The Battle of Shrewsbury [Werewolf AU]

[tiltingwithlips]

The day of the battle dawns cloudy and cold. The men on both sides form up as the sun rises behind the clouds, facing each other across a field of gray snow in orderly ranks.

When battle is joined, most semblance of that order disintegrates. The leaders of each army range here and there about the field, directing their troops, and soon the snow is churned and brown with mud and blood.

Most of the soldiers are too busy fighting for their lives to notice the gray wolf creeping around the edges of the battlefield, crouched low to the ground, her hackles raised and lips pulled back in a snarl. Kate has never seen a battle. It's not exactly what she was expecting.

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[valiantrebel]

He frowns.

What can she--?

Had that not been a fever dream?

He tries to move one hand toward his throat.

[tiltingwithlips]

She almost reaches to stop him, but restrains herself.

"Take care. If -- if thou canst stay with me until the night, 'twill heal."

She pulls the cloak closer around herself, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering.

[valiantrebel]

Is she saying what he thinks she's saying?

He knits his brow deeper.

"The king?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"I know not. I drove the prince away."

[valiantrebel]

He looks down at her cloak, and his -- one of each side's.

No one has found him, but no one has come to look for him either.

He exhales (ah, the hole in his side). "Lost."

[tiltingwithlips]

"I know not," again -- and then, angrily, "I care not, Harry, if thou art alive."

[valiantrebel]

A frustrated noise rises in his throat. He rolls his face away.

Ah, Christ! His muscles seem to twist and wrench around his bones! His vision whites out for a moment. Can he be expected to live?

[tiltingwithlips]

"--Love," she says, concerned, reaching out take his hand. "It will pass, if thou canst bear it."

But will he? He has not died of his other wounds yet, and that gives her hope. But watching him wracks her heart.

[valiantrebel]

"Pass?"

His breath has gone shallow again. "Kate?"

Say so. You must say why.

[tiltingwithlips]

Ah, if God still knows her as His daughter, give her strength.

"I bit thee, Harry," she says, as steadily as she can. "As I was bitten by the wolf as a girl. And tonight is the full moon." She swallows. "If thou canst bear it and -- and stay with me, my lord -- then thou'lt change, as I do."

[valiantrebel]

 

 

 

The noise may sound like more coughing, or moaning; certainly his chest is quaking, and his mouth is crooked.

Look to his eyes, though, and it's plain enough: Harry is laughing, however much it pains him (and it does).

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate blinks at him.

And then, almost tearfully, starts laughing herself, and squeezes his hand.

[valiantrebel]

"I'll stay," he croaks, and lifts his eyes to the sky. "How long?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"Do, villain," she says, sniffing, "or I shall have to chase thee even further."

She looks up at the sky. "A few hours more."

[valiantrebel]

"Mm."

He takes her in again, and squeezes her fingers. "Cold," he says, almost reprovingly.

[tiltingwithlips]

"Thou, my lord, or I?"

Shrugging beneath the cloak, she squeezes his hand in return. "I could not speak to thee as I was."

[valiantrebel]

He tugs a little on each of her fingers: his own hands are cold, to be sure, but she, at least, may do something about that.

"Orders." He smiles wanly. "Now I'll sleep."

[tiltingwithlips]

"--Nay, love," she starts, then stops and cups his cheek in her hand.

"But thou wilt wake again."

[valiantrebel]

He doesn't take his eyes off hers. "By my life."

[tiltingwithlips]

She swallows, nods, and leans down to kiss him again.

"Then sleep. I'll keep thee warm."

[valiantrebel]

He thinks, perhaps, to watch her if he can, but no: not a minute after, he's slipped back under.

Harry hates waiting. Better, at least, to escape it where he can.

[tiltingwithlips]

Even though she can smell him and hear his heart beating, she watches until she sees his breast rise and fall.

He won't slip off. He couldn't.

Pulling the cloak over her again, she focuses on changing again, and settles in to wait for the moon.

[valiantrebel]

What Harry dreams and feels as the day passes, only he could say. He twitches and cries out sometimes, but he is much quieter otherwise. Overhead, the sky turned burnished pewter, then pink and orange, and then, deepening shades of blue.

During these long hours, his body temperature has been rising. He sweats and gasps, but his heartbeat stays steady.

Until moonrise. As if at a signal, his heart rate skyrockets, and his eyes spring open, wide and in shock.

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate, comfortable now as a wolf, has spent the day curled beside him and keeping alert for returning soldiers. Though troops wander across the battlefield every so often, collecting and counting the dead, none of them come close to their hiding place.

She feels the moon behind the horizon before she sees it, and sits up, ears pricked.

And when Harry wakes up, she backs away, crouching low.

[valiantrebel]

The body cannot remember pain, only that it felt it.

This is one of God's greatest mercies.

Harry's sides heave as he sucks in the cold air. The blanket is too close -- nay, anything against his skin feels like a vise. He kicks off the blanket and pulls frantically at his mail and vest. His fingers find little purchase, though, and he curls in on himself as though kicked, crying out.