During one of her visits, Astrid came to Livia in a rage.

“That motherfucker!”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Livia responded while boiling water for some of her lunch noodles.

“Fucking Jakob! He’s going around trying to force my hand into a union. Spreading rumors about some courtship that’s never really happened. Now everyone’s asking me when we’re to be mated, son of a bitch…”

This was in reference to a previous conversation about werewolf unions and tribes. Jakob was a topic that was breached before, a particularly annoying gnat to Astrid constantly vying for their union that was never reciprocated. Astrid’s rage carried over to Livia. They vented about this for a while, having a smoke before departing. Astrid may have decompressed but Livia’s annoyance with the situation lingered, vowing that it had gone on long enough. She tried to sleep on it, but in the early morning she geared up for travel and made her way back up to the compound.

Most she ran into asked if she was looking for Astrid but the response was different this time. She hunted down Jakob, acquiring some conversational context. Apparently he was one of the tribe’s warlords, but his relevance waned in recent years as there was no war to lord over. His political push to mate with the best hunter in the local compound was essentially trying to grab some relevance back. Possibly to start his own warrior tribe and create problems where there otherwise shouldn’t be. It was a problem Livia wanted to crush now.

She found him in a similar barracks area, flanked by a few of his best warriors and guards. He greeted her politely enough, and with plenty of sincerity before he knew her intentions.

“Ah, the White Wolf. What can I do for you?” Jakob did not have the same Norwegian accent of the locals, but she could not place his accent. Something European.

“Leave Astrid alone. I’m getting tired of hearing about how pushy you are with her,” she demanded.

Jakob scoffed, his warriors offering some chuckles alongside him. “White Wolf, you’ve been exempted from our culture but that does not mean you can step in here and make demands. I am the best warrior, she is the best hunter. Our mateshop is destined for the moons and she doesn’t know it yet.”

Livia kept her composure at the time. “She’s being polite. She hasn’t rejected you publicly because she’s keeping you as a backup. You’re on a goddamn shelf, but she has no intention of marrying you. So fuck off.”

“There are some truths there, White Wolf. Which is why I’m taking myself off that shelf, yes?”

“What’s it going to take for you to fuck off?”

Jakob pondered the question for a moment, “How about a duel, then, yes? We have an arena for honorable combat to settle disputes. Rumor has it you’ve never even turned to your true wolf form…”

This was true. For her own full moons she used Astrid’s initial advice and just went jogging around her cabin for a few hours, going up and down the mountain steppes. She had absolutely no interest in seeing the visage of her previous attacker within herself. Apparently the word of this got around. She glared at him when the rumor was all but confirmed.

Jakob grinned wickedly, content in calling out this outsider and giving him some legitimacy to those gathered. “So how about this? Wolf form or no, defeat me in honorable combat and I will leave Astrid to pursue another. I will defeat you however, and you leave the country and that cabin becomes my property.”

Livia quickly agreed, “Fine, whatever. When?”

Jakob grinned, “How about today?” Indeed this was not surprising, again with no war the man had little to do otherwise. So the duel was planned quickly.

The word got around quickly, as while there was an entire underground city within these mountains it was still just a township with just a few thousand in population. Not everyone would attend, but Livia was led to the arena and was given a brief outline of the rules.

There were not many. Death was possible if wounds became too severe but it was not set to be a deathmatch in itself. So both combatants were told to not go lethal, but things happen when werewolves are in the heat of battle. There were even laws and defenses with it, and arena combatants go into a dispute knowing that the claws of their werewolf opponent may pierce something vital.

Only other real rule was no outside assistance. Jakob could not bring his guard to assist, and Livia had nobody to call upon anyway. As he claimed earlier, wolf form was optional but recommended. Livia had no intention. Beyond that, everything else was on the table.

It took an hour or two for word to fully get around as the two were briefed on the rules. Even Astrid stopped by, trying to ask Livia what was happening. She tried to brush it off but still tried to avoid phrases like ‘defending your honor’ or something that could be construed as insulting (Astrid was a grown woman that could fight her own battles). Instead she went with a more to the point and crass, “I fuck him up, he leaves you alone.”

Astrid isn’t entirely confident she could take on a warlord in an open duel so any offense was quickly quelled by her words, “Kick his ass.”

The two presented themselves in the arena, smaller than one would see on television. It was certainly designed for one on ones, not teams. Still, the seats around sat hundreds as there were thunderous cheers and applause. Jakob had switched to his wolf form, dwarfing Livia by about a foot and covered in thick black fur. He was playing to the crowd, arms outstretched and hyping everyone up. Livia stood there as a statue, not having been in the mood for any pageantry. She did not need to play to the crowd, and she glared at his showboating and waited for the announcements.

There was an arena caller, who gave a vague description of what was happening. It seemed like this was hardly the first courtship drama these people have had, as their situation was explained rather clinically and the terms were laid bare. The names were well known, except perhaps Livia’s own as most simply referred to her as the White Wolf. It seemed with all the rumors coursing through the community, it felt like this was the logical conclusion to the whole affair. Granted, Livia was only catching one side to this, but it seemed like a fairly robust attendance for something she perceived to be basic high school levels of drama, an annoyance that only fueled her stoicism.

She elected to wear a spandex, sports bra and shorts. She was given this by a local clothier during the gathering phase in expectation that she may go into her wolf form, but her decision was still up in the air. She took them under the logic of not wanting to have her normal clothes ruined. Suiting her fine, she gave a look over to Astrid and while she couldn’t discern the intent, Astrid’s gaze was locked onto Livia. She hoped her body was being appreciated, at the very least.

After a few minutes of pageantry the fight began properly.

Confident in his combat experience, Jakob made a few slashes at Livia, which her skin took like a champ. Imbued with the incredibly tough hide of the white wolf, he didn’t pierce her quite yet. He didn’t look shaken, and perhaps expected that as his first few attacks were more or less testing his opponent.

Livia was familiar with the Silat style of fighting, yet another practice forced upon her by her father. She was smooth in movement and her combat stance was much more martial than her opponents, who had a more basic and feral stance. It was quite a matchup, and nobody in the audience really knew what direction it was going to go.

Wielding only her fists and feet, she let forth a volley of attacks but they seemed to not do much against the hide of Jakob’s wolf. His sputtering maw cackled at her as her attacks didn’t land much damage, so she figured it was time to shift into her wolf form. She never wanted to, and really hoped her eyes wouldn’t catch much of the fur because it would have been a terrifying thought to have a mental breakdown in the middle of an arena fight.

It wasn’t as painful as she thought it would be, as her bones reformed to fit the size of her, shifting out of sockets and back into place seamlessly. She could feel her own skin stretch across her face as her snout formed. It was an odd sensation and not very comfortable, but far from painful. Her spandex held together, being sure to keep her extremities modest while Jakob let his penis fly in the wind (granted even that was only somewhat obscured by thick fur; and the culture had more cavalier attitudes with nudity).

Jakob of course let this shift happen, as it would have been better for his reputation if he defeated a White Wolf in their full glory rather than some shorter human woman. Not that everyone didn’t know who she was, but the visuals would make for a better story.

The fight became more brutal after that, Jakob no longer held back and went for a tackle that succeeded, and he clawed at her chest with no effect. To her it felt like someone was trying to draw on her with a bunch of pens. It was weird. Jakob grew frustrated as he felt like he was being toyed with. It was true to some degree, as this was the first time Livia really utilized being a full werewolf, so even now she was trying to get a full breadth of her abilities. She felt large and incredibly strong, and after Jakob gave a couple more attempts she began her own defense in earnest. While she could see her own white fur across her arms and legs, her personal rage overrode the increasing heartbeat of being reminded of what tore her apart just some months prior. She adopted this strength into a proper flurry, hoping to handily defeat the man before her rage subsided and trauma took over.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A single punch to his chest while he was straddling her for an attack sent him flying several feet back, the crowd exclaimed with “Oooh!” It surprised and winded him, as he crawled back to his feet quickly to regain composure. Livia of course closed the distance in two bounds, still having full control over her Silat, kicking his feet out from under him and then bringing down a claw on one of his knees, practically tearing it out right there.

At that point the fight turned against him quickly, and turned against the crowd. It stopped being an honorable duel for a woman’s hand, but became a street-level beatdown. That was her advantage and her edge. He fought as a warrior did, trying to exchange blow for blow. She was, however, trained to win. The memories of things her father forced upon her in youth flooded her brain but this time not with trauma; but with rage. She was just so goddamn angry and for the first time she had a proper target to expel that rage upon. Claw after claw, fist after fist she beat him into the dirt below until his blood pooled into the sand and soil. It was such a brutal display that the crowd became more quiet and concerned. It wasn’t so much that one side was being handily defeated but how. Again, they were used to more honorable blow-for-blow, almost like wrestling. It was supposed to be entertaining but seeing yet another White Wolf go insane on one of their own brought in some cultural anxieties.

For one moment she retreated from the fight, and located one of the heavy decorated columns and ripped it out of the ground. She hauled it over to a surrendering Jakob and dropped it on one of his legs, crushing it entirely. It was rare to ever hear or see a werewolf cry, when one is in wolf form they’re usually pumped so full of adrenaline that combat and survival are the only things on their mind. Jakob had been so thoroughly defeated that the mewls coming from his wolf voice were more depressing and anguished, even Astrid looked concerned.

Livia looked around. The crowd was silent, concerned. Some warriors grasped their spears, almost wondering if this new white wolf was about to lose her mind just as all the others in the past centuries have. This thought did not escape her, as she began to breathe more evenly and tried to ground herself. Sand. Walls. People. Air. Arms. Fur. Chest. Lungs. You’re okay, Livia. You’re okay.

She let the furs slip back into her flesh, her skin and bones formed back into a human’s. She was a bit dirtier, with some blood on her that was not hers. Without a word she solemnly exited the arena, retrieved her gear, and made her way back home. The crowd stared at her as she did so, then began to disperse. Jakob’s warriors came to collect him, having some trouble with the column that crushed his leg at first but ultimately carried him to their hospital, but not before he lost consciousness.

She returned home, surprisingly not breaking down from the whole affair. The fight was actually cathartic, she was calmer than she had been in a long time. Probably a werewolf thing, as in the past Astrid explained the expelling of heightened energy. So that’s what happened. Either way she cleaned herself off but kept her newly acquired stretchable underwear on as her outfit, because she was running particularly hot from the day’s events and just elected to let her skin breathe a bit with Norway’s cooler temperature.

Astrid came by two mornings later, with a bit of a solemn expression.

“How bad is it?” Livia asked.

“It’s… a lot. Jakob is in a coma,” Astrid answered.

“I didn’t hit him in the head that much, I thought?”

“You inflicted a lot of damage, so he passed out after you left and hasn’t woken since. He’s stabilized so they think he might come back eventually. It’s more than that. Some shamans think the damage was not just physical, but spiritual,” Astrid outlined.

Livia wondered, “And everyone else? People looked a bit afraid of me as I left, and I don’t blame them.”

“You gave a few of them a scare, but it calmed down once everyone saw you shift back and leave,” Astrid paused, measuring her next question carefully. “Be honest with me… how did it feel?”

Livia gave it a thought, shoulders slumping in shame. “Honestly, it felt damn great. Like a weight off my shoulders, somehow. I don’t get it. Or, it’s like you said… I had a lot of energy and that’s just how I got rid of it. Sorry.”

Astrid pulled her in for a hug, “Don’t be. Our kind are accustomed to some level of brutality.”

Livia embraced the hug, quite enjoying getting to touch Astrid in this way at all, as they’ve barely done such a thing during the tenure of their friendship. During the hug Astrid spoke again.

“And… sorry, for not noticing before.”

“Notice what?” Livia asked.

Astrid answered by disengaging the hug, looking deeply into Livia’s eyes and pulling her into a lengthy kiss. After that bridge was crossed, they could barely stop. Occasionally for a breath and a laugh before diving into the kiss yet again, and it got a bit saucier as each allowed it to be.

Livia helped Astrid undress as they finally got around to making love, as clumsy and hilarious as it was. Livia had no sexual experience either. Her father didn’t really give a damn about her preferences, claiming “Once you’re swimming in millions, you can fuck whoever you want”. So her outing was waved off unceremoniously, but she was never really allowed to date. Astrid had even less of an idea of what to do so most of either of their sexual experience was from pornography. Astrid watched some the previous night just to get an idea of what women do together and Livia’s own knowledge was pretty much the same, nothing practical. As a result they fumbled through it in a comedy of errors, discovering certain positions don’t function properly in real practice.

They did a bit better the next night, though, figuring things out for themselves. They both would later joke about their first time together as a fond, hilarious memory and that was perfectly okay to them. After that was proper practice, and the practice was wonderful.

They did not make a show of it. Livia continued to have little interest in the culture happening in the mountains above her, which Astrid respected. Regardless, their union was made known so Astrid would stop acquiring suitors. Her dreams of owning a tribe were all but lost until Livia brought up a point she made a month ago.

“Blood be damned, I said it before. You know you can still do all those things with another woman, right? We just need to… adopt.”

Astrid debated, “There’s still the question of bloodlines, which werewolf tribes do address and respect. It’s… plausible, maybe your fame could carry into some exceptions? But that could lead into the problem of the fact that you’ve already been exempted from tribe laws and rules, so any further attempts to skirt the rules could lead to some hostility.”

“So I’ll duel them and drop a column on their legs,” Livia quipped.

Astrid couldn’t help but to laugh, “Ooh, that’s dark!” They laughed together.

Jakob did indeed wake from the coma, with a new look upon his previous actions. When Livia went to visit him, initially planning an apology, she was stopped by his humility. He was partially awake throughout, though his body would not respond. During that time he reflected on his actions, and what he had done to lead him to such punishment. He surmised his previous fame got to his head, thinking he had effectively earned the rewards for the future. Which in this case, ended up including an independent, sentient being. People are not plaques to be placed upon walls to say ‘This is mine, now’, a fundamental fact that he had forgotten.

During his recovery, his leg never worked again. This confounded the shamans, which ultimately led to them diagnosing spiritual damage. So much more than his pride had been taken to task, and he carried with him a little limp to the point of needing a cane. He essentially retired from being the top warlord for his tribe and became a strategist to remain on the backline and use his previous knowledge to help future generals. He would effectively carry this mistake for the rest of his immortal life.

Astrid and Livia continued to live well. Astrid had her own hovel within the mountain proper which she kept, it was about as small as Livia’s previous shack so did not take up much space and was never pressured to give it up for the sake of their union. They eventually wed after a few months, and did what they thought they couldn’t do: They formally began the White Wolf tribe. It was always to be kept very small but as the years went by her cabin had houses crop up around it, as there was plenty of forest and land to do so.

Livia’s trauma was always something she carried, but Astrid was always close by to help ground her. The panic attacks never went away but they became less severe. Still, she was always considered a distant leader by tribal standards. Remaining neutral, not stepping on any boundaries. Livia’s tribe, name, and fame were a gift to Astrid for her wishes to be a part of her own tribe rather than just being a hunter for one. So despite the tribe being under Livia’s name, Astrid was the de-facto leader that everyone went to, which is exactly what they both wanted.

Beyond that, they lived very happily. There was always the question of why white wolves were rendered insane, and there were still a few out in the world, mindlessly prowling the planet’s forests. The source of the sickness was not discovered for some time, but Livia had little interest in it. She kept to herself and her wife, because that was all that concerned her.