Interweaving

There is a pressure within the marrow of who I am - it's expanding, pulsing, humming with a vibration that is rattling the primary infrastructure of sinew, flesh, and bone.

A presence is squeezing, sliding within the space of me, to settle against my essence, a concrete foundation that cannot be shifted out.

The blood eyed Wild does not retract its teeth from my neck, he holds us together.

Interlocking, changing, altering who we are.

A half is connecting with a half.

New electrical circulation forming, entwining, creating pathways of super charged energy to surge throughout my body unfiltered. It's too much, the urges of desire so strong, I lose my footing underneath me. Clinging to the neck of the Wild, he won't let go. Teeth entrenched solid, the sound of him hurting the very air I'm breathing in.

For a moment I'm afraid, and in that thought, he lets the flesh of my neck go, running his tongue of the spot where the blood just flows out, trying to seal it closes. A whimper from the throat of this massive male, while it nudges me with its cheek to my cheek. It's only when that fear disappears does the Wild settle itself down enough for Odin gains the inward control and shift back.

The motion of Odin is without hesitance; instantly he's in my radius - picking me up in his arms. Kissing, licking, soothing the wound on my neck. Clinging to his body, wrapping myself around him as if I can fall at any second.

Thigh muscles are shaking on the both of us.

His palms are on my back, running the length of my spine. Lips continue their healing on my marked flesh.

Before I can even moan, he moans for me, his whole body trembling, flexing, shifting with his exertion.

"Forgive me," Odin whispers a plea out of lips that refuse to leave my skin.

"Odin, you don't need forgiving." Rubbing my cheek against his, trying to get the attention of his eyes that he holds shut.

"Odin," saying it quietly into his ear, my hands running over the contours of his back. Feeling the striation of shoulder muscles that are hidden underneath the canvas of ink.

"Charlie," His cheek brushes mine before pulling away.

Ancient green of the forest is almost hidden by the blood inside the eyes of Odin. It's an eerie sight that I can't help but be shocked by.

The hardwood floors creak and moan as Odin walks us to the bedroom. The wind outside picking up and protesting against the glass of the windows the closer our path gets to the bed.

Arms around his neck, clinging to him, holding him against me, while he holds me against him.

Skin against skin.

My head is the first to make contact with the pillow, followed by feet touching the bed sheets. The weight of my body sounds out on the shifting mattress.

Odin stands to his full height at the edge of the bed, his vision starts at the arch of my bare foot, to wrap around my ankle. Running up along my calf. The knee is next to feel the sight of him.

Flickering

Teasing

Caressing

Heat, scorching heat impossible to defend against travels slowly, carefully along the track of my inner thighs, stopping just before reaching the apex of things.

My breathing quickens, so does his.

A kiss placed to the base of my neck where the Wild's mark has been made.

"I can feel what you feel." Odin's voice is barely present as he says those words.

Odin's body is struggling, his head tilts back, nose flaring, muscles bunching underneath the layering of skin.

His sight hits my eyes, interlocks us together.

Silence as the time expands.

Yet the motion between us continues non-stop, we cannot control what there is between us.

"I feel different Charlie," Odin's truthful thoughts flow outwards.

"How?"

"You're in me," Odin lays along the side of me in bed. His arm touching mine. The both of us looking at the ceiling and not at each other.

His pinky finger hooks into mine.

"Do you like that feeling?" Turning my head towards his, he's still looking at the ceiling.

Silence

"It's different."

More silence.

"I didn't ask you if you thought it was different, I asked you if you liked it?" A tone is sharpening towards my Half as I rise to get off the bed, knowing he's going to say something I might not want to hear. Odin's head turns towards me with his smile, those lips pulling up briefly before they go back in place.

He's quick taking my hand, turning my wrist, kissing the spot of my beating pulse. Lips linger over the flesh, "I love it." His words brush over the surface of my skin, creating a path of goose bumps in its wake.

Odin's eyes shut momentarily while the wind beats against the house in it's rising fury.

That makes me smile towards him; dark blood red eyes smile back.

"Can my Wild mark you?" Asking a question because the Wild within wants to claim what's hers.

"When she can catch me, she can mark me." Odin's hand wrapping around the side of my waist pulling me against his body. Deep within the core of me, the reflex of her sound ushers outwards. He gives her a small teasing laugh; it makes her try to push herself outwards which makes me fight her back. Pain in my chest expands with the force she's using on me. A groan of discomfort from a sternum that is pushing outward, teeth trying too hard to break through gums.

His fingernail starts to draw patterns into my skin, the Wild settles herself back down, as if she's the one being scratched.

A relaxed sigh comes out of him, while I sink into the side of his body.

"Tommorrow, if you want I can tattoo you?" A broad smile presses into his skin from my mouth.

"I want your lips right here." Lifting my inner wrist to eyes. He kisses it, "I want to do two, my lips and this." He raises his forearm, pointing to his Endurance symbol.

"You've earned it; it's time to display what you have earned."

"I don't need those symbols, Odin."

"I want to you feel proud."

"Odin, I can feel proud without wearing those." Odin's face falls slightly.

"But, you earned it."

"What happens if I falter and lose my Endurance, will it be cut off just as quickly as your Honor was cut off you?" Testing the language between us.

Tension coils itself around like a snake; I can feel the shift in the air. He pulls his body away from mine, creating a distance.

"You were worth losing my honor for. I knew that it would be taken away from me. I knew it the moment the knife marked your cheek instead of the lenght of your throat. I understood what I was doing, and I would do it over and over again. I did not make a mistake."

"You still hold Honor, Odin. It's just a stupid symbol on your skin. It means nothing."

'It means something to me." His eyes seem heavy now.

"I want you to know that you hold Honor. No one can take it away from you except you." Odin's blood filled eyes find mind, a hard swallow down. He doesn't say anything while going to the bathroom, the shower turning on and he stays there for some time.

After my shower, Odin's on the couch curled up with his eyes closed. The blanket tossed over the curve of his shoulder.

"Come to bed." My hand on his shoulder is shaking him awake.

He doesn't look at me, just settles down more into the couch, "I'm not to be trusted in keeping your Virtue safe from me."

"Who says I want it to be kept safe from you?"

"Go to bed Charlie, believe me, your Virtue cannot handle what I want to do to it." The words are strained out.

Throughout the night, it's a hard sleep, tossing and turning. Opening my eyes up after the midnight hour, a scraping sound scratches against the glass. The curtains haven't been pulled closed. In the darkness, it's as if the Night has come to life.

Wicked waves of terror have a way of screaming in your mind silently when you're alone.

The smell of sage drowns the inside of the house.

A sound of a pup whining and whining, has my heart stopping, breath halting. Weakened fingers stretch out like tentacles across the pane of the window. A deep gouge in the glass remains where those nails just went over. All the fine hairs on my body rising, the darkness surrounding me in a vice that pushes me down in the mattress. Trying to hold me in my spot.

Two eyes the color of the full moon stare into mine, the face shadowed in the darkness. That crushing feeling starts at the base of my neck, traveling downward into a paralysis of limbs.

I can't move.

Heart beat in my ears, Odin rushing into the room.

"What's the matter?" He's looking around, his breathing coming out tight.

"I think I saw something outside the window." Odin's quick to close the curtain, not before his finger goes to the glass that has been gouged out.

"Nothing can get in here; nothing can come inside our house." He says this while climbing under the covers with me, holding my shaking body against his.

"I'm scared." My lips against his bare chest.

"I won't let anything ever get you, Charlie. I will always fight for my half." His hands are rubbing my back, the fine hairs on my arms calming down in his embrace.

The tremors stop eventually, "what was that?"

"The Night, Charlie."

"But what is it?" Once again the fear rises inside me to shake out against Odin's skin.

"The Night has been around since the beginning of the world. Restless, wandering, crying out for something? It brings death to those it touches."

"Can it be killed?"

"No. A few wolves have tried in the past; they didn't live long. Sage keeps the Night out, as long as you have sage, it can hurt you. Close your eyes, Charlie." Odin tickles my back until the heaviness in my eyes returns. The heat of him, the safety of his body usher me into a dreamless sleep.

When early morning comes, Odin walks me to the training facility. A Haze hangs heavy, drifting around the early morning air. The way Odin moves through it reminds me of wind, disturbing everything around him.

Entering the Longhouse, all the females stop, spotting my marked neck. A thought occurs to me, at this moment I'm alright with not having long hair. Let them look, while my eye tries to find the female who I know is one of the two left. She stands solidly in her place, the Wild flashes fangs out. A show of how the day will go for the female we locked out sights on.

The Wild is not about competition, for her she is who you have to compete against.

She holds no humbleness.

Odin watches me, blood eyes pierce the inside of my chest.

When my turn to fight the swarm of ants comes, Odin stands up from his chair.

It's always easier to leap with the group than stand alone against the group.

Safety in numbers.

Elbows are hitting my side, fists flying in my face. The Wild screams her rage while I clamp her down inside me. She would bring a mass destruction to females that don't need to be destroyed. So I take the hits, but the one of two takes my hits.

The snap stops everyone, her leg broken like a dried twig in the fall, that snaps underneath my foot.

She doesn't scream but suffers in silence. And she hurts, her eyes shut, jaw clenched, her breathing coming out through her nose. The coloring on her skin pales, a clammy, waxy appearance tells me she's going to pass out in a second. Her eyes fix and dilate, her face muscles relaxing, hands dropping at her side before she goes limp.

"See what happens!" My voice is tearing out from my throat.

"You make me fight these females, and they get hurt!" It takes everything that I have not to cry out of frustration. I don't want to hurt females.

"You're afraid of yourself," Odin says it in front of everyone to hear.

"She's afraid." Morvared concurs with Odin.

"I'm not afraid; I just don't want to hurt these females. I don't want to hurt anyone." Saying it softer now. The fight in me leaving.

"Keep her away from me." Pointing to the female on the ground.

Walking out of the Longhouse, not going in the direction of Odin's house that covered in a haze of fog. When looking towards Morvared's home, the fog has lifted in that direction creating a clear, easy path of vision. The crow follows me, cawing the entire way there until I yell at it to shut up. The crow scowls, shifting on the branch of the tree. I've ruffled up its feathers, and I don't care. Morvared is just a few steps behind me.

"Charlie, why are you so upset?" Morvared starts to pour tea for the both of us.

"They want me to fight; I don't want to fight. I don't want to train like that. I'm going to hurt them. I'm going to kill them all. It's going to happen. I can feel it in here." Point to my sternum.

"I'm not like that."

"Yes, you are." She says while taking the first sip of tea.

"The Wild is, but I'm not." The tea's steam seems to wisp around my face as if it's alive - teasing my skin.

Sipping on it, my tongue burns with the bitterness.

"I could give you something that makes the Wild within you calm down. It's how we keep our Wild within us settled."

"What do you mean?" Lana never telling me anything of this before.

"Healers have a tea that we drink every day to keep our Wilds calm and relaxed. We can control them much better so we can focus on the more important things in our lives."

"Does Lana drink this tea?" Asking a question to her.

"I'm sure she must, all of us do." The wisp of truth is there in her voice.

"Would you like some?" Morvared motions to a pot that is on her counter, "I could heat some up for you to try out?"

"No, and besides it wouldn't work anyway."

"Don't be too sure about that, Charlie." She seems sure of herself and her skill level.

Throughout the day Morvared has me handling mushrooms that I have never been allowed to handle before. We make a tea that will help be used in the summer to help the pups settle down in the night if they are teething. Lana has never made anything like this before. By the time we are done shadows start to move across the floor. I'm here later than I thought I would be.

With a quick goodbye making my way back to the house, the winds warming breeze whispers through the trees as if there is a voice just underneath the current of it.

Odin is at the front door; it's open letting the air come in. Soon, I won't even need a jacket. The snow is gone, and along the stone walk to his house are the beginning of blue flowers opening up to the light of the fading sun. Stopping, looking around at the carpet of blue that stretches to the side of the house has a smile on my face. It's as if the house is encircled in blue.

When looking at Odin, he holds no smile. He walks past me, without touching.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't wait up. My family was here for dinner; you missed them. I left you a plate on the table." That's all he says as he takes a path to the side of the house.

Tracking his movements the dim light fades behind the swaying green pines, he disappears in the forests blackness.

Entering the house, there is a plate on the table.

I missed dinner that I think he must have cooked.

Eating in silence, not bothering to heat it up, a guilt seems to settle inside me. But when I go and get another green pencil from my leather satchel the guilt multiplies to a weight on my shoulders that hurt to carry around. Taking a book out, my first book I ever drew in, opening the pages, it makes me smile with the memories of myself when I was younger.

Deciding on eating two pencils because the mark on my neck from his Wild does have the potential of bringing on my heat without notice. After I'm done I wash my plate, dry and put it away, along with my fork.

Going into the bedroom, I notice the bedside drawer on Odin's side of the bed is cracked slightly open. Peeking inside, his sketch book is there. Picking it up, flipping it open, his lips greet my eyes. Picture after picture of his lips is on multiple sheets of paper as if he was practicing trying to draw them perfectly. Some scribbled out; the picture wasn't good enough. Flipping the pages, the arch of my foot displayed, taking up the entire page in black and white. Another picture of just my bare back with me laying on the bed. My Wild also has a collection of portraits going. Her at the base of the hill, with a tangle of limbs in the snow.

Shutting it as soon as I hear the door open, sliding the book back in the same spot, closing the drawer quietly.

Walking out into the kitchen Odin is facing the window. Only his reflection is staring back at him, nothing else in the picture.

"You truly are in love with this aren't you? This is what your half is, not me, but this?" Odin says this while looking out the window of the house he built. It's not a good silence that pausing in a conversation this silence is oppressive, weighted and hurtful.

"What do you want from me, Odin?"

Silence on top of silence aches out before Odin faces me, standing to his completed height.

Blood filled eyes bind me in my spot, "simply, everything."