A/N: I realize this is a pretty ridiculous idea for a story - but then, I guess so is the idea of a wolf and goat being friends? Lol. Seriously though, this is crazy even for the Arashi No Yoru Ni universe. But inspiration struck me pretty severely out of nowhere, and I knew I had to do this. Besides, if there's two things I like, it's goat/wolf pairings (non slash...and of course as long as you don't look too deeply into the relationship, if you get my drift) - and angst. This seemed to fit the bill.

Absolution

Giro opened one cruel eye and was greeted by the sight of the full moon.
He narrowed his gaze, gathered his thoughts, and stretched stiffly. He'd woken up from an uncomfortable dream; one that had plagued his slumber many times before.
Giro was not a fearful wolf. Aside from being the strongest in the pack, he was also the cleverest and most courageous...not to mention inherently cunning and steadfastly bold. Thus, he was not the type to be troubled by dreams, pleasant or otherwise.

These recurring dreams...this specific one...always tended to be different, though. He had seen her again in them.

As always, she was little more than a white blur, a tiny fork of lightning darting through a dim field in the dead of night.

...She who had permanently damaged his left eye and taken off his ear...who had forever remained a spectre to haunt his dreams, as well as his heart.

He growled lightly and lifted himself off the ground, making his way out into the open and stopping at a ledge that overlooked the entire valley, including the home territory of the goats.

He growled yet again upon sight of the loathed place, this time louder than before. The very thought of goats made his blood boil. Unbidden, the dream came back to him again, and alone as he was with his thoughts, he permitted himself to take a long, uneasy journey into the past. Where he had always been so brave and fearless, there was one thing he rarely had the courage to face. This time, he willed himself not to run from the memories, but rather to acknowledge them and to try, one more time, to overcome them. He wouldn't have it that any such petty thought or memory would have power over him.

...That same thing that gives me speed and strength to bring down the mightiest of elks, come to me now and lend me the strength to face this…

It was not quite a prayer, but as close to one as he'd ever been.

He shut his eye and slightly bowed his head. It was a cold night, and the wind played over his dark fur like some sweet caress, as if it pitied him and the internal struggle he was locked in.

Like a terrible flood, the memories came...and this time he did not back down.

...Mai…

He felt a familiar catch in his chest that nearly caused him to break the reverie and head back to his cave. But he stayed put, though his teeth gnashed, and he dared to tread further down this unbearable path.

Mai was her name.

He could never forget, and yet he dared never remember, either.

They had met one sunny day by what seemed entirely by chance...and yet even chance could not possibly be as cruel as all that, could it? It had to have been fate. He had been a young wolf then, and as young wolves tend to do, he had left the safety of the pack to go exploring by himself in the woods. He remembered that his friends had been preoccupied elsewhere, otherwise he would have had them come along. But he was alone that day, traversing glens and ravines, and roving valleys far and wide. It had been exhilarating covering so much ground by himself, and he had to admit there was a certain feeling of invigoration and boldness about not having the others with him. It seemed to spurn a huge feeling of confidence, and he felt himself grow bolder the further he explored.

He'd visited valleys he'd never seen, crossed rivers he'd never heard of, and had even seen the distant caps of unfamiliar mountains. It was a thrilling day to be sure, and likely would have continued to be so, had the accident not occurred.
It must have started when he'd made it to the glade - a beautiful place teeming with vibrant flowers just come up from the spring rains. Unfortunately, the place was not as peaceful as it had seemed. Had Giro been more experienced, or even slightly more observant, he would have noticed the silence. There were no birds chirping, or squirrels chattering - only the light sound of the wind in the treetops. But he had paid no heed, and as he made his way through a thicket of bushes, something strong and sharp and hard closed painfully on his paw.

He gave an alarming howl of fright and tried to run, but he was held fast to the ground.

Giro shuddered at the memory; he would never forget the sheer panic that had taken him in that moment.

He had been caught in some hunter's trap, but of course, having never come across such a thing before, he had no idea what to do, or how to get out of it. It was some time before he had the frame of mind to calm down and assess the situation, despite the pain shooting up through his leg. He tried everything he could think of to pry the metal off himself, but nothing worked.

Time dragged on...

He remembered the fear, the loneliness in the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, the beauty of the yellow flowers as they sat brightly beneath the sun without a care in the world. He even remembered the surge of anger and sorrow he felt at the injustice of it all, and was even beginning to wonder whether he would die out there, far away from family and friends.

It was in that moment that she appeared through the thicket.

...Once again, it proved nearly too much for him to bear, and he flashed his teeth. But he'd come this far; he would see the rest of it through.

She was a young, white goat with large, inquisitive eyes.

Perhaps, the strange thing about their first meeting was Giro's initial reaction. Wolves prey on goats, as is commonly known. Giro had killed and eaten many goats even by the time he was a teenager, and certainly his father and mother - indeed, his whole pack - regarded them as the best prey there was. His kind lived and died by the hunt. Everyone knew it. He knew it, and no doubt this goat knew it, too.

But it was strange...when she had stepped through the bushes, the first thought that entered his mind wasn't that she was potential prey, but rather that she had the most fearless, determined eyes he had ever seen, on any creature. The thought came and passed in less than a second, however, and upon instinct, he began to threaten the goat.

"Aren't you going to run, goat?" He growled. "Or aren't you afraid of becoming my supper?"

The look of calm determination never budged from her face, though, and she answered in the coolest of tones. "You're caught in a snare." It was an observation, not a jab.

He was unsure how to answer, and so let out a growl. But to his slight surprise, she approached him and bent her head down to observe his predicament. "What do you think you're doing, goat?"

"I can get you out of this."

He would have laughed, had he not been so intrigued - but he knew his part, and was determined to play it well. "I'd like to see that. I've tried everything, but couldn't even make the thing budge."

"You haven't tried everything, though."

He wasn't sure if it was the best thing to ask, but he couldn't resist adding, "Even if you do, what's going to stop me from eating you?"

She took her eyes off the trap and looked him square in the face. She actually gave a slight smile. "My speed."

He blinked in surprise, and then threw his head back and laughed. "You must be joking! Your speed?" He laughed again. "Do you have any idea how many of your kind I've killed, goat?"

"No," she answered, "But do you have any idea how many wolves I've eluded? You wouldn't be the first, and most certainly won't be the last."

She was all confidence and dignity, and in spite of her laughable claims, he couldn't help wondering how it was that any goat could be in such close proximity to a wolf and not cower in fear. She was easily the most unusual goat he'd ever met. Not that he'd ever bothered to get to know a goat.

"Alright, here goes. I'm going to set you free. Just hold still!"

He barely had time to react before she used her hoof to hold one end of the trap, and her small horns to push the other end. As soon as there was enough space, he withdrew his paw, and was free.

Presently, he opened his eyes.

Maybe the memories were more bittersweet than he thought, but...that was only the beginning of the end. It was what followed after that had forever tormented him. And yet, he had taken the plunge...had dared to go to the one place in all the world that frightened him, and he knew there was no turning back at this point.
As if on cue, his thoughts jumped to the events following his rescue by the goat.

Needless to say, he did not kill her that day.
...Not that day…
She did save his life, and he felt that sparing hers was a fair return for the favor. His father had taught him something of honor, and though he was young, Giro believed that his act of sparing this goat was the honorable thing to do.

They had fallen in to talking, and she'd revealed that her name was Mai.
Was it curiosity that overcame instinct that day? Was it a young wolf's inquisitive nature that ended up getting him into the deepest of trouble, the direst straits, the most treacherous storm he'd ever had to face in his life? He never found out, and yet it was in moments like these that he dared to wonder, still.

Giro had agreed to meet her again, this time in a valley closer to his home, for he had traveled very far that day. He'd been scolded pretty harshly by his parents when he finally did make it home, but their admonishments were buffeted by the excitement Giro had had that day...not to mention the prospect of talking to that she-goat again. It was all very new to Giro. He had never really talked to anyone besides wolves before, and so the fact that he had conversed with a brave goat - and that this goat seemed to wish to talk to him again, too - was captivating to his young and curious mind.

Yes, certainly it must have been curiosity that had caused his internal downfall...If he had let well enough alone, things would never have…

...But that couldn't be changed. What happened, happened, and there was no changing the past.

How did it happen, though?
Was it the constant meetings, the secret talks? Or perhaps it was the late-night romping in the gray fields under a full moon, he dashing through thick folds of grass, looking to first one side and then another, frightening himself with the feelings that struck him when he would catch a glimpse of her as she flitted through the grass, as white as the moon, as if she and it were one…Meeting her prompted a series of events and revelations that put his world on tilt.
It had never occurred to him that prey had souls as deep as his own. Mai had unwittingly taught him otherwise.
And they had talked. A lot.

She'd spoken of things he had never before dreamed of nor imagined, and he in turn had told her things he'd never told anyone before - not his parents, not even his closest friends. They had gone places together, both externally and internally. Giro was sure he had never had a more cherished friend. She had opened his eyes to things unimagined, had painted his world a different color.

...Perhaps that's when things went downhill...when those wonderful, terrible, overwhelming pangs in his chest began to overtake him...when food and sleep no longer interested him and drove his health wild, forcing him to the edge and finally prompting him to admit that what he felt towards this goat was more than friendship…

He shuddered. He'd struggled with it then, and he struggled with it still.
But, it hardly mattered, because…well, because of many things...

No, he shook his head. He was done with the memories and wanted to go back to his cave and get on with life the way it should be - with him the alpha of his pack, and treating goats the way he should have treated them his whole life: as prey.

He moved no more than an inch before it came to him in tumultuous waves…

It was a sunny day when they had met again, out in an open field far away from anywhere where they might be discovered. Giro had approached her with a small, yellow flower in his mouth. He had seen it on his way to meet her, and had thought of her, and wanted her to have it.

But when she came up to him, the look in her eyes made him stop. He'd dropped the flower to the ground. "Mai?"

She smiled, but to his eyes it was filled with barely-veiled sorrow. "I...I have some good news, Giro."

He blinked. "What is it?"

She seemed to gather herself, as if what she was about to tell him was not good news at all. "I...that is...my parents have chosen a mate for me."

...A mate…
The words hit him like a tidal wave, threatening to take the very breath from his lungs. "A mate?" He repeated.

She nodded. "Yes."

He wasn't sure how to respond. His head swam, his limbs felt weak, and his heart beat so loudly within his chest that he feared it might burst altogether. "That's...interesting news," he said, in none-too-convincing tones.
She didn't meet his eyes.

Giro had sworn that he would never dwell on her after that day...and yet, even years later, there were times when he wondered if she, too, might have had regrets. The look in her eyes, usually so spirited and brave and alive, had dimmed down to a strange sort of resignation that wasn't her at all.

"Giro," she had said one day. He remembered the sound of her voice so vividly. It didn't possess the usual easy confidence; rather, it was the voice of someone trying to keep some deep, hidden pain at bay.

"...We...We're different…"

It could have meant many things. She could have meant, simply, 'We're different, so we should stop being friends.' Or, 'We're different, but that's ok, we'll be friends as long as we live.'
...But her voice...It was in the sound of her voice that he knew exactly what she was saying.

We're different, so we can never hope to be anything more than friends. In short, she had acknowledged that there was no hope.

He hadn't expected it to hurt as much as it did. Certainly - of course - he knew there was no hope. He never dared to imagine that there was.
Why, then, did it hurt worse than the pain he felt on the day he had been caught in that deathtrap?

Time went on. Mai and Giro began to see each other less frequently since she had taken on a mate.

The few rendezvous they did have grew tenser and tenser. Mai couldn't seem to understand why Giro was constantly finding fault with her, or even breaking a few of their get-togethers because he had other things to do. She didn't understand where his animosity was coming from. He, in turn, didn't understand why she had been so willing to call off their friendship, forsaking it for some foolish he-goat. If the two had meant that much to each other, shouldn't she have fought harder to preserve it? Or was some of the fault his?
He wasn't sure at what point they had ceased speaking entirely. It did a little service in easing his pain, but not enough.

The memories paused to allow the tormented wolf a slight reprieve. He found he had tensed while recalling these unpleasant things. His muscles were stiff and his limbs rigid as if he had partaken in an exhausting hunt in the dead of winter.

...No...it was not the last talk that they'd had…

There had been another.

It must have been months before it happened. Giro, now a full-fledged adult and leader of the pack, had received word that Mai wished to speak with him.
His initial reaction would have been to refuse her...and yet his curiosity - that same thing that had gotten him into such a mess in the first place - reared its ugly head and demanded that he obey its every whim. So he agreed.

It hadn't been easy for him to come up with a proper excuse to leave the pack for a time, but he'd managed it somehow. He'd made his way to the small, hidden glade that both he and Mai were very familiar with. He had arrived there first, and was surprised at how uneasy he felt. He didn't want to see her, and yet there was a part of him that did, desperately. That small part was all it took to get him to risk it all for the chance of seeing the face of his friend, the goat he had dared to love in the private depths of his heart.

A slight rustle announced her presence, and he tensed slightly as she emerged from the brush.

What was it she had wanted to see him about? Was it to make amends and try to repair their friendship? Or had it been to find out exactly why it had broken?

...Ah...He remembered. It was for her son that she came.
...Her son.

She'd come to make a request of him.

He'd narrowed his eyes at her and laid back his ears. "You want me to spare your entire clan for the sake of your little imp?"

She hadn't flinched from the growl in his voice, hadn't turned her eyes away from his, though she knew he was angry.

"All I ask is that you show some consideration for my son." She faltered. "...I...know I can't ask you to leave my clan alone...that would be going against your instinct...I only came to ask what I could."

He said nothing, and she implored, "Please, Giro…" Though she tried to hide it, the desperation she surely must have felt in her heart made itself known in her voice. He wasn't used to her sounding desperate; had never known her to be anything other than brave, radiant, and self-assured. He didn't like the changes that had come over her ever since she had taken on a mate and bore a son. This wasn't the Mai he knew.

The anger that was already harbored within him swelled, and he found he was barely able to control his temper. It had been painful enough to learn that she had been given to another...then to hear those horrible but true words pour forth from her mouth...and then her request that he never harm her son…
Now...the brave young thing that he had loved more than life itself was dwindling away to a former shadow of herself. Her mate and her offspring were turning her into something she wasn't. Giro had been unable to see the motivation behind Mai's behavior, and yet some part of him did know. He refused to acknowledge, even deep down, that her actions were not motivated by fear, but rather by love. Something she had chosen not to give him.

He growled yet again, and was unable to stop the words pouring forth from his own mouth. "I will not compromise the survival of my pack for the sake of your brat!"

She remained still, as if she had been expecting this reaction from him. Then she asked a question that caught him off guard. "What happened to you, Giro?"

It made him halt, and he was unsure how to respond. He could tell her the truth...that he had irrevocably fallen in love with her - had loved her for years - and that his hopes had been dashed when she turned from him, and what they could have been.

But no, there had never been any hope for them. They were too different; they were opposites. Just what was it had he wanted from her? Did he suppose that she would remain alone and childless for his sake, and he the same? Of course not, the notion was absurd. But logic, and even truth, did nothing to ease the pain of years that had festered in his heart. Try as he could to fight off his feelings with reasoning, it was a losing battle.

And now she had the gall to come to him and ask him never to lay so much as a claw on her son. The audacity…

"What happened?" He answered angrily, but carefully - the last thing he wanted was for her to know just how deeply she had wounded him. "I became the leader of the pack. I am responsible for their survival. I have a mate and a pup of my own now - what makes you think I would put them in harm's way for you?"

He noted the way her ear had twitched slightly at the mention of his own mate and pup, and he wondered if…

"Giro…" she started, "I'm only asking you not to come after my son…"

"You've wasted your time, you wretched goat."

At the callous name, her eyes actually widened, and for a moment he'd wondered if he had gone too far. But it was too late to take the words back; his heart was full of pain and bitterness, and it had tumbled out of his mouth in the form of those ugly words. It had sealed the end of not just their friendship, but their acquaintance.

"I can't believe...after all those years, everything we'd been through…" Her voice actually trembled with hurt and even anger.

'Yes, after everything we'd been through,' he thought, 'and yet you toss us aside as if we had been nothing to each other.' He turned to her and said aloud, "I will give no special consideration to you, or your brat. I have my own pack to lead, my own family to feed." He hesitated, unsure if he should say his next words. But he had already gone too far; there was no turning back. "I would watch my back if I were you. The next time we come to hunt in your territory, I will not hold back. Neither will I ask any in my clan to do so!"

His eyes bored into her, and he knew she had seen nothing but hatred in them. She stood on the spot for a long time as if riveted by the loathing in his words, and in his gaze. He knew that in those moments, she understood exactly where he stood. He would show neither her nor her son any mercy.

Finally, as if recovering herself, she turned and left without another word to him.

They had been broken.

A sound made him depart from the memories; a wind had kicked up and blew through the treetops.

He didn't want to visit what happened next. What he dared to remember already was more than enough.

Sometimes the field would haunt his dreams.
The waving grass, the fading light...the stillness and silence in the air. It was a poison to his soul, and he often wondered whether he would ever recover from the sickening recollections.

...True to his word, he had not shown her mercy that day. Yes, that day...the one that part of him would always regret having lived through, and yet the other part - the stronger, fiercer, more vengeful part - insisted that it had to happen. That it was good that it happened. The natural order had to be restored. He was the alpha of his pack, and must act like one.

Though every inch of him had been trembling on that day, for the thrill of the hunt (or had it been fear?), he had hoped that his decision would snap him back to reality, remind him once again of what he really was, and what she was.
He remembered catching her scent, he flitting through the grass like a demon intent upon catching its prey. There was no turning back, for either of them.
He ran and gave chase on that day like he had never done before. He couldn't see her, but he knew she was there, with her son. Faster and faster he ran, his heart beating wildly in his untamed form, knowing he was gaining on them. Then he saw...
The flash of white...a bit of moonlight whose beams cut through the waving grass and pierced his heart like an arrow. A vision flashed through his mind's eye in the span of a second, in which he had chased this same form under a happier sky, through sweeter grasses. Still he ran, and tried with every fiber of his being not to remember the times he had spent pursuing this creature in sheer joy and frivolity. Then, his heart had been full and untarnished.

That's when she turned, making her fateful decision to sacrifice herself for her son.
...Where was the carefree joy...where had the frivolity gone?
She had attacked him, pitifully to be sure, but had marred him on the outside as she had done on the inside. Her life ended that day, and in a way, so did his.

Those in his clan had no way of knowing what nightmares he had endured that night.
They had no way of knowing the reasons behind his lack of sleep, nor the loss in his appetite. It had been the trial of his life, and yet, as leader, he was duty-bound to hide his mourning from others. His theory hadn't played out the way he thought it would...her end had shattered him like nothing else could. It had not restored the natural order in his heart.

But, that was in the past...

Giro felt his throat tingle, but he willfully forced the pain back down, deep, deep down inside where it could not escape, but at least it would not be at the surface. He'd given it too much time as it was.

Standing up, he made his way back to the cave where his mate was still fast asleep. He gazed at her for a moment, and the pain subsided a little. He cared for her, and for their litter. But he couldn't help but think it ironic than her hide was white, just like hers.

No...no more thoughts of her. There needed to be an end of that.

He settled himself down beside his mate, and closed his eyes, wondering if he would be able to drift off to sleep again. The nightmare had passed, but he knew it would come again. It always did. Perhaps there would come a time when they would cease altogether, and his suffering could finally be put to rest. Perhaps he might actually hope for comfort in this life again...but then again, who could say. Maybe in the last days of this world, all pain and suffering would be put to an end.

He wasn't sure if he should dare hope for the comfort of having his nightmares end, but...even if they didn't, he would survive.