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bounding towards a treasured spot, urging Leander to follow, and the next he would stop,
embarrassed at his excitement, and nearly turn back towards their cabins. In the back of his
head it occurred to him that this was in some ways unwise: a few of the places he was taking
Leander happened to be places he went only in his wolfish shape. But Leander was as
beautiful as summer was, and as warm and gold and welcoming. Axton had to share.
So when Leander said, "Let's go," Axton went.
They swam laps in the lake, they made camp in far flung meadows, they occasionally pulled
ticks off of each other with tweezers because the marvelous outdoors were not without their
minor hazards. Leander got it into his head one day to go bird watching, and so Axton was
gently mocked for how he could, if he let himself, find birds and watch them for hours. He knew,
too, that Leander enjoyed gently testing him: can you build a fire with this, can we climb those
bluffs, do you know what plant that is, how many fish have you caught today, can you build a
raft from sticks? Of course, usually Axton could, and almost always, Axton did. So Leander was
all gleeful smiles as he learned about the lay of the land.
Leander liked to tease him, too, always acting as if he wasn't going to lift a finger to help in
their preparations. In reality, he almost always joined in, and once they were actually doing
something he worked swiftly and seriously, or took instructions quietly and well when it was
something new.
Axton knew that he would always remember this summer, the first time in his adult life he'd
shared the season with someone. The memories might be hazy with time or fondness, but it
would be a golden time, always, the summer scent of wildflowers in full bloom and the tang of
the lake and the smoky smells of bonfires mixed in with the sweetness he caught whiffs of
from Leander's skin. They did not make it to the far off mountain that summer, Leander being
too preoccupied with swimming laps in the lake and then lazing around, and Axton too thrilled
with the easy pace of their shared days to mention it. They did not spend every waking
moment together--Axton was still at some essential level a recluse, and one who needed time
to run around as a wolf, besides. And for all the joy that Leander seemed to take in their shared
time, he went off every day to contemplate the woods around his cabin in solitude, and he
sometimes locked himself up in his cabin with books and laptop for hours at a time. Axton was
pretty sure he was writing something, but he had no idea what.
The periods of solitary contemplation of the woods, however, he was acquainted with. He'd
long spied Leander on morning runs when he was trotting back home as a wolf, and seen him
drop to do pushups or do pull ups on trees or resume running while lugging a weight, or wearing
a weighted vest. He'd seen, too, the equipment inside Leander's cabin, more weights and a
punching bag in a corner. That occupied his mornings.
They spent their nights separately as they spent half their days, except when they both
ended up around a campfire, flames reflecting off their eyes. One night, Leander brought out
whiskey.
"I don't figure you for much of a boozer," he'd said, pulling out a bottle and brandishing it in
the light, "But if you'd like a drink..."
Axton took the bottle and drank. They passed it back and forth between them in a
comfortable silence broken only by the crackling of their fire.
"Is there any reason," Axton asked after a while, "That you chose today to drink?"
"It's my birthday," Leander said.
"Really?" Axton said, sitting straight up. "I--had no idea."
Leander laughed. "I'm fucking with you. It's not my birthday."
"Jesus," Axton groaned, slumping back over, "You dick."
"Mmm." Leander took another swig of whiskey and leaned forward. "When's yours?"
"When is my what?" Axton asked, entranced by the way the smell of Leander's skin mixed
with the smoke of their fire, and then with the whiskey on his breath.
"Birthday," Leander laughed, "What else?"
"Oh." Axton stopped. "Hm. Uh. December fifth."
"You had to think about it," Leander grinned. "You fucking hermit, you."
It should have stung, but it didn't, and Axton grinned up at him goofily. It was hard to be
upset at that tone of voice, all affection and indulgence.
"Guilty as charged," he said.
Leander scoffed. "You don't feel guilty at all. You love it out here."
"Yeah," Axton said, with a contented sigh. He settled his shoulder blades down in the grass,
arms tucked behind his head as he looked at the sky. Much better, he thought, as he often
thought, to look at the stars as a human. Wolves were a little near sighted.
"Mmm," was Leander's only response, as he settled down into the grass on the opposite
side of the fire. "You're not wrong, though. It must be amazing to spend all your time here."
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