Bloody Footprints

Bloody Footprints

Fenrir spied the boy first. Although he was clearly tall and broad shouldered, he slouched as he stepped around the corner and into view. His jacket was pulled up around his ears and there was a thick scarf wrapped around the lower portion of his features that masked his face well. All the same, Fenrir knew who the boy was immediately. The scent of him was rich and thick in his nostrils, stirring his memories until they landed on a night only a few months before. The night when he had sank his teeth into the young man who was now stalking along with his hands shoved in his pockets and with a purposeful expression in his eyes.

A cool smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards. He stepped away from the wall, ensuring that his heavy hood was in place before beginning to follow the boy. Tall and cursed with a head of brilliant red hair, the young man was easy enough to keep track of. Even with the winding streets of Diagon Alley packed with shoppers seeking Christmas presents Fenrir was able to keep a safe distance and not risk loosing him.

In truth it would not have been difficult to find him again even if he had managed to slip away. The boy's scent was a heady mixture of anxiety and anger mixed with something else that Fenrir discovered he could not quite identify. Above all else, though, he smelt like a wolf.

Even from a distance it was clear to see that he was feeling self-conscious. Fenrir watched him time and time again reach up to tug at the scarf that was wrapped around his neck. The movement made the werewolf absently remember the sight of dark scars marring the boy's handsome features. Suddenly he could recall tearing at the flesh with tooth and nail before someone had hit him with a curse that had sent him reeling from his position over the prone boy's body.

He walked as if he wanted to blend into the background. Circumstances would not let him, however. He was too tall, too large, to do so. His strong athletic figure drew the eyes of the people he passed. Fenrir thought he heard more than one person gasp when their gaze reached his ruined features. The sound of them doing so made the boy hasten his pace.

He slowed when he entered the main shopping street and paused to look around until his eyes lighted on a pair of young woman peering into the window of a shop. They turned as he came nearer and the elder of the pair turned to wrap her arms around him. She was a stunningly beautiful blonde woman with no small amount of Veela blood in her. Her hair flowed out over her shoulders as she tilted her head back and offered her lips up to the man that she was holding. Even from where Fenrir was standing, there was no mistaking the adoring look that spread across her features.

Instead of accepting the kiss though, Fenrir's prey pulled away and looked around at the second of the two women who, in reality, looked to be less of a woman and more of a girl than Fenrir had at first realised. Her features were a feminine version of those of the young man stood before her - delicate and exceeding pretty in a way that promised to grow into true beauty once she had finished turning into a woman. A sister, Fenrir thought, letting his eyes drift over the wavy mass of rich red hair that emerged from beneath the cap hat she was wearing. It looked full and soft, and Fenrir's fingers itched as he imagined running them through it. The snow falling around them turned it an even darker, richer, shade that was even more appealing to Fenrir's eye.

He hovered against the wall at the far side of the street, happy to allow the shoppers around him to mask his presence for the time being. It gave him the opportunity to watch the small party as they chatted, and as a consequence he was able to immediately note the frown that appeared on the boy's face when his sister spoke. Abruptly irritated that he was not close enough to actually hear what was being said, Fenrir watched with interest as the red headed girl waved her hands around expressively and smiled sweetly. It was clear that she was trying to reassure her brother about something, and a moment later Fenrir's questions as to what that something might be were answered as she broke away from the couple and began to make her way down the street.

Fenrir watched her go before glancing back towards the boy. His interest had shifted however, and he barely had to think before giving in to the urge to follow the girl.

Unaware that she was being followed and far less cautious than her brother when it came to avoiding people, the girl was easy enough to keep track of. She maintained a steady pace and almost certainly had a destination in mind. Occasionally Fenrir would catch her scent, and he could not help but note the suggested youth and vitality. It was fascinating. It made him want to quicken his stride - to catch up with her in the hope of getting another lungful.

Fenrir did so unconsciously, knowing that he should not. There was always the chance that she might glance behind her and notice that something was wrong, or that some particularly conscientious citizen might notice that a pretty young witch was being followed by a particularly large and intimidating man. By the time she ducked into a shop he was only a few paces behind her. A swift glance upwards revealed that her destination had been Magical Menagerie. He frowned slightly, realising that it would be difficult to remain hidden from view once inside, but followed her in anyway.

It was warm and crowded inside. In truth it was too crowded for Fenrir - even if it did mean that the chances of the girl noticing him immediately were significantly reduced. The path opened up by the girl as she walked inside rapidly closed again, leaving a sea of varyingly sized bodies between them. Fenrir felt a ripple of irritation as a stout middle-aged woman ushering along what seemed like a million children barged into him and moved off again without uttering an apology. The urge to growl at her under his breath filled him but he suppressed it quickly, opting instead to stalk forwards, following his redheaded prey's path. A glance upwards - away from the irritating presence of the other customers - revealed her in the distance, disappearing around the end of the aisle.

He quickly stepped forwards, following her rapidly fading scent as it was replaced by the musky, almost tart odour of the animals on sale. It invaded his sense, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and leaving his heart beating just a little bit faster.

His presence set the other animals in the store on edge. As he passed, they chattered nervously or attempted to hide from view. The cats hissed, their fur standing on end, and the birds fluttered their wings defensively, startling the customers studying them as they did so. Fenrir ignored them, concentrating on making it to the other end of the aisle. He was pleased to find that the bottleneck at the top eased noticeably within a few strides and that he was able to follow the girl with greater ease.

She led him around the deceptively large shop until Fenrir was not entirely certain that they had not been walking in circles. Only the lack of people milling around when she eventually came to a halt convinced him that they were anywhere other than back at the beginning.

He stopped several steps away from her - pretending to be interested in a rather lazy looking toad while surreptitiously watching the girl out of the corner of his eye. She was studying a caged cat - leaning forwards to get a better look at the creature. Her stance revealed a slender figure closely encased in a worn navy blue woollen coat that hung to just above her knees where it gave way to fine looking legs. He took his time letting his eye drift back up her frame until he found the gentle curve of her throat and her fine boned features.

When she did not glance in his direction, Fenrir hazarded a few steps towards her - and then a few more when she continued to she remained focused on the cat in the cage. He could hardly believe his luck when he ended up less than an arm's length away from her and she still had not moved. He was now stood so near to her that her scent seemed to wrap around him, tugging him closer still and making him want to grab her shoulders in order to drag her to him.

Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself that to do so would be foolish. Just because there was no one immediately near by it did not mean that some do-gooder would not leap out to protect the girl the moment that he tried something. He somehow doubted that the Dark Lord would appreciate him calling attention to himself in such a manner either. The man would inevitably think up some vicious punishment - just as he always did.

To distract himself, he glanced towards the cat in the cage. His presence had made it flatten itself against the back wall and the girl was now trying to coax it forwards once again with little titbits from a strategically placed bowl. It's surprisingly dark eyes were wide and hostile.

Before he could stop himself, Fenrir said, "Fierce little thing, isn't he? Are you going to buy him?"

"It's a female," she replied lightly, half glancing towards him before looking back towards the cat. A second later she squeaked and her head darted around once again. Fenrir watched her eyes flash as she realised precisely who was standing next to her. Her scent changed subtly - becoming a mix of fear, anxiety and, interestingly, hostility.

Fenrir raised an eyebrow at her startled expression and quickly grabbed her shoulder before she could dart away. He spun her around, covering her mouth with his hand and crushing her small body against his. She struggled, pushing herself against him in a delicious fashion with every individual wriggle of her frame. Fenrir quickly closed his eyes and inclined his head, pushing his nose into the nest of wavy red hair that had collected along the line of her shoulder. As he did so, he discovered that her coat had slipped down her shoulder, exposing a fluffy jumper with a wide gapping neck, and, more importantly, gloriously soft flesh. He breathed in, nuzzling gently and then brushing his lips over the region. He moved his lips upwards, tilting her head back as he did so, then abruptly froze as he came across the unmistakeable texture of scar tissue.

Opening his eyes, he peered at the familiar pattern. It formed a broken ring of pale flesh - an immediately recognisable impression that could only have been made by teeth. He leaned down again, letting his tongue lightly drift over the region before drawing in a deep breath and groaning.

Pack, he thought, and may well have mumbled as much aloud.

She stiffened against him - tension coiling so tightly in her body that it must have hurt. Fenrir hardly noticed. He was too caught up in the sensations caused by the knowledge that the girl he was holding somehow - bizarrely - a wolf even though it was blatantly obvious she was not. When she moved again though, he growled a warning under his breath at her. Instead of heeding it, however, when she next moved it was to clamp her teeth down hard on his hand.

His eyes flew open and for a second he loosened his hold. It was all that the girl needed. She screamed, struggling free of his arms and crashing into the animal cages. Fenrir peered at her in astonishment - noting the similar look in her eyes even as he realised that the aisle behind her was filling with people.

A yell startled him back to reality. Fenrir spared one more look for the redhead and then reached for his wand. The sound of screams filled the air as he raised it - the noise rapidly disappearing into the vacuum left as he Apparated away.

END