Thanks to my beta Judy who always wants to know what'll happen next :-))))))
Summary : This contains five scenes from the lives of Sarah McKay and John Dancer for those of you who wonder what happened to them after Wolf Dreams.
Disclaimer can be found on the fanfic page. This story is part of a larger arc and to fully understand it you should go back to the Chronicles page where you can find earlier parts and read them if you haven't already. Comments welcome.
1 : Stagecoach
The stagecoach went through a narrow curve a little too fast and Sarah was nearly thrown out of her seat. The man on the seat directly opposite her quickly reached out a hand to steady her.
"Thank you, Mr. Dancer," Sarah politely said and he politely replied "My pleasure, Mrs. McKay." They spoke in the polite manner of a couple of strangers suddenly finding themselves alone together in narrow confinement.
"I hear you're travelling all the way to Denver?" he continued after a moments silence.
"Yes, I am. And you?"
"Denver also. I've just been relocated there. In my work, you see." John Dancer suddenly grinned. "I count myself lucky to have such enchanting company on a long road."
"Do all Treasury Agents have silver tongues?" Sarah McKay asked.
"It's almost required, Ma'am," he said with an even wider grin.
"Along with a golden heart?" she said and smiled.
"That remains to be seen," Dancer softly replied with a challenge in his blue eyes.
2 : A Year Later
"I've done this before," Sarah McKay said under her breath and hesitated just as they were about to step into the church. "I don't know why it should be so hard but I swear I'm near fainting."
"Then I'll just have to find a water trough to heave you into," Chris muttered back."So you'll wake right up." He could see a shocked look on the face of one of the invited guests nearby who happened to overhear him.
"Don't you dare," Sarah replied in a choked whisper and looked as if she would burst into hysterical laughter. "It took me more than a month to finish this dress. If anything happens to it I'll kill you myself."
"Yes, ma'am," Chris said and did his best to look as serious as the situation required as the music started to play.
He could feel her hand tremble where it clutched his arm as they slowly walked down the aisle of the church. In front of them John Dancer was waiting and beside him stood Ezra Standish, looking totally at home in his role as Best Man.
"Who gives this woman to be married?" the preacher asked and Chris said, "I do," and moved to the side so Dancer could take his place beside Sarah forever after.
3 : Family
Sarah's heart was singing with joy for she was holding life in her hands again after so many years of emptiness. It was dark outside and time to go to bed but she doubted that she would be able to sleep. She didn't want to miss a second of this miracle.
Sarah looked down at the child. The girl looked back up at her and the color of her eyes seemed to flicker from blue to gold for a second. Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat. She had feared this would happen. So it was true, she had passed it on. The gift. The curse. Her spirit ached for the girl.
"Christina Emily Dancer," she said softly. "A blessing on the road you have to travel, little one. I'll do my best to ease your way."
The door was opened and John was there with a rifle in his hand. His face was carefully guarded so as not to alarm her but she could feel the tension radiating off his body and disturbing the air in the room.
"What is it?" she asked. They both spoke low, so as not to wake the child.
"There's something prowling around the house, Sarah. I think it's big animal."
"Could it be a wolf?" A spark of hope turned into a flame. Silver, her old friend. It couldn't be - could it?
"Yes, I think so."
"Then it might not mean us harm," Sarah said but John Dancer still looked doubtful as he extinguished the lamp. They moved over to the window and looked out into the night.
There was an opening in the woods outside the house and there in the light of the full moon a lone wolf stood. Moonbeams turned the fur into small glittering arrows of silver as he watched them silently before turning his head up towards the moon. A single wolf cry rose up into the Denver sky, greeting the new life.
4 : Bloodlines
Dancer struggled up the mountain in the snow. He had been following the blood trail for more than an hour now and yet he seemed no closer to his prey. His hunting skills were a bit rusty but he was sure they would prove sufficient this time to protect his family.
Family. It was strange how much his life had changed in just a few years. He had a wife and a daughter now and his heart was filled to the brim with such love as he had not known before. His firstborn was four years old now and having come to him suddenly and unexpectedly in the middle of his life he could usually deny her nothing she wanted. Christina had stubbornly told him earlier that she wanted to go with him and he'd had to steele himself as he'd told her she'd have to stay with her momma and that he would be back soon. She couldn't follow. It was too dangerous.
"Don't shoot the wolf," she'd said with a heartbroken little sob. "He's a friend."
It was something he could promise her at least, since he wasn't hunting any wolf. He was after the wounded bear whose sleep Will Duggan had disturbed yesterday. It hadn't gone back to its winter lair. Instead it was prowling the woods uncomfortably close to their house.
"All right, darling," he'd said to her. "I won't shoot the wolf."
Sarah had looked pale and tired as he'd left her. He worried about her. Bearing their second child seemed to take more out of her than their first had. He'd seen a haunted look in her eyes this past week and he knew her sleep had been disturbed by nightmares although she didn't want to talk about them to him.
In the beginning they had decided to leave the past behind and start a new life so they rarely spoke about the time before they had met. Maybe that had been a mistake, he thought now. Maybe settling some ways outside the town had been a mistake too. Sarah needed nature and air and he loved their house but it had left them vulnerable, he couldn't deny it.
A branch cracked to the left of him and as he looked up the bear rose from behind the sheltering firs and Dancer knew his luck had run out. His rifle fired off a couple of shots but it was too late. It was already too close. He was going to die.
In the few seconds before death reached him his soul cried out for help and it called to the only ones that mattered to him. Sarah. Christina. The child yet unborn.
A shadow knocked him down and stood between Dancer and certain death and he couldn't stop his momentum but rolled helplessly down the snowy slope until he came to rest on his back on more level ground. He heard ferocious growling sounds coming from above and then the big shape of the bear came rolling down, much like Dancer had done earlier. It came to rest no more than twenty feet away and he scrambled to reach the rifle that he'd lost in the fall. It was in his hand when he suddenly saw that the bear was dead, its throat had been torn out.
A dark shadow moved swiftly down the slope and came to a stop by the carcass of the bear, giving up a howl of victory. Then it turned towards him.
He gripped the rifle harder as the wolf advanced but the memory of Christina's insistent voice overwhelmed him and he lowered the gun. It had saved him. He'd promised her. A friend, she had told him. And it was as if the wolf did it's very best not to look threatening as it moved towards him.
The big wolf came closer and closer until it was barely a few feet away and Dancer sat frozen in the snow, not daring to move even a fraction of an inch. The wolf gave him what looked like a somewhat suspicious look and moved ever so slowly, placing a single clear paw print in front of him, just out of reach of his legs. Then it drew slightly back and sat down to calmly look at him.
A dizzying array of images assaulted Dancer's mind, moving too fast for him to really grasp what they were about. He saw the moon and tasted snow and he almost remembered running through the night in the company of his wolfkin, but it wasn't Dancer's own memories. Not his at all.
A voice spoke in his head and it sounded ancient and strange, not quite human at all. "Blood calls. Blood answers," it said. Dancer stared at the wolf. He didn't want to believe what had just happened. It had spoken to him.
Before he could do anything the wolf rose majestically and bounded off among the trees, instantly disappearing from sight. Dancer got up on shaky legs and retrieved his hat and his rifle. The walk home felt like he was moving through a dream until he opened the door to his house and spotted Sarah laboriously rising from her chair by the fire where she had been waiting for his return.
"Sarah," he said and his voice still held the wonder of what he had experienced. "Sarah, a wolf spoke to me out in the woods." As he said the words he thought that she must find him crazy but she just said, "Did it?" and there was nothing in her voice that sounded as if she thought he had suddenly had gone mad.
Then her arms were around him in an almost desperate embrace and she whispered to him, "I'm so very glad it did, my love, so glad that you're here safe with me." Her eyes were full of tears but she laughed a bit and then she cried.
He held on to Sarah and looked at his daughter who was playing quietly with her rag doll in front of the fire place. As if feeling his gaze she suddenly looked up and right at him, showing him her sweetest smile.
"I'm glad you didn't kill him, Daddy," Christina said. "I told you he was a friend."
"Yes, you did, sweetheart," he whispered and his voice shook a bit. "You sure did."
5 : Favored
"Ezra! Careful, son, that is nothing for you to play with. You're too young for it yet."
John Dancer pulled the knife away from his two year old son and put it out of reach on the table only to have it picked up by his six year old daughter. She promptly cut her thumb on the sharp edge and started to cry. As soon as the first wail filled the air Ezra joined in as if feeling her pain.
"Christina!" her father protested. Beset by two wailing children he balanced Ezra on one arm while using his free hand to take hold of his daughter's hand so he could inspect the damage. It was a deep cut and large drops of blood welled up and flowed down the length of the finger to drip on the floor. Dancer had been leaning forward and that brought Ezra just in reach so he could grab on to Christina's thumb and cover it with his small hand.
"Ezra, don't do that!" Dancer ordered a second too late to stop it. The children both stopped crying as abruptly as they had started and Christina's pinched little face smoothed out until it was once more clear of all traces of pain.
"Look, daddy," she said and held up her thumb. "Ezra made it go away."
"What?" Dancer said in disbelief and looked closely. The blood still covered her hand but it had stopped flowing. He had to wash it off with water to confirm her statement. The skin was whole once more with just a pink line of scar to show where the cut had been.
It was impossible.
Her ordeal forgotten Christina ran out of the house to play happily outside while Dancer turned to the small bundle now slumped against his shoulder.
"How did you do that, baby heart?" he asked in quiet wonder but his son was fast asleep and Ezra's innocent little face gave no answers.
THE END