Chapter Text
part i: the warmth of your doorway
track: it will come back - hozier
Day 365 hour 0
One year.
It has been one year that Kylo has been living like this. Isolated, deep within the forested, foggy landscape of the Olympic Peninsula. Three hundred and sixty-five days that he has been alone.
Building his small but practical cabin had been a way to distract him from it — the ever-present loneliness, his only companion in the rain-soaked woods. He had finished building the tall, unassuming structure over six months ago now — his mother had helped him pick the location and haul the supplies he needed and left him to his own devices, but he calls her once a month to check in, when the time is right, and he is able to risk traveling to the small town close by for basic necessities.
His home is tucked within the mossy, evergreen forest — with no access from any road or trail, nestled just high enough within the Olympic Mountain Range to remain undiscovered by any wandering humans.
There have been moments of weakness, usually close to when the moon rises highest and brightest in the sky, that he has been tempted to wander too far, to the violet sea where the beaches are littered with black stone, where smells of flesh, of a past life that he has difficulty remembering haunt him like spirits in the sky.
But he will not take the chance, even when darkness takes him and he is no longer pale in the flesh, when he no longer stands on two legs, when his teeth are sharpened and canine, no matter how much he craves it — humanity.
Day 412 Hour 11
Kylo smells her before he sees her — a young, human girl hiking towards the flowing, muddy river where his clawed feet often lead him after hunting to clean his fur and satisfy his thirst.
He swings his enormous head in the direction of the incredible scent, maw watering and mind swimming with its intensity. She is so fragrant, his sensitive nose picking up blood mandarin, frosted grapefruit, bitter almond, cinnamon bark, leather and underneath it all — that distinct, sweet musk that labels her as female.
And yet his paws stay planted, firmly on the jutted cliff upon which he stands, when his yellow, predatory gaze locates her. She is so small and carefree in his forest, unaware of the beast that has caught her scent less than fifty yards away.
This is not the first time he has come across a human in this form, but it is the first time that one has smelled so good to him. His eyes track her movements as she dips a hand into the river, bringing it up to rinse the back of her neck.
He growls — deep in his chest and turns, feet pounding into the damp earth as he runs as fast as he can in the opposite direction of her scent.
But it lingers, like honey in his veins — even when his heart beats beneath the skin of a man again.
Day 430 Hour 15
It has been a long time, 234 days to be exact, since he has shifted against his will. His control over it is growing with each passing day and he feels tentative pride well in his chest at the accomplishment as he ambles down the mountain, through the trees towards the nearest path to his old truck that he keeps parked in an abandoned pole barn.
The barn is falling apart, but it’s enough to shield the vehicle from view. His work boots are mud-caked but they suit him just fine. Being on two legs again always takes some getting used to, and wearing shoes after feeling the earth under his paws is an adjustment. The one thing that remained the same was scent. He could smell every layer of dirt beneath him, every small animal scurrying around in the brush, the ozone in the air and the storm on the horizon…all of it.
Today there was something else — her. Sunshine and toasted marshmallows, cozy sweaters and a fire in the hearth. Delicious. Scents that hit him in a wave of nostalgia from a past life — from before the darkness. And they’re growing closer.
“Are you lost, sir?”
Kylo jumps, letting out a surprised rumble as he turns towards her — he had been distracted by her scent, enough to not realize how close she had approached him. He must look odd to her; a man hiking in nothing but jeans, a flannel with the sleeves rolled up, and work boots. Especially when there is snow half a mile up the mountain.
He decides to be honest, for whatever reason, he doesn’t know. “No, I live close by.” Words feel foreign on his tongue, he hasn’t spoken aloud in what feels like forever.
“You do?” Her brow furrows in confusion and she takes a step closer to him, hazel eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes guarded yet somehow open at the same time.
She’s curious.
Kylo can’t help but breathe in her scent even more, greedily picking up on the distinctly sweet feminine musk. His mouth waters.
“Yes,” he answers matter of factly, letting his human eyes shift over her form. She is wearing a uniform of sorts and after reading her badge, he realizes that she must work for the National Park. Her hair is tied up in three buns. She’s...short. Compared to him. Small. “Don’t worry, I’m not lost.” He’s careful to keep his voice soft and steady, as he does not wish to startle her. He hasn’t worked out why just yet.
“Oh…” her voice trails off, she is standing about a yard away from him and he thinks about how he had encountered her in his wolf skin, she smells just as good — stirring something inside of him that he didn’t know existed. “Be careful out here, there are a lot of things you wouldn’t expect in the forest.” She pauses, her eyes growing wide with excitement. “I’ve been tracking prints, a wolf it looks like, but the paws — they are the size of a bear. Maybe bigger.”
His heart skips a beat, but he keeps his voice calm, even. “Maybe it’s a werewolf.”
Her eyes snap to meet his, and they stare at each other for a moment, her face flushing prettily as he holds her gaze. Her features are delicate, and her skin is sunkissed and freckled, rare to see when there is so little sunlight that reaches the peninsula. He laughs then, somewhat stiltedly, and she laughs with him. Her wide smile nearly takes his breath away.
“What’s your name?” She asks, a smirk playing at the edges of her pink lips.
Kylo. “Ben.”
Day 430 Hour 23
Kylo adds several logs to the wood burning stove that is nestled in the corner of his living space, thinking back to his encounter with the girl. He doesn’t get cold easily, even in human form, but he takes comfort in the warmth that the stove fills his space with. In having a home that feels normal.
She had told him her name. Rey.
It’s nice to know her name, and he’s glad that someone out there knows his.
Day 432 Hour 9
His dreams of a red room and a withered, old man, are interrupted — unnaturally — by the sound of a knock at his door. It’s a sound he has never heard before, and his sleep-fogged brain takes several seconds to process it before he smells her.
He sits up abruptly, climbing down the small staircase and moving towards his closet to pull on clothes. Eagerly, he approaches his door, hesitating only for a moment to let out a deep breath before turning the knob.
“Rey.” His voice comes out gruff, deep — and her hazel eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles up at him from the first step of his small porch.
“This place — Ben — it’s amazing, you’re just off the edge of the park.”
He hums, eyes lingering on her, a bit taken aback at the sight of her here — where he has been alone for so long. No one has ever even come close to finding his home. It’s surreal to see her standing on his porch.
She clears her throat, and he sees the cold air form a cloud of vapor as she exhales. Right, it’s cold outside.
“Would you like to come in?”
Rey turns then, looking behind her, at what he doesn’t know — and then meets his eyes again.
“I have coffee.”
Her smile returns, and he steps aside to allow her to enter, catching notes of cinnamon. Temptation.
Kylo moves to start the kettle, only having a french press to make coffee. A machine would have been a waste of space, and something easily broken in the increasingly rare case that he shifts out of anger. He lets himself glance at her from the corner of his eye — she is turning, taking in his home. He should maybe tell her to leave, for her own safety, but he is a selfish creature. So he won’t.
“You have a lot of books,” she notes, casually, her voice ringing in the normally silent, open space of his home.
He nods in response. “I like to read.”
“You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
“I am curious,” he says, turning towards her and leaning back against his countertop.
“Well... after you said you lived close by, my park ranger senses started tingling, and I kind of made it my mission to find you.”
He laughs, lowly, at the look on her face, knowing that there is some hidden joke in her words that he missed, but not caring. He is just glad that someone is here. That she is here. “You found me.”
She hums, moving about his home and looking around. His breath catches a little when she pauses in front of his calendar. “What do the numbers mean?”
Before he can answer, the kettle whistles and he turns to put out the flame on his stove — pouring the steaming water into the french press. When he looks at her again she is looking at him, expectantly. “It’s how long I’ve lived here. I’m counting the days.”
“Oh.”
“How do you take your coffee? I just went to the store so I have cream.” His hand comes up to the back of his neck as he speaks, cursing himself inwardly at his awkwardness.
“Cream and sugar, please!” Rey smiles again, swinging her arms cutely as she walks closer to where he stands. He prepares the coffee as she watches, and when he holds it out to her, she takes the mug from him, and when their fingers brush it’s... the only word Kylo can think to describe it is electric. Something living. An energy thrumming between them. He inhales deeply as she takes the mug, standing as close to him as she ever has. Her eyes look glazed over as she stares up at him, and he feels like he might...cry. Do you feel it too?
Turning away before he looks foolish in front of her, he pours himself his own coffee, making it the exact same way he did hers — he likes sweet things every once in a while. There is a small table in his kitchen, the second chair something Leia had insisted on despite his questions of why would I need that?
Rey sits down at his table. He will have to send his mother a thank you note.
“There is another reason I wanted to speak with you again,” she says, voice a little more grave than it had been since she knocked on his door. “Have you noticed any animals — large ones, around your home?”
He takes a sip of the hot coffee, and looks out the window above his sink, and gives her a half-truth. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Those tracks I mentioned before, they come up close to your property. I just wanted to warn you,” her words are sincere and he turns towards her, sipping his coffee and trying not to smirk.
“Thank you for letting me know,” he clears his throat. “I’ll be sure to keep my eye out.”
“It’s so strange to be honest, I’ve never seen tracks like these,” she continues to talk about his track pattern, the snagged clump of black fur he must have lost on a tree branch that she found, and how she is an archeologist for the National Park Service. She has been monitoring the flow of the river, which must have been why he had scented her there.
“What do you do?” she asks him. He is unsure how to respond, because he doesn’t do much.
“I’m a writer,” he answers, telling her the only truth he can think of. Before the darkness, he had published several books, under the guidance of his Uncle Luke, a prolific author and like himself, someone who is not just a man.
She beams at him, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with that, so he shifts his eyes away, focusing his attention on his sock-covered feet.
“Would I have read any of your work?”
“Maybe — although it has nothing to do with archaeology.” It’s weird, he had expected interacting with a human to be...difficult after how much time he had spent by himself. But it’s surprisingly easy with Rey — almost like her presence puts him at ease. He looks back up at her, she’s shed her thick jacket, and her scent hits him even more potently. She’s wearing a simple button-down denim top, and her hair is pulled away from her freckled face, this time half of it draping around her shoulders in waves of chestnut. She’s beautiful.
He had been writing more since he had scented her on the river. Something about her had struck inspiration within him, and he had been tentatively putting words on paper every chance he got since that day.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she says, blushing ever so slightly and staring down into her coffee cup. He can smell it, the pink in her cheeks. The shift in her hormones. She must have mistaken his silence for hesitation.
“I publish under a pseudonym, Kylo Ren,” he starts, but pauses when she seemingly chokes on her coffee.
“You’re Kylo Ren!?” she asks disbelievingly. “You wrote The Force of the Moon series?”
“Yes,” he answers resolutely. He doesn’t think that he’ll be able to get her scent out of his home. He doesn't think he wants to.
“Fuck — oh sorry — I mean — shit,” his eyes track her movement as she tugs on the sleeve of her shirt. “That was my favorite — you have no idea — I loved those books growing up. Primary school was…” her voice trails off, and he wants her to finish her sentence, badly, and she does. “Thank you. Those books meant a lot to me as a lonely preteen.”
Warmth floods him at her praise, at this connection, foreign but good, that he feels between them. “I’m glad.” Kylo smiles at her then and her flush grows exquisitely darker. He wets his lips.
She looks up at him, shyly then. “I should go, it’s a long hike down to the station.”
“You don’t have to,” he says seriously, longing for this bizarre encounter to go on. She holds his stare, something passing between them before she puts her jacket back on.
“I’ll see you around then?”
He nods and watches her leave, heart beating faster still.
Day 438 Hour 11
He follows her. Quietly, carefully, and at a safe distance as she hikes toward the flowing river.
There’s something about her… he senses she can protect herself, and probably has on more than one occasion, but he still can’t help this sudden instinct that has developed inside of him. Watch her. Keep her safe. After all, he’s not the only monster in this forest.
She’s small but strong, forging a path towards the river with ease. He inhales once, then twice. She brought bear spray with her. Smart girl. He follows her deeper and deeper into the woods, so deep he worries she’ll find herself lost if she’s not careful; deep enough that the sunlight filtering through the trees turns a burnt orange that fades into a brilliant sunset, casting everything in a soft glow that he knows, more than anyone, can’t and won’t last.
Before long darkness is swallowing everything light and Rey stops, seemingly shocked that the daylight is gone. He thinks she didn’t mean to spend the night in the forest, didn’t bring a tent with her. As he looks at her from this distance — his heart becomes so full of her and the warmth that she radiates, that he barely notices the familiar, dreaded ripping beginning in the middle of his chest.
It happens in stages. Blunt nails become claws. Hair becomes fur, covering every inch of skin he has. His bones break with the force of it, rapidly changing and transforming themselves into something new. His spine breaks free, twisting itself, bowing down to his size. He shouldn’t be this big. No Solo or Skywalker wolf was ever this big — monstrous — evil. He shakes his fur out and preens, towering over everything, ground shaking when he walks. He’s far enough away from her that she didn’t see anything, but she had to have heard it happen. That’s when he realizes: he has his thoughts. He can think as himself, not just as the monster craving blood on his fangs and carnage under his paws.
So he pads closer, and then closer still. It’s a cold night, nothing to him and his layers of thick, shaggy fur. But his Rey is shivering, little puffs of breath dyeing the night air white with their warmth. The only warmth she has. She’s asleep, and the October night will only get colder. He carefully, so carefully, grabs her jacket with his teeth and tugs her to a comfortable enough looking spot on the ground atop a pile of dead leaves. He wraps himself around her, his massive head resting by her feet. She nuzzles into his warmth before waking up with a jolt and letting out an unholy shriek.
He knows what he must look like. Bigger than any wolf or any animal she’s ever seen, fur black as night, teeth the size of her hands, paws as big as her head. She screams some more, making like she’s going to run, and he does the only thing he can think of. Dropping to the ground, rolling over, showing her his belly, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He tries to smile before realizing that would be even more of a gruesome sight. Her face goes from horror to shock to disbelief to incredulity in a matter of seconds.
“I’ve lost it. That’s it, I’ve gone mad.” She’s rambling under her breath at the absurdity of it all. “Finn was right. I never should’ve gone hiking this far into the forest alone, especially not in the afternoon. I lost track of time, I fell asleep, and this is just a nightmare.”
He huffs out the wolfy approximation of a laugh. Who’s Finn? Her boyfriend? He didn’t like the sound of that much. He pads over to her and sits at her feet, resting with his head on his front paws, swinging his massive tail back and forth at the sight of her. If he has to play dog to relax her, he’d do it all night.
Something changes in her expression, shock turning to wonder, and she reaches a shaking hand out to him.
Don’t be afraid. I feel it too.
Her tiny hand caresses his face, starting at the top of his head and moving to his whiskers. He sinks his massive head down so she can better reach him. His eyes close at her touch, the first he’d gotten — not counting the accidental brush of their hands several days earlier — in human or wolf form in years.
“You won’t hurt me?”
He shakes his head vigorously. Of course, he won’t hurt her.
“I really am dreaming.”
It feels like a dream to him too, something so precious he never thought he’d be allowed to have, not in a million years.
So he lays down at her feet, slowing the wagging of his tail and letting out a soft whine. She sighs and seems to resign herself to the ridiculous dream she thinks she is having before dropping to the ground and curling up with him, her face under his chin and her hands clutching his fur. He moves around her as much as he can, wanting her to feel every ounce of warmth he can muster. He listens to her breathing even out and slow, but her grip on his fur never once loosens.
Day 439 Hour 5
Kylo blinks his yellow eyes open to darkness that is quickly fading into the muted grey tones signaling the approaching morning. His Rey is still curled up against his form, and when he touches his wet, cold nose to her face she just hums and snuggles closer.
His mouth waters — he needs to hunt.
Reluctantly, he disentangles himself from her and slinks off into the forest to find elk or maybe a bear to satisfy the gnawing in his belly and the drool that is pooling under his tongue.
Throughout the hunt he keeps his ears pricked, listening to Rey’s even breathing as she sleeps. He hears when she wakes after he has eaten his fill, following the sound. He can hear her shuffling feet as she makes her way down the mountain. The beating of her strong human heart.
He tracks her movements until she is safely back to civilization. Turning and running back to the river to wash the elk’s blood off his fur, hoping that she will return soon.