Morningstar: The Malaise - 4. Chapter 4 When Worlds Collide

Morningstar: The Malaise

Chapter 4

THREE YEARS LATER

The crow was looking better, keeping the injured wing flat against its body like it should be. Kellar reached inside the handcrafted cage and gently lifted the large bird off the meticulously carved hardwood perch. Once touched, like with most sick or wounded animals he tended to, it became calm. Carefully spreading the left wing, he flickered his vision so he could examine the colors. The yellow dot previously occupying the center of a bigger purple splotch was now gone. So was the purple, except for the faintest of hues. The fracture of the fragile bone had completely healed, and the strength of the bird’s array was back to normal. He decided it was ready to be released after only two days of care and rest.

“No need to go back in the cage, Coal… just remember, you owe me,” Kellar said to his feathered patient as he flickered his vision back to normal. “It’s time for you to rejoin your friends.” Right on cue, he heard loud cawing. Opening the door to the cabin, he walked outside and opened his hands.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He laughed at the head cocked to one side while the crow observed him. Hopping twice on the spread palms, it took off, flying beautifully and landing high up in a starkly-branched pine tree. The raucous call could have been a ‘thank you’ or a ‘fuck off.’ Maybe it was both.

Walking down the axe-hewn, half-log steps, Kellar lifted his face to the warmth of the sun. The signs of spring couldn’t be ignored. Being this far north, there were still patches of snow here and there in the forested areas. They were stubbornly hanging on even though it was nearing the end of May, but their days were numbered. All the trees were leafing out, and the different shades of green were good for the soul.

It was a great day to be laid off, and he felt little angst at the new and supposedly temporary development. He was in good shape financially, his three-year-old Dodge Ram paid for, his pantry fully stocked, and he lived in a little piece of paradise. Yeah, it was in the boonies miles from town on a quiet highway, but it was a wolf’s dream, surrounded by thousands of acres of crown land to run and hunt on. The cabin had been a wreck when he'd bought the long, narrow piece of scrub land off an old homesteader. It had originally been a year-round camp for a son who’d died twenty years earlier, and when Kellar had cured the man’s crippling arthritis, he’d offered, out of supreme gratitude, to sell him the lot for a paltry three-thousand dollars. He’d jumped at the chance to own a place of his own, no matter how humble.

On first viewing, the dilapidated but sound log structure was missing doors and windows, and the roof needed to be completely rebuilt, but it was not such a big deal when you had the strength of a wolf who now owned a little chunk of forest. With the help of a chainsaw-sawmill and the raw materials provided by the land, he’d turned the log shell into a suitable if rustic home. His biggest expense had been drilling the new well since the old dug one wouldn't support the needs of a home. He lucked out, though, because the drillers only had to go down twenty-eight feet before they hit potable water. There'd been an existing power line from the highway that ended at a box on a pole, which meant he had to pay an electrician to wire the cabin to building code, and two of the other poles had to be replaced before Ontario Hydro would turn the power on. Still, for a little more than ten-thousand dollars in total, he had a proper home all his own. Not bad for someone not quite twenty.

Scenting the air, he picked up faint proof the old grey had visited again. He didn’t know what his story was, but he smelled slightly wrong, like he was out of balance. It was something he hadn't encountered before. His colors were off as well; he was weakening, but Kellar was stymied as to why. There was no doubt he was a shifter, yet his time was spent entirely in wolf form, and he didn’t know enough about his own kind to figure out the reason why.

The one thing Kellar had learned about himself over the three years since he’d first shifted was that it was impossible to deny his deep-seated need to help those who were sick or injured. He felt that way about the silver-grey wolf. Reading an animal or person’s colors let him pinpoint most issues, but he didn’t understand the why of it. It was just there, like it was part of his DNA. The couple of times he’d come across other shifters, they’d been standoffish loners, suspicious of his attempts to gather information about what he was. He suspected all wolf-men were like that, and wondered if he was destined for a life of solitude. No matter; he might ache for companionship at times, but he would make do.

Although he’d played with the old wolf once for a few minutes, he’d slunk off the minute Kellar shifted to human form. That had effectively ended any chance of friendship. Remembering, he felt the frustration of his loneliness build, so did what always soothed him. He stripped, shifted, and ran.

Tobyn pulled his truck over onto the gravel shoulder of the deserted highway, desperately needing to take a leak. He hadn’t seen another vehicle for a good twenty minutes of driving. The second the door opened, he picked up the scent. That was unusual for two reasons. First was the fact his senses had dulled severely over the last few months, thanks to the malaise, and secondly, what the hell was the old man doing this far from the camp? Lost cause or not, he’d always stayed within the forest surrounding pack grounds. This was roughly two hundred miles away and much closer to a human settlement than the wily old wolf would normally be comfortable with. That worried him. Was he that far gone? It saddened him to think so. Still, he’d held on longer than many had predicted he would.

Something else was unusual. His wolf was clamoring to get out, and that hadn’t happened in daytime for many weeks. Finally, he was having one of his good days. Peering into the distance, he could see a rudimentary driveway or old logging road. Focusing, he could see a weed-filled graveled area to one side of it, typical in the north as a place to park off the highway when the winter snows got heavy. Returning to his truck, he hopped in, realizing it was a good day for his vision too. It was quite a distance to that driveway, and he’d seen it clearly.

Parking in the isolated area, Tobyn sniffed the air again, but his nose had stopped co-operating. So be it. He’d happily accept whatever he could get for as long as it lasted. Taking in the steep rise, he could see no buildings, so decided if he was careful he could chance a little run through the thick woods that ran up the side of the rutted trail. One more look around and he strode into the forest, shedding clothes as he went.

It felt good to feel the eagerness of his wolf as he shifted and slipped further into the cool protection of the thick, mature growth. Feeling gloriously free, Tobyn began a steady lope, picking up speed as the forest opened up. The faint scent of the old man reached him again, and he tried to pinpoint it. He couldn’t, but what he did find made him slam on the brakes halfway up a small, rocky incline. Scenting deeply, he knew he wasn’t alone. What a time for his nose to sort itself. A shifter, a male, was close… very close.

Jesus, he was huge. Easily three-and-a-half, maybe four feet at the shoulder. Even more startling was his color as a dark, blue-black eye coolly observed him from the slight rise above. He was white. No, that wasn’t right. As the big animal turned, it became apparent he was only half white. His entire left side was the color of the patch of snow he stood on, but his right side was a rich chestnut. It was an astonishing sight, like he was seeing two wolves in one, and unnerving enough that Tobyn sat back on his haunches, completely blown away by what had revealed itself in front of him.

Damn it! He was powerless to stop his shift back to human form. He should have known it wouldn’t hold. His strength had been going downhill fast, which was the whole reason for his mission in the first place. Totally unprepared, he tumbled backwards, feeling a sharp stab as his head smashed on what was likely a piece of the granite he could see poking out of the ground everywhere. He was too injured and embarrassed to feel any danger at this strange wolf now hovering over him. Pain blossomed, and his vision got a little fuzzy, but not so much that he didn’t see the gigantic wolf morph into a large man with curious, astonishingly blue eyes, much lighter than the wolf’s had been. He watched full lips move, but could hear no sound as everything faded to black.

Tobyn came to on a big warm bed in a cozy log cabin. The first thing he saw was the back of a naked man working on grinding something in a cup, clearly the big wolf he’d humiliated himself in front of.

“Don’t get up. You have a gash on the back of your head, and there’s a little swelling in your brain from the wallop it took. You have duodenal ulcers too… did you know that?” He spoke without turning around.

“Ah, no. Are… are you a doctor?” Vicious throbbing in his head made it difficult to keep his eyes open, even though the light in the cabin was subdued. It made him wish he hadn’t regained consciousness.

“No, not a doctor, but I can see your colors.”

Tobyn groaned. “What the hell does that mean?” He wondered about the crazy statement, but the agony took away his ability to concentrate.

“I’ll explain later. Hang in there, I’m almost done.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to heal you. I need to stop the brain from swelling more than it has, and I have to do it right away, so like I said, I’ll explain later.”

Tobyn gritted his teeth. “How…?” He gave up because each movement was making him want to vomit. He felt the mattress move and opened his eyes to slits, not caring that this large naked man was a strange one. He saw steam rising from the sturdy mug in the guy’s hand.

“You need to drink this tincture first. There’s not much of it, but I want you to take the lump of crushed herbs in your mouth when the liquid’s gone, and hold it there. It will help me accomplish what I need to. Don’t swallow it, okay?”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? My head really hurts.” He felt beads of sweat sliding off his forehead. If not for the effects of the malaise, he wouldn’t have been so concerned. Wolves used to heal quickly, but that too was a thing of the past.

“Trust me,” the man said softly as he held the cup to his lips. His other hand cupped the side of Tobyn’s neck, and he relaxed almost immediately. There were only a few sips of the weird tea in the cup, and then the clump, feeling like mashed-up grass entered his mouth. “Move it to your cheek so you won’t swallow it.”

He did as he was told, and tensed as the fingers of both of the man’s hands slowly moved beneath his head until it was being cradled gently. A warmth began to spread over his skull, and he found himself relaxing.

“It’s okay if you fall asleep. This will take a while. Don’t worry... you’re going to be just fine… I promise.”

The pain was receding as drowsiness advanced, and Tobyn let himself drift.

Sometime later, he woke to feel the pain gone from his head, and a warmth above his groin. This time, the man had one hand on his lower stomach, and his eyes appeared closed. For some strange reason, he had such trust in this unusual person that he didn’t question what was happening. The clump was still lodged against his cheek. He couldn’t fight his sleepiness, and again gave in to it, distantly aware of the fact the tips of the man’s fingers were in his pubic hair.

The next time he woke it was dark outside, and his host was sitting in a chair beside the bed, staring at a page in a thick book. Staying still, he studied the man while he was engrossed in what was obviously a medical text. There was no denying he was a handsome man. He remembered his shockingly different coat of white and chestnut, and took note that his hair was the same rich brown. Those eyes were like he remembered… a much lighter blue than those of his wolf, and Tobyn decided they were kind ones.

At least the man had covered up all his muscles… although they were very still very much in evidence under the track pants and old sports jersey he wore. The chest hair peeking out of the shirt’s collar was the same shade as that on his head and the stubble on his face. It was a little disconcerting he found this man so appealing. He’d dabbled with his best friend, Hugh, as a teenager, but it was only a physical thing. He wanted a wife and family, and Tilly was someone he could see filling that role eventually. Waiting for your earth mate to appear was a thing of the past, and had proved to be a total waste of time for far too many.

Closing his eyes again, he judged his own physical state. He felt good. More importantly, all his senses were at their peak. He could hear and smell the small mouse rustling in its bed under the cabin, and that was something he experienced less and less. A page turned, but he kept his eyes closed. The big guy had said he was no doctor, but for sure he was some kind of healer. His eyes flew open. Maybe this guy knew something about the pack’s scourge. Maybe he knew of a cure?

He was startled to see the man had stopped reading and had turned those intense eyes to his own.

“You’re awake.”

“Uh huh. What did you do to me?”

The man looked amused. “Well, I didn’t drug you and take advantage if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No, of course not. I wasn’t thinking that at all.” He could feel himself flushing at the mere thought of such a thing. A man that size could throw him around like a rag doll.

Laughter erupted from the handsome face, and Tobyn lost himself momentarily in strong, white teeth and deep-cut dimples. Jesus, could the guy read his mind? It wouldn’t surprise him; this whole day had been somewhat surreal with the return of his senses, scenting the old man so far from home and then seeing a wolf that looked like two halves joined together. He certainly had some kind of special power to have fixed his damaged head so quickly. It appeared he didn’t even require a bandage.

“How are you feeling?” The laughter had subsided to a dazzling smile before it was replaced, and a serious countenance took over.

“Okay… actually, really good except I feel tired. I don’t know what you did or how you did it, but thank you. Um, I don’t even know your name or where I am exactly? And did I swallow that stuff?”

“Easy questions.” That smile again. “I’m Kellar Haylan, and you are about five-hundred feet from where you parked your truck. And no, I removed the herbs from your mouth once I was done.”

“Oh… okay. Sorry I didn’t realize there was a house here when I pulled in. I thought it might be an old camp or logging road.”

“No need to apologize. You can’t see the cabin from where your truck is, and I understand when your wolf needs to run.”

Again with the smile. It was a powerful one when it was directed straight at you. “I really had no intention of doing that in a strange area, but I caught the scent of an old friend, and my wolf surprised me. It’s not often he makes an appearance lately.”

The big man looked curious, and started to ask something, but Tobyn could literally see him change his mind. “Why… ah, this old friend. Is he the old grey that’s been hanging around here, always in wolf form?”

“Yeah, that would be him. His name is Fendral Raymond, and he led our pack for years, but, well anyway… he doesn’t anymore. He’s a good man, and usually sticks closer to home… about two-hundred miles from here, give or take.”

“Pack?”

“Yeah, I come from a pack north of here. It’s pretty isolated but it’s a nice place to live, and we have all the comforts we could want at the compound. What pack do you belong to?”

The question obviously unsettled Kellar. “Me? I don’t belong to any pack; I’ve never had anything to do with one, and I never even knew they existed until now. I mean I read about packs in some ridiculous fiction stories, but it all sounded like hogwash.” The man’s stare held questions and something akin to shock, and Tobyn was sure his expression was similar.

“How is that even possible, man? Everyone has a pack. Who did you learn about your shifting from? Who prepared you for your first one?”

Those blue, blue eyes looked away for a second. When they swiveled back, he looked resolute. “You are only the third shifter I’ve ever met, not counting the old grey, because he and I have never talked. No one’s taught me anything. I’m alone.”

“Wow. That’s just not right. Everyone needs their pack.” His stomach chose that moment to gurgle.

Kellar seemed to be digesting his comments. “I’d be inclined to feed you if I knew your name.” He'd had gone from exuding pure confidence, to looking a little uncertain.

“Crap, sorry. I’m Tobyn Berenger. Let me get up and….”

“You stay put.” The smile was back, if somewhat less bright. “Do you like rabbit stew, Tobyn?”

“Love it. You can cook too?”

Kellar rumbled out a laugh… this one came from somewhere deep, and Tobyn thought it was a very pleasant sound. “You’re about to find out.”

“I’m game.” Like a lightning bolt, it hit him this guy might be exactly what he was sent out to find. What was that saying? The Lord works in mysterious ways?