A Companion to Wolves by Elizabeth Bear

said to Sokkolfr, who sat tailor-fashion beside him, elbows on his knees and chin on his fist. “If Viradechtis—” he swallowed. “I couldn’t stay. And I really couldn’t take another wolf, not after—”
    â€œIt was his duty,” Sokkolfr said, moving so his knee brushed Isolfr’s thigh.

    And then Frithulf leaned around Sokkolfr and said with all the worst of his arch disdain, “He loved Hrolljotr. What was he supposed to do, run away like a coward and leave the wolf alone?”
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    A sny littered on a cold full moon night when the first frost lay over the loam under the pine trees. Isolfr was not there to see it; Hrolleif had taken him, with Vigdis and Viradechtis in eager companionship, on a long patrol east of Nithogsfjoll. Older wolfheofodmenn did mentor younger ones, as Ulfgeirr the housecarl mentored Sokkolfr—tacit acknowledgment that Sokkolfr would be a steward in his turn—but Isolfr thought there might be a reason Hrolleif chose to do some part of his teaching away from the wolfheall and the pack-sense.
    He remembered the kiss.
    His apprehension was not allayed when, after a cold camp and a colder supper, Hrolleif sent Vigdis and her daughter to hunt fresh meat for breakfast and then turned to regard Isolfr though the chill twilight. “Kolgrimna will come into season soon,” he said, and Isolfr nodded, his mouth dry as if he sucked pine-pitch.
    â€œYou will need to know …” Hrolleif stopped, came to stand next to Isolfr, and Isolfr could feel the wolfsprechend’s heat like the fire they had not built. “Ingrun and Vigdis will go out. Asny has her pups, as Vigdis did when Asny’s season came on her.”
    â€œWhen you sent us all out,” Isolfr said.
    â€œYes. We will be taking the tithe-boys out again, for it is not something they should see, not until they have the pack-sense to understand it. But, Isolfr, you need to witness.”
    Because it will be your turn soon enough.
    He swallowed hard, although it did not help, and managed to nod.
    â€œYou and Frithulf, and the others who are bonded to
pups still too young for the madness, you will have to hold household, because the werthreat cannot. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes.” Barely a whisper.
    â€œAh, lad, don’t be so frightened.” And Hrolleif hugged him roughly. “I promised you we would not throw you out of the nest with your wings still unfledged, did I not?”
    â€œYes,” but there was no more strength in his voice. No strength in him anywhere, and when Hrolleif’s fingers caught him under the chin, he looked up obediently.
    â€œIt is time for you to learn,” Hrolleif said gently, “what happens between werthreatbrothers when a bitch is in season.” His mouth quirked. “And at other times as well.” He leaned down, still gently, his blue eyes full of kindness as well as heat, and kissed Isolfr on the mouth.
    This time it was not a chaste kiss. Hrolleif’s mouth was strong, demanding, and Isolfr found himself parting his lips, welcoming Hrolleif’s tongue into his mouth, his hands coming up to steady himself against the wolfsprechend’s shoulders.
    He knew the heat in his lower belly as it started to kindle and spread, had felt it many times before in Alfleda’s bed at the keep, and sometimes in the dark of the roundhall as well. He and Sokkolfr, he and Frithulf, had helped each other, as boys do.
    But this was not what boys did.
    After a time, Hrolleif broke the kiss, leaned away a little. Brushed a loose strand of hair away from Isolfr’s face. “Will you lie down for me, Isolfr?” And his voice was still gentle, still kind, and burning in Isolfr’s mind was that single glimpse of Hrolleif and Grimolfr and the ecstatic look on Grimolfr’s face.
    He had been waiting for this, he realized, and from somewhere he found his voice and managed to say, “Yes,”