Instinct

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Instinct: One for All
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Only someone with Shikon shards in his legs could run like Kouga could. On an average day, he created and raced with a tornado of air split by his speed; at his best, he outran the whirlwind and left it chasing his heels. It was exciting, it was wonderful, it was euphoria, and if it would bring his pack back from death, he’d sacrifice the two shards without a thought. Underneath all the blustering and attitude, Kouga was essentially a creature of the pack. It had broken his heart when the first wave of attacks from the Birds of Paradise devastated his people.

He’d thought he couldn’t feel any more hate after the harpies had killed his parents, but then the mothers limped back home. Those who were still alive, anyway. Four of the bitches died hopelessly defending their pups, and one who did get back followed her last pup into death from wounds and grief. The six remaining puppies had been half-mad from fear, and their mothers were exhausted and grieving by the time they’d made it back to the rest of the pack. He hadn’t understood why more hadn’t made it until he stood where they’d been cornered, in a rock canyon bare of shelter for even the smallest pup. Each demon bitch had fought desperately, but while she defended one pup, that left the rest exposed. He’d felt his own heart constrict at the terrible choice forced upon the mothers, and he considered the pack lucky that they’d gotten back as many pups as they did. They had enough casualties to mourn as it was.

One of his first acts as alpha wolf, besides dealing with the inevitable challengers, was to send the females into the mountains as soon as he decided the Birds of Paradise weren’t going to be defeated quickly. Because of the prosperity his father’s leadership had given the pack, half of the bitches were pregnant at the time, and he couldn’t afford the vulnerability. That, and the nightmare of more dead pups was something nobody in the tribe was willing to risk. The female wolves, demon or otherwise, went into the mountains to live with the elders. The way he figured it, the ones who weren’t pupped could hunt and assist those who were. Anyone who attacked the bitches thinking they were easy prey was going to get a nasty surprise, too; the only reason Kouga considered the females a liability was because of their pups. He counted on them to train the next generation of warriors and send them down to fight the harpies.

Once the pups were safe, Kouga moved the remains of the pack into a more defensible home, a cave under a waterfall. The Birds of Paradise had hit their previous home hard, and he wasn’t going to allow that again. The new place allowed the pack to keep their territory and still wage war on the harpies. A constant flow of wolves to and from the mountains gave him new fighters and a place to let the wounded and old rest, but the arrangement couldn’t last forever. He had to get rid of the harpies. The death of his parents he could have accepted, however bitterly, if an alliance could have been reached between the Birds and his pack; the harpies could have the air, the wolves the ground, and he could easily see how his pack could benefit from that arrangement. The Birds, however, had done the unforgivable in slaughtering mothers and younglings. There had to be war, and the only thing that was accomplished in 20 years of fighting was an ugly stalemate. The harpies ate his wolves, and his pack pulled down and killed what Birds they could.

Then the Shikon jewel shattered, and the stalemate broke.

It started with an aura of power. His wolves had nosed him awake before dawn, whining with excitement as they surrounded him. He usually slept in his straw “nest” with them, so he had assumed they just wanted to hunt earlier or something…but then, as the last of the grogginess cleared away, he felt it. Oh, every demon had felt that surge of electric energy yesterday afternoon, but that had been distant and much stronger. This was closer, weaker, and if he could feel it, so could the harpies.

His wolves had been right to wake him. Even before he’d put that first bright shard of pink into his calf, he’d been the fastest sprinter in the pack. Despite that speed, he’d been barely ahead of the Birds, and he’d had to fight his way free. He honestly didn’t know what prompted him to stab the shard into his right leg instead of arm, but he tended to fight more with his feet than hands when he didn’t have a metal weapon. Since he’d been in such a hurry, he’d left his sword behind. That left his feet, and with the first kick at the Birds, he knew he was on to something. Dear gods in the heavens, he had such power it blasted them to pieces and left him staring at his own leg in disbelief. He’d tried running at that point, but having a shard in only one leg made him absurdly lopsided.

The shard had been relocated to his arm, but the idea had already sprouted. Nobody knew what exactly had happened, but the Shikon jewel was broken. One shard was all it took to open him to the possibilities of more. His wolves ranged out, demon and natural joining the frantic search. It wasn’t a flippant greed for power; it was their lives. The Birds of Paradise were looking for shards, too, and the pack knew what would happen if the harpies got a hold on the Shikon’s power. The second shard was given straight to Kouga, and he slapped it into his leg.

And he ran.

It was like nothing he had ever done. It wasn’t just the speed, it was the knowledge that his legs could withstand anything. He’d gone from being a young chieftain trying to keep his pack alive to the most powerful demon in the area. His pack gradually shifted from hunted to hunter on the power of those shards alone. Some of his pack argued that he should split the shards between two people, but the first time he’d sped to the rescue of a hunting party under attack shut the dissenters up. The harpies simply couldn’t keep up with him, and it was an advantage that everyone could see. It also had to do somewhat with how wolves thought; the alpha was the protector, the one in control, and it was more natural to give him all the shards than split them among the other wolves.

But it didn’t matter to Kouga what it felt like to have that power, or the demonic greed for more that had immediately sprung up in him with the first shard. Inborn into him, stronger than any glowing jewel, was the need to keep his pack safe. He’d seen the way the shards warped the demons who kept them, but he was a fifth-generation alpha wolf. He was not as important as his pack. The pack’s welfare came first, and that, more than his fighting ability, was why he’d kept his position despite his youth. The elders in the mountains had wished for a more experienced, age-tempered demon to lead the pack, but his wolves had collectively denied that wish. They were his family now that he had none left, and they knew it--and they knew that if he led them into Hell, he’d fight them out again even at the expense of his life.

He’d only begun to understand later why Kagome had objected so much to being claimed as his woman, and he still hoped she’d come around to his way of thinking. He hadn’t been in love with her at first. He wasn’t due to rut and pick a mate for decades, but he’d picked her as his mate because it benefited the pack. At first she’d been a powerful tool to be used and discarded, but as soon as she started showing that iron backbone, her worth became evident. She was obviously of some status within that weird pack of hers, and he needed some way to tie her to his pack without losing that status; choosing her as his mate was a perfect solution. It was an honor for any female demon, and for a human, it was like taking a worm and making it queen. It showed the high esteem the pack held her in, and for a long time he simply couldn’t comprehend why she was protesting. He’d committed himself with a selflessness only a pack member possessed.

After his announcement, he’d noticed the little things that worked her into his heart: her captivating scent, her eyes--so large and clear, with an innocence he found charming--her odd solutions to difficult situations, her bravery, beauty, and loyalty. It hadn’t been hard to fall in love, and for some reason, her continuing denial of him made him want her that much more. It would have been easier if she could understand his pack mentality, but he still pursued her hopefully. If he could make her his mate, then she would help him find the Shikon jewel fragments.

The remains of his pack needed them. The Birds of Paradise were defeated, but the shards in his legs couldn’t take the place of all the warriors who’d died at Kagura’s hands. Kagura and Naraku had to die for the safety of the pack, a responsibility Kouga felt keenly, but after that? The females and half-grown pups in the mountains couldn’t return to the pack’s territory without the dead males to protect the area against encroachers. At least half of the females would never mate again; if it wasn’t loyalty to their dead husbands, it was the shortage of males still alive. Those that would accept another mate would have to pick a much younger spouse from the growing pups when they came of age, or try to find a mate among the other wolf tribes. While Kouga wished them luck, he knew that the females might end up leaving his pack for their mates’. That whittled away at the remaining tribe population, and that meant the pack had to lose territory. So many wolves could only hold so much land.

If he could get more Shikon shards, however, it meant that his pack could hold more territory. More territory meant more power and prestige, and he could lure warriors from other wolf clans into joining his pack. More hunters meant more food for the winters, and more females would become pregnant. More pups meant needing heavier protection for the home territory and possibly exposing the outer fringes to harassment, but pups were the best way to rebuild the pack’s numbers.

Something about that had occurred to him lately as Kagome’s determination to make the Shikon jewel whole again became clear; she might not give the jewel to the pack no matter if she was his mate or not…but she was the Shikon jewel priestess. Every demon had heard of her and her astonishing powers by now. Even if she was a human, she was respected and feared among demons, and her wide knowledge of medicines and scholastic intelligence could definitely come in handy for any pack. She could teach the demon pups, and maybe increase the number that made it through their first year. More importantly, while wolves often had large litters of puppies, humans bred more frequently. Having a tribe with a score of halfbreeds might make his pack something of a laughingstock, but they would grow more quickly and die out before a normal wolf demon. The next generation would be only a quarter human, anyway. Besides, he was the most powerful demon in the pack; if even half of his strength bred true, and some of Kagome’s power…it could create a halfbreed with the potential of a full demon of the pack.

In any case, pack was pack. His biggest problem with Inuyasha had been that the mutt was an obnoxious dog, not that he was a halfbreed. He didn’t know what the half-demon’s homelife had been like that he’d grown up into such a stunning example of why wolves disliked dogs, but it wouldn’t happen in the wolf tribes. Halfbreeds were still pack, useful in other things if they couldn’t be as powerful as the rest of the demons. The last halfbreed he could think of had been in the time of his grandfather; if he remembered the story right, the female had played nursemaid for the clan’s pups until she’d been killed while running with the wolves on patrol. He couldn’t remember what had killed her, but she’d been too young for pups of her own when she’d died. Her close rapport with the nondemon wolves was something still remembered among the pack, though, so he couldn’t imagine that having halfbreeds in the pack would be too bad a thing.

Except for one halfbreed in particular. It wasn’t even the dog part that made him bristle anymore.

Kouga growled into the wind and pushed himself harder. The whirlwind swirled around him, and usually that itself was enough to lighten his mood. There was nothing to compare to the feeling of running with power coursing through his legs.

The problem was that there was blood trickling down those same legs. Not only had the wound on his side reopened, but the need to limp was causing disruption in his tornado. The pain from his side had already given his stride an awkward lurch, but he’d compensated for worse. It was mostly a nasty flesh wound by now, but he knew he’d have trouble with bloodloss soon if he didn’t stop to bind it somehow. The scoring on his thigh hadn’t opened yet, but it hurt with every step. He should bandage that as well, before the scabs split.

The main reason for his limping, however, he couldn’t dress, and that made him hesitant to stop. *Dammit, if I don’t reach the pack before the mutt realizes they’re here…I don’t have time to stop! But if I show up looking like this, Ginta and Hakkaku will think I need help no matter what I say. Shit! Why does everything have to be going wrong today?!* As if he wasn’t going to have a hard enough time already! He could tell himself that nothing had changed between he and his pack, but he couldn’t be convincing with the evidence still drying white and red down his inner thighs. The alpha male had been thrown down. Long live the alpha male. *Fuck that--over my dead body will I let that cur lead my wolves!*

He suffered an uneasy twinge in his gut when he remembered that it had very nearly come to that.

The twist returned with a vengeance when he took a bracing breath. The expansion of his lungs caused a painful spike from his side, but worse hit him through his nose. *Dear gods. Is that my scent?* He checked his stride and sniffed at his whirlwind. *Ugh. I smell like…like…* He smelled, quite frankly, like Inuyasha’s bitch. There was semen, jealousy, and the reek of dog smeared possessively all over his body and armor, overpowering his own scent of blood and rage. The mutt’s claim was blatantly evident, and Kouga’s face flushed at what anyone with a nose could read off of him at this moment. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed before, but then, he hadn’t been thinking about his scent.

*I can’t show up smelling like this, or they’ll know right away what happened.* He slowed without thinking about it, already casting about for the scent of fresh water. There had to be a river or pond or something around here. A hint of wet and green tickled his nose, and he veered left, favoring his wounds. *Gotta make this quick.*

The scent led him to a tiny river, little more than a creek, but he splashed into the knee-deep water and sat down fully-clothed. As if to make up for his rotten luck lately, the stream had a sandy bottom, and he scooped up a double handful. The water was frigid, made colder by the night, and he directed a vivid curse toward Inuyasha as he scoured his skin and armor with the coarse sand. It was painful going when he had to turn against the tear in his side, and a thin current of darkness drifted downstream from him in the moon-scattered water. He cursed again when he noticed it. He hadn’t thought he’d been bleeding that much, but hopefully the cold water would at least help close the wound.

Ducking his head forward, he soaked his hair and scowled at the tangled mess. His headband had kept it out of his face as he’d run, but, free of his usual ponytail, the black mass had gleefully woven itself into a giant series of knots. He’d never had a problem with leaving his hair down until the Shikon shards had let him cause his first whirlwind. It was only vanity that had kept him from hacking it off then. From that experience, he knew it would probably be easier just to cut the snarled silk off completely than try and tame it. *But, hell. It’s not like I’ll be doing much for the next few days besides laying low and letting the dog use me whenever he feels like it.* His ears heated at the bluntness of that thought, but he used the crude truth as an excuse to scrub another couple handfuls of sand into his hair. He’d deal with it later; for now he just wanted to get rid of the stench covering him.

He held his breath and slid down until the water covered his face. Sand dispersed in a cloud as he shook his head violently, and he grabbed a fistful from the creek bed to use on the back of his neck where the dog had seized him. When he came up for air, he half-swam to the bank and snatched all the long grass within reach. This he crushed and rubbed wherever he could, inhaling the light, clean scent gratefully. It didn’t smell anything like Inuyasha, and for that he was glad.

Climbing soggily up onto the bank, he bent to shake himself off, spraying water everywhere with the careless abandon of all canines. His shaking ended with a hiss, however, as his side flared. *If I don’t do something about this now, it’s only going to heal wrong. I can at least clean it out…* He glanced up at the moon and waded over to the other side of the stream so he was in the strongest moonlight before turning his attention to the raw flesh. Now that he was wet, the night breeze chilled him to the bone, and he had to flex his fingers a couple times to get the joints warm enough to deal with the task at hand. With the unflinching resolution of someone used to treating his own wounds, Kouga began picking broken bits of his armor out of the bloody mess. He winced a few times, the awkward position of the wound making it difficult to access and the half-scabbed condition making the armor pieces stick unpleasantly. New sensations of warmth trailing down his cool skin told him that he’d ripped open scabs getting the bits of lacquer out.

*I hate repairing armor. The lacquer stinks.* Idly wondering if he could leave the busted armor for Hakkaku to work on, Kouga sniffed out a patch of greenery hiding among a cluster of water reeds. He didn’t know what the humans called the weeds, but they were a common remedy among the wolf tribes for wounds that were bloody but mostly just missing skin. Since he didn’t have any bandages with him, the weeds would have to do. He swallowed down some of the most mature leaves, making a face at the taste, then bit off the new green stalks and leaf-buds. They didn’t taste any better, but he kept chewing until he could spit the resulting gummy substance into his hand to dab onto his side. The stuff immediately began to congeal, and he wiped his hand off on his scabbed thigh, just in case the clawmarks broke open later.

That left one other wound to deal with.

He hesitated a long moment, torn between ignoring it or getting it over with. The tingling in his side finally decided him; although it wasn’t a painkiller, the weeds would at least take the edge off the ache. The less it hurt, the faster he could run.

Picking one of the plants, roots and all, he found a flat area of the bank. Although he hadn’t particularly cared until this moment, Kouga took several deep breaths and peered into the shadows suspiciously. The creek was lined by trees, but there was a tiny open meadow he stood in. He made sure it was empty of watchers before returning to the stream. Witnesses were the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. Kneeling in the mud at the very edge of the water, Kouga spread his knees and flipped his tail out of the way.

After a second of thought, he caught the furred appendage and doused it with a few handfuls of water, combing his fingers through the coarse fur to rid it of any last blood clots. His kilt was taken off, briskly rubbed together with some sand, and weighted down in the shallow water with a rock. The wolf demon scrubbed his hands down his inner thighs impatiently, washing away nonexistent stains. He couldn’t smell the cur anymore, but he still felt covered in the dog’s claim. Had he the time, he’d lie down in the creek and refuse to get out until he wrinkled into a raisin. Since he didn’t have that luxury, he hurriedly chewed a mouthful of greenery into gooey paste and spat it out into his palm. Using the hand opposite of his injured side, he dipped the first two fingers into the glop and brought them around to prod tentatively under his tail.

Tacky blood met the first touch, and he frowned. *It’s going to keep bleeding until I stop running long enough for the deepest splits to heal, I guess. Dammit. They’re going to wonder what happened already, and this is one bloodscent I do not want the wolves to sniff out. I’ve got to stop it from bleeding more, but how..?* The frown lightened into nervous nibbling on his abused bottom lip as he thought. He continued to spread the plant mash with careful swipes of his fingers, making sure the most painful of the cracks got an extra thick layer. His forefinger faltered as he decided on a solution, but he scooped another fingerful of pulp up before returning it to the small, wounded hole.

Slowly, face and ears turning bright red under the impassive moon, he worked his forefinger inside himself. The splits surrounding the tender area cracked, but the cold water had softened the scabs. He felt himself stretching, and he forced his finger in and out, turning it so the medicinal herb smeared his inner walls. When he brought the next fingerful in, it was easier this time. The splits felt scratchy against his calloused forefinger, letting him know where to smooth the goo, but the rough skin of his finger also seemed to ease an itch he hadn’t noticed inside him until it was soothed. The color in his cheeks faded a bit as he massaged the goo into the tiny wounds, most of his attention caught up in the weird sensation of muscled walls clamping around his finger. He would never have guessed that the fleeting touch of a nail dragging along the firm moistness would make him shiver…

*Is this what Inuyasha was doing to me?*

He snapped back into reality at the reminder of what the dog had done. His face flamed, and he quickly pulled his finger out and rinsed his hands in the water. Another survey of the trees showed no intruders to have seen his treatment of the shameful injury, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The wolf in him didn’t understand what his problem was, but the demon was blushing furiously. He freed his furs and shook most of the water off of them before wrapping them around his waist, pulling his tail loose. There was an odd crinkly feeling in his rear where half-healed, half-congealed splits protested his moving, but he squirmed and ignored it. He was damp all over, anyway, and he’d rather have let his side close more before running again.

That wasn’t an option, however, and he turned his nose to the wind without seeming to notice the way it cooled the water on his skin. There was no sign of the mutt, but that would be downwind. What he was looking for was the scent of wolf, and he found a very faint trace of it. *Shit. They’re closer than I thought they’d be. I’ve got to cut them off!*

He leapt into a run, heading for the straightest course to his pack. The moon was dropping slowly in the sky, and he didn’t know how long he’d have until Inuyasha noticed he was gone. All he knew was that he had to turn the wolves back before the dog destroyed them. *Kagome, if you never find out the lengths I’ve gone to keep you safe, I’ll be a happy demon.*

Cold, wet, and hurting inside his tornado, Kouga managed a wry smile.

The things he did for his pack…

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End Part Four
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For those of you wondering at the slightly lighter tone of this chapter, think about the times you’ve had to deal with stress in a hurry. Kouga can’t be furious all the time, and that leaves pain, fear, and bloodloss. Odd moments of humor seem to pop up in these situations. Remember, feedback keeps me interested in this story, and please let me know if there are any sites interested in this kind of thing. I usually am not so pushy asking for responses, but this really isn't my normal writing style.