Wild Creatures

Part 5

In the beginning there was the forest. It was vast and endless and home to all manner of creatures. And like all complex things it had rules. Rules about what was edible and what wasn't. Rules about what trees would protect you and what trees didn't owe you a thing. Rules about the rivers, and the lakes, and the ponds, and the puddles. Rules about the changing seasons, the best times to plant vegetables and which songbirds were allowed to stay and which had to fly south. Those that called the forest home obeyed these rules, because they understood respect and they understood that nature knows what it's doing. It has been working in its own way long before they arrived and will work its own way long after they're gone.

Then one day, new creatures arrived in the forest. They came from the North, from the sea, seeking a new home and they did not know the rules of the forest. Nor did they care to learn. They did not care about what had existed before them, only that they were now here and this was justification enough for the actions that followed.

In the beginning there was the forest. In the end there will be the forest. What happens in-between is still yet to unfold.

---

Stiles attends his first masquerade ball roughly two months after his arrival. He spends hours in the same position as a owl-eyed tailor constructs his costume. Peter often watches from the doorway, making small comments on the way the fabric falls and which colours he prefers. Stiles remains silent, knowing he has nothing useful to contribute. He does put his foot down when Peter suggests a corset. Peter, perhaps sensing how stubborn Stiles will be about this, wisely takes the suggestion back.

The costume consists of a floor length sheer coat trimmed with dark russet fur, underneath which Stiles is wearing a white shirt with a waistcoat and trousers the colour of apple cider, along with black leather shoes. The real masterpiece is the mask. It covers all of Stiles' face except his mouth and reveals what this decadent costume is supposed to be. A fox.

Peter is a wolf. He's not wearing a mask, more of a pelt draped over his shoulders and down his back, the head and fangs hanging low over his forehead. Special slits have been made for his horns to poke through. The rest of his costume is similar to Stiles, although in charcoal grey. It fits him perfectly.

"Nervous?" Peter asks, offering his arm. Stiles takes it, remembering to keep his chin up.

"I'm dressed in bright orange, notably have two left feet and only a rudimentary grasp of the language, so no, what have I got to be nervous about?"

"No one would dare think of hurting you." Peter's tone is dark; a simmering anger at those who would dare to challenge his choice of bride. It's comforting, somewhat.

"More likely I'm going to embarrass you and you'll have to hide me away forever due to shame."

"I doubt that." Peter leans over to press a soft kiss to Stiles' cheek, managing to get around the mask. He's been doing this more frequently, gentle touches and occasional kisses. Nothing too forward and he never touches Stiles when it's clear Stiles doesn't want it. Stiles knows he can say no, knows that Peter will stop if asked but he finds himself indulging in it, even if he isn't brave enough to initiate.

"Shall we," Peter says. Stiles nods. Peter placing his hand on top of Stiles as the doors open and they step over the threshold.

They're greeted with soft reverence, a sea of bodies curtsying and bowing at the sound of Stiles and Peter's titles being spoken. Peter says something long and complicated in fae, Stiles can just about translate it. Let us make merry, good friends, may only the heralding of dawn stop our revelry. Peter raises his hand, gesturing to the band to begin playing once more.