Work Text:
His appearance had been as strange as he was. There had been a blizzard, bad enough that she had urged her dogs into the small barn on her property. They’d be safe from the wind, the snow, and the bulk of the cold. They would have each other and the hay for warmth. That didn’t stop her from worrying about them though. It was nearing three a.m when she pulled her heaviest snow boots and coat on.
Her pups were curled together in a large pile, near the center of the barn. A few whines and many happy tails greeted her as she entered but none of the dogs moved. She couldn’t blame them, it was so very cold. Then, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of her torch, she saw him. She had heard stories of the white wolf that occasionally appeared on the edge of town. She had seen him on the edge of her property, once, though she had thought that was a dream at the time.
But he was very real, snow white coat standing out among the darker coats of her dogs. His ears pulled back and he gave a low whine before sneezing. She’d come to know that as a sign of play, a sign that he meant no harm. Her dogs seemed unbothered, quite the opposite actually. He was larger than even her malamutes and her dogs seemed to be soaking in his warmth.
Maka shook her head, “Guess you can stay, but only until the blizzard is over.” She was pretty sure he couldn’t understand her. But the look her gave her, the barely there nod seemed to indicate otherwise. She really needed to sleep.
____
The morning after the blizzard had ended, he was gone. It wouldn’t be for another six months before the mysterious white wolf appeared again. He was standing on her porch, waiting for her, when she returned home with her dogs. That was strange, in itself. What was even stranger, however, was her cat, Blair, sitting next to him. Blair leaned up, headbutting the wolf before making her way to Maka, purring all the while.
Blair was a friendly cat but she had never liked the dogs. And here she was, rubbing against a wild wolf like he was her best friend. Maka hesitantly made her way up the porch, holding her hand out to the wolf. Although she was starting to think he might be a dog, with how he was behaving.
He leaned forward, sniffing her hand before licking it. She moved closer, giving him scritches. “Guess you can stay. But only if you behave. All of my dogs have jobs and I won’t have you slacking off, got it?” Her voice was stern as she leaned down to meet his eerie gaze. “And don’t eat my cat. Or my chickens. Or my dogs..” He licked her face in response.
____
She had named him Soul because he felt like something unnatural, otherworldly. He learned freakishly fast, needing little to no training. Eventually, it even seemed like he understood her commands before she gave them. He was exceptionally well behaved for being a stray at best and a wolf at worst. Her mother and father agreed on something for the first time since she was little, he was an exceptional specimen and she just had to see how far she could take him.
The only problem is that he seemed to have no interest in her bitches, despite being intact, as far as she could tell. He almost seemed uncomfortable with the idea and it was the only time he truly acted up. He even escaped the one time she’d finally gotten a vet around to do a collection. He didn’t come back for two weeks and when he did, he was *grumpy* until she promised she wouldn’t try again.
Maybe it was for the best. More freakishly intelligent dogs seemed like a bad thing the longer she thought about it.
___
He had won her race after race as her lead dog. At first, she had been skeptical of putting such a fresh dog in such an important position and her mother had even advised her against it. It wasn’t like Maka to go against her mother’s expertise but she just *knew* he’d be best as a lead. Soul was a good wheel dog but he lacked the raw power some of her other dogs had. He was smart though, so smart, often reacting to things she couldn’t even see yet. Her other dogs seemed to trust him as well, following his lead with little fuss.
She had spent the last several years raising the best of her father’s dogs with the help of her mother. Finally, she was ready to take her team on the longest race of their career, the annual Death City Dog race. It was over 900 miles and would take her at least a week and a half, if not more, to finish. Her mother had been the first woman to win and Maka was determined to be on that list as well.
It had started reasonably well, careful pacing so that her dogs didn’t wear out too quickly. It was easy to think a lead at the start was the way to go but the race wasn’t known for its ease or lack of obstacles. She’d rather have her dogs in top shape when things inevitably went south.
And south they went. She had woken up on the third day feeling strange. She was light headed and struggled to keep her balance. But all she had to do was lean on the sled and make sure her dogs went the right way. That’s all. By the fifth day, Maka was struggling to hang onto the sled. They were only halfway and they were making good time. She just needed to hold on.
It was early the next morning when she finally couldn’t hang on any longer. The world went black as her dogs descended down a hill. When she awoke, she was laying *in* the sled, bundled under her bedroll and tucked into her sleeping bag. How’d she get here? She blinked up at the passing pine trees, realizing her dogs were running. A masculine voice she didn’t recognize yelled out a command and her dogs responded with practiced ease.
When she tilted her head back to finally see who had commandeered her sled, she only saw fluffy white hair. She laughed, thinking for a moment it must be her white wolf before realizing that was an insane thought. It must’ve been her fever talking. The voice called again and her dogs responded. She let her eyes slip closed, they were in good hands.
She wasn’t sure how long she had slept but when she finally awoke, it was dark. She pushed herself up, finding a fire crackling not far from the sled. Her dogs lay around it, dosing and getting much needed rest. Odd. She looked around, curious to find the man who had been running her dogs. But there was no one else there. There weren’t even boot prints in the snow, just sled tracks and her dogs’ paw prints.
If they weren’t so far from where she last remembered being, she would’ve assumed it was all a dream. But there was no way her dogs could’ve made it here without her direction. They had never done this race and its not like dogs could read maps, right? Well, maybe one of her dogs could.
She looked around for the white wolf, dog, creature, only to find him lying between her and the fire. He lifted his head, turning to look at her and his tail began to wag softly. He stood, making his way toward her as silently as a ghost. He pressed his nose to her head and if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was checking for a fever. He huffed lightly before nudging her back into the blanket nest.
“Are you my nanny now?” She grumbled as she leaned back and he huffed something all too close to a laugh. Her eyes widened and she sat up again only to be pushed right back down. “I knew something was up with you. You’re not a dog are you? You’re not even a wolf.” Her tone was more accusatory than she intended and he shrank back from her, ears folding closely to his head.
There was a long pause as the pair stared at each other before Soul shook his head. He turned, giving her one last look, before running into forest. Maka watched him disappear into the snow, just like he’d appeared the first time. She rolled into the blankets, burying her face and praying she’d wake up in the morning, back where she had been a day ago.
A nightmare was the only thing that could explain this.
___
It was late morning when she woke to her sled moving again. The same white fluffy hatted man was directing her dogs. Maybe he had another team and had been with them in the night? Maybe the dogs were all together? Yeah. That made sense.
Except, she was missing one of her dogs. Why hadn’t he asked her about her missing lead dog? Maybe Soul had gone to his camp in the night. She pushed herself up, fully, expecting to see her lead dog somewhere in the string of familiar and unfamiliar dogs. But he wasn’t. And there were no other dogs besides her own.
She twisted, ready to glare at the man but she stopped. It was not a fluffy white hat, but a fluffy white mop of hair adorning his head. His eyes were red and familiar, all too familiar. He glanced at her before glancing back at the trail, yelling something to her dogs. He was dressed simply and she couldn’t fathom how he was staying warm.
“Lay down.” His voice was gruff, almost a growl, but musical. It made her skin prickle in fear and something else she refused to acknowledge. He didn’t even look at her but she couldn’t look away from him.
“I knew you weren’t a dog.” She muttered, turning back around and sinking into her cozy sled. “We’re going to talk about this tonight.” He didn’t respond but she did hear him huff, a familiar sound he had made even as a dog when he disagreed with her judgment.
___
It was awkward, sitting next to your dog who was actually a man. It still didn’t quite feel real but he very much did. He sat patiently as she examined him until she dared lift the corner of his mouth. He snapped at her and she squeaked. This earned her a laugh.
“I can’t believe you’re not a wolf, or a dog. I can’t believe werewolves are real? I can’t… Is that why you didn’t want to breed any of my bitches?” She grabbed his face, turning him towards her. Even if he looked human, he was still her dog, right?
Soul growled softly, tilting his head up and away from her grasp. “Yes. To all of that. Can you stop manhandling me now?” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from him. She gave him a sheepish grin as she tucked herself back under her blanket.
She had so many questions but he didn’t seem keen on answering them at the moment. A moment hung between them before she scooted closer, wrapping her blanket around him as well. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing against her. She wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that but when she awoke the next morning, she was in her sled again.
___