Full Moon Fever for Sinthia

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Illya heard the cry of an animal from a distance, his large head coming up out of the water. It was a sight to see such a big male polar bear emerging from a lake in the Sierra Nevada mountains in California. Polar bears not being native to the area. There was another cry. The animal making the sounds seemed terribly hurt. And not too far away. He climbed out of the water and shook himself dry, then at a quick pace, he headed in the direction of the sounds. Pushing through brush and trees as if they were not there. At times he was grateful that when he changed, it was into a larger animal.

It didn't take long for him to cover the distance. The sound was coming from below the ridge of the hill. There was something there, hidden by brush and trees. It was badly hurt, the smell of blood was proof of that. Illya carefully climbed down the steep hill. He pushed through a heavy thicket of brambles and on the other side of it was... a snow leopard? It's leg caught in one of those horrible steel jawed traps.

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[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia had kept quiet while she circled her pursuer, had even kept her growls and hisses to a minimum as best she could: snow leopards couldn't roar properly. But when he had attacked her and slashed at her foreleg and chest she'd shrieked, and the sound had only grown louder when the teeth of an old, rusted beat trap snapped shut around her back foot. As the thing was chained to a spike driven into the ground, Sinthia couldn't escape, even when the sound of a massive predator came crashing through the trees.

She was panting in fear and pain when the polar bear came upon her, small ears flat to her skull and teeth bared.

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He heard another animal nearby. But as soon as he came upon the smaller cat, it ran away. Illya knew that his polar bear form would frighten the leopard. He guessed that she was another were-animal. Snow leopards weren't native to California either.

He moved down and carefully moved a little closer, examining the old rusted trap around her leg. It was probably over a hundred years old. Illya looked at her, hoping she would understand, he moved closer. She was at the end of the chain attached to it and it was pulled taught. Carefully and slowly, he slipped his claws into the trap next to her leg and prized it open as if it was merely a clam shell and held it open for her.

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She growled at him as menacingly as she could, though she let him approach without swiping at him with claws. Sinthia screamed as the trap's teeth were pulled free of her leg, scrambling away and licking the wound.

Though she disappeared quickly into the underbrush after Illya freed her, she returned as the sun set into the trees, stopping near the cabin where his scent was strongest.

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Once she was freed, he ripped the trap in half and threw it as far as he could. She had disappeared while he wasn't watching. It seemed he had done the best he could to help her. Moon set would be coming soon, so he lumbered off back to his cabin.

He stayed outside, on the back deck, waiting for the change to come. Inside the house, he would over-heat quickly. Laying on the deck, he watched the stars. It would be a little less than an hour to the change. He thought about his encounter with the injured snow leopard. He was surprised when he caught her scent on the wind a few moments later as she neared the cabin. It would have been impossible for her to disguise her scent from a nose that could smell a seal from three kilometers away. Illya stayed where he was, laying on the back deck, in hopes that she would be brave enough to come around to the back.

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As Sinthia came around the corner of the house towards the back where he was--she could still smell him--the clouds covered the moon, obscuring it from shining on her. She shuddered, and the cracking and shifting of her skeleton began as she lost her fur: Sinthia was still limping as she stepped gingerly onto the deck, her hair darkening and lengthening as the white and gray rosette-patterned fur melted away.

"You helped me."

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Illya sat up, still in bear form until she came around and climbed up on the deck. He shifted quickly, white fur disappearing to reveal a tall blond man with blue eyes.

"I couldn't leave you trapped there like that," he said, his skin already going to goosebumps in the cold, now that he had lost his warm thick coat. "Come in the house and I will make you cup of tea."

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As they shed their fur, both of them were naked in the chilly air: she still limping, her ankle mangled from the bear trap. It was healing, but slowly, and would take a while longer to completely right itself.

"You aren't from around here, are you? A polar bear."

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"Did my accent give me away?" he asked. "Do you need a hand?" he offered her his arm so that she could lean against him and take some of her weight off her injured leg.

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"I don't think it's cold enough for polar bears here," she says, gladly taking his arm to take her weight off her injured leg. "The bear trap tore the skin, but I don't know if any bones are broken. I can't put much weight on it," Sinthia murmured, shivering in the cold.

"You're Russian?"

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"It is not. Also there is a somewhat considerable lack of seals for food," he said, helping her into the house. He guided her to the couch near the fire place and knelt down to start a fire. "I make due alright. It would not be cold enough for snow leopard either."

"Da. You are also not American," She had obviously been in the states longer than he had, her accent, which he thought sounded Germanic was much softer.

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She sat on the couch heavily, glad for the respite of putting her weight on her foot. "I am not American," she confirms. "I was born in Berlin. But I have not lived there for a long time."

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"Moscow. I have not been home in a long while either," he admitted. When the fire was crackling, and putting out good amount of heat, he rose. "I will put on the kettle for tea, and some clothes." Though he was not to worried about being naked, it would just be warmer. "I will try to find something that will fit you."

He filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove to heat. Then went to his bedroom. He slipped into a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, and brought out one of his old polo shirts for her.

He emerged, and held out the shirt for her, "This should fit you. How is your leg healing?"

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"I thought I recognized the accent," she chuckled, pulling on the polo shirt he handed her: as he was a good deal taller than her it fell to the tops of her thighs. "It will hurt for a few hours, but already the bleeding has stopped," Sinthia answered, carefully examining the wound, though she couldn't feel any broken skin any longer.

"You live a long way out in the wildnerness, alone."

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"It is looking better already," he said as she slipped on the shirt. It almost made a dress on her. It didn't make her any less beautiful. "Good. It will not take long to heal, but you are welcome to stay."

"I do. Because of what we are." The kettle started to whistle and he turned down the stove beneath it. He made cups of tea and set them on a tray with milk and sugar, and slices of fresh lemon, she could choose what she wanted to put in her own tea. He brought it to the low table by the couch. "I am Illya Kuryakin," he said, setting the tray down. "I'm afraid I have no cookies to go with it. I have not driven into town to get groceries yet."

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"Thank you," she said softly, picking up a teacup and letting it warm her hands for a moment before she drank.

"My name is Sinthia," she replied. "You live out here all the time, then? Not just when you're a bear?"

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"Da, I like the quiet. It is peaceful here," he smiled, taking a sip of his own tea. It was entirely different from his earlier life. It was the first time he didn't have to fight for his existence. High in the mountains, it also got decently cool, even if it didn't get down to arctic temperatures.

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"Sometimes too peaceful," she said, shaking her head. "I live in the city. Or I did, until recently."

She considered him as she drank, remembering the tattoos she'd seen on him when he transformed back into a man from his bear shape. "How long have you been like this?"

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"Sometimes," he smiled. "I used to be in the city too." It had been a long time since anyone had asked him any questions about himself. Most people were afraid of him. He gave her a shrug, "About six years, I think. How long for you?"

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"Ten years," she answered. "It was an accident, there was a fight and it got out of hand," Sinthia elaborated, though she kept it vague. "But here we are."

She shrugged. "You have a lot of tattoos. Did you get them before, or after?"

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"I had some before. More after," If she had been in the Vor she would have recognized them tattoos. After he was turned, the process of getting them was far more arduous. It took a great deal of work to get them to stay instead of just healing. "My change was no accident," he admitted despite his misgivings about telling her so much information about himself.