Amid My Solitude

And all were beautiful -- but One
With garments whiter than the sun
Had such a face
Of deep, remembered grace;
That when I saw I cried -- "Thou art
The great Blood-Brother of my heart."
-- Anna Hempstead Branch

The meadow was dappled with the mid-afternoon sun, and the colours stood out vividly, to his eyes; the green of the grass, dark soil beneath it, trees in the distance, water nearby.

And the meadow was filled with creatures.

There were wolves lying in the long grass, as the woman led him forward. He saw them raise their heads, and saw the faintest hints of snarls before their nostrils flared. When they caught his scent, the vicious violence all Changed werewolves instinctively felt for humans turned to...puzzlement.

Looks human-shaped, he could see them thinking. Doesn't smell like it though.

After all the rumours about feral abilities...he'd never thought that it would be like this. Two women sat chatting, one of them stringing strange, bone-coloured beads on twine. A man arrived from the direction of the trees, carrying a basket, followed by two wolves. Children, running naked, played around the legs of a tolerant female wolf, who occasionally snapped gently if one of them got out of line. None of them wore much in the way of clothing, and the children wore nothing at all.

The woman led him toward a stocky, black-haired man, wrapped in what looked like a deerhide. He lay in the tall grass, reading a book, his head propped on the back of a sleeping wolf. He sat up, slowly, and Remus could imagine the sight; in the midst of naked and half-naked men and women, not to mention the wolves, he must look terribly out of place in his white shirt and brown waistcoat, his rolled-up brown trousers.

"Thank you, Mother," the man said, and the woman nodded, leaving them alone. The man reached around and prodded the wolf behind him, who whined but rose and shook its -- herself, trotting away.

"You smell like the city," the man said, crossing his legs and laying the book aside. "Sit, if you will."

Remus nodded, and sat, imitating the other man's posture. He was careful not to look him in the eyes.

"You'll have a name, of course," the man continued. "You're not a pack-runner. Not a...feral," he said, rich humour in his voice.

"Remus Lupin," said the city wolf, quietly.

"We do not have names in the pack. We have no need," the man said. "You may call me Alpha," he added.

"Thank you, Alpha."

"There are many reasons a man like yourself comes to a pack," Alpha said, ruminatively. "You have not come accidentally to the Summergrounds. You are too old to want to leave your family and become a packrunner. Too young to wish to die amongst your own kind. And not quite big enough to challenge me for leadership. You have nothing to sell which we wish, or are able, to purchase. We have no materials you could desire."

"You're quick to take measure," said Remus.

"I find I must be," Alpha replied. "We have nothing tangible to give you. But you haven't come for tangible goods." He cocked his head. "I'm afraid I'm not good at small talk," he said with a toothy grin.

"I've come from London." Remus plucked a piece of grass, twisting it between his fingers. "From the wizards there."

"A wizard too, are you?"

"I am."

"I lived in that world for a while, when I was a young man. Tell me, do they still ban us from drinking at the same bars as human wizards?"

"Not in written law. It was repealed about ten years ago." If he remembered rightly, Dumbledore'd had a hand in that. "But ten years isn't very long, for some things."

"Ah. Even worse."

Remus winced, slightly, and Alpha outright laughed.

"And you think we're the barbarians," he said, leaning back. "The monsters."

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you thought it. All the city wolves do. The humans do. Muggle and wizard."

"I didn't know enough about you to say that."

"Yes...yes, and that's the way we like it," Alpha agreed. "So tell me why you're here, Interloper."

Remus tilted his head. Alpha shook his own.

"When you are in the pack, you are named by the pack. Why should I call you by human names? I don't obey human rules."

"You read their books, though," Remus said, nodding at the slim volume sitting beside Alpha's thigh.

"Well, I didn't say they're entirely stupid," Alpha replied, fingering the blue-bound volume. "We take what we need from the humans down the village. Including, in case you wanted to confirm the rumours, their men and women."

Remus stared, and Alpha burst out laughing.

"For the pack, Interloper, not for food. We've enough of that. And most come willingly, you know. But you're not here to study us. You're here to ask me for something."

"There's a war coming," Remus said earnestly. "You know of the Dark Lord."

"I've heard news on the howl of his coming. He's sent people to speak to us. The last ones even got away with their lives." Alpha shook his head. "I was a child when last he came this way himself."

"We're fighting him. Myself and my..."

"Soldiers?"

"My friends."

"Hm. Very little difference, much of the time."

"We found out that the Dark Lord wanted you," Remus continued. "And I came to warn you."

Alpha shook his head. "It won't do. From the goodness of your heart you risked walking among ferals? City wolves fear us too much."

"I was also sent to ask you to join us, if you can."

"Don't want us fighting for him, but fighting for you is all right, is that it?"

"We don't treat people as though they're dispensable," Remus said. "He does. He doesn't want you fighting because he admires werewolves. He wants you fighting because he doesn't have to care if you die."

Alpha laughed again. "Interloper, you're not as smart as you look. Why should we help you?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. Because your survival depends on his defeat, and so does mine."

"So you say."

"I'm not going to sit here and justify my reasons to you," Remus said, sharply. "You'd know it's right if you gave it any thought."

"Oh, but I have given it thought." Alpha fixed him with keen green eyes, and he glanced down quickly; to have met them would have been to give a challenge, and Alpha was right -- he wasn't big enough to win. "And what I think is this: we're fine here. We have family. We don't need humans. Humans are what forced us into the wilds in the first place, in my great-grandalpha's time."

"That's not true and you know it. If Wizarding society -- "

"Indeed," said Alpha, gravely. Remus began to feel just slightly frustrated -- and as though it was his status in Wizarding society that Alpha was attacking, instead of the wizards themselves.

"Listen, we're trying to stop the sort of people who keep werewolves out of Wizarding society. Muggle-haters and people who think only about purity of blood. People who loathe the sight of you. Of me. People who want to get rid of werewolves altogether. And if they win, they'll come for you next, and next time they won't want you to join them, they'll just want you to die."

"Let them try. We're stronger," Alpha said assuredly.

"You have no magical education -- no schools of philosophy or art, no high society -- "

"You see? You do think we're barbarians."

Remus rubbed his forehead as Alpha picked up a thick, club-handled walking stick.

"Do you see my cubs?" he asked, pointing to three small, naked children, drumming apparently aimlessly on a tree stump. "They're learning sticktalk. They drum to speak to each other, and we use it across forests. When they're older, they'll learn the old epics. Do you know any of the old epics?"

"Which ones?" Remus asked.

"Our epics. Our blood stories. The tusk-hunters, the African wild dogs, the Firemakers, the Split Creator. No, I can see in your face. You come to me and say we have no art, no philosophy, when you're ignorant of your own blood heritage." Alpha spat. "Can you change at the height of noon? Can you run in a pack? Have you once, ever?"

"I was made what I am by a pack-runner," Remus said bitterly. "When I was seven."

"And your family, what did they do?"

"My father and mother took Muggle rifles, and silver bullets. They hunted down the one who bit me while the Healers were bandaging my wounds. And then my father called the Aurors and they killed the rest. They wiped out a pack the size of yours. It never recovered."

And that had been the final reason Remus Lupin had never dared go to the ferals before; his parents had destroyed the third pack in Britain.

Alpha looked grave. "More territory for the rest of us," he said, as if he could read Remus' thoughts clearly. "If the pack who ran on your land had been taught to stay away from humans, that wouldn't have happened. We keep our distance, and we harm no one. Life is hard. It's pure. We have our ancestors to guide us. Who are you to say what we should and shouldn't do? Let the Dark Wizards come for us."

"You could keep that from happening."

"And what would you do with us, once a month? Lock us up as you do yourself?"

"There are potions -- it's what the Dark Lord would have used, but if you take them voluntarily -- "

"Water down your blood! No thank you," Alpha sighed. "Our answer is no, Interloper. We will not take sides in this war, his or yours. That is, usually, how we've survived. By taking no side, and making no trouble. If you knew the epics, you'd know that."

Remus rubbed his hands over his face. "There must be something you want. Something you need that we can give you. That would give you at least a little bit of trust, that would let you -- "

"Dignity in the cities," Alpha said, cutting him off. "Can you give me that if we fight for you? Even amongst those who accept you?"

Remus could have lied, but it wouldn't have done any good. "No." He paused. "You have to earn your own dignity. Nobody can give it to you."

"Then we have nothing more to say," Alpha stood, tapping his stick on the soft soil. He stood, and Remus followed his lead. "Though when your war is over, if you survive, I should like very much to see more of you. I had forgotten how quickly a city wolf talks. And if you would stay now..." he shrugged. "Stay to see the sun set. Hear one of the epics that you've left too late to learn."

"There are people waiting for me -- "

"Are there?"

Remus paused.

Yes.

There were.

Harry and Dumbledore and Tonks. Waiting for him in the world across the river.

But they were not his blood kin. And these were.

"There were four Firemakers, in the time before consciousness, when all of us were wolves and wolves alone," Alpha said, as they walked, slowly. It was hypnotic, the way he spoke. "They were the four colours of the flame -- brown wood, white hot flame, dying brindle flame, and black ash. They fought a war too, but to fight humans you have to become humans. So these four Firemakers taught themselves humanity. They learned to think like humans."

"Unlucky them," Remus murmured.

"I'm condensing it. It's better when done properly," Alpha said, slightly reproachfully. "And when the war was done, it was seen that on the battlefields the humans had built fires. Three of the Firemakers had died in the war; the brown one, who was their Alpha, and the white, who had fought too hard and had consumed himself, and the black, who had given himself over because ash can no longer burn. There was one left, a wolf the colour of the dying flame. And he picked up the fire, and brought it to the camp of his own people, our ancestors."

Remus listened, and realised that Alpha had stopped, and several others had gathered to listen as well.

"As long as fire burns for us, as long as the dying flame is not yet ash, we live as humans. We cannot let the fires go out, because we'll die of the cold, but when they are all dead, then we will be wolves again," Alpha recited. "And so as wolves we hate the humans, as the Firemakers did, and would kill their own flames."

He waved a hand at the gathering, made up of both humans and wolves.

"Tell us we are barbarians," he said softly. "But do not tell us we are fools."

"I'd like to hear your epics," Remus replied, in the same low tone. There was a moment of silence, and then Alpha clapped him on the arm.

"Of course you would! They sing in your blood. Even if you aren't wolf-born," he cried. "Stay to the sunset, and our Speaker can tell you the story of the Split Creator. Your friends can wait a day for you to return to them."

Remus nodded, slowly.

***

The evening meal was a late summer doe, dragged to camp by a couple of wolves; the humans skewered and cooked the steak meat, while the wolves feasted on entrails. There were also, incongruously, tins of beans and beef stew, from a stash that had apparently been taken out of the grocery in the town.

He was an item of curiousity, but no particular interest; the children were fascinated by his clothes, but the adults barely gave him a second look -- admittedly, after a long first look.

The Speaker was a grey-haired man who wore little more than a loincloth, his face wrinkled, eyes keen, nose sharp and narrow. Remus, sitting near the fire, watched him as he threw back his head and let out a guttural cry, when the sun began to turn the sky crimson. Everyone fell silent; apparently this was not an every-day occurrence. When the Speaker spoke, even the smallest cubs stopped their squeaking yips, and the children sat very still.

He wondered if the epics were confined to this pack, or if they were shared with the other British pack, and the various feral communities in Europe. Perhaps the pack that the Aurors had destroyed, when he was seven, had known these epics. The story of the Firemakers that Alpha had told him, and now the story of the Split Creator that the Speaker was reciting, much to the delight of the others.

And when the epic was finished, and the last remains of the meal had been disposed of, the Speaker found him by the fire, and grinned a gap-toothed smile.

"What do you think, Interloper?" he asked, poking the embers with a stick.

"I've never heard anything like it," Remus replied truthfully.

"Yes, we don't share with outsiders."

"It's a shame."

"It's a necessity."

"Well done, Speaker!" the Alpha cried, coming to join them. He tossed a handful of dry kindling on the fire. "As well-spoken as ever you were."

The Speaker nodded. "Age and time don't diminish the story," he murmured.

"No indeed. So, Interloper, do you go back to the humans now?" Alpha asked. "Or will you stay with us tonight?"

It was a tempting offer, but Remus shook his head.

"I've done what I came to do. Now...either I have to find other packs, or ask you to pass the word along."

Alpha looked thoughtful.

"I say this because you're kin, more or less, and because you remind me of my travels with the humans," he said slowly. "I would not go among the other pack if I were you. They are not as tolerant as we are. They live in colder climes, nearer the cities, and it makes them hard and bitter."

"All the more reason to keep them out of the influence of the Dark Lord."

"Are you sure it's not too late for that?"

"If it is, I have to know."

Alpha tapped his fingers on his jaw. "We'll pass your word on, Interloper. If I hear news, perhaps...perhaps it is time I sent the young out into the world, as I was sent. How can they find you?"

"They can ask for Albus Dumbledore, at Hogwarts School. Anyone in the Wizarding world will know how to send a message there."

"Very well then. I'll send guides down to the river's edge with you, to take you safely back. Can't have you stumbling about in the dark if you can't Change." Alpha clapped him on the shoulder. "Remember. When your war is done..."

"I will. Thank you, Alpha."

"Not at all, Interloper."

***

Alpha called across the meadow for Scouts, as the darkness began to fall in earnest. Five or six heads turned, and after brief conference, two boys -- perhaps eighteen, perhaps a little older -- unbent from crouches around the fire. Three more followed as wolves.

"Take him to the edge of territory safely," Alpha said. "As far as the river and across. You can make your own way from there," he added, to Remus.

And Remus went, following the Scouts, who were already loping their way through the trees on the northern edge of the meadow.

It wasn't hard to keep up; there was the light of the waning moon, and they moved as slow as he did, though the wolves would dart forward and then come back. Like dogs, Remus thought, playing at follow-the-leader. Except there was nothing at all domestic about either human or wolf. The boys spoke in low, growling tones, when they spoke at all, and they moved like...

They moved like Sirius had, near the end, well-accustomed to violence, gracefully muscular. Or like Kingsley Shacklebolt. Utterly confident in their strength.

"Do your people know sticktalk?" a tall, fair-haired scout asked, falling behing to walk with Remus as the others forged ahead. He could see the riverbank from here, and the shrub he'd left his bag under.

"We have other methods," Remus replied reservedly, recalling the last time he'd tried to teach Ron Weasley to use a telephone.

"Does everyone dress like that?" the boy continued, eyeing his clothing.

"More or less."

"And you go to war against the Death Eaters?"

Remus looked at him sharply. "How do you know what they're called?"

The boy looked back, eyes wide and innocent, as their feet left prints in the soft soil at the edge of the river.

Remus' eyes darted to his left arm, which was bound in leather.

He couldn't run for the water. The boys were flanking him, and the three wolves stood in a ring between him and the water. He could run for the forest but they knew the way, and he didn't. Even if he yelled, Alpha wouldn't hear him from here.

He began to back away, slowly. They watched him.

"They came to see us," the boy said. "They promised in the new regime we'd have respect. They said we'd be elite."

"I suppose they promised you could hunt humans if you liked," Remus said, dry horror filling him.

"The others set on them and tried to kill them, but we stopped them. The Alpha's very proud of us for that," said the other boy. "So he doesn't mind too closely what we do."

"And look at our reward." The first boy pulled on a lace of the leather, and it fell away, revealing the snake-and-skull tattoo that was the sign of the Death Eaters.

"Just me," he added, with a proud smile. "I'm their Alpha."

"You've no idea..." Remus stammered. He took another step backwards, and nearly stumbled.

It was all the wolves needed. One of them darted forward, leaping for him, and he twisted in the air, falling to the ground. The other two were on him, one fixing on his arm, the other trying to pin his chest.

He screamed in pain and rolled, hand groping for anything, some kind of weapon, closing on a thick length of stick. He bashed at the head of the one gnawing his arm, and it shrieked, but released him -- a sharp stab in the ribs of the other drew blood, and he managed to scrabble backwards while they were regrouping --

Hands clamped on both his arms, and the two boys grinned at him.

"Do you want to see what we do to our enemies?" one of them hissed. His hand went to Remus' throat -- the older man writhed, but couldn't escape. Dark spots began to dance in front of his eyes before he was released.

He fell to his knees and scrabbled for the stick again, but the wolves were on him. Any two he could have fought, but three was too much. Teeth ripped him; claws ripped clothing, shredding fabric, shredding skin. He felt the boys' hands holding him down, their fingers gouging him.

"We don't kill them easy," someone hissed in his ear, and suddenly the teeth and claws and scratching hands pulled back, and instead he was being pushed, dragged across the damp earth, and there was a freezing shock as the river water washed over him. He tried to breathe -- coughed -- his air supply was cut off, his lungs burning as water washed into them.

And then the freezing, sucking blackness pulled him down.