Fic: Tears Of The Wolf 2
Tears Of The Wolf by PEJA
Summary: After colonization, the survivors were confined to camps. Several years later, a stranger is thrust onto the ex-agents. Fandom: X-Files Characters/Pairing (portrayed by): Time will tell. For now ensemble. Rating: FRT Prompt: Does Halloween count? Warnings: dark themes, AU, Genre: (General/hetero/slash)undecided, but leaning toward slash, Mulder/Krycek, Skinner/Krycek. Series or WIP: WIP Chapter 1 URL: http://www.squidge.org/~peja/cgi-bin/viewstory.php?sid=48522 Chapter number if WIP: Chapter 2 Sand-box [open series]: Y Permission to archive to WWOMB: Y Acknowledgments/Notes: This is the continuation of a tease I posted on LJ awhile back. Disclaimer. X-Files does not belong to me. no money made in this
The newcomer effortlessly ignored the general activity of the camp, his attention on the cooling body in his arms.
That was unless anyone attempted to get too close.
Then he would lift his head, his hair and face streaked in the blood and gore of his fallen companion, and bare his teeth, snapping his jaws in warning. The growl rumbling from his lips, non-human in any level of the word, sent more than one suicidal prisoner scrambling to get out of the wild man's claimed territory.
Several hours later, Fox Mulder sauntered, bold as brass, to the very edge of that invisible line the stranger had drawn in the dirt and hunkered down.
The newcomer crouched up on his hunches. He sneered through a harsh growl.
Mulder's lips peeled back in a identical snarl.
The stranger's head tilted up-wards. His nostrils flared, scenting the air, as he scrutinized Mulder through narrowed eyes.
Mulder tilted his head side-ways and winked.
The other blinked, startled.
"How come your not dead, Krycek?"
The wolf-man relaxed back onto the ground and tugged the body of his pack-mate into his lap. He stroked the coarse, blood-smeared coat and voiced a purely canine whine of distress.
"Is that were you've been all this time, Krycek?" Mulder asked softly. "Hiding out with that wolf?"
From a distance, a lonely yapping broke the silence of the camp.
The man tipped back his head, baying mournfully.
An answering bay sounded, and was picked up from several directions.
A dark glint reflected in the stranger's emerald gaze as he responded to the calls of his adopted kind.
True to his nature, Mulder wondered if man and beast were simply that, or if time and circumstances had blended to create something far darker. Something that waited in the distance. Something that was coming for the people still alive in the camp. Something from the very shadows of superstition.
The perversity of it sent chilblains through Mulder. He rose slowly to his feet, turned on his heel and beat a hasty retreat back to where his pod had gathered.