Chapter Text
The rain poured down in torrents from the overcast sky, icy cold and freezing on T’Challa’s skin. T’Challa couldn’t suppress a full-body shiver as he hurried on through the downpour. The strong gusts of wind had blown his umbrella inside out, and now he had nothing to shelter from the rain.
T'Challa's heart sank as he looked up at the sky. Rivulets of icy cold rain dripped down his cheeks towards his neck, drenching his collar and soaking him to the bone. Lightning flashed across the grey skies, followed almost immediately by the deafening sound of a thunderclap, so loud that it made T'Challa jump.
In a storm like this, there was absolutely no way that he could make his way back to his hometown of Wakanda in time to join his family for the Lunar New Year festivities. T'Challa didn't know for certain what time it was right now, but he had a hunch that it was already close to evening. He ought to have reached the town of Birnin Zanna by now, but he wasn't even halfway there yet. The dirt road stretched out seemingly endlessly in front of him, winding through the darkening forest.
T'Challa winced. Mother and Shuri were going to be so upset if he missed their traditional reunion dinner. This would have been the family's first New Year together without his father, who had passed on a scant few months ago. The thought of Mother and Shuri spending the festivities alone with just each other for company made his heart wrench. But at the rate he was travelling, there was no way that he could make it back home in time.
Unless -
He could take the shortcut through the mountains.
T’Challa swallowed. A cold chill swept over him, a chill which had nothing to do with the howling gale and pouring rain.
The mountain pass would cut short his travelling time by a full two days. But it would be very, very dangerous.
Even on a good day, the path through the mountains was rocky and treacherous. In a storm like this, the mountain pass might become blocked by mudslides and rockfalls. Worse, bandits lurked on the mountain. Bandits and beasts - tigers, wolves and bears that would view a lone traveller as easy prey. And even worse than those beasts were the spirits and demons of the wilderness.
Some of these spirits were largely benign, and wouldn’t harm him if he didn’t offend them. But then there were the other spirits who dwelled in the mountains - spirits such as snake demons, kitsune and wraiths who who would leap at the chance to devour a juicy little human if he wandered onto the wrong path.
The thought of being robbed by bandits, mauled by beasts or having his soul devoured by an evil demon sent a cold chill down T’Challa’s spine.
But if he didn’t take the shortcut through the mountains, there was no way that he could make it back home for the New Year.
T’Challa gritted his teeth and turned left before he lost his nerve, leaving the safety of the main road for the treacherous mountain pass.
T'Challa was so cold that he could feel his teeth chattering in his skull as he stumbled along the mountain pass. His fingers were freezing, and his feet ached. His cloth shoes, soaked through by the rain, offered barely any protection from the sharp stones on the ground beneath his feet.
He had spent what seemed like hours struggling through the darkness and the pouring rain. The paved path, lit only by the weak, flickering glow from his lantern, became narrower and less well-maintained the further along he went. Eventually, it petered out to a trail of dirt, pebbles and bumpy rocks that were almost covered with overgrown grass.
The hem of T'Challa's robes were caked with mud which had splashed up from the uneven trail, and twice he had almost tripped and fallen flat on his face when his clothes caught and ripped on sharp branches. With dismay, T'Challa realised that he would have to throw his robes after this. They were practically rags now.
T’Challa raised his lantern higher and tried to keep a close eye on the ground as he made his way through the dense trees and brambles, taking care to avoid slipping on the wet jagged rocks. The worst of the storm was now over, but the rain continued to beat down on him in an unrelenting drizzle. He was wet and hungry and miserable.
T'Challa heaved a sigh of bone-deep weariness and raised his lantern skywards, trying to see if the cloudy skies showed any signs of clearing up soon.
Wait.
The weak glow from his lantern illuminated a particular crooked tree which looked very familiar.
Had he passed by this way before?
Alarmed, T'Challa looked about wildly at his surroundings. Yes, he had definitely been down this road before. But how could that be? He had been following the mountain pass all along!
T'Challa's heart began to pound fast in his panic. Somehow, he must have strayed off the path unknowingly while walking in the dark. He had been wandering around in circles for Bast knew how long.
T’Challa gulped. Suddenly he felt very, very lost and alone. The cold oppressive darkness seemed to press down heavily against his skin. He was acutely aware of just how far away he was from civilization right now. If he didn't manage to find the main path leading out of the mountains -
He might die.
T'Challa took a couple of deep breaths and tried to steady his trembling hands. He drew his cloak more tightly around his shoulders before turning around to face the direction he had come from.
It would be fine, T'Challa told himself. He just needed to retrace his steps until he got back onto the main path again. Everything would be all right.
T'Challa's breath came out in harsh pants. His chest felt tight and painful, and tears burned in his eyes. The rain had finally stopped a few minutes ago, but his robes were soaked through. In this chilly mountain air, he was shivering so hard that his lantern almost slipped out of his shaking fingers.
He had been walking and walking for what seemed like hours. He had to admit that he was completely, hopelessly lost.
Worse still, the oil in his lantern was starting to burn low. T'Challa estimated that he had less than two hours before the weak flame snuffed itself out and he was left in complete darkness.
A sudden wave of crushing, primal fear swept over T'Challa, so overwhelming that it almost made his knees buckle. He broke out into a mindless panicked run, stumbling across the rocky ground even though he had no idea where he was going. All he knew was that he couldn’t spend another minute in these blasted mountains.
The rocks and the trees seemed to be closing in on him, hemming him in, letting him know in some twisted way that he would be trapped here forever. Clawed, twisted branches seemed to reach out for him, intent on catching him in their grasp. They would trap him here in the mountains, all alone in the dark and the cold.
T'Challa's breath caught in a sob. He was going to die here, and Mother and Shuri would never even find his bones -
T'Challa's foot slipped on one of the jagged rocks still damp and slippery from the storm. A sharp stab of pain shot up his ankle as it twisted beneath him.
"Ah!"
T'Challa fell heavily onto his side, his body skidding across the wet ground. He let out a sharp, pained gasp as the breath was knocked out of his lungs. The lantern slipped out of his fingers, crashing down onto the ground. The sound of glass shattering rang out through the night.
The weak, dying flame in the lantern fizzled out, casting T’Challa into pitch blackness.
T'Challa's throat seized up in terror. Blindly, he groped along the ground, trying to find where his lantern had landed. He had - he had to relight it, there might still be some oil left in his suitcase which he could use to keep it alight -
“Ow!”
A shock of pain jolted up T’Challa’s palm. Somehow, he’d managed to cut himself on one of the shards of glass from the broken lantern. Warm wetness began to ooze out from the stinging wound. The glass shard had cut deep.
T'Challa forced down a sob, even as his eyes began to burn with renewed tears of pain and fear. The lantern had to be close by. He began to grope about blindly at the ground again, fumbling about to locate it.
A warm hand closed tightly around his wrist.
“Don't do that," a silky voice purred, almost directly into his ear.
T'Challa's head jerked up in shock.
He hadn't even noticed the stranger approaching him. It was as if the man before him had suddenly appeared out of thin air.
A breathtakingly handsome man, the most handsome man that T'Challa had ever seen before in his life, was now crouching down beside him. In one hand, he held aloft a lit lantern, casting a soft, warm flickering glow which illuminated their surroundings, while his other hand encircled T’Challa’s wrist, stopping it above the ground just inches away from the shards of glass.
T'Challa stared up at the stranger, speechless, his heart beating fast.
Not human.
No human could have appeared next to him so swiftly and silently, without T’Challa even being aware of his approach. And no human could possibly look as handsome as this vision of perfection before him. The man’s chiselled features were arranged into a faux-kindly smile, but there was a devilish glint in his eyes that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline across T’Challa’s nerves. In the firelight, the man’s dark eyes flashed solid gold for an instant, then disappeared so fast that T’Challa could almost have believed that he might have imagined it.
Even as T’Challa’s heart rate spiked, the man's hand shifted up from T’Challa’s wrist, stroking up T'Challa's forearm before he gripped T’Challa by the upper arm. T’Challa hardly dared to breathe. But all the man did was help T'Challa to his feet in one swift motion, quick as a fox, tugging T’Challa in closer towards his own body.
He was so warm. His body was like a blazing fire against T’Challa’s storm-chilled skin. Instinctively, T’Challa leaned in closer, seeking out the man's warmth.
Not a man, T'Challa reminded himself with a jolt. Not a man. He's not human. He’s some sort of spirit. Maybe even a demon -
Still, for some reason, T'Challa found that he couldn't pull away. He stood transfixed, frozen in place even as the stranger’s hand circled his wrist again. With a sudden motion, he lifted T'Challa's wounded hand, palm facing up, towards his lips.
A warm, wet tongue darted out of the man's mouth, licking at the deep cut on T’Challa’s palm.
T’Challa inhaled sharply. A thrill of electricity jolted up his spine.
The wound stung, but in a good kind of way, and the man’s rough tongue soothed away the worst of the pain. Distantly, he noted that the man’s tongue was so rough. Like a cat’s.
“Mmmm.” The stranger let out a low, husky purr as he continued lapping at the dark red droplets of blood oozing up from the cut on T'Challa's palm.
A breathless gasp escaped T'Challa's lips.
He's going to EAT me.
The realization crashed through his mind, a bright, loud flare of alarm. Danger, screamed some sort of prey instinct buried deep within the most primal part of him. He knew without a doubt that this man - this spirit - was mortally dangerous. T’Challa’s very soul was in peril.
But the man must have bewitched him somehow. T’Challa knew that he ought to run screaming in the other direction, but his legs had gone weak. They could barely even hold him upright. All he could do was stare at the man, unable to tear his eyes away from his handsome features, his strong jaw, his beautiful dark eyes fixed on T’Challa’s own.
A friendly, amused, knowing smile spread across the other man’s face. His lips curled up into a smirk, revealing a flash of too-sharp canines, teeth which stood out stark-white in the dark night.
“Why don't you come home with me,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “My house isn’t far away from here. You look so cold and tired. You can spend the night there, and I'll take you down the mountain in the morning.” The man’s voice was dark and alluring.
“N-no," T'Challa said, barely above a whisper. Even to his own ears, he sounded shaky and terrified. "No, I, I think I'll just be on my way."
"Don't be foolish,” the man said. He hadn’t let go of T’Challa’s wrist. “Do you even know where you are? You’ll freeze to death out here. It gets very cold so high up in the mountains at night. Cold - and dangerous.”
T‘Challa’s shiver just served to amuse the man further. His smile widened, and his gaze was now outright predatory.
T'Challa made a last, half-hearted effort to squirm free. "Really, it's fine. I don't want to trouble you."
"Oh, it would be no trouble at all," the man purred. "In fact, it would be my pleasure to host you."
T'Challa swallowed. He wasn't a fool. The man himself was clearly dangerous, a supernatural being with unknown motives - but on the other hand, he was right. He would be in extreme danger out here on his own.
At that moment, the sound of howling broke through the still night. Just one wolf howl at first, then another and another, long mournful howls rising and falling in unison.
Bast.
Those howls sounded as if they were coming from somewhere quite close by.
T'Challa dithered, unable to make up his mind.
Then the stranger let go of T'Challa wrist, folded his hands into the long sleeves of his flowing white robe, and began walking off into the forest.
He didn't look back.
As T'Challa watched him depart, he suddenly discovered that his fear of the stranger was rather less intense than his fear of being left alone in the dark with hungry wolves.
"I - wait for me!" T'Challa exclaimed.
He pulled his tattered cloak around his shoulders, picked up his travelling case and then hurried to catch up.