Chapter Text
Tim was running through the woods.
Not that he’s confident he’ll get anywhere with his whole former pack hunting him, but he can always hope right?
Fuck.
He’s starting to gasp for breath maneuvering through the underbrush; his paws ache something fierce because of that river he had to wade through, and with every step his chances of escaping the pack territory shrink along with the distance between each howl behind him. The cold air nipping his wet fur isn’t doing him any favors.
Tim just wants to feel safe. Winter’s cruel jaws are closing on the forest meaning food is already becoming scarce. How is he going to survive by himself? Where can he even go if he makes it past the territory border? It’s too hard to think beyond the the agony of his limbs and the panic coursing through his veins.
He’s so screwed.
One paw catches on a stray rock sending Tim tumbling to the ground. Scrambling for purchase on the wet leaves, Tim goes absolutely still when he hears a twig crack far too close for comfort.
They’re close and there’s still so much ground until safety.
Tim’s gaze catches on a fallen tree just to his left, with enough space underneath it to offer sanctuary for a few seconds. Tim slowly crawls to the opening, careful not to make a sound and in high alert for the wolves hunting him.
Tim has never been more thankful in his life that he’s so small, barely squeezing under the tree trunk with the help of the mud beneath it. He winces at the mud clinging to his underbelly and his paws; that’ll take forever to clean off.
If he even has that long left.
Fortunately, Tim has taken cover just in time because suddenly there are several wolves sniffing around the spot where he fell. Tim breathes as quiet as he can and hopes that he’s hidden enough. Please let it be enough.
The sigh of relief feels like a sob as the wolves turn in the direction of a distant howl. Soon enough they’re running off and Tim is left alone as a cold, wet bundle of muddied fur.
He waits for an extra minute, just in case the hunting party returns, before carefully and awkwardly half-crawling half-scooting from beneath the tree trunk. His fur is such a mess, his mother would tear him a new one for being anything less than immaculate.
You say that like she cares what your fur looks like as she hunts you down, Tim’s traitorous mind whispers. He forcefully pushes the thought away for future Tim to deal with. Trying to not die seems like enough of a problem for the moment.
With the pack off on a false trail, Tim focuses on moving as quietly as possible towards the territory line. Every noise has his fur standing on end and his heart rate spiking, but so far it seems he’s in the clear. For now.
He doesn’t dare let himself relax as he crosses the scent line, ears straining for any indication that the pack is coming back. The pack won’t hesitate to invade a neighboring territory just to rip his throat out, Tim is sure of it. No reason to stick around and test the theory, he quite likes his throat intact thank you very much.
The pack border is well behind him when Tim’s legs finally collapse underneath him. To his dismay, it begins to rain, further soaking his fur and chilling him to the bones.
He’s going to die out here.
He’s small, he’s exhausted, and he’s injured. He’s practically begging for a larger predator to snap him up as a meal. Or the pack whose territory he’s encroaching on could kill him for trespassing. Or he could die from the mix of cold rain pelting his fur and the cuts in his paw pads from his frantic escape through the woods. Or—
The growl that suddenly starts behind him makes his heart stop. Tim slowly cranes his neck and catches sight of the largest black wolf he has ever seen. The wolf makes every alpha in his previous pack look like puppies.
Tim is suddenly very aware of his injuries.
Even on his best day without a mad dash through the forest as he’s hunted like prey Tim could never win in a fight against a wolf this size. Right now? Tim’s helpless to whatever the wolf decides to do to him.
The wolf growls again, deep and low and threatening and Tim just… he just wanted to be safe and now he’s going to die and he’s only twelve and—
The wolf stalks closer and Tim whimpers. Another step has him carefully rolling onto his back and showing his neck. Not a threat-pleasedonthurtme trickling into his sent and coating it in misery. The wolf pauses as the scent registers, the growl abruptly cutting off into a confused noise. Tim carefully tilts his head back more to show his throat even as his instincts scream at him. He’s vulnerable, he’s going to die here and he’s so scared please make it stop make it stop makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop.
The black wolf carefully sniffs at Tim before making a chuffing noise. Tim stays where he is, too petrified to react. The wolf whines at him before carefully nudging a nose against his flank. What do they want? Another nudge pushes him onto his side.
Tim braces for teeth into his neck, please let it be quick, when the wolf carefully grabs him by the scruff. Before he can question it, Tim’s paws are dangling and he’s not on the ground anymore and what is the wolf doing? Tim makes a small puppy noise. The wolf croons at him through their mouthful of wet fur and doesn't that make Tim feel guilty. They probably have a mouthful of mud and it’s all Tim’s fault because his mother was right, he is a bad puppy. No wonder his old pack kicked him out and tried to kill him; he can’t even keep his fur clean—
Tim is startled from his panic-spiral when his paws touch the ground again.
A tongue starts grooming his fur and Tim is startled to realize it’s the black wolf. Why is he cleaning his fur? Won’t his fur just get messy again when his throat is ripped out? The exhaustion weighing him down doesn’t let him question the situation further. He’s no longer in the rain, there’s warmth radiating from the large wolf, and his fur is being gently cleaned like he’s a puppy all over again. If he closes his eyes Tim can almost pretend it’s his mom grooming his fur, like she did when he was tiny and his parents were still proud of him. Before they realized that he would stay small and never become the strong alpha they wanted him to be. The final nail in the coffin was his presentation heat confirming what Tim had already figured out years prior; he would never be what his parents wanted, no matter what he did or how good he behaved or how desperately he wanted them to love him.
And with that miserable thought on his mind, Tim gives in to the exhaustion.