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The Hunt 1/?
Author: soncnica
Rating: 'NC-17' later, but 'PG-13' for now
Genre/pairing: Jared/Jensen AU
Characters: Jared, Jensen
Word count: cca. 2.900 this chapter
Summary: It's the time of The Hunt again. And this year Jensen has to participate. 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: Okay, so... werewolfish!Jared, bloodplay, branding, barebacking, biting, mental links, chuffing/presten, scenting, skitish!Jensen (but not too much, he is a man afterall), language, age difference (Jared is 28, Jensen is 18), NO CHARACTER DEATH, NOT UNDERAGE and a lot more warnings to come. I'll post warnings with chapters, so THIS CHAPTER: no warnings.
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is not mine! NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION!
A/N: Writen for this prompt at spn_hardcore animalistic behavior meme.
You know how you build a house, right? Well this story is kinda like building a house. You start with the foundations, then you move on up... you can't have the roof if you don't have a basement. Erm, well that is my way of apologizing to everyone who wanna read were!Jared erm doing stuff to Jensen ASAP... :) Umm, I think that a good build up to some more juicy parts make those juicy parts more.. juicy!? Or not?! :)
Anywho... erm... yes, I'll post warnings to chapters, so yeah umm please check the warnings BEFORE you read the chapter!!!
Enjoy...
Jensen was seven years old when he was starting to catch glimpses of something being really, really very wrong in the village, especially when summer was coming, but it wasn't because they had to cut all that grass or do work in the fields or anything like that… no, it wasn't that. Everyone was used to working hard, especially in the summer so… it wasn't that.
And he wasn't stupid even if everyone kept telling him that there's nothing wrong, nothing happening and that he should go back to play in the hay and leave the grown ups to grown up matters.
But he could hear crying coming from cottages in those hot summer nights, when the cottage doors were often open to let the air in and let the animals out … sobs and whispers made with brave voices: 'it's going to be alright, momma' and sobbing of: 'baby, my baby' as a reply. And the looks some women wore during the day and how boys that were just coming of age would wear grim looks and be either snappy or rude to him or just ignore him completely… all that made him think that there was something very, very wrong.
And boys were disappearing… when they went through the coming of age ritual, which he was not allowed to attend until he was eighteen and so he had no idea what went on there, but he could hear screaming and crying and shouting while he tried to burry his head into the goose-feather filled pillow. His mother often had to pry his fingers from the pillow and take him into her lap, where he clutched at her skirt, shaking all over and crying.
"Shhh, baby. It's alright," she said, stroking his sweat soaked hair, "it's going to be alright."
But the screaming and the crying coming from the clearing by the forest where the ritual was taking place every year still made him shake and grab his mother's skirt tighter.
When he was eight, Aidan's brother disappeared and he was never seen again but Mikan's brother was still around, which didn't make any sense, because they both went through the ritual and… yeah, he just couldn't figure it out, but Mikan told him that her brother isn't what he used to be.
"He's grown up, he doesn't want to play with me no more." She pouted while hitting the floor with a stick sending dust to fly all around them.
Jensen just nodded at that and thought his own thoughts.
When he was nine, Lokas' and Molar's brothers disappeared too but Peiker's and Zishas' brothers were still in the village; they came back after missing for three days; came back all dirty and without clothes, stumbling naked to the centre of the village where they collapsed to the ground. Jensen could see scratches all over their bodies, blood and dirt, before his mother put her hand over his eyes and took him into the cottage. And Peiker told him later that her brother has a long scar on his leg; she told him it's gross and that she can't look at it.
Nothing made any sense to him anymore and when he asked his mother about it, she told him that the boys, who went missing, didn't go missing but they had been sick, very sick and died.
"Jensen, they were sick, sweetie," she told him while she was reaping grain, "they died. There was nothing the Elders could do about it and they died. You know what that means, right?"
"Yes, mother, I know."
He hung his head and thought about death and how that's nothing to be scared of because when he'll die, he'll go up to the sky, up to sit on the moon with his father, up to the Gods who will take care of him... or at least that's what the Elders tell him.
"But what about the ones that came back?"
"Jensen, enough."
"Yes, mother."
The boys died. And that was that. He lived with that thought until he was ending his twelfth year, going on thirteen and becoming a najst, because no matter how hard he tried, asked questions, and once even tried to sneak out to see the ritual - and was caught by Mikan's father who beat the living shit out of him for disobeying the village rules - to see what all that screaming was about… he found no answers, he just found his ass hurting and stinging for a week after Mikan's father's hand was done with it. There was nothing but – they died. He tried talking to the ones who came back, but they were mostly silent or told him that he's not old enough to know.
And then four months into his thirteenth year, four months since he became a najst … his world turned upside down, crashed all around him and all he could see were pieces of a time when he was innocently wrapped in ignorance. And he wanted that back.
He woke up at dawn feeling the heat of the day already on his skin with the sun shining directly in his eye and a chicken poking him in the leg.
He kicked the chicken away, earning himself a bgoook, bgoook while it ran away, probably in search for some more food, because if it was Lara.. that chicken will one day eat the whole house.
He smiled, poked himself in the eye, because he wasn't really well coordinated in the early mornings and got up from the huge pile of hay that was his bed.
He had an important day ahead and he needed to go tend to the animals, before everything else.
"Jensen?"
His mother's sleepy voice startled him; he didn't expect her to be up already, it was only dawn and she needed her rest, because she wasn't getting any younger. She was only getting closer to her death.
He turned around while putting on his shirt that smelled like manure, his eyes watering a little from the smell, but it was his work shirt… he only had two shirts… no need to ruin his good one.
"Mother."
He watched her get up from her cot, old bones cracking and shifting and he saw the pained expression on her face when she tried to stand up straight, but couldn't. Not fully. She walked up to him, and all he could see was the beautiful women from years ago, his mother who protected him, held him in her lap and rocked him to sleep when life got to hard for them both. Her hand was gentle then, colored brown from the sun, warm and so soft… but now it was wrinkled, calloused, hardened by years and years of hard work, dirt behind her bitten fingernails… but when it landed on his cheek, it was still gentle, still soft.
"You okay, baby?"
He closed his eyes, imagining how this same scene happened years back, when he wasn't taller then his mother and when she didn't have to stand up on the tips of her toes to reach his cheek.
"'m fine."
He whispered and leaned into the touch before it was gone, savoring the feel of his mother's palm, rough and wrinkled, on his cheek. He opened his eyes to see her wiping her hands in her dirty apron and turning around to go sit back on her bed.
"Alright," she sighed, "the Elders will be expecting you at noon, don't be late and wash yourself before going. Don't want you smelling like a pig, alright?"
He smiled. His mother may be old, but she is still a mother.
"Yes, ma'am."
That earned him a smile and he didn't stay long enough to see the smile be toothless and sad.
The cows gave a lot of milk, the goats too and they will have to slaughter two sheep because they were getting too old to still have them around.
He kept himself busy in the barn; they had two cows and two goats and five sheep but they shared all that with Mikan's family so he'll have to give them half of everything he gathered. He sighed and picked up five eggs while whispering to Lara that his leg is not breakfast.
"Mikan, mornin'."
"Jensen."
"I brought you milk and eggs. There were five eggs, I'll give you three. I won't have breakfast and my mom'll be happy with two."
"You're babbling."
He rubbed the back of his head and smiled awkwardly at his friend.
"You nervous?"
"I'm…," he looked into his friend's eyes, "no, no I'm not." May Gods strike him with a lightning if he'll ever admit to a girl that he's scared. No way.
"You probably should be."
With that she took the basket from his hands and went inside her cottage. He could hear her mother say in a tumble of words: "That poor boy, the werewolves are gonna get him, Mikan, they'll breed him, make him one of them, bite him, bleed him, Mikan', they'll eat him alive."
He could feel a chill go down his spine at those words.
"Momma, you're talking nonsense. There're no such things as werewolves. Now, I'll make you some breakfast, Jensen brought eggs and milk. Go to the table."
With Mikan's words in his head he left for his cottage to wash up and make his mother some breakfast. There are no such things as werewolves, Mikan's mother doesn't know what's she talking about, she's insane anyways, has been ever since her son came back and her husband died. The end.
But…
But… what if she's right?
He was lying on the grass with his back leaned to the trunk of a huge, old oak with a sorrel in his mouth, sucking the sour juice out if it and looking up at the blue sky, watching the sun to see what time it is. He has half an hour to go before he has to get to the Elders and he's silently freaking out. His stomach is in knots, his hands are shaking and his vision is going in and out of focus, the clouds moving so fast on the blue sky.
He has no idea what will happen. No one wanted to tell him anything. He asked his mother and she had no answers, and all of his friends are either too young to ask or the same age as him and well, they know nothing too. And he wanted to ask Mikan's brother about what happened to him and all he got was a blank stare and "I have to go clean the stables, Jensen." which was not helpful at all. He asked others too, other boys who came back, but they all gave him a smile, some sad some awkward, and send him on his way. He asked Peiker's brother what will happen when he'll get to the Elders, but he just shrugged and told him: "You'll see. You don't have to be scared, though. It's gonna be okay."
They were all acting a little too suspicious for his liking; they always had. The boys – those who came back from wherever they went, and those who were in najst already - always chatted in groups and when he or his friends came close, they stopped and went their separate ways. And he sometimes yelled after them to talk to him, tell him what is so important that he can't be included, they told him: "You're too young, you're not a najst yet."
Maybe today… maybe today he'll find out what they were all talking about. Maybe today – now that he's a najst – he'll be able to join their 'secret society'. Maybe, maybe they're talking about girls. Maybe he'll find out more about girls, which kinda grosses him out, because girls with their girl cooties. Yuck.
But he is a najst now… so maybe talking about girls is what najst's do.
Maybe.
He sighed and wiggled a little on the hard floor; the soil beneath him was warm from the sun, the grass around him tall, hiding him from everyone, the tree trunk hard on his back.
He was in his favorite corner of the meadow that stretched behind the cottages; a meadow that was surrounded by a forest that he never dared to enter. Once, when he was seven or eight, a lamb escaped him and went into the forest and before he could think about it, he ran after it. He can't remember much about that day, only flashes of brown-blue-green-yellow-orange eyes, brown hair and a voice telling him to just close his eyes. He did… he didn't want too but the voice was as soft as a lullaby and his eyes closed without him even doing anything.
When he opened them, his mother was hovering above him with a look that told him he was in huge, huge trouble.
He rose up so fast he almost broke his neck. Those eyes that were changing color every few seconds, brown hair, a voice ordering him…
"Gods!"
He hadn't thought about that day in years, he hadn't even… what happened to him then? Was it someone from the village coming to save him? There were a lot of men with brown hair and eyes in the village. Maybe it was one of them. It had to be one of them.
It was probably one of them.
But no man's eyes can change color like that. No man's.
"Jensen, Aidan, Lokas, Molar, Zishas, welcome."
They had all be standing before the Elder's cottage, nervously shifting around, sweaty palms shaking and fear in their stomachs. They were friends, had been ever since they could crawl all becoming najst's this year and they will go through this together.
Elder Zehas' voice startled them, made them shield their eyes from the noon sun when they looked up and saw the man standing there before them… he was a tall man, old, piercing blue eyes and gray hair, with a long pink scar going from the side of his neck to his left eye.
"Come in, boys. Come in."
He was a nice man, dressed in a white robe, with a green belt and a necklace full off teeth around his neck… the teeth rattled when he walked and it made Jensen nervous when he walked behind him into the dark interior of the cottage.
"Sit, sit." The Elder raised his arm, the bracelets around his wrists making noise when he moved his arm.
There were animal skins on the floor, some hay, some hand made carpets that women made from wool in long, cold winter nights. It smelled of some kinda… if Jensen didn't know better, he'd say it smelled like roses. Or that honeysuckle bush he always goes to hide behind when they're playing hide-and-seek. It smells too heavy for him and he hopes that they won't have to stay for long, because he might just pass out.
He wishes someone would open a window when he sits down on the floor, on a red carpet that felt cool to the touch. Aidan sat down next to him and Jensen could feel the boy's nervousness coming from him in waves that hit Jensen all over his body. They were all scared. Terrified. And those heavy smells of roses and honeysuckle were making his head hurt and his eyes water.
He doesn't know if he'll be able to do this… sit here and listen… he feels… a bit… out of it. Like the cottage walls are swimming in and out of focus, like they're fluid.
He sits with his legs to his chest and arms wrapped around his shins, blinking away the smells and the hot air, ignoring the nausea forming in his stomach.
He's not a sissy… he won't puke.
He watched Zehas as he sat down by the door, completing the small circle they made, completely blocking the only way out. Jensen wondered where all the rest of the Elders were, but he didn't dare to ask. This was the Elder… you do not speak without being asked.
"You are all a najst now," Zehas' voice was deep and soothing, rocking Jensen almost to sleep, "soon to become men, only five more summers to go and today is the day you will get to know the village's life. Today is the day when you will be allowed to talk to the other men, participate in their conversations, drink with them, laugh with them and share their pain with them… pain and joy, sadness and secrets."
And with those words Jensen remembered all that screaming and crying and yelling and shouting and begging and pleading that had always happened on the twenty-second of June.
TBC…P.S: if you find Jared in this chapter, I'll give you a cookie *grins*
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