Chapter Text
The town smelled like sweat, children, iron, and booze. Lassiter huffed quietly through his nose, trying to clear out the overwhelming sense of people. It was a boon for there to be a village in their territory; they both benefited from it. But it never made it easier to be surrounded by the chaos of a bustling town when he was used to crumbled ruins, rocky forests, and ocean coasts.
The scent of fear spiked nearby, the bitter twinge making his eyes snap up to look for the threat. Two humans immediately stopped talking, their eyes shifting away from his as they quickly shuffled away. The smell followed them; they were afraid of him.
Good. They should be afraid.
Even without his wolf form, he could take any human. He could break bones, bite skin, tear out their jugular, feel their arterial blood spray in his face… He let a grin cross his face, baring his teeth through his beard at the pitiful whelps that required his protection.
It was a wonder that humans had managed to survive at all.
He continued to walk along the outskirts of town, smelling where his packmates were. Dobson and Johnson were at the brothel, as usual, the smell of sweat and sex practically oozing from the building. Juliet was bartering for supplies, a sweet fruity edge to her wolf husk always making her easy to track. And, for some Spirit's reason, McNab was at the stables, terrifying all of the horses. He probably didn't even realize he was doing it… A new smell suddenly made itself known, a sharp spice mixed with citrus that sparkled along the edges.
Sparkled? There was only one thing that smelled like that… Lassiter lifted his head higher, finding the small breeze that was bringing the strange scent to him. There, towards the market. He continued to track it, even as he squashed the faint beginnings of hope.
His pack had tried so many types of magic. Why would this one be any different?
The smell waxed and waned, often being overshadowed by the stronger scents of the village. Yeast, sugar and baking goods spread from the bakery, clashing with the heat, iron, and coal from the blacksmith. A quill scratched against parchment with the sweet metallic smell of ink as a scribe listened carefully to a villager, loud laughter rose from the pub with the unmistakable twinge of wine, and a squalling baby on the other side of town brought with it an unspeakable stench from its rags. But where was… a faint glint of sparkling scent caught his attention, and Lassiter followed it with dogged determination.
He had a duty to his pack. He had to find the source.
The problem was figuring out which of the dozens of people nearby was emitting the smell. There were so many of them to sort through… Several of the women were on their cleansing time, with the smell of blood sharpening around them. The children running by smelled of constant dirt and joy, and the horses in the barn gave off an earthy smell of hay and leather. A musky sweetness combined with rhythmic thumping made Lassiter avoid one of the nearby alleys with a grimace. Human mating was obnoxious enough without him having to see it too. Two men separated themselves from the crowd and walked by him, unaware of the awkward situation they were moving towards. Their voices rose in the crass, basic language they all used.
"...like he enjoys it when I fail!"
"He just wants you to meet your potential."
"Well, 'potential', can go to the dogs for all I care."
"Don't let him hear you say that…"
The speakers were two men, one with a scribe's kit under his arm and the other with a sword slung carelessly across his back. They were both a slight build and would be easy to take on in a fight. They were unimportant.
Though, they were also almost to the corner of the alley… Lassiter stayed back and watched in morbid curiosity, waiting for the moment the men realized what they'd walked in on.
"I'll say whatever I want to him. He sure as hell does the same to me…" the man with the sword slowed right before reaching the corner, his eyes squinting as his smell of warm citrus glinted. He suddenly grabbed his friend's arm and pulled him around to walk in a different direction. "You know, I think we've earned ourselves a drink."
"What did you see?" the scribe asked while allowing himself to be steered around.
"See? I don't know what you're talking about," the swordsman said innocently, even as his scent twinged with nervousness.
The scent that sparkled. He was the one with the magic.
The scribe looked around to make sure no one was nearby before saying quieter, "You're really obvious when you do it. You look like Galen."
The swordsman stopped with a curious tilt to his head, his fear fading as quickly as it had appeared. "Who?"
"Galen. A philosopher who wrote about the eyes." The scribe shrugged and added, " Well, the whole body, really."
The swordsman let out a long sigh. "What have I told you about using book people like that? Absolutely no one has read those."
"I've read those."
"Absolutely no one but you has read those. It's embarrassing."
"More embarrassing than falling in the dung in front of Abigail?"
"One time. I did that one time…" the swordsman led the way into the pub as he continued the argument.
And Lassiter groaned to himself as he turned towards the largest house in the village. He'd found the man who was magic… and the man was an idiot.
The headman's house wasn't anything special; its roof was slightly nicer than the one next to it, and it was big enough for a large table to be set up in the middle of the entrance room. The headman was currently leaning over that table, pointing at a section of an unrolled map.
"We need those travelers to have safe passage; they bring trade and good coin."
"Those travelers keep sniffing around my keep," Vick countered. The first time anyone saw Vick, they wondered why the pack let her lead them. She was short with blonde hair and little visible muscles; a lesser man would think that she'd be easy prey. The lesser man had never tried to negotiate with her, and she was as ferocious as any wolf when her pack was threatened. "Unless they want to die, they will stay out of our territory."
"Please," the headman argued, tilting his head up so his throat was bared, as was proper. "At least grant them safe passage on the road. Their trade allows our village to flourish, which means we can continue to supply you with the best goods."
"Goods that we still have to barter for," Vick pointed out as she bared her teeth.
"If you'd rather our hunters leave the designated area, we'd be happy to give you a discount-"
Vick cut him off with a low growl. "The forest is ours."
The headman swallowed, fear radiating from him as the lump in his throat bobbed. "Then I'm afraid we must trade for skins and meat. We rarely find big game in the area allotted to us."
Vick let out a sharp breath through her nose before letting her lips cover her teeth, signaling the headman that he could relax. It was an old argument that always came to the same conclusion. The wolves protected the village as part of their territory, and the village supplied the pack with supplies that were hard to come by, like weapons and alcohol.
"Chief?" Lassiter cut in before they could start anything else. "I need to talk to you."
In their history, the head of the pack had been known as the pack mother. But as communications with the humans became normalized, they'd adopted several of their terms to smooth over misunderstandings.
"Wait here, I need to speak to my Adjunct," Vick immediately informed the headman. She walked to the corner of the room and Lassiter followed. "Yes?"
Lassiter kept his voice low as he said, "I found magic. Someone who wields it."
Vick's eyes snapped up to him. "You're sure?"
"I saw him use it. Some sort of Seeing."
Vick huffed, her disappointment easy to smell. "Seeing is one of the weakest magics…"
"But it was different than any I'd seen before. He didn't have to chant or cast a spell. It seemed almost… instinctual." There hadn't been any reason for the swordsman to have known to See into that alley.
Vick thought for a moment before slowly nodding her head. "Magic is dangerous to have here, especially if it isn't wolf magic. If we asked for him, we'd have to keep him. He wouldn't be able to return to his own pack after they knew."
Lassiter growled at the stupidity of humans. They always sought to use or destroy any power they could find, whether the wielder of that power wanted it or not.
"We wouldn't be able to Turn him," Vick thought out-loud quietly. "The wolf magic could override his. And then he'd have the Weakness too… There's only one other way to make him a member of our pack."
"Don't pick Juliet, you know she doesn't want to be mated," Lassiter said quickly, jumping to his packmate's defense. It was rare for a female as old as her to still be unbonded, but she was proud of her differences. He wouldn't let them be taken away because of something he'd found.
"I actually had another pack member in mind. Another one who needs a mate…" Vick grinned showing all of her teeth. "What's the phrase I heard the children chanting? Finders keepers?"
Lassiter's jaw dropped. "No. You can't… No! No no no no no…"
Lassiter stalked to the shabby houses at the edge of the village. It was ridiculous, it wasn't fair, and it was entirely his own damn fault for bringing it up. He should have let the magic man do his thing and never said a word. The smell of citrus and sparkles grew stronger and he growled, snarling at a nearby cat who was daring to sun itself in his sight. The cat just stared at him, unimpressed, before bending down to lick its crotch.
Cats were the worst.
Yelling voices told him exactly which house to go to, and as he approached, the front door slammed open. The swordsman stormed out, kicking the door closed again while snarling in an almost-wolflike way. His eyes met Lassiter's in a glare before suddenly squinting. The smell of sparkles danced and grew until the man's jaw dropped, the burning scent of anger swiftly fading.
Lassiter took the moment to close the distance between them. It was best to get straight to the point. "I'm with the werewolf pack; I want you to marry me."
The swordsman's eyebrows raised and his mouth stayed agape as he held a finger up. "Hold that thought." He walked backwards towards a neighboring house, his eyes never leaving Lassiter's. He banged on the door once he reached it and called out, "Gus, you're going to want to get out here. Bring your ink."
"Why?" came the muffled reply.
"Because you told me, and I quote, 'You're destined to do stupid things, so someone should be there to write it down and make money off of it.'"
There was a loud clatter of things falling, and the swordsman walked back to Lassiter. The door opened and the scribe, Gus, stumbled out, his kit already half open. He jerked to a stop when he saw Lassiter, his eyes immediately snapping down in subservience. He muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Shawn, what did you do?"
"I haven't yet," Shawn said mildly before asking Lassiter, "Why?"
"I have need of your… abilities." It was best to stay vague where people could hear. "But you'd need to be part of the pack."
"I'd get to be wolfy?" The swordsman seemed almost excited by the idea.
Dear Spirits, what did he get himself into? "No… You won't get to be 'wolfy'." The word tasted like disrespect and everything that was wrong with humanity. "It would make your other abilities inert."
"Oh…" Shawn only thought for a second before saying, "Well I don't have any more questions. Yes, I'll marry you."
"Wait, what?!" Gus exploded.
Shawn ignored the other man and asked, "When do you need us?"
"'Us'?" Gus and Lassiter both asked with varying levels of panic.
"Gus and I are a package deal. You don't get one without the other."
Were they mated? Lassiter sniffed the air; their smells lingered on each other, but it wasn't the deep permeation of bonding.
"Excuse me, Shawn, can we talk in the privacy corner?"
Shawn rolled his eyes but made his way back to Gus where they immediately turned their backs to Lassiter and started whispering. He could still hear them clearly.
"Brother, are you crazy?"
Lassiter raised an eyebrow; their contrasting skin tones made it obvious that they probably weren't actual blood relations.
"Yes, but that's already been well established. Come on, think of the adventure!"
"You're just thinking about how you can get away from your father," Gus countered.
Definitely not familial relations.
"Sure. And the adventure!"
"You realize he could kill us just as easily as look at us, right?"
"Which is even more reason to go! You're always convinced a bear is going to go on a rampage or the witch of the well –which still isn't a thing– will get you… who better to protect us than literal wolves?"
"By the gods' bones, I can't believe I'm actually considering this…"
"Great, I'll tell him we're good."
"No need," Lassiter drawled. It was fun seeing them jump. "Meet us at the village gate tomorrow at dawn."
"Great! One more question. What's your name?"