Chapter Text
A smile fell onto Eoin’s face as Paddy returned, carrying a baton that he had stolen from the military police and a deep gash running down his arm. The dried blood snaked down to his wrist and peeled off as the harsh sand was blown into it.
“Welcome home,” Eoin said. As he tried to inspect the wound, Paddy waved him away.
“Those bastards had it coming,” he scoffed. Deciding to grab some of the soup, that seemed more like murky water, to try and get Eoin distracted. It didn’t work as he stood tapping his foot.
“They’ll hang you one day.”
“They’ve tried.” Paddy explained, shaking his head, this not being the first time they had that exact conversation. He slumped down into a seat, letting the thin tent above shield him from the blistering sun. He avoided Eoin’s gaze that stayed piercing into him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes as Paddy carefully placed down the stolen baton next to him.
“And what if next time you get us both in trouble.” Eoin asked, it made Paddy freeze “When night falls and they shoot the other part of me and I’m found dead in one of those cells?”
“No one is going to kill that wolf of yours.” he said harshly, his voice nearly raising to a yell. The other officers looked over and then dismissed the noise seeing it was Paddy. “I’ve seen what that thing is capable of and you know I wont let them.”
He leaned forward and locked eyes with Eoin. When he looked up he saw a smile forming on his face, shaking his head at Eoin tease. Any other officer who made a joke like that to him was either oblivious or stupid and would end up with a trip to the infirmary. Not Eoin, at some point he had gotten past that harsh shell that everyone else just butted heads with. He blamed it on the fact that they were both Irish and had a shoddy Sergeant in Commandos who gave them hell for it without even knowing about the wolf.
“Well, I’ll let the little guy know that he is safe,” Eoin said, failing to hold back a laugh. “but he does say that, that cut will get infected if you don’t let me look at it.” he nodded to the smear of dried blood on his arm and, with a sigh, Paddy placed down the soup and stood.
They stalked through camp, not saying a word to each other, both too focused on trying to find somewhere that wasn’t swarming with officers. Like usual, the only quiet place was a small radio tent next to the generator. The machine pumped hot stuffy air inside, making any officer needing the radio trek across the camp to the other one that they had.
Sweat was already running down Eoin’s forehead as he rolled up Paddy’s sleeve. His hot breath bounced against Paddy’s skin as he inspected the wound. “Someone left a message for you.” he said, pouring a canteen of water over the bloodied skin, letting it wash down and onto the ground, soaking the sand beneath them.
Paddy hummed in response. He guessed there was very little chance it was good message, knowing his own reputation. He chose to keep his eyes trained on Eoin as he held onto his arm.
“From a ‘Sterling’ something about parachutes.” he said. Then, after pausing for a second to meet Paddy’s gaze, he asked “ready?”
Paddy nodded as a silence overtook the tent. Taking in a slow deep breath Eoin closed his eyes. Then he let out a low hum. It rumbled through Paddy, the low vibration running up his arm, echoing through his head. It was followed by a golden spiral that ran from Eoin’s hands then up Paddy’s arm, cleaning away the wound like it was ridding the skin from infection. It glowed on his arm and coiled around his shoulder. Then it sunk into his skin as Eoin went quiet.
The gash was gone, only being known by the few small specs of dried blood that hadn’t been fully wiped off. Eoin opened his eyes, the bright yellow of the wolf shining in them for a second before they returned to normal. Though he had seen it many times, Paddy’s eyes were still wide with amazement as he rolled his arm, the pain now gone.
“Said to meet him at the club tonight.” Eoin continued as they hurried out of the tent, a wave of fresh air washing over them. Paddy was still rubbing his arm where the cut used to be, tracing the turns that the golden swirls had taken on his skin.
The night plunged the desert into a cool spell now that the sun was below the horizon. Their two cots barely fitted in their tent and forced them to be pushed against the edges. Eoin was curled in on himself as he tried to sleep, wearing an extra shirt to try and ward of the chill of the night. The voices of drunk officers echoed through the camp.
Paddy was still awake, squinting to attempt to read his own uneven handwriting in the dark. He had made a habit of staying up waiting for Eoin to sleep. Part of it was to make sure that no one would find out and he could keep Eoin awake if there were other officers poking around. The other part was that he was fascinated by the wolf that was brought out by the night.
He never saw it come. He was either looking away or blinking when it happened. There was also the possibility that whatever magic Eoin had was also forcing him to black out. Not like Paddy had ever fretted over it.
One moment the tent was empty, with a calm quiet running through it, only being broken by Eoin’s long breaths as he fell to sleep. Then a low growl rippled through the air. The wolf took up the space in the tent. It towered over Paddy. Long legs that pushed it against the roof, deep black fur that made it sink into the darkness and piercing yellow eyes that glowed in the dim light. It bared its teeth.
“There you are Eoin.” Paddy whispered, closing his book as a smile fell into his face. The wolfs eyes softened as it rested its head into his lap. It let out a low whine as Paddy began to scratch it between the ears. Its tail wagged and brushed against Eoin’s sleeping body where it had emerged from. Though one was a wolf, Paddy always found them unmistakable similar. The friendly optimism and enthusiasm that he himself lacked were present in both Eoin and his wolf.
As the wolf sniffed at where the wound used to be on Paddy’s arm he leaned back in his own bed. The instant his head hit his pillow the lull of sleep dragged him closer. As he started to see images of home and the green fields of Ireland, he was brought back awake by a scratching sound. The wolf was pawing at the end of his bed, denting it with its claws and its teeth.
Paddy knew that the wolf was impatient as he himself shared the sentiment. It had been a while since they had been on the battlefield or since the wolf itself had been aloud to roam. Paddy had seen the wolf within Eoin when they were fighting, the glowing eyes and the bared teeth and a fire that, at first, he was surprised the catholic boy possessed. Paddy had first heard about the Wolfwalkers from his mother and had been convinced that he was one himself, but after many nights of sleeping in the woods waiting to turn he dismissed the idea that they were even real. That was till he joined the Ulster Riffles and a wolf had attacked him the first night when he had caught it.
“Eoin?” he whispered to the wolf, who only replied with a whine and didn’t stop. Paddy shuffled to the edge of his bed and patted the space next to him. The wolfs ears perked up as it looked up to Paddy, tilting it’s head. “C’mon.”
Before he finished talking the wolf leapt onto the bed next to him. It licked his face a few times before settling into his arms. Paddy stroked the back of its neck slowly as he closed his eyes. It was only a moment before the wolf was jabbing its nose into Paddy’s arm insistently.
“I can’t let you out.” Paddy complained as the wolf’s ears flopped, looking up at him. Paddy had to turn away as he continued “most of the men out there are English, meaning that they are fucking savages and will shoot you on sight.”
The wolf dipped its head and continued to look at Paddy, digging its claws into the thin mattress and loose material of his shirt.
“What would you have me do?” Paddy asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows “waist my perfectly good evening where I could be getting on and writing my poetry?” The wolf let out a small bark in response, it was half a whine and made is sound like the wolf was crying. Paddy quickly clamped his hands over the wolf’s snout. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing as it started to shake its tail.
“If we are the idiots that are going to do something this reckless” Paddy said, the wolf already jumping of the bed and pacing the tent. “then we are going to do it properly.”
The wolf was still hurrying from one side of the tent to the other, jumping from each paw as it waited. “Eoin.” The wolf froze as Paddy spoke. “Sit, I am going to check if it’s clear.” the wolf followed and sat on the dusty ground where it was. It watched Paddy as he rose from the bed, his hand gracing against sleeping Eoin’s cheek before slipping open the tent entrance an inch.
On the far side of the camp was a blazing fire, the figures of officers dancing around it, their thrill yells floating over to their tent. Above them the half moon shone down and illuminated the dessert. Rows of tents stretched out next to theirs, they were all dark and were silent apart from the occasional muttering.
Paddy waited a moment, as if there was a whole squadron about to round the corner to catch them. It stayed quiet. He looked back at the wolf that was waiting patiently. He called it over and it rushed forward, peeking out the tent and positioning its chin on Paddy’s shoulder.
As he stood the wolf followed. He stalked behind the tent as they quickly made it to the edge of camp, the wold trotting beside him. Paddy let out a small sigh as he stretched and looked at the dark desert, the sand looking like a swearling ocean in the night. The wolf sprinted down the dune, kicking up a small storm of dirt, making its way to a small alcove of rocks and small dead plants. Paddy slowly plodded down behind it, his boots sinking into the sand. He smiled as the dark figure whipped around in the dark, only pausing occasionally to smell at something.
It let a blood curdling howl. Along with the song of the wolf was a screech that made Paddy shiver, the sound giving away the human that shared a life with the wolf.
Paddy joined in, letting out a bellowing howl of his own. He could only see the wold by its bright, glowing yellow eyes as it paused for a second to watch him. Then it continued, howling into the night.
The next day Eoin awoke with a smile on his face and was chipper all morning, more so than any man at ware should be. The other officers spoke of the haunting hound that was circling the camp. Most took it as a bad omen, Paddy did not as he took a swig of whisky before he finished his breakfast in an attempt to hide his exhaustion.