Fish is not enough for leftovers, so someone has to go out hunting again. Naturally, Finland volunteers and insists on solitude.
Of course, he will also go out to hunt, he'll bring home some hare this time, but what he doesn't tell the others is his real reason for wandering around in the forest.
His real reason, who might be hungry, and thirsty, and cold, and who is all wrapped up in Finland's cloaks and furs with Finland's scent all over his body.
As he's sharpening his bootknife, Sweden takes him aside. "'M sorry," he begins awkwardly. "We been here awhile. I know y'don't - what 's like, with these two, an' sometimes y'get used t' bein' alone, 'n then you gotta start playin' host an' bein' friendly, that saps yer energy - anyway. I know what it's like."
Do you really, Finland wonders. He sets aside the whetstone.
"I c'n entertain 'em if y'jus need some time alone," Sweden offers.
"That would be great," Finland replies.
--
He sinks an arrow through the head of a rabbit from a far distance away and brings it with him to his wolf. His wolf sits straight up, a bright grin on his face, and hardly waits for Finland to cut through the carcass before he paws Finland's hands away, rips off a piece and shoves it in his mouth, uncooked. Digging into it like an animal, blood all over his face and cheeks. But his smile is so infectious.
Finland, for his part, skins the remainder and slices the meat thinly to balance it on sticks perched over the coals.
The wolf-man wipes his face off with his arm, and then tries to lick the smeared blood off his hands. Finland shakes his head and uses snow to rinse his poor silly wolf clean. He gives the wolf a little water and waits until the gleaming toothy smile he gets isn't red anymore before he swoops in and kisses the wolf-man deeply on the mouth.
The lingering taste of blood doesn't stop him. Animal, this is an animal, he thinks, but he mostly doesn't care. And what part of him does care, likes it.
My wolf, Finland thinks, mine, and he holds his wolf down flat on his back and bites his neck when the wolf-man arches submissively to give him access, delighting in the sound of his wolf's cries.
Later, after the sweat is cooling on their bodies, the wolf-man says, "Your friends."
"Yes?" Finland prompts.
"Not like me," the wolf-man says.
"No," he replies sadly.
"But you like me," the wolf-man adds.
They are naked together underneath Finland's cloaks and furs. Finland can't stop thinking in terms of possession. Like hardly covers a facet of his sentiments. He smiles shyly and says with a blush, "Well, yes, of course I like you," and holds his wolf closer.
The wolf-man frowns. "No," he says, "no, you like me. You I same. Brothers, forest."
Brothers, he thinks. Finland feels a little guilty because brothers only goes so far. There may come a day when people try to make him go places he doesn't want to - like how Sweden always seems to want him to stay over, longer and longer. Finland worries one day he won't return for a very long time to his own place.
Where would his wolf be then? Waiting for his return, in the forest? Alone?
"Still same," his wolf whispers, oblivious to Finland's turmoil, curled up in his arms. "Still brothers."
Subsets of sets (4a/4)
Fish is not enough for leftovers, so someone has to go out hunting again. Naturally, Finland volunteers and insists on solitude.
Of course, he will also go out to hunt, he'll bring home some hare this time, but what he doesn't tell the others is his real reason for wandering around in the forest.
His real reason, who might be hungry, and thirsty, and cold, and who is all wrapped up in Finland's cloaks and furs with Finland's scent all over his body.
As he's sharpening his bootknife, Sweden takes him aside. "'M sorry," he begins awkwardly. "We been here awhile. I know y'don't - what 's like, with these two, an' sometimes y'get used t' bein' alone, 'n then you gotta start playin' host an' bein' friendly, that saps yer energy - anyway. I know what it's like."
Do you really, Finland wonders. He sets aside the whetstone.
"I c'n entertain 'em if y'jus need some time alone," Sweden offers.
"That would be great," Finland replies.
--
He sinks an arrow through the head of a rabbit from a far distance away and brings it with him to his wolf. His wolf sits straight up, a bright grin on his face, and hardly waits for Finland to cut through the carcass before he paws Finland's hands away, rips off a piece and shoves it in his mouth, uncooked. Digging into it like an animal, blood all over his face and cheeks. But his smile is so infectious.
Finland, for his part, skins the remainder and slices the meat thinly to balance it on sticks perched over the coals.
The wolf-man wipes his face off with his arm, and then tries to lick the smeared blood off his hands. Finland shakes his head and uses snow to rinse his poor silly wolf clean. He gives the wolf a little water and waits until the gleaming toothy smile he gets isn't red anymore before he swoops in and kisses the wolf-man deeply on the mouth.
The lingering taste of blood doesn't stop him. Animal, this is an animal, he thinks, but he mostly doesn't care. And what part of him does care, likes it.
My wolf, Finland thinks, mine, and he holds his wolf down flat on his back and bites his neck when the wolf-man arches submissively to give him access, delighting in the sound of his wolf's cries.
Later, after the sweat is cooling on their bodies, the wolf-man says, "Your friends."
"Yes?" Finland prompts.
"Not like me," the wolf-man says.
"No," he replies sadly.
"But you like me," the wolf-man adds.
They are naked together underneath Finland's cloaks and furs. Finland can't stop thinking in terms of possession. Like hardly covers a facet of his sentiments. He smiles shyly and says with a blush, "Well, yes, of course I like you," and holds his wolf closer.
The wolf-man frowns. "No," he says, "no, you like me. You I same. Brothers, forest."
Brothers, he thinks. Finland feels a little guilty because brothers only goes so far. There may come a day when people try to make him go places he doesn't want to - like how Sweden always seems to want him to stay over, longer and longer. Finland worries one day he won't return for a very long time to his own place.
Where would his wolf be then? Waiting for his return, in the forest? Alone?
"Still same," his wolf whispers, oblivious to Finland's turmoil, curled up in his arms. "Still brothers."
--