Title: Of Cats and Wolves
Author: Sol aka Zefyr
Creator & Beta: Katikat
Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 5+... hehe.
Rated: PG or PG-13 at most
Warnings: Strange fantasy animal/people mixes; biological liberties, and some adaptation of Siberian and Native American traditions.
Archiving: please ask first, since this is a somewhat combined effort
Disclaimer: We don't own, but we're having fun anyway. No harm meant.

NOTE:
This is a joint effort. KatiKat wrote the teaser, then I saw Asuka's art for the werepervs, and then I watched Cat People right after re-watching GW epis 1-5, and... the rest is history. The prologue (chapter 1) was written by KatiKat, although we had to edit it slightly for the purposes of the longer story it now fits into. I’ve written the rest of the chapters, with KatiKat doing the beta on each part.

You can find more of KatiKat’s work at www. geocities. com/mystera_k. Just remember to add the www and take out the spaces. ;-) 

 

 

     The figure appeared to be sleeping. The light shining through the trees dappled the black hair. The highlights danced over the young half-Jaguar’s black tail wrapped around his body and curled across his hands as he slept.

     Heero grinned to himself, tested the breeze to make sure he was downwind, and took another step closer. A branch snapped under his foot, and he swore silently. The figure on the rock opened one eye and sniffed.

     “Heero,” the boy called, sitting up. “Stop trying to sneak up on me.”

     The half-Wolf laughed softly and stepped out of the woods, slinging his bow over one shoulder as he trotted towards the rock. With a quick jump he positioned himself next to his friend on the large rock. The Jaguar-boy stretched lazily.

     “Sleeping on the books again,” Heero replied. He prodded the vellum under the other boy’s hands. “I don’t see why you bother, Wufei.”

     The other boy sniffed and pulled the scroll away from Heero’s claws. “Studying is important. This is all about the healing arts.”

     Heero caught a glimpse of a picture before Wufei shoved the scroll back into its carrying case. The Wolf’s ears swiveled as he snorted noisily.

     “That doesn’t look like a healing act to me,” the Wolf said, teasing. “Looks like two Jaguars, naked ---”

     “Research,” Wufei said, cutting him off.

     “You’re blushing, little brother,” Heero replied with a wolfish grin. It was then he noticed Wufei’s summer loincloth was fancier than usual, a medium blue with intricate embroidery along the hem. It also looked to be nearly ankle-length, if Heero was any judge. The Wolf opened his blue eyes wide as the meaning dawned on him. “You found someone?”

     Wufei made a show of licking his fingertips before running them through his shoulder-length black hair. “Maybe,” he said stiffly. Sitting up a little straighter, the Jaguar tied back his hair at the base of his neck with a round copper clasp.

     The Wolf boy nodded and straightened his own knee-length plain white loincloth. Wufei’s family, the Wood Jaguars, had been annihilated by humans twelve years ago on that stormy night. It had taken Wufei a month to recover from the chill he’d caught. It had taken nearly another month of searching by Heero’s father before he’d located Wufei’s sister Salli, who had also managed to escape. The two siblings were adopted into the Mountain Jaguar Clan, but lived at the sufferance of the tribe. Wufei’s only hope for being recognized as a full member and given any rights was a good marriage.

     The silence was broken only by the sound of Wufei groomed the soft black fur covering his legs. Heero’s silver tail brushed the rock as the older boy watched the clearing.

     “Are you going to the gathering?” Heero finally asked, shifting the bow on his shoulder.

     “Yes.” There was a pause as Wufei finished washing his ears. “Are you dancing?”

     Heero shook his head. “Not this year.” 

     “Why not? How else are you going to attract a mate?”

     “What if I don’t want to?” Heero scowled at his friend’s puzzled glance. “I don’t have to. We’re not like felines, everyone pairing off.” Heero’s tone clearly said he thought it was a silly tradition.

     “This is new.” Wufei nudged the scroll the rest of the way into the pack, and slung the strap over his shoulder. “What made you decide this?”

     “I just decided, that’s all,” Heero replied, and hopped off the rock. His long silver tail swished around his legs, a clear sign of his annoyance even if his face showed only indifference.

     “I think a mate would do you good,” Wufei said quietly. Heero shot the Jaguar-boy a look, and Wufei smirked. “It would. It’d calm you down.”

     Heero bristled. “I don’t need to calm down.”

     “Whatever you say.” Wufei hopped off the rock, and started walking. “Are you camped nearby?”

     “Down by the river.” Heero followed, studying his friend’s sleek black tail. It didn’t hang with an upwards curve, like Heero’s bushy silver tail, but flowed downwards, curling up only for the last few inches. “There are a few others there.”

     “Who else?” Wufei’s tail flicked. “Which clans?”

     “Mountain and Valley Wolves,” the Wolf replied. “Trowa’s there, too. He’s back from traveling.”

     “Has he told any stories yet?” Wufei’s ears flicked back towards Heero, primed for news of the rest of the world. He’d done limited traveling, unlike most young Creatures. The half-Jaguar preferred to study as much as possible, as he had determined it his best chance for being completely accepted in his Clan.

     “Not yet.” Heero laughed quietly. “I think he’s saving them up for the gathering, to impress everyone.”

     “I don’t believe it,” Wufei said, and snagged a branch, pulling it back. When Heero stepped forward, the Jaguar let go and the branch snapped back, hitting the Wolf-boy in the shoulder.

     “Hey!” The Wolf’s cry was indignant. Wufei laughed, darting into the thicket, barely missing Heero’s claws as the Wolf-boy swiped at him.

     “There’s no way he’ll talk in front of everyone,” Wufei taunted as he slipped out of Heero’s claws again. Both young creatures knew that if Heero chose, he could catch Wufei easily, but it was a game they’d played since childhood. “Trowa? Talk?”

     The Jaguar-boy laughed again at the idea, even as Heero launched himself forward. Grabbing the Jaguar around the waist, the young Wolf pitched forward, and the two crashed through the thicket and onto the riverbank. Rolling in a tussle of black fur and white tail, they broke apart as they realized someone was standing nearby.

     “I see you found him.” Trowa’s smooth baritone was amused as he watched the two heart-brothers help each other up. “On the rock, I presume.”

     The tall half-Jackal’s sandy brown ears were perked forward, but one turned momentarily as he caught the sound of a fish splashing in the creek. His red-brown tail, highlighted by dark brown guard furs, swayed lightly behind him. It demonstrated clearly his happiness at seeing both of his friends again.

     “Of course,” Heero replied smugly, instinctively checking his bow string as he took it down from his shoulder. He dropped his quiver next to his feet and leaned forward, leaning up to touch noses quickly with Trowa in greeting.

     “There’s no ‘of course’ to it,” Wufei protested. “I’m not always there.”

     “Are too, little brother,” Heero agreed, then paused, letting his next words fall in the silence. “Especially when you want to privacy to look at dirty pictures.”

     Wufei sputtered, and Trowa raised one eyebrow.

     “They’re not...” Wufei shut his mouth and glared, instead.

     Trowa shook his head suddenly. The thick sheaf of reddish-blond hair that kept falling into his eyes was shaken out of the way, revealing two emerald green eyes piercing Wufei expectantly.

     “No,” Wufei retorted, understanding their quiet friend’s expression as perfectly as though the Jackal had said the question out loud. “I’m not going to.”

     “It’s in the case,” Heero said, helpfully.

     “Don’t even,” the Jaguar-boy replied, stepping backwards. He was saved by the approach of another Wolf. Heero sniffed, and the young Wolf’s shoulders tensed as he turned in place.

     “Zechs,” Heero said, a formal tone entering his voice. “When did you get here?”

     “A few minutes ago,” the older Wolf replied from where he stood at the forest’s edge. “The noise you half-breeds were making, I could’ve tracked you blindfolded.”

     Heero’s tail twitched, once, and the older Wolf regarded the three friends with barely concealed disgust. Wolves rarely tolerated half-breeds, and Heero had not escaped that bias. After his father had died, he’d been raised by the Wolf-town’s armorer, who also trained the young warriors. It was only due to the close friendship between Jiarunn and Odin that Heero wasn’t thrown from the village at the age of nine.

     In contrast, the weaker Cat clans accepted half-breeds, Zechs thought, studying the smaller half-Jaguar hidden partially hidden by Heero. The Jackals had it right, the older Wolf decided. They tossed half-breeds into the wilderness, and slaughtered the mother’s entire family as punishment. This half-Jackal was still alive only because his father was a Jackal, but even the humans hadn’t wanted him. Zechs recalled the boy had been adopted by a band of human mercenaries.

     The tall Wolf’s eyes studied the young half-Jackal in turn. When the human mercenaries were wiped out, the young Jackal was the only survivor. The half-breed should’ve died then, Zechs thought derisively, but for being found by the Valley Wolf clan’s sword smith, Huisge.

     “The Mountain Wolves are meeting at the Rock at high sun,” Zechs said formally, if coldly. Dismissing the three with a flick of his silver tail, he strode past them without a second glance. They could hear several other warriors hailing him as he reached the Wolf encampment just down the river.

     Wufei sighed and let the scroll case fall from his shoulder. Following it, he crouched on his haunches as he watched the water, his chin in his hand.

     “He is rather unpleasant today,” Trowa said, irritation coloring his calm tone. The Jackal was watching Zechs move downstream with several other Wolf warriors. The group was laughing. Beside him, Heero shrugged.

     “He’s an arrogant bastard,” the half-Wolf replied.

     “He never used to be that rude,” the taller boy mused, glancing over at his friend. “What happened? You beat him at staves?”

     “No,” Wufei piped up. Shading his face against the mid-morning sun as he looked up at his friend, he jerked a thumb towards Heero. “I heard a rumor Zechs is pissy now because his sister is in love with a certain half-breed.”

     “Wufei,” Trowa admonished. “I don’t even want to think what your children would look like if you married a Wolf.”

     Wufei snorted. He opened his mouth to give Trowa a sharp reply when he glanced at Heero. Trowa followed Wufei’s gaze, and both young warriors looked away rather than respond to the young Wolf’s icy glare.

     “I’m going to see what this meeting is about,” Heero announced, stalking away.

 

 

 

 

     Trowa basked on the rock by the river. His tail thumped a few times as he picked up the sounds of Wufei returning, but he didn’t sit up. Wufei had run home to return the scroll rather than risk Trowa trouncing him for it.

     Heero was still off with the Mountain Wolves. When the half-Wolf got back, the three were planning to head to the gathering field and see who might be willing to feed them.

     The half-Jackal watched the warriors standing by the river. There were a few women among them, but it was mostly young bucks, coming to the gathering in hopes of improving their rank or impressing a mate. Idly, Trowa watched the young warriors playing around at the creek’s edge.

     Most of the group were his own Pack, from the Valley Wolf Clan. Even those he didn’t recognize had the Clan’s imprint on their loincloth. Wolf loincloths tended to be knee-length, plain, hip-wide, and decorated with the Wolf’s personal or family imagery. The belt slung low on the hips was usually plain leather. A few cloths had special marks indicated number of elk or enemies killed. Wolf chests were bare during summer, except where decorated by metal or ink. Some female Warriors wore a cropped vest-like garment, but were just as likely to decorate themselves with metal or ink.

     Younger or skinnier female Wolves didn’t wear the vests, and it always left Trowa a little confused. In his travels, he’d found some clans had very specific gender differences, like amongst the River and Mountain Cats. Others treated both sexes the same for fashion and familial roles, and differed only on a personal level. None of it bothered him one way or another. He just didn’t always know what to do when faced with a half-naked female. It was as though they were expecting something from him, and he had no interest in giving it.

     The Jackal snorted. That was the problem. No interest. All those Wolves, with their love of piercing and painting, he thought. Anyone who puts out that much effort to be noticed would naturally find being ignored to be the worst offense. The half-Jackal sunning himself closed his eyes in amusement.

     Those Wolves loved decoration, the more Byzantine and heavy, the better. He’d never admit it to his friends, but the Wolves decorated themselves almost as religiously as some of the Foxes he’d met in his travels. And Foxes, of all the Creatures, could rival magpies when it came to love of shiny jewelry. Shiny anything, the warrior reminded himself.

     Trowa caught familiar voices and opened his eyes. Some of his Pack had made early purchases and were showing them off. Most of it was winter garb from the River Cats, who were this gathering’s hosts. They were excellent spinners, and had established trade with the other Clans for a number of generations now. Trade continued even during conflicts; a gathering was a seven-day truce for all who attended. Some years even a few adventuresome humans would bring their wares to the intertribal gatherings at Summer-start and Summer-end.

     During the wintertime, the Wolves would bundle in heavy coats, for which they relied on the River Bobcats, for linen, and the Mountain Jaguars for wool. Wolves shed their winter coats every spring, with the summer coat lacking the dense undercoat. During wintertime, though, half-Creatures were especially exposed, as they were unable to grow a winter coat.

     The half-canines, like half-felines, had fur running from hip to toe, but it was straighter and finer than a full-blood’s coarse, thick curls. Heero’s silver fur made his legs look like they were sheathed in a layer of silver water. Trowa’s own dark-brown fur made him appear to have a medium tone on his upper body to a darker shade on his legs. Wufei’s light fur was black, and glistened down the half-Jaguar’s legs, a warm contrast to his golden skin.

     One benefit was that during the summer, the two half-canines were in no danger of overheating, which allowed them to travel through a variety of climes that would disable most Wolves. And where a Wolf took an hour to dry its leg-fur on a normal day, the half-canines had fur that slicked off water like rain on iron. As a result, Heero and Trowa had less risk from hypothermia when hunting during inclement weather. The drawback was that during winter the half-Creatures had to wrap their legs closely in layers of wool to keep themselves warm.

     Now, though, it was Summer-start, and Trowa shifted comfortably on the rock, crossing his legs at the ankles as he soaked up the midday sun. He wriggled his toes, listening to the faint click of his claws against the rock. Compared to a human, the Wolves, like all Creatures, appeared to walk balanced on the balls of their feet. But a Wolf’s toes were longer than a human’s, with thick claws in place of toenails; thick claws that could rip just as easily as the claws on their hands. Trowa’s half-Jackal feet, like Heero’s half-Wolf feet, were more human-like, and they could both walk flat-footed if they chose. Their toes were claws, like full Wolves, but not so long they couldn’t wear human shoes if they’d wanted.

     Trowa’s time with the humans had taught him how to wear such things. He’d needed thick gloves to cover his claws, and sturdy shoes that could hold up to being shredded from the inside out. It was ironic, the half-Jackal mused, that it was during wintertime that he’d been most comfortable with the human mercenaries. Then he could wear a heavy cloak and more easily cover the tail.

     The Jackal boy glanced over at his Jaguar friend, who was watching the warriors jest by the riverside. Trowa knew that Wufei would have had a much harder time among humans; he’d inherited his mother’s eyes. His pupils were black vertical slits in his dark brown irises.

     There was a shout from the riverside, and Trowa glanced up in time to see one of the Valley Wolves land in the water. His ears flicked forward, picking up the shouts from the other young warriors before he placed the name. It was Kai, recently accepted into a Warrior pack and obviously still being hazed. Trowa had heard stories saying the young Wolf had made a terrible ruckus when the pack pierced his left ear. It would be at least two gatherings before he’d live that down. If things went as they usually did, Kai could expect a song in the next day or two about his total lack of prowess staring down the piercing needles.

     Trowa let his head fall back onto his cradling palms, a movement accompanied by the jingling sound of the silver bands running up the outside of his left ear. He’d chosen to honor his unknown father with the Jackal tradition of small silver rings, unlike Heero’s single heavy silver cuff. Trowa thought about that, his mind wandering aimlessly as he waited for Heero’s return.

     When a Wolf married, he’d hang a single charm from the cuff. The charm represented his mate’s family or lifework. If his mate were a female Warrior, she would hang his family’s charm on her own band. Those who weren’t warriors would pierce their ear for the first time with a smaller band. Trowa sighed, his eyes closing as he listened to the Wolves by the river. It was all so complex, all those Wolf traditions that had to be observed.

     The Jackal warrior opened his eyes, squinted at the sky, and wondered how much longer Heero was going to take. Trowa thumped his tail, annoyed, and tried to ignore his growling stomach. Next to him, Wufei laughed softly, his black tail swishing absent-mindedly as the Jaguar-boy watched the warriors wrestle Kai back into the water.

     Wufei had a single gold ring at the outside base of each ear, just above the inner ear flap. The gold glinted against his shoulder-length black hair, shining darkly against the blue highlights in his hair and fur. Wufei’s sister must have noticed the contrast, because the decorative embroidery on his formal blue loincloth was picked out in dark blue and shot with delicate gold. Staring at the Jaguar’s decorative hem, Trowa’s green eyes were caught by the flash of more gold on Wufei’s upper arms.

     “When did you get those?” The taller boy nodded at the armbands of gold wires, twisted into intricate knot work. Even copper was more expensive than the Jaguar or his sister could afford, and Trowa was pretty sure those armbands were gold. The Jackal knew Salli would do anything she could to make sure her younger brother attracted a good mate.

     “This morning,” Wufei said, flexing his arm as he showed off the nearest band. “Salli got them in trade for me. Decided to wear them after all.”

     “I like them,” Trowa said. “Does the design mean anything?”

     Wufei canted his head at his friend, a mock-scowl playing on his lips. “Do I look like a Wolf?”

     “Point taken.” Trowa laughed softly, then sniffed as the wind changed. The Jackal tilted his chin up to look behind him, his green eyes crinkling as he took in the sight of Heero... upside down.

     “Hey,” Heero said, hefting a small pack so the strap lay across his chest. “Are you still sleeping?”

     Trowa rolled over, pulling his legs under him and coming to his feet in a fluid movement. Wufei was already standing, moving with liquid muscles to head into the woods. The half-Jackal grabbed his daypack, slung it over his shoulder, and caught up with his two friends in long strides.