hi y'all! I know I promised a quick update, but RL got the better of me. Anyways, here it is...

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Recap: Trying one last time to move only made clear that he was not going anywhere, since he could literally feel his ribs shift under his skin every time he tried to move his arms. The crack of a twig from the left drew his attention, and he looked up to see a shadow emerge from a cluster of trees not ten feet away. It plainly obvious that it was not the mad wolf; its movements were deliberate and silent, and it was much bigger. The wolf moved out of the shadows and walked through a shaft of moonlight, allowing him a glimpse of its dark, shaggy coat and its unmistakeably golden eyes.

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For the short moment before his brain caught up with his heart, Danny felt a rush of hope. Rafe was here. Rafe would take care of things, he always did.

Then the dark wolf bared its fangs and growled; a deep, low rumble that emanated from its throat and allowed no illusions as to its nature. His heart sank so fast that it almost made him sick. This was exactly what Rafe was afraid of, and his friend's words came back to him.

"… I don't want your blood on my hands…"

Danny did not want to die, but he was well aware of the fact that if Rafe did kill him in this form, he was the luckier of the two. The older boy would never be able to get over his guilt and self-loathing if such a thing did happen, and if only for that reason, he could not allow it to happen. Again, he cursed himself for not listening to Rafe, for his stubbornness, which now looked likely to hurt them both. Desperate, he pulled himself completely out of the water and half-crawled away from the approaching wolf.

"Rafe, it's me."

Every word took strength he did not have to spare, but to no avail. The wolf showed no sign of recognising him as it stepped closer and he was again caught in a losing game of cat and mouse as he backpedalled helplessly along the riverbank.

"Rafe, man, I know you can hear me. Stop, please."

Suddenly, the wolf lunged at him. It must have happened quicker than a flash, but to his eyes it seemed like it was all taking place in slow-motion; the wolf's graceful leap through the air, fangs bared and claws prepared, golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight. It knocked the air out of him when it landed on him, and Danny felt the weight of the beast almost press him down into the earth. He put his arms up around his face and neck in a pathetic attempt at a struggle, hoping at least to reduce the chances of the wolf catching his throat in a killing blow. So focused was Danny on prolonging his survival that he did not notice that the wolf had stepped off him almost as soon as it landed. Indeed, it was now standing over him, still growling, eyes fixed on something that was over his line of sight. He dared to turn around for a moment, in an attempt to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that agitated the wolf so, and noticed something moving within the cover of the trees that lined the bank. He could not see what it was, nor could he hear anything apart from this wolf's growls, but Danny was certain that whatever it was out there had probably been expecting an easy meal.

So he lay there, propped up on his elbows, under the protective form of the wolf, until the latter stopped its engine-like rumbling and gracefully stepped away from him. Whatever animal it was in the woods must have decided that it was not worth fighting the large wolf for the prospect of a meal; the thought made him smile a little. Since Rafe was the chief jock and therefore highest member of the pecking order in school, it made perfect sense that he would be right on top of the food chain in his wolf-form. More importantly, Rafe had protected him, as usual, even though he was not even human at the moment. He was safe.

The realisation brought with it such weariness and exhaustion that he sunk back into the soft, wet ground, suddenly aware of the blossoming pain in his side. His wet hair clung uncomfortably to his forehead, and when he reached up to brush it away, his fingers came back wet and warm with what could only be blood. With that realisation came an overwhelming sense of defeat; why should he bother trying when the odds were so clearly stacked against him? More than a little relieved at finding an excuse to let go, Danny sighed and let his eyes close.

"Hey Rafe," he whispered, not knowing whether the wolf could understand him, but not really caring either. "I'm gonna sleep for a while, okay?"

He took a quick glance at the wolf, who stood by his side looking just as ominous as ever, but felt no fear. Rafe was not a Labrador to pet and manhandle; he was wolf, and despite the fact that some part of him recognised Danny, he was as wild as the wind that blew through the trees. While he would not hurt him, Danny knew that it was unreasonable to expect him to come to him, tail wagging and begging to be petted, and that was his last thought before slipping into the darkness.

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Wetness.

That was what woke him from his unplanned slumber. Danny wondered how he managed to get wet in bed before remembering that he was very, very far from anything that could remotely be called a bed.

Rafe.

He forgot for a moment just how battered his body was, and sat up. It was testament to how numb the cold had made him that the resulting pain was somewhat bearable. For a while he saw nothing but darkness as his eyes adjusted to the meagre lighting afforded by the moonlight. The wolf was not in sight, and Danny was about to reach the conclusion that Rafe must have left when he caught a glimpse of those golden eyes watching him from the cover of the trees; the sight of which brought him a overwhelming measure of relief and gratitude. It was instinct that made him view the wolf as his guardian, despite the fact that any normal person would instinctively view such an animal in such circumstances as a threat; but this was the same Rafe who tried so very hard to protect him from everything despite being little more than a teenager himself. The same Rafe who had taken him under his wing when no one else would. The same Rafe whom he could not let down, not like this.

Taking advantage of the numbness, he pushed himself up onto his feet, all the while keeping an eye on the wolf, who in turn appeared to be keeping an eye on him. Danny would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if not for the fact that his legs were not listening to his brain; this attempt to walk left him looking like a colt learning to use its overlong and not-particularly-strong legs. The trouble he faced wobbling away from the riverbank made getting home from here seem impossible, so he focused all of his thoughts and energy into putting one foot in front of the other; it made what he was trying to do seem less monumental.

Danny looked up to see the dark figure of the wolf standing a few feet away from him on the incline, watching him. Without thinking, he veered in the direction of the wolf, only to see the lupine move just out of his grasp as he came closer. Not one to give up easily, he hobbled forward, and the wolf yet again moved just out of his reach. Just as he was about to curse his friend, Danny realised what he was doing; he was leading him up the incline, and hopefully, out of the forest. In his wolf form, because of his superior senses, Rafe would be able to pick out the path of least resistance. Guided by the wolf, his journey back up the incline was far less of a disaster than his descent; then again, almost anything would be better than that. The wolf bounded up the terrain effortlessly, and Danny imagined how frustrating it must be for the agile and sure-footed animal to wait for him when it could have conquered the incline a hundred times over in that time.

The very sticks, stones and plants that had so bruised him on his way down now provided him with handholds and footholds to leverage his way up. This was not to say that the ascent could remotely be described as easy; his chest burned with the mere effort of drawing breath and everytime he reached out to grab hold of a branch, it felt like what he supposed being stabbed in the side felt like. The side of his face was wet and sticky with what he pretended was sweat, and tried very hard not to think of the fact that he had not the slightest chance to make it out of the forest before his body succumbed to its wounds.

With one last graceful bound, the wolf leapt from the highest, almost concave point of the incline onto the flat edge of the forest plateau above it. Gracelessly, Danny followed, scrabbling up the edge on hands and knees were poor sunlight penetration had allowed the flourishing of lichen. It took all of his strength and energy to pull himself up onto the ledge, and when he finally flopped onto the flat ground he thought he saw what might have been a flash of pity in those golden eyes. It made him somewhat indignant as he slowly rose to his feet; he had managed to drag himself up a small cliff with broken ribs, for God's sake. He deserved applause, not pity. Wallowing in that indignation, he took several steps forward before his legs gave way and crashed face first into the underbrush. He managed to roll over onto his back and saw a sliver of moonlight peeking through the trees before slipping once more into darkness.

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Something wet and cold touched his cheek, immediately startling him into wakefulness. Danny opened his eyes to see the black wolf standing by his side, nose pressed against his cheek, nudging him gently. He lifted a hand to touch the wolf, but the animal immediately backed away. It took several tries for him to say "Hey, Rafe", and even then his voice was soft and hoarse. It was still dark, still cold and still devoid of any sign of human life, and he despaired of ever seeing the light of day. Out here in the wilderness, spring's tender touch was missing and it made him aware of how much of the apparent change of season was wrought by human inventions like heaters, roads and buildings. Out here, frost still covered ground which human feet trod not; survival was not guaranteed, but fought for at the expense of energy, blood and life itself. It was very easy to complain about hunters not respecting wildlife and human encroachment at the breakfast table, but being stuck here, in pain and incapacitated, made him wonder why no safety measures were in place in case something like this happened. Surely the preservation of human life warranted at least a trail or the odd clearing in the woods.

Shivers wracked his lithe frame and he could hear his teeth chattering more than he actually felt it. As he curled into a ball to try and preserve some warmth, the wolf sat on its haunches in front of him, and Danny could see both concern and sympathy in its distinctive golden eyes. A more lucid, cynical part of him laughed at the notion; it was probably a delusion brought on by hypothermia, blood loss, exhaustion or a myriad of other things he could be suffering from. Rafe sat close enough for him to reach out and touch, but he knew that to actually do so would only serve to drive him away.

It was only when he opened his eyes to the sight of Rafe lying down where he was once sitting, head neatly pillowed on his forelegs, that Danny realised he must have lost consciousness once again; he had not an idea how much time had passed since he first entered the forest, nor how much longer his friend was to be trapped in this form. Detachedly, he realised that he was still shivering, that he could no more stand than he could grow wings and fly and that the funny taste on his lips was the copper tang of blood. He was not a pessimist or weak-willed, but he was not stupid either, and he knew that he was not going to make it through the night. Admitting that fact to himself, for the first time since this ordeal began, made him want to cry. It was so unfair. He never hurt anyone. He never asked for anything from life apart from being allowed to live. Why didn't people like Giles die like this? Why him?

But at least, he thought, at least he did not have to die alone. Rafe lay close by, so close that he could see each individual whisker on his muzzle and every slight twitch of his nose, watching him tirelessly. Such beautiful eyes, he thought, remembering how most people were normally drawn to his eyes. They were nothing compared to the fierce thirst for life reflected in those molten gold irises.

"Hey, Rafe," he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'm just not strong enough."

If the wolf understood what he was saying, it made no indication to acknowledge him. Cold, exhausted and in pain, Danny dragged himself closer to the wolf than he would have dared before this. Common sense made him pause for a moment before further acting, but in that moment of desperation, despair and pain, Danny's faith in Rafe won out over self-preservation instincts; he wrapped his arms around the wolf's enormous shoulders, seeking and finding a warm refuge. He buried his head in the wolf's shaggy neck and leant further against the soft, silky fur that met his cold hands and warmed them. When Rafe lifted his great big wolf head off his forelegs and laid it on his chest, much like a pet dog watching over its charge, Danny closed his eyes and gave in to the darkness, content in the knowledge that he was loved.

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Something was moving, and as Danny slowly returned to consciousness, the first thing that registered was surprise that he was not yet dead. The second was that Rafe was getting up and moving away.

"No, wait, come back," he said, reaching out with one hand. He could not follow the wolf, not in this state. The trick that he had played earlier to get him up the ridge could not possibly work now. As his friend bounded away and disappeared into the shadows, it became clear that he was actually leaving. Maybe he finally realised that he was not going to make it, and in that practical way of animals, decided to spend his time pursuing something more worthwhile. Then he heard it; a snuffling sound, and a variety of others as well. Could it be the mad wolf, and its pack? Perhaps it had gathered them and come to attack; Rafe was big, but even he could not hold off an entire wolf pack. It was a good thing, then, that he had made his escape. Danny steeled himself, although he could feel his fingers trembling with something other than the cold, and looked up; he would look death in the eye.

Death, who came crashing through the underbrush like he had nothing to fear, was an Alsatian with a bright blue collar. He barked a joyous greeting when he came within sight of the prone figure on the ground, and Danny wondered if the events of the night had driven him stark raving mad. And then he remembered where he had seen the dog before. It was Giles' dog, who had been christened Dog by his granddaughter; barely a minute later, the old man came stumbling out from the shade of the trees, huffing and panting as he waved his shotgun around. Danny smiled a little between Dogs' generous licks as the man's eyes widened in surprise and tried to think of something appropriately smart-ass to say.

Giles knelt by his side, quickly surveying the damage in the dim glow of the lightening sky. Maybe he'd live to see the sunrise after all. "Stay still, boy, I'll get you outta here." He patted Snuggles. "Atta boy, Dog. Sit."

The Alsatian looked towards the thicket of trees and whined, but stayed by his master's side. Danny shifted as much as his battered body would let him and looked in the direction that Dog was barking; within the trees, masked by shadow and darkness, staring right back at him, was a pair of golden eyes.

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well, whaddaya think? I've been so nice to give y'all such a lovely helping of brotherliness (is that even a word?), so why don't you drop me a line and let me know what you thought of it. REVIEW!

:)