Gin x Kira

All the Better

So he said to the wolf,
'Grandma, you're looking down',
He wrapped his arms around him
And the love nearly spun him round;
The love just broke him down
- Martha Tilston

Will you run now?

The howls are following you, so close at your heels that they are almost biting. So will you run through the forest, green and dappled in the sun, where the rustle of leaves follows you? Or will you run in the night, when shadows loom behind you on a path that will soon be swallowed by the dark? Through the forest you try and run, but you forget, the wolf does not lurk in forgotten haunts anymore, because it is no longer how it is in the fairy stories. There used to be woodcutters a-plenty to help pretty little innocents like you, but now the wolf is too subtle to be caught. Now the wolf hunts in the woollen jackets of the sheep, luring the sacrificial lambs close.

The wolf will do you grievous harm.

Little lieutenant, hiding behind your hair, do you dare to walk these woods alone?

He will creep, and you will not expect it. He will find you. The wolf listens, in these hallowed division halls, waiting for his victim to come to him, for you will come to him, in the end. He sits still as the grave and waits, full of expectations and patience, waiting for those tell-tales signs that will tell him that you are close. He knows this place just as well as you do, even if he is out of place here, and he knows that those old floorboards will betray you with creaks and groans, ancient things, as if they themselves know what is to come. His ears are tuned to the slightest noise, and his body is tuned to you.

All the better to hear you with.

Little lieutenant, hiding behind those eyes, do you dare to try and find a home?

He knows you, he knows you well, because you have been close to him for a long time now. He knows your patterns and routine, for you must become like your prey to catch it as well as he is planning to catch you. He knows that you stayed too late working last night, so late that all you would have done, when you got home, was crawl into your warm, lonely bed, so you will have bathed in this grey morning light, not long before. You will be clean and fresh, scented with the perfume of water which ran heavy against your skin, warming and touching and caressing. It is early morning still, and the hair on your nape will still be damp.

All the better to smell you with.

Little lieutenant, hiding behind your faith, do you dare to run away?

He knows you are coming, little lamb, do not forget that, do not forget that he is waiting for you to knock before you enter his lair, his den; you will pause a moment even though you know he will not answer, for he never does. He knows to watch you rise from the bow you will give in the doorway, and he knows to have his eyes in slits, eerie and disconcerting, to see how you react, to watch your every movement. Although his other senses work well enough, his eyes, which would normally be closed shut against the world, will be open just a little, for they are always open when he watches you, watches his victim, his flesh.

All the better to see you with.

Little lieutenant, hiding behind your strength, do you dare to pray?

You will move too close to him, little lamb, you are careless but you will try so hard. Not hard enough- the lambs are never nimble enough- and his hands are quick and they will grab you and pull you close before you have even had the chance to move, to escape from him and his grasp. He has waited for you for so long, and his hold on you will convey what is almost desire, what is almost a need. His hands will be cool against your skin, and they are ready and waiting. They are agile, his subtle fingertips, and they are ready.

All the better to touch you with.

Little lieutenant, hiding behind your beauty, do you dare to move that close to him?

And when he has caught you, he will not let you go because you are his prize, his sacrifice, and his mouth is as skilled as his hands and his senses are, and they have been longing for this moment: they will not give it up. Oh, he knows you so well, knows just what will make you cry aloud and just what will make your hands flutter like tiny trapped birds. He has been waiting for you this morning, and your skin is so pale, so soft. He will smile so wide, wider still at your round, soft eyes, and there will be the flash of teeth and tongue, ready and waiting.

All the better to taste you with.

Little lieutenant, hiding behind your blade, do you dare to try and be free?

He has been waiting, waiting with such patience for his victim, that he will not hold back, he will not be gentle with you. Can you blame him, you timid creature of this world that is not his? Can you not understand, for as different as you are, you have animal in you too? He is wolf, he is beast, he is carnivore, and you are flesh. He is wolf and he is bear and he is cat and he is teeth and claw and talon and everything that seeks to hunt, to catch, to take. His smile will widen, and you will see him ready, ready to bite, to bruise, to break that skin he has been cherishing in his mind. You will be unprepared, of course you will, and those teeth will flash down at you.

All the better to bleed you with.

Little lieutenant, hiding behind your sorrow, do you dare to take his hand?

And his teeth and his tongue and his hands will move as one, they will take you by surprise, will make the fine hair on your arms stand up on end, and his body will find yours, and your pulse will stand out in your throat like raised fruit for him to savour, the juices dripping from his mouth. He knows your body, has been watching every one of your movements, and he knows how to make it move. Little lamb, he knows how to make you howl, howl so very lupine that you will surprise even yourself. He will be close, will press himself so close that he will give you a gift, a shared gift that would be so coveted in the wild. His heat, the heat of his passion and his desires, will sink into your innocent skin, will become yours.

All the better to love you with.

Little lieutenant, hiding behind your hair, hiding behind that hair so fair, do you dare to take a stand?

And you will be his, little lamb, you will be his, because you forgot that the wolf runs with the sheep now, no longer through the woods but through the flock. He has sought you out and he has smiled at you and he has put you at your ease, and he lured you in, little lamb, and he made you forget his danger, and you belong to him now.

He will hold you close to him and strip you of every piece of skin that you have ever had, clinging on to what you have been, until all that is left is the truth, the beauty, the essence of yourself. And then, he will look down at you, ready and waiting, the tatters of a life you have shaken off in his teeth, staining his mouth the irrevocable colour of ownership.

All the better to eat you with.

And he will do, every part of you.

The wolf will do you grievous harm.

So, little lamb, will you go to him?

Of course you will; you always do.