Here to There, by Morgann Peters (posted with permission)

Flashie Friday/Saturday/Sunday Challenge contribution

Here to There

Here to There

Here to There

He paced, whining, the width of the stone bridge from one side to the next. Beneath him, water chuckled evilly.
He didn’t *have* to go over the bridge, which stank of Man and something worse. He could go back.
Why had he come out here? Why had he left the sanctuary of the Pack, and come to this awful bridge that stank of awful things? If he thought his Pack would have heard him, he might have lifted his muzzle to the sky and howled his fear. Would gladly have given into the shame that would come when they had to rescue him because he, a great wolf, could not cross even the most sluggish of streams without scenting it with the high stink of his fear.
Oh, whyyyy had he come here?
“You are a silly wolf, aren’t you? Come on this way. Yes, I know – you can smell the hurt. But it’s only for a second. Like pulling a prickleburr’s quill out of your nose. One, two, and done.”
Oh.
*That’s* why he had come.
Because She had led him here.
And if She had crossed … well, then he could do it. She had led him on a merry chase, but she had always left more than enough of her scent – and her desire for him – to keep him coming, no matter how many twists and turns she had taken. He had come this far.
And She was there.
He scented the air, catching the woman-musk of her. Soon, the moon would rise, and they would hunt.
And run.
And mate.
He felt no pain at all when he crossed that little bridge, leaving his world behind. What need had he for magic now, anyway?
She was all the magic he had ever needed.

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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2 Responses to Here to There, by Morgann Peters (posted with permission)

  1. erinsromance says:

    “The high stink of his fear” … the great wolf, brought low, yet made whole by love. Very nice bit of writing! I think I’ll never see this image again without smelling the scent of a wolf …

    • mo883mpetersdesires says:

      Thank you, more than you know. Wolves have long been with me – they were my first foray into stories longer than classroom-assigned bitties o’ ditties, and they’ve been at my side ever since.

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