burning, aching and screaming to him to fill them up.

His left hand was on his rapidly rising chest, his heart beating so fast beneath the bone, he thought that if not for that bone, his heart would've just flown away up to the sky, up to the moon, up to the Gods to take care of it.

He couldn't move, didn't even want to, he just wanted to catch his breath and stop shaking, stop feeling scared. Just stop feeling.

He was scared, he never told that to anyone, always kept it to himself and lied all around that he was excited, that he can't wait, but he couldn't lie to himself; he was terrified of what the day would bring, what the night would bring.

What tomorrow would be like? Where he would sleep? What he would eat? Would he run, be chased, would he be killed, would he be taken or would he be left behind?

All those questions were making his head spin.

His stomach hurt, his legs hurt, his back hurt… there was anxiety and panic settling so deep in his bones that everything hurt. Breathing, moving, thinking, lying, sitting, walking. Everything was a hurt, he couldn't ignore.

Would he die?

Would the man with the color changing eyes find him? Kill him? Take him?

Would he have to fight?

Would he have to… kill?

He doesn't want to kill, but he would. If it would mean saving his own life, he would kill, he would hunt, he would do anything. Doesn't matter what, because he had killed chickens and rabbits and pigs and cows and sheep and goats, he has killed… he can kill.

He just doesn't want to.

But he would. Fight.

He would.

He closed his eyes and tried to think about nothing.

A soft touch of a rough hand on his forearm woke him up just as he was about to fall asleep; the sweet pain of waking up from the edge of falling into dreams made his head hurt.

"Baby…"

His mother's sleepy voice turned his head around to look at her… her hair was long and gray, her face wrinkled and old and a pain squeezed his chest… a thought he had always tried to push way back into his mind whenever it appeared, but right now? He couldn't ignore it anymore…

… what if the werewolves take me and my mother dies? Alone? Would I ever find out… if she dies?

He sniffed and cleared his throat, making his voice throaty, rough, trying to seem like he had just been woken up from a deep sleep: "Mother…"

She sat down with a sigh near his right hip, the hay there a bit rumpled up so that she could get up later without breaking her back.

"Hey baby…"

His mother hadn't called him like that in a while…

… and then he head it. Soft cries and pleadings coming from the cottages near his…

… he could hear Lokas' mother crying…

He chose not to listen.

"Mom?"

He followed her hand to his forehead, crossing his eyes to see and left out a long breath, air he didn't know he had in him, when her palm touched his skin.

A mother's touch can soothe any pain.

"I have something for you."

She whispered and stroked the short spikes of his sweaty hair; calming motions that made him want to close his eyes and go to sleep.

"For me?"

He whispered… his voice breaking on the crying Lokas' mother was doing.

"Yes… it's…," she stopped talking and removed her hand from his forehead, reaching into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a…

… something silver…

"It's a cross, Celtic cross it's called… and you… you put it around your neck."

He rose up on his right elbow, wiping his eyes with his fingers, leaning to his side and reached out with his hand, palm open for his mother to put the shiny pendant there.

It wasn't heavy, it wasn't cold, it wasn't old, it wasn't… it was beautiful. All lines crossing each other like snakes chasing their tails.

"T-thank you." he stuttered, the words not nearly enough to really show his mother, tell her, make her see… that she meant everything to him.

"You keep it hidden, alright? You keep it hidden and when you're in the forest put it on, you hear me? You put it on and run."

He could hear tears in her voice, he could hear her words shaking like a leaf on a river, but he knew she wouldn't cry. He had never seen her cry. Even when life was the hardest, when there was nothing to eat and nothing could be done about it, when life simply beat them up and left them bleeding on the floor… she never cried. Never shed a tear.

Probably never would.

"I will, I promise. I'll hide it, I swear."

He was looking at the pendant and how small it looked on his big palm… how light it was, how bright; the lines catching almost white moonlight.

So shiny.

He felt his mother's hand grip his fingers and push them into a fist, hiding the pendant in his palm: "Keep it hidden, Jensen, promise me."

He swallowed down his tears, the pain and the sadness he could feel starting to wrap around his heart and said: "I promise."

His mother's eyes shone so bright in the moonlight.

So bright.

"Go back to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow." She patted his closed fist and all he could feel was her warm skin on his, the smell of thyme that always seemed to follow her around and her strength when she used his fist to lean on to got up from the hay.

He watched her walk back to her own bed, sit down with a groan he knew was there, but she'd never allow to escape her lips and lie down on her back, roll to her left side to hide her face away from him.

He watched her back for a long time, clutching the pendant in his hand until the feel of it just merged with his hand… he wanted to remember her. Every last bit of her.

His mother.

He laid back down on his back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling, laying his hand down on his beating heart, keeping the pendant safe in his hand while Lokas' mother kept on weeping.

The morning was bright, sunny and hot and Jensen was biting his lip, thinking about how to eat his eggs without puking.

"Jensen eat. You'll need your strength."

He nodded and put a piece of bread dipped in eggs and pork grease into his mouth.

He wasn't hungry, he wanted to puke… wanted to throw up all his worry and all the hurt he felt deep down in his belly.

But his mother said to eat and eat he would do, but the food sat strangely in his stomach.

"You have to be at the Elders at eight, right?"

He nodded while chewing on the bread that tasted like leather.

"Don't be late, Jensen." His mother said, picked up her empty basket that she spent hours and hours making that winter and went Gods know where.

He knew... he knew he'd never see her again and the image of her wearing a dark red apron over a dirty white skirt, holding the big empty basket in her old hands would forever be... the last image of her.

The very last momory of her.

He lowered his head, the plate looking like a bird crapped on it and allowed gravity to take one lonely tear from his eye and drop it on the empty plate; crystal clear water on the yellowish plate.

He had hours to kill, hours of thinking and obsessing over what would happen that evening, hours of feeling this anticipation roll around in his stomach.

No one wanted to tell him anything; the men were silent, just getting these glassy eyes and a far away look whenever he asked, the women didn't know, his friends didn't know anything either, and the Elders… well, he'd never go and ask them, that's for sure.

He went to see Mikan, but her crazy mother send him away with: "You run boy, you run! They will hurt you… they will hurt you! Make you bleed! Hide!"

He stumbled out of Mikan's cottage like the Devil was after him.

He found Mikan in the garden behind her cottage; she was on her knees in a skirt that was too long for her and a shirt that had seen better days, her hair shining in the sun, sweaty and wild.

"Mikan…"

He called out and walked over to her, watching her hands still on the weed she was pulling out around the carrots.

She rose up at the sound of his voice and wiped a dirty hand below her nose, wiping away the sweat that had gathered there.

"Jensen…"

She whispered her eyes wide and huge like the moon sometimes gets; full of wonder and love every time he saw her.

He hoped she would never change.

"Hey…" he crouched down not far from her, keeping the straight rows of carrots between her and him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I uh… just… didn't… I wanted…"

"You scared?"

"No." he shot out, didn't even stutter this time.

"You are."

"No, 'm not. I can't wait for tonight."

"Don't lie to me. You can't lie to me."

No.

No, he really could never lie to her.

"I won't tell… I promise."

He believed her. She kept all his secrets, always… never told anyone about anything that they talked about over the years and he did the same for her.

He looked at her and one look was all it took.

She got up from her knees, gathered up her skirt and walked to him and around him leaving him no choice but to follow.

"Wait here." she told him, leaving him to stand awkwardly by the front door while she disappeared inside into the darkness. He hoped that her mother wouldn't start talking to him again… it was like she just knew that there was someone outside the cottage and who that someone was.

Jensen was really starting to think she was a witch.

"Mother, please… he'll be gone in a minute, calm down."

He could hear Mikan's voice, but couldn't hear her mother's.

"Mother, I know. I'll tell him. I promise. Yes, now lay back down."

Mikan was out of the cottage before he could decipher anything about what that could've possibly meant.

"Here."

He saw from the corner of his eye her hand stretched towards his chest and when he looked down there was a thin, black leather cord wrapped around her fingers.

"My mother… sends you this. She said… it will go well with what you already have."

Jensen was… puzzled for a while but then he remembered.

"Thank you. Tell your mother… thank you." he took the leather string from Mikan's hands, not daring to touch her skin.

"You run Jensen! You go hide! Don't let them get you!"

He heard Mikan's mother yell from inside the cottage and he shook his head with a small smile tugging up his lips.

"Yeah, she's… she's getting worse. I don't know."

"Yeah, 's alright. Mothers, you know?"

They both smiled at that, but their eyes… told more then words ever could.

"Mikan… I…"

"I'll see you when you get back, right?"

He cleared his throat and looked at her face. She had hope… hope that he would come back and wouldn't be hunted down, killed or taken. She had faith.

"Yeah, yes. Yeah, I'll see you when I come back."

He turned around, tucked the string into his fist and walked away.

He went to sit by the tree. Thought about nothing, thought about everything. The sun was hot on his skin, burning him, making him sweat.

He watched the clouds go by, watched the sun make its way across the huge, blue sky, listened to the birds chirp and wondered if they know what really goes on…

… on The Hunt.

There was an itch beneath his skin, something that ached like a bee sting, something so deep under his skin it was practically in his bones… he scratched his forearm, but the itch was still there.

He scratched his belly, but the fear was still squeezing it.

He rubbed his open palm across his chest, but the panic was still there.

His whole body felt like something was draped over it, squeezing his insides, making it hard to breathe.

He dug the pendant his mother gave him out from his pocket, thanking the Gods he hadn't lost it and put it on the leather string Mikan gave him.

He didn't look at it, couldn't allow himself to drown in that pain… not now.

He quickly stuffed it down into his underwear hoping that nothing would happen in the evening that would require him to take off his clothes.

He didn't know where else to put it… his shoes had a hole in them, his pants pockets could be searched, his shirt had no pockets… his underwear seemed like the best choice. He just hoped no one would go look for anything down… there. He moved it around a bit, so that it didn't touch any important parts, didn't want his dick to get chafed with the string or his balls to get wrapped in it, but eventually he found the right position for it so that he could move without fear of cutting any circulation where there needed to be lots of.

He closed his eyes, leaned his head on the trunk and breathed.

A raven made a noise above his head… he opened his eyes just to see the black bird fly away from him into the forest.

Death?

He closed his eyes, breathed, his fingers gripping the grass by his hips.

A cuckoo bird made its famous noise somewhere in the forest… he listened to it… it brought him peace. Brought him the memory of him and Mikan and what almost happened, but never would.

A rooster could be heard from the village and Jensen sighed.

Would he ever come back?

The tree and the forest close by kept his mind busy, kept him remembering and kept him forgetting and when the sun showed almost eight he took a deep breath and stood up.

He came to the conclusion that this was meant to happen, that this day had been written in a pact ages ago and he couldn't resist it.

He walked to the Elder's cottage.

He could do this.

He could.

"Hey." He whispered to Lokas, remembering how his friend's mother had cried in the night, how she pleaded and begged for him to come back... find a way and come back to her.

"Hey, Jensen."

Molar, Aidan and Zishas joined them soon, and they all stood before the Elder's cottage, just like they did when they were thirteen.

Scared.

But they weren't kids anymore… they had all grown, got muscles where baby fat had been back then, even though Molar was skinny is a toothpick, the sun darkened their hair, even though Lokas' hair was still red… their voices deepened, they matured, got wiser, got smarter.

But they were still scared. Still looked all of thirteen when they stood there, waiting to be summoned inside.

Waiting for the rest of their lives to begin.

Or end.

It wasn't Zehas who greeted them this time; it was Brohan who did… Jensen never liked Brohan; he looked upon everyone like they were flies that needed to be killed, like they were nothing but mud that needed to be covered with pebbles.

He was a tall man, blond hair and a long beard, eyes hard and Jensen always thought that evil was lurking in them… evil that would one day strike and kill.

"Welcome, boys. Come in."

He disappeared into the cottage, leaving the boys no other choice but to follow.

They stumbled up the stairs slowly, not wanting to go inside, not yet. They all just wanted a few more hours… just a few more hours to spend with their families, in the village.

Just a few more hours to say goodbye.

Just a few more hours.

But… the pact had been made.

It needed to be honored.

Jensen closed the door with a click and darkness fell on the room.

"Sit."

They sat down like someone cut the strings holding them up. Brohan was a man who you had to obey if you wanted too or not, he allowed no questions and no arguments.

Lokas' arm brushed against Jensen's and he could feel how his friend was shivering…

… scared…

They were all scared.

But this needed to happen.

Brohan lit a candle in the corner that joined the other four that were already casting a yellowish glow on the otherwise dark room.

Jensen didn't know why the room was always so dark even with all the candles lit, but he didn't dare to ask anyone. Didn't dare to speak at all. Didn't even dare to breathe too loudly.

"You will all…" Brohan's voice cut into Jensen's mind, distracting him from thinking about dark rooms and he looked up just to see Brohan blow on the stick he used to light up the candle, "become men tonight…"

Jensen didn't know if he should say something or nod or be perfectly still sitting on the wild boar skin.

"Will you not?"

They all nodded.

"We will wait until the sun goes down and then we will go."

Jensen swallowed.

Go?

Go where?

Already?

On The hunt?

He doesn't want to go.

Not yet.

They sat in silence, each one of them submerged into thoughts about what would happen, each one of them trying to put the nervousness burning their stomach out, each one of them… hoping for the best, but expecting the worse.

The anticipation was almost like a living thing in the room, rising up from them and stuffing the room with dread.

It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think.

The candles burned the time away slowly, their flames dancing in the soft breeze that seemed to come inside the room from somewhere.

It smelled of honeysuckled and roses again.

It made Jensen want to stop breathing.

They had no way of knowing what time it was, when the sun would go down and turn the beautiful day into night. When time would be to go.

To leave.

The room felt like time didn't exist. Not inside or outside. Timeless.

It felt timeless.

"Alright, boys. Lets go."

Was all Brohan said, before he got up and started walking to the door.

Lokas was the first one to get up and follow Brohan out the open door and into the night.

This is it, Jensen thought. This is it.

This was it.

They stepped outside, the night already in full swing over the village, the moon bright and huge, the stars flickering in and out of focus. The village was quiet, empty, nothing like it usually was during a night where there all kind of sounds coming from every corner, animals making noises, cats and dogs chasing each other… it was silent. Dark.

Lonely.

Brohan was leading them down the main road that ran straight through the village from one side to the other, he lead them across the meadow that was freshly cut three days ago, he lead them close to the edge of the forest, but still safely away from it.

He lead them somewhere Jensen knew all too well.

He was walking between Aidan and Zishas, between one of his best friends, watching how Aidan's feet tumbled over one another, like he was drunk.

But Jensen knew his friend was just worried and afraid.

Zishas was behind him, stepping on the heel of his shoes from time to time, but Jensen didn't want to interrupt the silence to tell his friend to stop it already.

He was afraid that if he'd speak, he'd start to scream.

Or cry.

Or run.

He kept his head down, watching where his feet landed, he didn't want to stumble and fall or step on Aidan's shoes, he didn't want to see their destination before absolutely necessary.

He wanted to keep happy memories of it in his mind for a little longer.

When they stopped he nearly hit his head into Aidan's back.

He looked up and saw…

… his friend…

… the huge oak tree…

… the place where he spend so many hours…

… so many days…

… thinking, praying, asking, thinking, remembering, wanting, longing, hoping, needing, loving…

He breathed out. He wasn't so scared anymore.

There was a fire burning next to the tree, a few safe feet away from its trunk and Jensen wondered how he never noticed any burns on the meadow in all those years.

He shook his head… the Elders probably took care of it.

"You will become men tonight before the big moon, before the Gods and before all that had perished. You will become men and go on The Hunt, go and be kept or go and come back. You will become men and fulfill the pact."

Zehas' voice was calm, deep and mighty in the night and Jensen shivered.

He wanted to finally become a man and fulfill the pact, become what Raki was, become a warrior, become someone respected.

"Remove your shirts."

They did with hands trembling and hearts beating too fast in their chests.

Jensen didn't know what to do with his shirt and seeing his friend's just drop it to the floor, he did the same.

The thin fabric fell on the ground without a sound.

They all stood there, chests naked and nipples pebbling from uneasiness, anticipation and the soft cold breeze that came from the forest at times, ruffling their hair.

The crackling of the fire could be heard over some owls calling dinner time somewhere close by.

Jensen shifted from one leg to the other, watching the fire burning and smoke rising up to the night sky calling the Gods to witness whatever would happen.

He noticed four sticks in the fire… sticks that didn't burn, but just… laid there with their tips inside the hot flames.

"Aidan, come."

Elder Zehas' voice made Jensen turn his head away from the fire and see the Elder stand there before the tree, waiting with his hands inside the long sleeves of his white robe.

He could sense that Aidan was rooted to the spot standing on his right and Jensen turned his head to look at his friend who looked at him at the same moment.

There was something like horror in Aidan's eyes, but there was determination too, all mixing together in a swirl that made Aidan's eyes water. Jensen turned his head away… he couldn't look. Couldn't allow to be seen, because he knew his eyes told the same story.

"Aidan, come."

This time it was Elder Brohan who spoke and Aidan made a step forward. Couldn't not to.

"Aidan, be a man."

Brohan said and came to Aidan putting his huge, meaty palm on the boy's skinny shoulder to lead him to the tree, facing the trunk.

"Put your arms around it, stretch them."

Aidan did so, asking the while time - with his voice becoming thin with panic:

"What's going to happen?"

"What's going on?"

"I don't… Elders? What…"

Jensen wanted to put his hands over his ears, stop listening to Aidan's pleas and when he saw Elder Zehas approach the fire and pull out one of the sticks, Jensen knew what would happen.

He watched the Elder approach Aidan with the hot stick, seeing it was iron with a wooden handle and something wide at the end that glowed orange in the middle and dark red around the edges.

Aidan kept on asking:

"What's going to happen?

"Please tell me, Elders, please."

"What's going on, I can't see, please."

And then his words became an endless scream when the orange-red glowing end of the stick touched his boney left shoulder blade.

"The pact is sealed with a wolf's paw burned on the pure skin."

Elder Zehas spoke over Aidan's scream.

Jensen closed his eyes and turned his head away, the sound of Aidan's scream and the smell of burning flesh was too much for him to handle. It was too much to know that the same would happen to him soon.

Too much to know that there was no escape from it.

And now he knew.

Where all those screams and cries came from for so many years.

Aidan kept on screaming; not even catching a breath and Jensen knew that his friend would probably pass out soon, either from pain or from lack of air.

He was right. Aidan slid to the floor in a boneless heap and Brohan was the one who picked him up and carried him away into the darkness. Jensen couldn't see where they went, because the fire kept the path Brohan took, dark.

"Jensen come."

Zehas' words were like a bucket of ice water down his back.

His breathing sped up, his fingers clenched into a fist, cold sweat started to run down his spine, his eyes went wide and he couldn't move if he wanted to.

He didn't want to move. He wanted to run away.

He had a flash of a thought that maybe Mikan's mother wasn't talking about the werewolves at all, but was warning him about the Elders and this.

She was a crazy old bat, but… she was old and possessed knowledge about things that Jensen was sure not even the Elders knew of.

"Jensen, come."

Zehas said once more, standing by the fire, its light making the Elder look even more powerful then Jensen always thought he was.

He wasn't a coward.

He was scared, but he wasn't a coward.

He took a step closer to the tree.

He felt safe there by the base of the oak. He felt at home there, he felt at ease.

The tree was his friend.

The tree would take care of him. Wouldn't let anything bad happen to him.

He could feel the pendant in his underwear, the string of it moving near his dick.

He took another step forward, rustling the grass.

Another step brought him closer to the huge root that found its way out of the ground a long time ago.

One more step and he was by the trunk, his eyes glued to it… to the same spot he was just a few hours ago banging his head on.

He never knew that this tree saw so much pain.

"Arms around it, Jensen."

He stretched his arms around the trunk… the bark feeling warm underneath his bare arms, his chest leaning on it, soaking up all the comfort he could get from the hard, warm bark.

Some moss grazed his left nipple and his breath hitched. It felt good, felt soothing, felt calm.

Felt like he could do this.

He didn't think about anything, but how his forearm interrupted the road the ants made, how he interrupted the flow of nature, how the moss tickled his nipple, how the trunk was warm against his skin.

He heard the Elder come near him, flinching when he heard Zehas whisper in his ear: "He'll find you, Jensen. You don't have to be scared. He won't hurt you." and before he could think about the words and their meaning, he could feel the heat from the stick come closer and closer to his shoulder blade.

He dug his blunt, dirty fingernails into the bark, when he felt the hot end of the stick touch his skin.

"The pact is sealed with a wolf's paw burned on the pure skin."

He clenched his jaw tight, crushing his teeth together, holding in his screams and breath, his cries and pleadings to stop, stop, please stop, but the heat wasn't letting up and the sound of flesh sizzling reminded him of when his mother used to fry him some bacon and the pain so blindingly hot, devouring his skin and flesh, everything all the way down to his bone…

… he screamed.

Opened his mouth and screamed out loud, banging his forehead on the trunk, bangbangbang, digging his fingers deeper into the bark, thinking...

… help me, save me…

Through the rush of blood in his ears and the sound of his own voice, he could hear a wolf howl; long and loud.

Kiddo…

 

He woke up feeling like a cow stepped on his chest and a dog ripped out his shoulder blade.

His eyes rolled back into his head and it took him some time to get them to focus back to the world before him and not to the inside of his eye sockets.

He saw… leaves. And twigs. And a bird searching something on the floor a few feet away from him.

He groaned and put his palms down to the floor to try and raise himself up.

He tried and failed collapsing back to the hard ground a few times before he gave up and decided to just rest for a while. Just breathe for a while. Relax and calm down.

His back was stiff, pain spreading all over his body… he couldn't ignore it. He could feel nothing else but the stabs and pokes of fingers cold as icy poking and pushing their sharp nails into every inch of his body.

It was pain he never knew before.

He shivered.

The bird flew away and he closed his eyes.

When he woke up next he felt the icy pain transform into a hot pain that had no mercy on his stomach.

He threw up, coughing out spit and chunks of eggs and smiled a little when he saw a fox look at him curious, smelling the air close to him and then run away.

"Yeah, you run… nothing for you here." he whispered after it, only seeing its tail disappear into the bush.

He knew that he needed to get up, get moving and somehow find his way back to the village, because he knew… he knew he was miles and miles away from it. He just knew even if all he could see were trees and leaves and a bush with wide, long leaves hanging off of thin branches.

His shoulder… he couldn't even feel it anymore. Which was probably not a good thing, but as long as he felt no pain there, he could get up and go. Run, walk, crawl… doesn't matter.

He just needed to move.

He tried, dug his fingers into the dirt beneath all the leaves and pushed himself up. His shoulder made a protest in a form of a twitch, but he got up on his knees and then on his feet.

He stumbled a little, put his hand on his throbbing head, and spat out the remains of his puke.

He had no means of knowing how long he had been in the forest, or where he even was, he had never even been in the forest… the one incident when he was a kid doesn't count, because he could never remember much.

Just… the man.

The man… was he here? Was he… watching? Would he find him?

He looked around quickly, spun around on his heels, wanting to see if the man with the color changing eyes was anywhere near him, watching him… but there was no one. There was just a huge, open space filled with trees and silence.

He wondered where his friends were… if they had been hunted already, killed, taken… he wondered when faith would find him.

The first night in the forest, he spent curled up under a bush, hands held tightly to his stomach trying to ease the hunger eating him. He was cold, shirtless and dirty, shivering under the starless night when clouds ate them up.

He just hoped that it wouldn't rain.

He slid his shaky hand from his belly inside his underwear and pulled out the pendant. It had a rusty smell to it, probably from cooking in his sweat for too long, but he put it around his neck.

His mother.

Mikan.

His friends.

The village.

His mother.

The pendant was so light around his neck; if he weren't touching it… he wouldn't have known he even had it.

The sounds of the night terrified him, he closed his eyes and opened them up in the same second, afraid that something or someone would come and tear him apart.

He didn't sleep at all through the night, just gazed up at the moon, praying to the Gods to save him, to show him a way back home.

When dawn came, he started walking again.

Walked, crawled, stumbled... for hours and hours in the direction he thought the village was.

He wasn't sure.

He wasn't sure about anything.

He hurt. He was hungry, he was thirsty, he was scared, he wanted his mother, he wanted to find his friends, he wanted… he wanted to curl up and sleep.

It was the moon that kept him sane - the thought that the Gods were watching over him and keeping him safe - kept him walking; one foot over the other.

The moon kept him swallowing down his fear that tasted suspiciously like some berries he ate a few hours ago; the moon and the small Celtic cross his mother gave to him the day before The Hunt. He didn't question her on where she got it, he didn't even wanna know what his mother had to do to get it. What she had to sell or… do.

The silver was catching the moonlight in its twisted lines and circles, sparkling in the night, getting his attention every time it swung in a certain direction. The black string of leather where the cross was on, was itchy around his neck, but it was an itch that reminded him of Mikan and of his mother and that this… this Hunt, this night… it was real, it was happening and there was no way to escape it.

He walked carefully, silently, his shoes had long ago turned into just thin fabric; they couldn't afford to get new shoes, some new leather. After his father had died, him and his mother could barely have enough money to buy food on the village market, buy seed, buy animals and buying new clothes… was just a dream, he sometimes dreamed when he was too tired to dream about The Hunt.

His pants were thin too, small on him, reaching down to his ankles but no more… the wind, when blowing hard sometimes sneaked up his ankles, up his calves, up his thighs making him shudder from the cold. His shirt was nothing but some old hand-me-down from his cousins that had overgrown it a long, long time ago.

He could taste the fear in his throat again. It had sneaked up there from his chest and he didn't know if he was glad for that or not. He'd gotten so used to the constant pressure in his chest that this vile, sour taste of fear didn't even make him flinch.

His shoulder hurt, he was sweating, he was shaking, shivering, cold and hot at the same time, the forest was coming and going in and out of focus... he hurt so bad.

The stars were flickering up on the black sky, when a twig broke in the distance and silence fell on the forest like someone pulled a switch.

Jensen stopped. He knew, deep down he knew he shouldn't but he did. His legs refused to move, his heart was beating so fast he was scared it would claw its way out of his chest and he forgot to breathe.

He was a statue among the trees. Unmoving. Not breathing. Not blinking. Standing perfectly still, but wanting to run so bad, so bad he could almost feel the rush of wind on his face, his legs moving as fast as they could, the pain in his side when he ran too fast… the desire to run was so intense inside of him, that he could feel all that, but… he couldn't move. Couldn't… breathe.

He was frozen in the night that had eighty-five degrees with sweat rolling down his back and chest and he knew… if that twig breaking was what he feared it was…

"I smell you…"

Was whispered, words carried to him on the soft, hot breeze that wrapped around his throat and squeezed the last air out of his lungs.

He wanted to spin around and around fast enough to only catch a glimpse of what would be the death of him.

He wanted to turn around and around, to protect himself from whatever would be the death of him.

He wanted to turn around to say 'please, don't'.

But he couldn't. The words whispered to him were a restrain on his arms, cuffs around his boney ankles and a noose around his neck.

"I see you…"

The words were whispered again, carried to his ears by the rustling of leaves all around him. He couldn't say where the words were coming from, they were just… everywhere. All around him just like the leaves and the night.

He swallowed and pulled his fingers into a fist wanting to fight, to hurt, to kill if the Gods would so desire.

But he couldn't move.

All he could do was stare at the same spot he'd been looking at ever since the twig broke. A tree trunk, six quick steps from him. Only six quick steps, but the trunk looked like it was in a whole other dimension then he.

The twist of his left arm behind his back, long fingers around his wrist and a hard body smashing into his back were something he hadn't expected. He hadn't seen it coming, he hadn't heard it coming… and even if he had… there was no way he could've stopped it from happening, because whoever or whatever was holding him, was strong. Too strong.

The pain that he felt eating his shoulder blade all the time got worse. Got to the point where he wanted to chop his arm right off. And whoever was behind him, twisting his arm like that… was only making the pain hotter.

When that hard chest started to push him forward, legs intertwined with his, shuffling the leaves beneath their legs… making those quick six steps in only two long ones, he was sure that whatever was doing this… would be his death.

When his right cheek pressed hard on the tree trunk, the same one he had been staring at only a few seconds ago, when his chest crashed into the rock hard trunk pushing air out of his lungs and placing fear and panic there instead, he knew he was going to lose consciousness; he knew it just like he knew that the Celtic cross was making a dent right in the middle of his chest and that the thing behind him smelled like a wet dog, cut grass drying in the sun and blood, so much blood like it had been bathing in it. It made him gag but the thing behind him placed its hand over his throat and made a sound suspiciously like shhh.

He pissed himself. Just like that; panic, years and years of living in trepidation of something like this happening, that a werewolf would catch him and make him his… just flew out of him in a never-ending flow of hot piss down his thin pants. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

The thing behind him howled; the sound so loud in Jensen's ears he thought he'd go deaf with it but the thing just didn't stop. Even when his piss was already cooling on his legs, the thing was still howling.

Behind his closed eyes, Jensen could see his mother, could see his friends, could see the meadow he used to go to, see the fields full of corn and wheat, could see the huge old oak tree, could see Mikan looking so beautiful, could see his animals begging for food… he was home and not even the howling could make him stop seeing home.

But when a hand gripped his groin, his eyes snapped open and he could see a bush right there, a bush moving in the wind… and when the hand pressed harder, he whimpered, didn't dare to talk and whatever was behind him whimpered back. Whimpered with a sound so sharp and high it made Jensen feel it in his dick and on his back, feel it crawl into his chest and up his throat making him gag again.

The hand let go of him and disappeared from his body but only for a moment, because then it wrapped itself around his throat and squeezed.

"Shhh, kiddo. Shhhh…"

Was breathed down on his nape with a hot breath, the hand on his throat relaxing its grip and moving up his face, making small stops on his lips; fingers running over them, nose; fingers going up into his nostrils, cheeks; such a soft caress there, eyes; he had them closed again and the fingers pressed into his eyelids a little, forehead; wiping away the sweat there until the hand finally stopped on the top of his head.

He breathed fast little gasps of air, the smell the thing behind him gave away, changed; became the smell of air after a storm, fresh grass burning in hot sun, but the smell of blood was still there, not so much as before, but there.

The hand in his short hair… was almost… caressing him, soothing him, calming him, fingers with sharp, pointy nails running down the sides to his ears, down to his nape, brushing the fine hair there and when he was finally starting to fade into the softness of being touched like that, those strong fingers gripped his hair hard, the sharp nails scraping his scalp to the point where blood started to run down his nape. Those fingers gripped whatever they could get between them and pulled his head back, back so far, he thought his neck would snap if the pull wouldn't stop soon.

He cried out and the thing behind him snarled.

"You smell so good, kiddo…"

He could feel the thing's nose smelling the side of his neck and his nape, cold nose that made shivers go down his spine.

"You taste good too…"

He could feel little, short, barely there touches of a tongue on the back of his neck, lapping up the blood that was there, lapping up his sweat and the dirt that had made home there throughout the day.

"So good…"

Jensen didn't need to see to know that the thing behind him licked him clean of everything; blood, dirt and sweat. Licked him clean and swallowed down everything.

He wanted to beg and cry and fight, but all he could do was try to breathe.

"Gonna make you mine, kiddo, all mine…"

When a long, hot, rough tongue licked the side of his neck, right along the vein, right on top of the vein, he shivered, a full body shiver going from the back of his neck, down his spine to his toes. The saliva left on his skin was hot and cold at the same time, and when that tongue was replaced with two sharp teeth that pulled on that vein so carefully, with such precision and pulled it into a hot mouth where it was kept by moist lips… he lost the fight with the world and sank deep into darkness.

"Mine."

Jared growled into the darkness, raising his head up and back and howling at the moon, telling it that the human in his arms was his. Only his.

Mine, mine, mine, mine!… in every howl he made, telling everyone close by and far away that he had found what he had been looking for, for so long.

He howled again with his eyes closed and the human limp in his arms.

He would turn back into a man when he would get the human back to his pack for his father, his alpha to approve.

He never liked being this half-wolf, half-man for long; he never liked it, because his head felt like it was on fire and he didn't like that. It made him act more like a wolf and not the man that he was.

His wolf side was fierce, territorial, the wolf had a temperament that scared him sometimes, it was something uncontrollable and it took what it wanted and never looked back to see what he had to kill to get it.

But the man side of him was gentle, caring, sweet… a total difference from his wolf side.

And this half-wolf, half-man he was at the moment took things from both sides and gave him no control over it.

It was either full on wolf or full on man for him. But for The Hunt, he had to be like this; this creature spread between two realities. If not... he would never be able to smell the human and drag him back home. He would never be able to catch him, taste him so fully…

And the human in his arms was his, only his. He howled again to the moon, once again telling everyone mine, mine, mine.

He started to half drag half carry the human to the Bele Jame caves when another howl of mine, mine, mine reached him. He put his ears up to listen, moved his nose left and right to smell and he barked to himself… his brothers had found their mates too.

TBC...

P.S1: And people, people, people *is excited* I wrote the very VERY LAST chapter of this story last night... erm.. I just wanted to share that info with you *coughs* ummm and it's awesome, because it's structured in a way that allows me to end this story at idk chapter 20 or chapter 15!!! whoooot! :))) erm yeah, just wanted to let you know! :)

CHAPTER 5 _II_ CHAPTER 7