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bedlamsbardI have no explanation. None at all, really. Well. One could, of course, look here, but it's kind of, uh, developed a vague plot since then. Suffice it to say that Peter is the leader of a werewolf pack, and also a college student, and Caspian is a transfer student and a secret werewolf who used to be a hunter until he became One of THEM, and Miraz is Caspian's uncle (like, uh, in canon) who raised him and came to town hunting werewolves and also his runaway nephew.
The pack had formed a loose circle around the two fighting wolves, the air rent by the sound of sharp barks and low growls. Susan looked anxiously at Edmund, but all he could do was shake his head. He'd already done all he could.
Out of nowhere a third wolf bulled through the pack and between the two fighters, shoving them away from each other. He turned in a slow circle, teeth bared, moonlight washing his brindled fur in gold.
"Back off," Peter snarled. "This is my pack and I won't tolerate any of this. Try it again and it'll be me you're fighting."
***
Caspian felt the fear pool up in the pit of his stomach as the car pulled up beside him, then the passenger side window rolled down and Peter Pevensie said, grinning, "Wet night for a walk. Want a ride?"
"I don't want to put you out," Caspian said warily, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Peter was harmless.
"No bother," Peter said. "I'm just going to pick up my sister from cheer practice; she'll be excited to meet someone new."
"Susan?" Caspian asked, reaching for the door handle.
"No, my other sister, Lucy," Peter said, pulling the car back into the street as Caspian settled into his seat. "Her car's in the shop, so I'm back on chauffeur duty until it's fixed. Fortunately my classes line up with the high school's."
"I didn't know you had another sister," Caspian said.
"The things you don't know about me could fill a book, I'm sure," Peter said, grinning goodnaturedly to take the sting out. "Where did you say you transferred from again?"
"I didn't," Caspian said. "Say, I mean."
"Mmm," Peter said consideringly, turning right onto Walnut Street. They were just passing First when the car hit them.
***
He woke to the scent of blood rank in his nostrils and a pounding headache. Caspian opened his eyes to find himself handcuffed to a chair, Peter across from him, head slumped down over his chest and blood matting his hair.
"What?" Caspian whispered anxiously, and Peter raised his head, eyes bloodshot.
He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye before the man moved into his field of vision. "Hello, Caspian," his uncle Miraz said. "I've been looking for you."
"Get away from me," Caspian hissed, but Miraz ignored him, moving towards Peter.
"You led me straight to them, you know," he said. "Not bad -- for an amateur. I've been looking for this pack for a long time."
"Pack?" Caspian repeated. "What do you mean --"
"I know what you are," Peter said, looking up at Miraz. "You're a hunter."
"And you're prey. What do you think of that, little wolf?"
"I think you should stay away from my pack," Peter said, "if you know what's good for you." He bared his teeth in warning.
Miraz leaned in towards him. "No," he said, and turned away. "Can I uncuff you, Caspian, or will you try to run again?"
Caspian swallowed. Over Miraz's shoulder, Peter's eyes fixed on him, cold and calculating. "We both know how much you hate wolves," he said, aware that his voice was shaking. "You'd better keep me cuffed."
Miraz's eyes widened, then he held up his hand, letting the silver chain looped around his wrist drop down into his palm. Peter let out a low growl at the sight of it.
"Uncle, please," Caspian whispered, trying to move back from the silver as Miraz reached for him. "Uncle, please, don't --"
Miraz caught his chin in one hand and Caspian screamed, the silver burning its way through skin and flesh straight to bone. "You're no blood of mine," he said, and let go of Caspian with a jerk.
Caspian heard his own breath rasp in his throat, painful and scared, as he hung his head. He couldn't get his eyes to focus.
"You don't want to do that," Peter said softly.
"Why not?" Miraz said. "He's no kin of yours."
"He's in my town," Peter said. "As far as I'm concerned, that makes him pack."
***
Caspian got as far as saying, "Thank --" before Peter's fist collided with his face.
"You brought him here," he snarled.
"But you --" Caspian began, clutching his jaw.
"My family's here!" Peter shouted. "Hunt me if you want, but you brought that bastard down on my family. Do you know what it's like to run and run and never stop?"
"Yes," Caspian said, and Peter scowled, vicious and violent.
"You would, hunter," he snapped, and turned away, hands raking his hair. "My family," he said again, softly. "My family. What do I do now?"
***
"Where are we going?" Caspian asked, sitting down heavily on a park bench.
"I'm trying to figure that out," Peter said. In the pale morning daylight, he looked tired and worn, face thin and hollow, with a red weal across his cheek where Miraz had hit him.
"Not back to your pack?"
"No," Peter said, and looked horrified at the suggestion.
"Why not?" Caspian asked, too tired for riddles.
"Come here," Peter said, and when Caspian looked up, startled, Peter caught his hand and guided it to the back of his neck. There was a lump against his fingers, between the knobs of his spine, but Caspian was more interested by the feel of Peter's skin, the way he smelled. He wanted --
He jerked his hand away fast, cheeks burning. It wasn't real. It was just pheromones, the wolf in him reacting to the wolf in Peter, something crude and animal and inhuman. "What is it?" he asked, hoping his voice wasn't shaking the way he thought it was.
"It's a tracker," Peter said. "You've got one too. Your uncle's good," he added grudgingly. "And vicious. I'm not leading him back to my family." He touched his own neck with one hand, and the movement highlighted the burn on his face.
Caspian looked away. "Will they know you're missing?"
"Lu will notice I didn't pick her up, and Su will make sure I didn't go home with anyone, and Ed will make sure I'm not still at school, and then they'll start looking."
"They know?" Caspian asked. "About...you?"
Peter gave him a bemused look. "Who do you think my pack is, Caspian?"
He blinked in surprise. "All of them? Your whole family?"
"My brother and sisters," Peter said, and didn't elaborate. "How did it happen to you?"
"A hunt," Caspian said. "My uncle and I got separated, and I was...hurt."
"When?"
He lowered his head and picked at the torn sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Three months ago."
Peter nodded. "I thought so," he said.
***
"Can I ask you something?" Caspian said.
"You can ask," Peter replied.
"How did you become a pack leader? It's not just your family," Caspian added hastily. "I've seen the rest of the pack."
Peter smiled, expression cold and vaguely bemused. "The traditional way," he said. "I killed the previous pack leader."
Caspian swallowed.
"Six years ago," Peter continued, vaguely introspective. "I was sixteen, and we'd been in town for all of two weeks."
"Why --"
Peter smiled again, utterly without humor. "I didn't like the way she looked at my brother," he said.
The pack had formed a loose circle around the two fighting wolves, the air rent by the sound of sharp barks and low growls. Susan looked anxiously at Edmund, but all he could do was shake his head. He'd already done all he could.
Out of nowhere a third wolf bulled through the pack and between the two fighters, shoving them away from each other. He turned in a slow circle, teeth bared, moonlight washing his brindled fur in gold.
"Back off," Peter snarled. "This is my pack and I won't tolerate any of this. Try it again and it'll be me you're fighting."
***
Caspian felt the fear pool up in the pit of his stomach as the car pulled up beside him, then the passenger side window rolled down and Peter Pevensie said, grinning, "Wet night for a walk. Want a ride?"
"I don't want to put you out," Caspian said warily, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Peter was harmless.
"No bother," Peter said. "I'm just going to pick up my sister from cheer practice; she'll be excited to meet someone new."
"Susan?" Caspian asked, reaching for the door handle.
"No, my other sister, Lucy," Peter said, pulling the car back into the street as Caspian settled into his seat. "Her car's in the shop, so I'm back on chauffeur duty until it's fixed. Fortunately my classes line up with the high school's."
"I didn't know you had another sister," Caspian said.
"The things you don't know about me could fill a book, I'm sure," Peter said, grinning goodnaturedly to take the sting out. "Where did you say you transferred from again?"
"I didn't," Caspian said. "Say, I mean."
"Mmm," Peter said consideringly, turning right onto Walnut Street. They were just passing First when the car hit them.
***
He woke to the scent of blood rank in his nostrils and a pounding headache. Caspian opened his eyes to find himself handcuffed to a chair, Peter across from him, head slumped down over his chest and blood matting his hair.
"What?" Caspian whispered anxiously, and Peter raised his head, eyes bloodshot.
He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye before the man moved into his field of vision. "Hello, Caspian," his uncle Miraz said. "I've been looking for you."
"Get away from me," Caspian hissed, but Miraz ignored him, moving towards Peter.
"You led me straight to them, you know," he said. "Not bad -- for an amateur. I've been looking for this pack for a long time."
"Pack?" Caspian repeated. "What do you mean --"
"I know what you are," Peter said, looking up at Miraz. "You're a hunter."
"And you're prey. What do you think of that, little wolf?"
"I think you should stay away from my pack," Peter said, "if you know what's good for you." He bared his teeth in warning.
Miraz leaned in towards him. "No," he said, and turned away. "Can I uncuff you, Caspian, or will you try to run again?"
Caspian swallowed. Over Miraz's shoulder, Peter's eyes fixed on him, cold and calculating. "We both know how much you hate wolves," he said, aware that his voice was shaking. "You'd better keep me cuffed."
Miraz's eyes widened, then he held up his hand, letting the silver chain looped around his wrist drop down into his palm. Peter let out a low growl at the sight of it.
"Uncle, please," Caspian whispered, trying to move back from the silver as Miraz reached for him. "Uncle, please, don't --"
Miraz caught his chin in one hand and Caspian screamed, the silver burning its way through skin and flesh straight to bone. "You're no blood of mine," he said, and let go of Caspian with a jerk.
Caspian heard his own breath rasp in his throat, painful and scared, as he hung his head. He couldn't get his eyes to focus.
"You don't want to do that," Peter said softly.
"Why not?" Miraz said. "He's no kin of yours."
"He's in my town," Peter said. "As far as I'm concerned, that makes him pack."
***
Caspian got as far as saying, "Thank --" before Peter's fist collided with his face.
"You brought him here," he snarled.
"But you --" Caspian began, clutching his jaw.
"My family's here!" Peter shouted. "Hunt me if you want, but you brought that bastard down on my family. Do you know what it's like to run and run and never stop?"
"Yes," Caspian said, and Peter scowled, vicious and violent.
"You would, hunter," he snapped, and turned away, hands raking his hair. "My family," he said again, softly. "My family. What do I do now?"
***
"Where are we going?" Caspian asked, sitting down heavily on a park bench.
"I'm trying to figure that out," Peter said. In the pale morning daylight, he looked tired and worn, face thin and hollow, with a red weal across his cheek where Miraz had hit him.
"Not back to your pack?"
"No," Peter said, and looked horrified at the suggestion.
"Why not?" Caspian asked, too tired for riddles.
"Come here," Peter said, and when Caspian looked up, startled, Peter caught his hand and guided it to the back of his neck. There was a lump against his fingers, between the knobs of his spine, but Caspian was more interested by the feel of Peter's skin, the way he smelled. He wanted --
He jerked his hand away fast, cheeks burning. It wasn't real. It was just pheromones, the wolf in him reacting to the wolf in Peter, something crude and animal and inhuman. "What is it?" he asked, hoping his voice wasn't shaking the way he thought it was.
"It's a tracker," Peter said. "You've got one too. Your uncle's good," he added grudgingly. "And vicious. I'm not leading him back to my family." He touched his own neck with one hand, and the movement highlighted the burn on his face.
Caspian looked away. "Will they know you're missing?"
"Lu will notice I didn't pick her up, and Su will make sure I didn't go home with anyone, and Ed will make sure I'm not still at school, and then they'll start looking."
"They know?" Caspian asked. "About...you?"
Peter gave him a bemused look. "Who do you think my pack is, Caspian?"
He blinked in surprise. "All of them? Your whole family?"
"My brother and sisters," Peter said, and didn't elaborate. "How did it happen to you?"
"A hunt," Caspian said. "My uncle and I got separated, and I was...hurt."
"When?"
He lowered his head and picked at the torn sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Three months ago."
Peter nodded. "I thought so," he said.
***
"Can I ask you something?" Caspian said.
"You can ask," Peter replied.
"How did you become a pack leader? It's not just your family," Caspian added hastily. "I've seen the rest of the pack."
Peter smiled, expression cold and vaguely bemused. "The traditional way," he said. "I killed the previous pack leader."
Caspian swallowed.
"Six years ago," Peter continued, vaguely introspective. "I was sixteen, and we'd been in town for all of two weeks."
"Why --"
Peter smiled again, utterly without humor. "I didn't like the way she looked at my brother," he said.