Howling in the Distance PV Ackerley Closed

The young man stood in front of the other man, his back slightly hunched over. The pain from the transformation just a mere time earlier made his muscles ache and his joints crack. His eyes fixed on the dark haired man's face as he looked through his coppery colored bangs that clung to his face, greasy and slightly dreaded it fell down to his chin. The young werewolf let out a low growl, that should not be possible for a humane creature, daring the other to step closer. Right after his transformation back to human the young ginger was at his weakest and he was not a pleasant sight, which he knew, seeing his mirror image look back at him whenever he stared down into a sea or a pit of water. He looked dirty and the term filthy animal would fit no one better than himself and the young werewolf knew, he knew and yet his situation prevented him from doing anything about it.

He had not cared, he long forgot to care about appearance, what began to count for him was survival and to stay away from the people and the whole wizarding kind, hidden in the Forbidden Forest that usually the wizards were not supposed to enter. This person in front of him however did not seem to care that there were creatures living here that would love a bite of him for breakfast. Stupid, Thurston thought as he tried to straighten his posture, staggering a little while doing so. His wand bound to his wrist by a strand of fabric, so that it laid snuggly against his wrist; some kind of makeshift wand holster so that he would not lose the only link to the wizarding world while running through the forest.

He had ignored the man at first, he had no right of intruding his territory and asking him questions, but not wanting to anger the wizard- as the werewolf really could not deal with a fight right now - he decided to raise his voice for the first time in years.

”What does it look like, human?” he half growled, his voice being raspy by the lack of use.

The young man with the russet red hair, stared ahead, to the dark haired man in front of him. The possible threat that could kill him with ease if he showed any sign of weakness; a sign of weakness the young man could not allow himself. Never. They would use it against him, force him into submission and tracking his every step. The young man could not allow that, if he would it meant his end. The black haired, pale man could be his end and no matter how weak he was, he could not show it.

rough night…

Thurston could not help but snort. A small sound that showed his distaste in the humans choice of word. A sound that hurt in his throat, but the young man kept his face straight, not allowing it to scrunch up at the unpleasant feeling that. the snort left behind. It feels worse than having a cough, it felt like swallowing daggers. For years he only used his voice to imitate the sounds of a predator, spending most time in his animagus form. Once in it he could not find a way back. He changed by luck but the full moon always brought him back. Reminding him of what he truly was, that he did not belong here. But if he would leave the forest they would show him that he did not belonged with them either. That he was all alone and that this was perfect.

No one who would be able to hurt him. No one able to judge him by facts but most importantly there was no one who could get hurt because of him.

The young man knew his mind was messed up, or did he? Did he truly know how far his issues reached, raking through him like roots through the ground, anchoring his doubts and fears. The young man found it hilarious, that man, this stranger thought to know him? After seeing him for what, a second? He knew nothing. Rough night? Was he joking? He went through hell and survived; he could survive this too. He had to and if it came to an end he could still flee. He wasn't to hurt him, he could not or he would have to face prison. No matter how unimportant he was nowadays, the Ministry would hunt him down.

When the stranger extended a hand into his general direction, the young man bared his teeth in a snarl. His right hand flew to his left wrist, retrieving the wand from its fabric holster, before pointing it at the unarmed man who had been stupid enough to pocket his own weapon. But Thurston wasn't one to fight, especially not in such a condition. The grip on the wand tightened until his knuckles turned white but still his grip seemed to slip. His hand shaking as he stared at the man, Ackerley, who had moved away, showing him his back. Pathetic, doesn't he know better than to show his back to someone he doesn't know? Or did he thought Thurston was too weak?

He could simply kill him now. He could, it would be simple. One spell, just one. But he couldn't. His hand was shaking and his mind was all over the place. He wanted to scream, to run and flee. He wanted to be far away from humans but he also longed for acceptance.
With a last trembled his hand dropped to his side, the wand loosely held between his fingers as a wave of emotion collided within Thurston. He felt like drowning and suffocating, as his gaze fixed on the man's hand that was still outstretched, tempting him to trust.

Would he be able to trust him? His instincts screamed against him, pushing him away while his mind drew him closer and after standing there for what felt like eternity, the young man took a step forward and then another one.

Walking would stretch the long healed gashes of a wolf that had tried to kill him in and attempt to save him. A werewolf that indeed took wolfsbane but had lost control for only a second. A second that changed Thurston's life for eternity. In an attempt to redeem its fault and guilt the werewolf had tried to kill him afterwards, but Thurston survived and in the end did not regret that he survived. Still the scars stretched over his lower neck and collar bone, while a necklace wrapped around the young man's neck. It was not meant to look pretty, it was meant to give him a memory, so that he would never forget. A reminder of the beast that had changed his life in ways he could have never imagined.

Small rustling of leaves under his bare feet would alert the black haired man if he was paying attention, as Thurston tentatively took a step into his direction.

”Why should I trust you?” he would ask, his tone rough, his sound defensive.

The young werewolf stared at the man's back, calculating his every move. Thurston would not even blink sometimes, afraid that right in that moment he would give his opponent the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard. He would just stand there now, his wand still held between his thumb and pointer finger, ready to be raised if he should have to defend himself. While his magic was rusty and his knowledge of spells was limited by the five years he visited Hogwarts, he could still defend himself; better than with the condition his body was in currently. Magic would bring him further in this fight than his body could at this point and it would be too reckless to start a fight with someone like the taller man. He would be missed so Thurston could not rely on his instincts, he could not just attack him because they would notice and they would find him.

Thurston never got himself registered in the Ministry, so should he be found they would ship him off to Askaban without batting an eyelash. He would be dead meat. This whole scenario promised danger. However if he would not go with that man he also might notify the Ministry about a werewolf close to the school grounds. No matter what he did, the safest way for him and the way he would most likely survive the easiest would be to accompany the stranger and to flee when the other was expecting it the least. If he was lucky enough the man was under-educated enough to leave him be.

But the other was right in one point. The werewolf had no reason to trust the man, none at all. He could be a hunter or worse. Thurston narrowed his eyes warily, the ember in his eyes looking slightly dull as he knew nothing but the serious life he had to survive in the Forest. It was not easy and it never was…. If anything it had been more difficult back when he was younger and inexperienced. He came from a rich family and it was a long fall before he crashed down and ended up without a place he could call his. This had always been weird for the young werewolf, even now and alone the thought of his parents made his face go blank. He had no emotions for them, no tears. He had lost that ability one week after he had to fight on his own. Tears led to nothing but attention and he did not want their pathetic glances. He did not want to see them usher hushed whispers behind held up hands. No one had helped him when he walked barefooted over the sidewalk or asked for some spare pennies, so the young boy learned to provide for himself. He learned how to hunt or how to build traps to place them in the forest, but he was always careful for what he hunted. He never would take away a mother turning an animal into a runt. Hunting became easier when he found himself trapped in his animagus form, at least after he figured out how he had to move around and how to survive.

But then he blinked for one second, before fixing his eyes on the male again. If he had no gain through all this, why would he do all this? Going as far as offering a stray a place to go to. This seemed surreal and weird to the young werewolf. It must be a trap but then again did he truly have a say in all this? It was smart to tag along, it would be easier to survive and living in the castle was the best way to hide away from the Ministry. It usually kept away from the old castle as much as they could, while they often had to interrogate someone in the Forest. He was not the only werewolf that lived there or creature that's it; but he was one of the few rogues that walked without pack. Thurston never planned to belong to a pack as he had too much pride to start as an omega and too little trust to rely on others. But still some attacked humans so the Ministry liked to pay the Forest a visit now or then during which Thurston had to hide from their profit greedy paws.

Again the young man wondered why he should trust the other man who looked nothing but confident in what he was doing. He wanted to say something to respond to Ackerley, at least that was how he had introduced himself, but but noticed a movement in his peripheral vision; the man had extended his hand once again making the werewolf tense up slightly. With a cold look he hid his dirt covered hands behind his back and stared the man into the eyes, having to raise his chin a bit to do so.

”Do not touch me. Lead the way-”

The young man did not want skin contact, he was nervous. For years no one had been that close to him; for years he had not been close to anyone and the thought of someone breaking him out of his familiar environment let panic rise in the ginger haired man. Was the man safe? He wondered but he could not know and he told himself to never forget that. If his family was able to abandon him so was the rest of the world. It would be even easier for them they would not have any pride to lose in kicking out a damn stray.

”What do you teach?”