Connor and the Wolves - 40. Broken Dreams

Shallow breaths were not helping her. There was no way to protect herself from Miles’ scent. Khurtschono stared at her sheet music, leg bouncing ever faster. Her fingers skipped over the neck of her viola as she tried to keep her playing steady despite her dancing knee.
She could feel Arban and Soren watching her from the doorway, judging her every fumbled note. No, she shouldn’t think like that. In two weeks’ time, she would be on stage, performing with Miles in front of hundreds of people. They would judge her then. Soren and Arban were just bystanders right now. They were unimportant.
“Stop.” Her bow faltered, and Khurtschono lowered her viola. “Try that passage again,” Miles said, swiping across a tablet. “This will have to be the last one; we really should be getting down to the track for practise.”
He began playing, each note drawn out. Khurtschono grimaced as she raised her viola again. With Miles setting the tempo at half-speed, there was little chance of missing the notes, but her soul ached at the reduced speed. Why couldn’t she just play the song? Why was this so difficult?
Miles paused, his head turning to Khurtschono.
“There’s no reason to be stressed out. You have plenty of time to learn this song. Take it slow. Play bar by bar until you have each one down.”
She knew this already, it was basic stuff. Why was he patronising her? Did Miles think she couldn’t do this?
Khurtschono sucked in a breath. Her bow hand twisted, forming a half boat to send down the stream. Release her frustration to Tareth, and let them touch her. There was no need to be upset at Miles. He was helping.
“One more time,” Miles said encouragingly.
Slow piano notes filled the room, and Khurtschono raised her viola again. Staccato notes dragged out in excruciating slowness. This was already a slow song to listen to, despite the speed of the notes, and playing at half speed was just making things worse.
She glowered at the tablet in front of her, at a screen covered in annotations. Change the bowstroke here, use the fourth finger instead of an open string there… she just needed to keep playing until her fingers learned the piece. That’s how it always worked in the past, so why wasn’t it working this time?
“Better,” Miles said, starting a drawn out staccato on the piano. Khurtschono’s fingers slid into third position, trading the soothing feel of the open strings for a more refined sound as the song rose higher in pitch. “Much better.”
Drawing her bow across the A string, Khurtschono adjusted her wrist, letting a slow vibrato end the song. There, she had hit most of the notes, at least. She should be good to play faster now. But she’d hit every note before, and yet she still didn’t feel ready.
“Okay, that’s enough for today,” Miles stood up, closing the piano lid. He shut off his tablet and turned to the door. “We better get going before Gansukh goes crazy from lack of exercise.”
Khurtschono blew out a relieved breath. She was really starting to loathe the Nicansien. It had always been one of her favourite songs to listen to, but having to play it over and over again was driving her crazy.
“That was really good,” Soren said as she left the classroom.
“You’re just saying that so I won’t hit you again.”
“You won’t, will you?” Soren asked, easily keeping up with the neko as she followed Miles.
“Probably not.” Khurtschono shrugged noncommittally. She was still livid with the mage, but from past experience, that anger would probably be gone by tomorrow. She’d just forget she was supposed to be angry.
“Okay. It was really good,” Soren repeated. “I mean, listening to the same parts over and over again was… weird, but it sounded good, at least.” The mage slowed slightly, glancing at Miles’ retreating back. “Uh… how are you doing? With…” He gestured at Miles.
“I’m fine,” Khurtschono growled. “Even if I wasn’t, there isn’t much I could do about it. What about you? I didn’t see you at gym.”
“I told him I have Darekson’s Disorder.”
“The fuck is that?”
Soren grimaced, glancing at his feet.
“Um… a rare disorder affecting werewolves who’ve been diagnosed with epilepsy. Shifting has the potential of inducing seizures, making partial shifts more likely. I told him I’ve started taking bane to prevent shifting.”
Khurtschono cringed. A partial shift would certainly be lethal to any wolf. And now Soren was pretending to have a disorder. The lies just kept piling on.
“You are entirely too good at this shit,” she muttered as they approached the locker room.
“I kind of have to be.”
“Or you could kind of tell the school that you’re an orphaned mage, and accept the resources they probably have for people like you. You know, instead of pretending to have a disorder that real werewolves die from.” Khurtschono growled. “My urge to hit you is rising. Fast.”
Shoving the mage aside, Khurtschono headed into the locker room. Shifting took barely a minute, and she headed out to the track.

A staggered quartet took off at a slow jog. Khurtschono was already panting lightly — the warm up run had been a little more intense than she’d been expecting.
“Gansukh!” Miles called out as they jogged along the track.
The lilac wolf put on a quick burst of speed, coming up on Khurtschono’s left side. Khurtschono reached out and clamped her jaws around the baton in his mouth, and Gansukh released his end.
Now all she had to do was figure out the best way to slide the baton to the right side of her mouth.
Khurtschono’s mouth shifted, her lower jaw sliding the baton until it poked through her lips. A little further… a little further… and the baton slipped from her jaws, falling to the side.
“Stop!” Miles called, and the wolves slowed. “Khurtschono, how many slides was that?”
Khurtschono screwed her eyes shut. How many slides was that? Wait, how many was she supposed to do? Four… right?
“You need to do three slides. Slide one, shift the baton centred in your mouth. Slide two, the baton emerges to the right. Slide three, the baton has enough space to give the next runner a good grip.”
Miles picked the baton up, wiping the plastic down with a clean rag. He handed the baton to Gansukh, who took it with a quiet grunt.
“Again.”
Staggering out once more, the wolves started jogging again. A lap passed slowly before Miles called out.
“Gansukh!”
Gansukh came up beside Khurtschono, and Khurtschono grabbed the baton. Taking it from the lilac wolf, she began working the baton through her mouth. One slide… the baton was centred. Khurtschono took a panting breath.
The baton fell from her mouth.
Her paw landed on the plastic wand.
Khurtschono collapsed as agony lanced up her leg. Curling in on herself, the werewolf fought the urge to scream — only a small whimper escaped her clamped jaws.
“Easy…” Miles murmured, kneeling beside the fallen wolf.
Faces peered down around her, wolf and bipedal alike. Jade eyes locked with her own, and Khurtschono let out a weak growl.
“Let me see your paw,” Soren said.
“Soren, you need to back away,” Miles warned.
Ignoring the elf, Khurtschono extended her leg. Searing pain shot through her ankle, and the wolf whimpered again.
“I’ve dealt with injured animals before,” Soren said quietly, running a gentle hand over Khurtschono’s paw and up her leg. He hit a spot and Khurtschono’s ankle erupted in fire. She snapped at him, and Soren yanked his hand back before the wolf could bite him. “Easy there Kurt. Just give me a second.”
“Soren, enough,” Miles snapped. “Back away.”
“It’s probably a sprain,” the mage said, stepping back as Khurtschono collapsed with a groan.
A sprain… could have been worse, she supposed. Cold dread flooded her — that was her left wrist! If it was sprained, there was no way she’d be able to practise the viola!
Khurtschono snarled as another hand slowly extended her leg. Couldn’t they just leave her alone? No, of course they couldn’t. Miles needed to figure out what was wrong with her.
“If it’s just a stretch, it should go away after she shifts back,” Soren added.
Why wouldn’t he shut up? That mouth had gotten both of them into enough trouble already.
“Okay, can you get up, Kurt?” Miles asked.
The wolf scrambled to her feet. It wasn’t a sprain — it couldn’t be! It was just a twisted ankle. Gingerly, Khurtschono set her foot on the ground.
Bad idea, BAD IDEA. Khurtschono lifted her paw, tucking it against her chest. This was fine, she could just hobble for now, until her ankle felt better. And it would, after she shifted back. She refused to entertain any other possibilities.
“Don’t shift back yet,” Miles said, helping the wolf to the locker room. “We’ll get you to the hospital.”
She couldn’t change back? But shifting would solve the problem, Khurtschono just knew it!
“Soren.” Miles held out a hand, stopping the mage from following them into the locker room. “Go tell Alice I need her here.”
“But I can help-”
“Go,” Miles said sharply.
Soren scurried away, head ducked low. Khurtschono would have laughed at the sight if her leg wasn’t trying to murder her. Pretend to be a werewolf, reap the werewolf’s rewards.
“We’ll wait until Alice gets here,” Miles added, helping Khurtschono lay down. “The last thing we need is for someone to get all pissed at an elf and a werewolf alone together. I’ll call your parents while we wait.”
Oh right. Her parents. Fuck, Ma was going to be pissed. First John, now Khurtschono, it was like the family was trying to live at the hospital. Khurtschono huffed, resting her head on the floor as Miles talked to… probably Skylar. If she stayed on her side, the throbbing didn’t hurt as much. Things were getting a little hazy though, and she was shivering. Hadn’t Aav said something about shock once? Didn’t seem like this was the same thing, but who knew?
“Hey, I saw the commotion,” Alice said, jogging up to them with Soren in tow. “Sent everyone home already. How bad is it?”
“Possibly sprained. I already called her home, and her mother said she’d meet us at the hospital,” Miles said.
“Okay Kurt, let’s get your things. We’ll take my car,” Alice added. “I have a harness.”
Khurtschono whined as she moved. Standing up proved to be a tougher challenge than she expected. How was she supposed to get up without putting pressure on her front foot?
Gentle hands slid under her body, lifting her slowly.
“Come on, up you get,” Miles said, giving her some leverage so she could move.
Khurtschono hobbled forward, straightening out as she stood up. She growled at Soren as the mage opened the locker room door. Seriously, why wouldn’t he just leave? He wasn’t helping anyone by staying here.
Alice was in and out of the locker room, carrying Khurtschono’s bag and viola. Miles took the viola case carefully as Khurtschono followed them out to the car park.

“You never mentioned having a wolf in your family,” Miles said as Alice drove through the maze of streets.
“My daughter,” Alice replied. “She’ll be starting at Elias Academy next year.”
Khurtschono lay on the back seat, feeling like so much luggage. She swayed as the car turned, doing her best to avoid touching anything with her bad leg. The balancing act was more exhausting than practice, and her entire body ached by the time the car finally shut off. Worse, the bag of ice that was supposed to reduce the swelling in her leg had fallen on the floor not long after she’d gotten into the car.
Alice opened the door, and helped Khurtschono out of the harness. Offering her hands as a step down, she waited patiently for Khurtschono to hop to the ground.
“Miles, can you get back on your own? I need to get home.”
“Yeah, I can take the bus,” Miles said. “Are you feeling any better, Kurt?”
Khurtschono grunted, hobbling toward the hospital entrance. She’d feel better when she knew that the injury would be gone in a day or two. It was so strange; any other time, she’d be dying for time alone with the elf. But now, she just wanted the pain to stop.
The hospital was filled with people waiting to be seen. Khurtschono could see several kids running around the large waiting room, while people in various states of distress stared listlessly around the room.
A man pushed past Miles, walking stiffly. Khurtschono and Miles entered the line behind him as the man shoved a folded paper at the elf behind the counter.
She read the note silently.
“So you’re here for batteries?” A tiny smirk lifted the corner of her mouth as the man groaned.
“Look, can you help or not?” he hissed.
“Name?”
“Do I really-”
“Yep.”
Khurtschono cocked her head as the man went through registration. What was his prob- oh!
He had something up his ass! The wolf snorted, nearly toppling over. Beside her, Miles set a steadying hand on her back.
“That better not have been a laugh,” he muttered quietly.
“If it makes you feel better, we get one of you every week,” the elf said as the man turned away.
Grunting, the man trudged to the waiting room. He made for a chair before pausing, and chose to lean against a wall instead.
“Next?”
Khurtschono hobbled forward. She could almost see over the counter; if she stretched-
The wolf yelped as her foot hit the desk. Sitting back on her haunches, Khurtschono glared at the offending foot.
“Stay down,” Miles said quietly. “We don’t want to make it worse.”
Worse? Khurtschono couldn’t imagine how it could get any worse. Her ankle was killing her. She was with her mate, and she couldn’t even appreciate the care he was giving her. This was as close to world-ending as it could get for her!
Still, she remained seated while Miles went through all the questions at the front desk. Khurtschono was surprised by how much he knew, though he had his phone out. Maybe he could access her records from it? That would explain how he knew her phone number.
His hand brushed her back.
“Can you get up?”
Khurtschono snorted, fighting to get up. She wasn’t that helpless. Following the elf to the waiting room, she settled carefully into a wolf bed set in the corner of the room. This was going to take a while — she’d heard plenty of stories about the chaos of emergency rooms from Khenbish.
Who was stepping out of the back rooms just as Khurtschono lay down.
She sat up again, careful to avoid hitting her foot again. Khenbish knelt beside her, studying her foot.
“How did this happen?”
“She stepped on a baton on the track,” Miles replied. “I think it might be sprained.”
Khenbish hmphed quietly, gently pressing against Khurtschono’s leg.
“Let me know if this hurts.”
Khurtschono whimpered quietly as her foot was rolled around. The whimpering grew into a near growl as Khenbish straightened her foot.
“Can you rate it?”
Khurtschono’s tail thumped. She paused, thinking for a moment, then thumped another five times.
“Six?”
The wolf nodded.
“Okay. We’ll have another doctor check it out in a bit. Your mother should be here soon. In the meantime, get some ice on your leg.”
Khenbish set a reassuring hand on Khurtschono’s back, before heading back through the door. Khurtschono sighed, laying down again as Miles went to the front desk. She hadn’t expected anything; Khenbish wouldn’t be the doctor examining her, as someone who was too close to her. He’d just come out to reassure himself. It was nice to know he wasn’t upset about her being here, but it would have been nicer to know what was wrong with her.

“I’m looking for Kurt. Kurt Chono.”
Khurtschono’s eyes shot open. She groaned at the sight of Soren standing at the front desk. Why was he here? How the fuck had he gotten here before her mother? Was the school really that close? Her eyes narrowed. Or had he shifted to run here?
In a chair beside her, Miles grunted.
“He must be really worried about you,” the elf said.
Khurtschono huffed, resting her head on the side of the bed. Soren had already proven more than capable of getting to and from school on his own. He didn’t need her to take him home.
She didn’t know how to feel about this. Khurtschono was still pissed at the mage. But he’d come looking for her when he could have just gone home. It certainly didn’t take away his mistakes. Khurtschono refused to be swayed from her rage.
But as the mage hurried toward them, the wolf relaxed. They were still friends, even if she was upset. And it was nice to have a friend by her side.
“How are you doing?” Soren asked, dropping to the ground beside her.
Khurtschono grunted.
“Sorry I couldn’t get here faster. I didn’t know where the hospital was.”
He must have used his phone then. That should be impossible in his wolf form. But Khurtschono still had her doubts.
Not that it mattered. She couldn’t question him in this form. And she could see Catherine hurrying into the hospital. Any chance to scowl at the human in an attempt to cow him into talking was lost.
“How are you feeling, honey?” Catherine knelt, running a hand down Khurtschono’s back.
The wolf grumbled, adjusting her leg. The bag of water fell off, and she sighed, picking it up with her teeth.
“Did your father check you out? What did he say?”
Khurtschono shook her head. She didn’t know anything.
“Hi, you must be Kurt’s father.” Miles smiled, offering his hand.
Catherine hesitated briefly before shaking his hand.
“Mother, actually.”
“Oh, my apologies.” Miles’ face soured slightly, whether from embarrassment or something else, Khurtschono couldn’t say. She had to assume embarrassment — the elf had never made a big deal about her being trans. Or maybe he didn’t know. “One of the doctors checked her wrist already, but she didn’t say anything about what was wrong.”
And another miss. Khurtschono stifled a laugh. She didn’t realise Miles was that blind. Maybe he didn’t know she was trans after all. Beside her, Soren shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glued to the floor.
“I assume that was my husband,” Catherine said tightly.
“Oh.” Miles glanced at Khurtschono, who was trying desperately not to make a sound. “Uh… well, I can see Kurt’s in good hands here. Um… I’ll get going. If you need anything-”
“We’ll be in touch,” Catherine smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.
Miles retreated hastily, and the laugh burst from Khurtschono’s maw.
“Really, Khurt?” Catherine sighed as her daughter snorted. “And you,” she whirled on Soren. “We need to have a talk, young man.”
Oooh, he was in trouble. Khurtschono shivered at her mother’s tone. Soren was going to get it.

“Khurtschono?”
Catherine helped the wolf to her feet as a nurse called her name. Khurtschono could feel Soren watching her, but the mage made no attempt to follow them into the back rooms.
Khurtschono limped onto the wolf scale. The nurse turned to Catherine.
“You’re her… mother, right? Khenbish’s mate? Can you hold her injured foot so we can try to get a more accurate reading?”
Catherine nodded curtly, and Khurtschono took a deep breath. This was going to hurt.
Ten agonising seconds later, in which Khurtschono fought valiantly against the urge to bite her mother, she was allowed to hobble off the scale. Following the nurse to an examining room, Khurtschono walked up a wide ramp to a tall table before flopping on her side.
“Khurtschono, be careful!” Catherine scolded.
“Oh, she’s quite alright,” the nurse smiled, wrapping a cuff around Khurtschono’s good front leg. “This table’s seen much worse.”
Khurtschono grimaced as the cuff tightened. She never knew how long it took to measure her blood pressure, but the discomfort always seemed to last forever.
Still, it was a distraction from the pain in her leg, and she was grateful for that.
“Okay, can you tell me a bit about what happened?” the nurse asked Catherine.
“She slipped on a baton during track practice. I’m not too sure beyond that,” Catherine replied.
The clacking of a keyboard grated in Khurtschono’s ears. It wasn’t bad enough she had an injured leg, it wasn’t bad enough that she had been stuck here for over an hour already. No, the world just had to keep piling more frustrations on her.
She sighed, laying on her side.
“Okay, Dr. Anthony will be in in a few minutes to check you out,” the nurse said, before retreating from the room.
Khurtschono rolled her eyes. She couldn’t have waited in the waiting room, the room designed for waiting? No, instead she was stuck on this table until whoever decided to poke her leg and tell her it would all go away as soon as she shifted.
The door opened, yanking her from her thoughts. A Niwo stepped inside, flashing a comforting smile at her.
“Ah, and here’s our favourite aerafael. What brings you in today?” he asked, checking the computer. “Bum leg?”
“Yes, she stepped on a baton at track practice,” Catherine repeated.
“Blasted luck, that.” Dr. Anthony approached Khurtschono, motioning toward her bad leg. “Can you extend your leg for me, please? As far as you can without hurting yourself.”
Khurtschono grunted, moving her leg. She winced a moment later, and the doctor frowned.
“Okay, now I’m going to run my finger up your leg. Tell me where the pain is the worst.”
Squeezing her eyes shut in preparation, Khurtschono felt a light touch whisper slowly up her leg. She grunted as the finger touched the worst spot, trying not to wince.
“Okay. I have some good news and some bad news. The injury is most likely in the extensor carpi ulnaris. The good news is, this means you can shift with little risk of exacerbating the injury. The bad news is, unless you just pulled the tendon, the injury will remain when you shift.”
That wasn’t a definitive answer. Khurtschono refused to lose hope; she might still get out of this in one piece.
“Can you go ahead and shift for me?”
The wolf stared at the doctor.
“She doesn’t like shifting in front of people,” Catherine said quickly. “Even at home she shifts in private.”
“I can understand that.” Dr. Anthony smiled apologetically. “But for the first shift, I should really be here to make sure nothing goes wrong. I can drape a towel over your waist for modesty.”
Khurtschono grumbled, carefully picking herself up. She hobbled down the ramp, and Dr. Anthony set a large towel over her backside.
“When you’re ready.”
Taking a deep breath, Khurtschono shifted. A few moments later, she reached for the towel and yelped.
Dr. Anthony sighed.
“I was afraid of that,” he said, turning away so Khurtschono could dress in the clothes from her bag. “It’s most likely a tear.”
“How long will it take to heal?” Khurtschono demanded, awkwardly pulling her shirt over her head. She bit her tongue as she slid her injured arm through the sleeve. “I have a concert in two weeks.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll probably miss it,” Dr. Anthony said. “We can do an MRI to check; I might be wrong.”
“We-”
“Yes,” Khurtschono demanded over her mother.
“Khurtschono, your wrist is injured,” Catherine said sharply. “Even if the MRI shows no injury, you’ll still have to take a few days off from practice.”
“Anywhere from three to six weeks,” Dr. Anthony added.
“The MRI will be needed for other patients; are you really going to have them scan your wrist just so you know you won’t be playing?” Catherine continued.
Khurtschono scowled. She wanted to say yes. She needed to say yes. This was vitally important; if she couldn’t use her wrist, there was no way in Zasar’s Graveyard she’d be able to play the viola. And she couldn’t live without the instrument.
“No,” she said sulkily.
“I’ll get you a sling to keep your wrist from moving too much,” Dr. Anthony said. “A splint would probably be better, but you won’t be able to shift with that.”
“I’m shifting,” Khurtschono growled. That was not negotiable.
“Yeah, none of my aerafael patients accept remaining bipedal.” The doctor chuckled quietly. “I’ll be back quickly.”
Khurtschono dropped into a chair with a heavy sigh. Weeks without playing. Weeks without listening to her beloved instrument.
Why had she been stupid enough to start running?