Chapter Text
“I don’t have much time.” He snapped, entering the room with a stern expression plastered on his face. When he sat down, the elder woman in front of him sighed, briefly closing her eyes.
“And yet I want to thank you for taking it to hear me out. You are my last chance. They say you are the best.”
“What do you want, ma’am?” Captain James Conrad leaned back, crossing his arms before his chest. He already knew what she wanted, of course. She wanted him to find someone for her—a loved one gone lost.
“It’s my daughter.” She whispered, her voice barely audible. Only those three words in, her eyes were watering uncontrollably. “She went missing. Seven years ago. There was a plane crash. A horrible plane crash high up in the mountains. The police gave up on her. The military gave up on her… they say she is dead. But I know she’s not. She’s alive. She’s still out there.”
Conrad looked up.
“What makes you think that?”
He knew how this woman felt, how desperate she clung onto hope. He’d seen the devastated look in her eyes so often he hardly held any compassion—only the ice cold knowledge of what was the right thing to do.
“I just know,” the woman uttered, the hot tears now freely streaming down her face like waterfalls. “Will you help me? I will pay you. I will pay you your weight in gold if that is what you want. Just please find my daughter.”
For a full thirty seconds, silence filled the room. Just like moist fog, it crept towards them like the hands of ghosts and dead spirits, ready to wrap around their necks to strangle them.
The woman sobbed, relieved, when he finally nodded, seeking out her hopeful eyes once more.
“I cannot promise to bring her back to you safe and sound. I can only promise to do anything in my power to find her. Dead or alive.” He explained calmly, his British accent underlining the severity of his words.
You were fourteen years old when you died. Or at least, that’s what you thought had happened when the plane went hurtling towards the mountains. Countless rocks, dirt and soil all piled up in a hard and massive creation of nature. There was no way you could have survived this—and you didn’t. Not as a human—not really.
You remembered waking up on the ground, with stones and branches scratching open your back and drawing blood and you remembered crawling towards the only place of safety you could take as such in your hopeless situation. It was a cave—dark and dangerous, it lured you into its gaping mouth to protect you from the oncoming storm, the thunder and the lightning which had shot the plane from the sky like an arrow would a careless bird enjoying its freedom in the air.
You thought you were going to die in this cave, thought you were going to starve to death or freeze at night when your unconscious had finally calmed down enough to grant your body a little peace and rest. You didn’t think about how your boyfriend would be waiting for you at the other end of the country only to find out on the news that the plane you had been on had crashed. You didn’t even think about your mother crying until all was left of her were dry sobs shaking her entire body.
Humanity was stupid. They abandoned their natural instincts that kept them alive in situations like this because they decided to rely on technology and cosiness. None of them remembered how to tell which berries to pick from the bush and none of them recalled how to stay safe out in the open when it was dark, unprotected and without any weapons to defend themselves.
You believed you were going to be shredded to pieces when the wolves sneaked towards you, their glowing eyes not missing a single movement of your body. You could hear them sniffling and you could see them circling you like prey. They smelled the blood, you knew, and your only instinct in this very moment was it to close your eyes and pray for a quick death, pray for the pain to be over quick when they drove their sharp fangs deep into your flesh.
But what happened instead still amazed you up to this day. The wolves… accepted your presence in their cave. When you failed to harm or threaten them, they failed to react the same way in return. They saw no danger in you being with them—what they saw instead was a frightened being in need of help. And so they licked your wounds clean. They shared their prey with you as long as you fought for your bits just like they did and they kept you warm at night, allowing you to sleep in between their fury bodies and cuddling with their offspring.
You learnt their language, abandoning your own. It was useless now—you had no one to talk to verbally, used your body and your eyes to communicate with the pack who became your family instead.
High up in the mountains, it was hard to tell how many winters you experienced. You had no idea how old you would be now and you had long given up the hope that someone would find you and bring you back to civilisation—to the life you lost due to a simple thunderstorm. Your mother, your boyfriend… they must all believe you are dead. That was all until one day, there appeared a young man at the entrance of your cave, covering the sun with his muscly body.
He was carrying a gun, ready to shoot and to take lives, his gaze calculated but also insecure of what to expect. His eyes were blue… like the gushing water of the river you washed yourself in every day. Perhaps a civilised woman would call this man attractive and handsome—with his bare arms and well-defined muscles, his sharp jawline and cheekbones and the thin lips.
Curiously, you tilted my head. The wolves sensed it too. He was not friendly. He was here to take from you, using violence if he had to. Your alpha growled, starting the first and last attempt to scare him away—a faint warning that you would not treat him kindly if he invaded your space and yet, the stranger stepped even closer.
His blue eyes fell on your kneeling form on the ground and all of a sudden, you watched them widen in shock. He was surprised. Of course—a human among a pack of wolves, it might seem strange to society. It was so easy for them to judge. The wolves had never judged.
“(Y/N)?” This sounded familiar, his smooth and a little throaty voice making your heart beat faster. This was the first time you heard someone speak in years and what he had said sounded… so… familiar…
“(Y/N)?” He repeated softly. You didn’t trust him; the man still didn’t lower his gun. Too great was the fear of your family ripping him apart if he took another step forward. Then it hit you. Your name. He had said your name.
“I am not here to hurt you. I have been looking for you. Your mother sent me. Do you remember your mother?”
Tilting your head, you stared at him as if he was about to tell you an exciting story. Of course you remembered your mother. You remembered a woman who had raised you, a woman you no longer knew because you had become your own woman without her.
“I am here to take you home, (Y/N). Would you like to go home?” He was cautious, gentle, his voice heavy with a British accent. His blue eyes were fixed on you, yet he did not miss a single movement of the wolves.
Home? It sounded like a memory. Like a dream. This was your home, this cave. Where would you go? Did your previous life still exist? Would you be able to go back to it, leaving the wolves that had saved your life behind?
Yes, you thought. You did want to go home. Opening your mouth, you finally rose from your kneeling position, wanting desperately to tell him… but you couldn’t. You purred and growled, you barked… but your tongue was unable to form the words you had once spoken so easily.
The wolves retreated—you believed the stranger. It was enough reason for them to put up with him and then, finally, the man lowered his gun.
“Can you speak to me?”
Yes. No. I can… just not the way you do. So you didn’t react.
“My name is James Conrad. (Y/N), is it okay if I come closer to you?” Tilting your head once more, you blinked at him, curious as to whether he really would approach you—and he did. With his hand stretched out to reach for you, he sneaked towards you as if to expect an attack. When you didn’t move, he smiled. He smiled! It was the only gesture you could possibly reciprocate.
The corners of your mouth curled upwards, surprising him. For just a split second, his lips parted in awe, then, he held out his hand for you to take, not forcing you to join him on this journey back to civilisation but giving you a choice.
Holding hands… wasn’t it a sign of affection between humans? A sign of trust? You didn’t remember how to hold hands. Showing affection among wolves was… different from what humans did. Wolves snuggled up to each other, they tenderly bit each other and they let down their guards by sleeping next to you.
Hesitatingly, you took his hand in yours, mustering your intertwined fingers as if they were to tell you if this was right. It felt right, oddly.
It felt like you could trust this stranger. No, James. You could trust James. You had learnt how to read whether another being was trustworthy or not and when you looked into his blue eyes that seemed to jinx you and, all of a sudden, awakened these strange feelings in your stomach, you knew you could trust him.
But what about the wolves? What about your family? You owed these animals so much… and they expected nothing in return. Instead, when you glanced back, exchanging mute goodbyes, they blinked—it’s okay. Farewell. We love you.
You blinked too. I love you too.
“The way down will be a little bumpy—but I can carry you, if you like.”
He didn’t have to. Amazed, you watched his muscles dance with every movement he made when he climbed down the mountain, stealing occasional glimpses in your direction. You had learnt how to crawl up and ascend mountains and hills quickly to keep up with the wolves, using your long nails which also helped you defending yourself, as hooks.
“There is a car waiting for us just at the edge of the forest. It will take us straight to your mother.”
A car. You had been dreaming of your own driving license before the plane crash, hoping that one day, your mother would let you drive hers.
“Holy shit… you actually found her? Is that her?” A young man’s voice shrieked.
“I think so,” James replied when you both spotted him peeking out of the car window.
His eyes widened. “Well, didn’t she tell you?”
“She doesn’t speak, Slivko.”
“Then how do you know it’s her?” James gently wrapped his arms around your waist and then lifted you into the huge all-terrain vehicle. He followed you in right after, making sure to fasten your seatbelt for you. You didn’t resist.
“Her eyes lit up when I spoke her name, she recognised it. And I believe she can understand us very well. Am I right, (Y/N)?”
Blinking again, you locked eyes with him. Yes.
“She’s pretty hot for a girl who lived in a cave for seven years.” Slivko tossed in, shrugging as he started the engine.
James tensed—you could feel it. “Shut up and drive.”
Drive. Away from the mountains. Back into the world. Nervously, you reached for his hand again, relieved when he allowed you to hold it.