As Dakota was passing by the old mine, she caught a scent. Slowing her run, she cast about, searching the wind for details it could give her. What was a man doing hanging about an abandoned coal mine? Something he didn’t like – he stunk of fear.
She shook her head, telling herself that it was none of her business. Plus, she was out in the woods to get away from humans. Yet even as she started to turn away, something drew her back.
'kota girl, you know you always get in trouble running the woods at night. Hell, isn't that how you got into this mess?
She told herself to shut up, and started creeping through the trees towards the mine.
The wood here was second growth forest, full of low growing bushes, saplings and vines. It provided perfect cover, in an area that was practically her own backyard. As long as she was careful, she would see the man long before he saw her.
The closer she got, the more curious she was. Man, but like no man she had ever scented. There was something very different about him. More than that, she couldn't tell. The fear sweat was good at overwhelming more subtle scents. And even after 10 years a wolf, she was still learning.
She ducked under a low hanging branch, and crouched down. The branch practically touched the ground, and she loosened her jaw in a wolf-grin as she crept into the hide-out it created. Peering through the leaves she could see the man clearly.
Her jaw literally hit the ground. He stood in front of the mine, the few stars illuminating him clearly to her night friendly eyes. Naked from head to toe, except for some kind of loincloth or breechclout or whatever those things were called, head shaved except for a two inch tall Mohawk, and while she couldn't see color very well, she would have bet anything his skin was a perfect bronze.
All-in-all, he looked like he just walked off of the set of The Last Mohican, or something like that.
He also looked absolutely delicious . . .
Shaking her head, she pushed away the thought. It had been . . . far, far too long, but not matter how lickable this guy was, there were more important issues at the moment. Like what the hell was he doing way out here dressed in the next best thing to nothing.
She whined softly to herself, the human wanted to back away and disappear. She'd learned early not to mix in with stuff that wasn't her business. The wolf though . . . the wolf saw a stranger in her territory . . . After a few minutes, she compromised with herself.
Backing out from under the tree branch, she stretched and twisted until she stood once again on two legs. The magic of the change re-creating her clothing, and returning her hair to dozens of thin braids swirling around her shoulders.
As his fear faded, memories forced their way into his consciousness again. He forced them away. The villages were gone. The dead were dead. Never again would he be welcomed among the councils of the Kahnyen'kehàka. Never again hunt with his brothers or court a woman in the firelight.
His thoughts distracted him, and he didn't notice the stranger as she stepped out of the trees. When he looked up, she was halfway across the clearing.
Her clothing struck him first - leggings that were sewn together, with no breechclout. And made of no skin he knew of. And an . . . overdress that ended above her hips, with sleeves that barely covered her shoulders.
He pulled his gaze away from her clothes to look at her face. In the dark it was hard to see her clearly. Unlike the bright colors of her clothes, her skin was dark and faded into the night.
"Hello there."
Her words were strange, but he understood them. An informal greeting he had never heard before. The reply courtesy brought to his lips was another reminder of his shame.
"She:kon Sewakwe:kon, Skennenko:wa ken?"
Once again, present strangeness drove away pain from the past - as he spoke, the words twisted in his mouth, becoming strange to his ears, "I greet you and hope that you walk in the Great Peace."
Dakota stopped a few yards away from the stranger, there was definitely something strange about him. His words didn't line up with his mouth. Almost like the voice overs on old Bruce Lee movies. Never mind that she hadn't ever heard anyone talk that kind of formal except in bad fantasy novels and movies with knights and ladies.
"What are you?" she heard herself ask.
