Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Benevolent Infiltration

Dornwich, a human village

Cas wasn’t always a wanderer. He wasn’t always a king, either.

He had been dubbed many names over the decades, ones he was quite proud of. Alpha Casimir Olwen of the Whitecrown, first and foremost, of course, or Casimir the Conqueror, or Casimir the Content.

Other names, however…were not so flattering. Casimir the Coward, the Leader Who Left. Just terrible labels thought up by a distressed pack he left behind. He betrayed them, and in turn, they shunned him for the rest of their mortal lives.

It was morbid to think that one day the tales of his deeds, good and bad—hopefully just good if he was really hoping for himself to not be a cautionary warning to each younger generation—would be lost on the tongues of the dead. The wolves who knew and remembered him would eventually die while he lived on.

Cas was no longer on a pedestal guarded by dozens who loved him. As of ten years ago, he was standing in the rubble, surrounded by the same dozens now filled with ache, anger, and mistrust. It was a harsh, lonely life.

What am I even looking for? he wondered day in and day out, seemingly traveling from one end of the earth to another. Of course, that would take much longer than ten years, but when you had forever, anything was possible. A mate? A will to live? Enough purpose to start a new pack from scratch?

He tried once, halfheartedly. But he was infamous. Even if a wolf was to agree to become his first packmate, as soon as they knew who he was, they proclaimed they’d rather keep being alone. How hurtful. How irksome.

Rejected by the wolf world, Cas eventually tested the waters of the human world. The secret rivalry was hundreds of years old between the two races, but what had been territorial wars was now tentative peace sealed by hate and fear on both sides. Alphas of packs long-gone made pacts with human leaders defining whose territory was whose; humans offered livestock in exchange for protection from bears; wolves promised not to kill if that promise was reciprocated.

The fear of each other’s weapons—teeth over spears, claws against swords—kept them from interacting for at least two hundred years.

Cas often wondered if the legends of wolves spoken by human tongues were true to history, or if liberties had been taken. He strictly forbade his pack, just like the generations before him, from seeking even a single human—just out of precaution. If they were violent, he couldn’t risk a single life.

But now that he was alone and titleless, exhausted with his existence, could he explore the man instead of the wolf? Could he find a home in a village instead of a tent in the forest?

Ten years was a long time to not settle. Cas had been through multiple human towns, but he had been nothing more than a thief—steal food in the night, swipe clothes off lines, nap in warm barns during the winter. Maybe it was time to become a working member of their society. He prided himself on his code of honesty—honest words, honest work.

He would not be named Casimir the Crook.

Cas had been considering one of the human villages to visit. He’d been unsure—until the run-in with Alarik that made him decide at that moment to leave behind the wolf. That was why he was heading south.

He didn’t know its name, just that it was relatively large and well-established. Its largeness benefited him by being able to lose himself in the crowd, but the thing with existing communities was that everyone knew everyone, and anonymity became difficult when rumors spread.

Ah, well. Might as well risk it. And he would get a good start showing up naked.

Cas didn’t waste time walking; he used his wolf body to fly through the forest and past its edge, across unfamiliar and uninhibited fields, until he crested a hill and there—a sprawling maze of masonry buildings and dirt streets populated by little humans.

There was a long path leading out of the town. Cas squinted to see a single-file group moving down it. He could tag along to its tail to avoid being a lone naked man. It would cause too much of a stir to show up between two buildings from the perimeter. He didn’t want to steal if he could help it, nor would he appear in the night, indeed like a coward and crook. And he certainly couldn’t show up anywhere at any time in the form of a massive wolf.

Before he could be spotted, Cas shifted into his base form, the sun already baking his exposed skin. All wolves were comfortable in their naked flesh, but they were still capable of being self-conscious. Accidentally seeing your cousin was one kind of embarrassment, but going forward into an entire village of an “enemy” species was another.

The travelers of young and old were accompanied by large wagons, horses, sheep, and cows. There was certainly a name for the group, but how would Casimir know it? At least the human tongue was spoken by wolves as well.

There was no way to be sneaky about it. They were surrounded by an open field. Cas’s only choice was to start walking toward them while coming up with a story about why he was exposing himself to old women and children.

At the end of the line, armed with swords at their belts, were three adult males—men. They saw Cas first. “Halt!” they yelled, drawing their weapons and pointing them straight at him.

He and the line came to a stop. Cas raised his hands in surrender, unable to hide his surprise. He didn’t like abusing his—former—title, but he did think, Why are you aiming a sword at a king?

Then he shook his head and reminded himself, Not a king. Just pretend to not even be a wolf.

He had to admit, that didn’t entirely sit well with him.

“I mean no harm,” he called back, realizing belatedly that he should be raising only one hand. “I just hoped to ask for clothes and enter town.”

The line was jostling with curious bodies and curious voices—mothers shielding as many young ones as possible. Men stalked toward him, Cas recognizing immediately the palpable desire to protect their own.

One of them disappeared into a wagon, emerging a second later with a pair of pants. He was decently muscled for a human, his free hand also gripping a sword. He fearlessly approached Cas and tossed him the pants. “Take those,” he said gruffly, “and don’t disrupt my caravan.”

So that’s what it’s called. Cas dipped his head at the apparent leader, shimmying into the tight-fitting trousers; they barely fit over his thighs. “Thank you. I will stay back.”

The man looked him up and down with a fantastic frown. Then he grunted and waved an arm. The caravan started to move. The three men with swords did not lower their guard even as Cas remained rooted to the spot.

He waited a minute before starting forward just as a courtesy. From there, it was another few minutes of walking before he reached the gated fence of the town—a waist-high stone wall with a swing-open wood gate. Carved into one of the stones was the word “Dornwich.”

There were guards in strange metal clothes with swords and spears stationed at the entrance. Having let the rest of the caravan through, they turned judgmental eyes on the scarcely-dressed man. “You a part of them too?” one asked with a raised brow.

“With them? Not exactly, but a benign traveler nonetheless,” Cas said with his best charming grin. “Hoping to work my way into food and shelter.”

The second man was skeptical. “A traveler with no supplies. Were you robbed or something?”

“You could say that.” Robbed myself of everything because I ripped my flesh and bone into a different creature, he thought wryly. “I offer my able body to anyone willing to offer basic needs.”

Cas hoped his simple want was harmless enough for them to admit his strange appearance. He knew humans were wary of unusually large bodies like his—though he discovered it didn’t hurt with the women.

They exchanged glances and shrugged. “Fine,” said the first. “The butcher shop three buildings down on the left is looking for help.”

He bowed at the waist unsure if that was how humans showed gratitude. “Thank you, good men.”

Cas stepped beyond the threshold. Benevolent infiltration: step one complete.

Dornwich was bustling with activity, not unlike wolf camps. The large buildings of wood and stone, clothing, and diversity of appearances were quite a change, of course. Scents were overpowering, nearly blinding him as he tried to distinguish them while he took in all the sights.

He attracted stares immediately. Being twice the size of the men in height and muscle—blatantly exposed from the waist up—had its benefits as well as drawbacks. He met each gaze and found men as equally flustered as the women. When he located the butcher shop indicated by the sign of a headless pig, a woman rushed in front of him, panting as if she’d run.

She was black-haired and blue-eyed, pretty for a human. “Handsome stranger, can I overstep and offer any service?”

Called a handsome stranger twice in one day, he thought, my, what a change. “I am in search of food and lodging, beautiful stranger,” Cas said with a widening smile.

She blushed. “My name is Freya, sir, and I work the farm down the way and in need of—”

“I accept.”

“Really?” she blurted, blushing deeper.

“Really,” he said with a chuckle. “My name is Cas.”

Freya beamed, “Welcome to Dornwich, Cas. Come see my family’s farm.”

***

Before Cas knew it, a week had passed.

Freya and her family had made him feel nothing but welcome and before long had introduced him to what felt like the entire village. He spent mornings and days working the field or tending to livestock and nights in one of the taverns. Wolf packs shared little resources but temples to the Moon Goddess and a store of honey ale. Humans, he discovered wonderfully, were more creative than just honey.

They were very good at storytelling as well. After rowdy toasts of thanks for fine meals, the air grew attentive as the elders spun true stories and legends, sometimes even singing long into the night.

Cas often listened with Freya on his lap. She had taken a quick liking to him, and he didn’t mind the affection after being deprived of it for years. Luckily she respected the boundaries he gently established after attempting more than just a kiss on their third evening. No matter how amicable he or she was, he was still a wolf, and he couldn’t be fully accepting of humans. In this case, he saw everyone as simply as a body to enjoy looking at.

And then another week passed, and Cas realized that every night he lay in the bed of Freya’s spare room, he wondered if all of this was too good to be true. He found himself actually happy here. Who would have thought he, a fearsome wolf and former Alpha pack leader, would enjoy living amongst humans?

He did a fair job of it, too, adapting to a completely different life. But did he like it enough to stretch these two weeks into years?

Maybe. At least he’d come to make tentative friends. An elder finished his story, and one of them, Wren, turned to Cas, lifting up his mug. “Cas! You’re a traveler. Tell us of your travels!”

A couple of others goaded him on with cheers, Freya joining, as Cas laughed and shook his head. “No, no,” he protested, unable to fight a smile as several stories jumped to mind, “my wandering days are anything but exciting.”

Wren scoffed. “C’mon, you liar! The forest out there is huge! Did you ever come across a wolf?”

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