Mother of Midnight

Chapter 82 – Good Dog

That night, Vivienne didn’t bother going to her room. She didn’t need it—rest for her was an optional indulgence, not a necessity—and had all but given it to Kivvy, who seemed to appreciate having a space of her own. Instead, Vivienne wandered the quiet halls until she found a small, secluded garden. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the canopy above, painting the space in silvery hues. It was peaceful, and more importantly, it was private.

Settling herself among the soft grass, she closed her eyes and turned her focus inward. The wolf form. That was her goal tonight: reducing its size, condensing it into something more manageable for practical use. She could feel the blueprint of the form, a core part of her being, like a tightly coiled thread in the depths of her mind. Changing it, though, was easier said than done.

It was a challenge—a deeply instinctual resistance fought her every step of the way. The blueprint wasn’t just a design; it was a manifestation of her essence, crafted long before she had any say in its creation. Adjusting it felt like trying to rewrite a language she barely understood, the rules tangled and inflexible.

It struck her how much simpler it was to create something entirely new than to edit what was already there. Even her drider form—despite how monstrous it appeared—had been easier to piece together. That form had been a hodgepodge of blueprints smashed into one. The difficult part wasn’t creating it but smoothing over the seams, especially where the spider-like body met her waist.

Here, there was no blending, no addition. Only subtraction. And every time she pulled at the threads to shrink the form, it snapped back to its original dimensions as if to mock her.

Hours passed. The moon began its descent, and the faint blush of dawn crept into the sky. Vivienne’s frustration grew, but she kept pushing. She wasn’t about to give up, not after all this time.

Finally, as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, she felt it—the shift she’d been fighting for. Her mind gripped the blueprint and held it steady, forcing it into a new shape. The wolf form compressed, its massive frame folding inward, its power consolidating without diminishing.

When she finally allowed the transformation to take place, the result was satisfying. She still dwarfed any natural wolf, but the form was sleek, powerful, and practical. Muscles rippled beneath the scaled hide, and her paws, while large, were no longer massive enough to crush the cobblestones beneath them.

Vivienne exhaled, her breath a plume of mist in the crisp morning air. Her tail wagged lazily, and she stretched, feeling the new dimensions settle into place. It wasn’t perfect—there was still room for refinement—but it would do. She could pull the wagon now without turning it into splinters.

She shifted back into her humanoid form, rolling her shoulders as the aches from hours of focus faded. The garden was bathed in warm light now, birds chirping softly in the distance. She smiled to herself, pleased with the results.

She wandered through the gardens a while longer, her steps unhurried as the first true light of morning filtered through the canopy above. For the first time since arriving, Vivienne allowed herself to truly take in the plant life around her. It was strange, how little attention she’d paid before, considering the stark contrasts to the flora she remembered from Earth.

The differences weren’t overwhelming, but they were enough to make her feel a slight, persistent unease. The bark on some trees was a little too smooth, its color faintly off—a pale, almost silvery gray instead of the browns she was used to. Other trees had a fibrous, almost crystalline texture, catching the light in ways that made them seem alive in a wholly alien sense.

The flowers were another matter entirely. While some bore familiar shapes—delicate petals and symmetrical arrangements—others seemed designed by something utterly unconcerned with Earth’s aesthetics. There were blooms shaped like spiraling horns, their surfaces shimmering as though coated in fine glass. Others swayed gently despite the stillness of the air, their movements rhythmic, almost hypnotic, as if breathing.

Vivienne paused in front of a particularly vibrant cluster of blossoms. Their petals were a deep, almost glowing indigo, and their centers pulsed faintly with a light that shifted colors in time with her own movements. When she leaned closer, she could swear the flower turned slightly toward her, as if observing her back.

She wrinkled her nose and stepped away, forcing herself to keep walking. These little differences might not be monstrous or threatening, but they scratched at her sense of normalcy in ways she hadn’t expected. Every corner of this world seemed to carry a reminder: she was not home, and she never would be.

Her tail flicked behind her as she moved, her claws idly brushing against the bark of a tree. Even the texture felt wrong—softer than it should be, almost sponge-like. She pulled her hand back, a faint frown crossing her face as she studied her surroundings again. How had she not noticed these details before? Had she been too distracted, too caught up in survival and purpose, to truly see the world she was in?

For a moment, she considered turning back to the main hall and leaving the gardens behind. But the growing light of day, the faint hum of life surrounding her, kept her rooted in place. Even if these differences unsettled her, there was something... oddly peaceful about it all. The strangeness didn’t have to be a threat. Sometimes, it was just that—strange.

She reached a bench nestled beneath a sprawling, vine-laden archway and sat down, her gaze drifting skyward. The vines above glowed faintly, small orbs of light peppering the greenery like trapped fireflies. She let out a slow breath, her fingers drumming against her thighs.

This world wasn’t hers. It never would be. But maybe, just maybe, she could carve out a place for herself in it. She had to, didn’t she? For her companions, for her survival—for herself.

After another long pause, she pushed herself to her feet and brushed the dirt from her hands. The gardens, strange as they were, had done their job. She felt a little lighter, a little more grounded.

With a sigh, Vivienne slipped through the archway of the gardens and back into the clan hall. The air inside was cooler, heavy with the faint smells of polish and stone warmed by the morning light. The quiet hum of the night shift had given way to the rising tempo of the day. Servants moved with purpose, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors as they transitioned from one task to another, their voices low but steady.

Despite her relatively short stay as an official guest, Vivienne had become something of a fixture in the household. Her presence, once a source of hushed whispers and sidelong glances, had settled into something closer to reluctant acceptance. Some of the newer faces in the hall still tensed as she passed, their eyes darting away nervously, but the veterans of the staff no longer startled at the sight of her in all her unsettling glory.

Vivienne’s black eyes, unblinking and reflective like pools of ink, tracked the movements around her as she walked. Her shadow stretched long and sinuous under the hall’s intricate sconces, flickering like a living thing in its own right. Her tail swayed lazily behind her, brushing against the occasional wall or corner, a reminder of the predator lurking just beneath the polite veneer.

“Good morning, Lady Vivienne,” one of the maids murmured as she passed, her tone stiff but no longer fearful. She offered a shallow bow before hurrying on her way, a tray of linens balanced expertly in her hands.

Vivienne inclined her head slightly in response, her expression neutral but vaguely amused. "Morning," she said, her voice carrying a low, melodic rumble that seemed to make the maid quicken her pace just the tiniest bit.

She stifled a chuckle and continued her stroll through the hall, noting how the staff’s collective unease had evolved over the past days. At first, there had been outright fear—panicked glances, whispered speculations, and even the occasional servant outright fleeing her approach. Now, while there was still apprehension, it was tempered with something else: familiarity. It was as if they’d resigned themselves to the fact that the nightmare stalking their halls wasn’t about to devour them—at least not without a good reason.

Vivienne wandered through the winding corridors of the clan hall, her steps leisurely yet purposeful as she navigated the familiar maze. The walls, adorned with intricate carvings and tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and forgotten legends, seemed less imposing now than when she’d first arrived. She reached Rava’s door, pausing for a moment before deciding to do something she rarely bothered with: knocking.

Her knuckles rapped against the sturdy wood, the sound echoing faintly down the hall. From within, she heard a muffled, “Come in!”—firm but distracted, as though Rava's focus was elsewhere.

Pushing the door open, Vivienne stepped inside and paused, her black eyes immediately taking in the scene. Rava was partially dressed, clad in a sleeveless tunic and loose training pants, her usual armor and sharp-edged presence replaced by something more relaxed yet no less commanding. She was in the middle of a series of exercises, her movements deliberate and fluid, muscles coiling and releasing with practiced precision.

The light streaming in from the window caught the sheen of sweat on her fur, accentuating the definition of her arms and shoulders as she moved through a set of stretches. Her tail swayed slightly for balance, the tip twitching with each shift in her stance. There was a primal grace to her motions, a quiet power that spoke of years of discipline and combat experience.

Vivienne leaned casually against the doorframe, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Should I come back later? Or is this the kind of show you put on for all your guests?”

Rava glanced over her shoulder, her expression unbothered but faintly amused. “If I waited for you to respect personal space, I’d be waiting forever. This is progress.”

Vivienne chuckled, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind her. “What can I say? I like to keep you on your toes. Though, to be fair, I didn’t expect to find you mid-workout. I thought mornings were for strategy and brooding.”

Rava straightened, rolling her shoulders back as she finished her set. “Both require a clear head, and exercise helps with that. Besides, staying sharp isn’t just about the mind.” She grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and wiped her face, her sharp eyes locking onto Vivienne. “You’re up early. Finished your work on the wolf form?”

“Mostly,” Vivienne replied, waving a hand dismissively. “Shrunk it down quite a bit. I’ll pull the wagon just fine, don’t you worry.”

“Good.” Rava nodded, tossing the towel onto the back of a chair with practiced ease. “We’ll visit a leatherworker today to get a harness fitted. After that, I’ll see about requisitioning a wagon. But first, I’d like to eat and clean up.”

Vivienne inclined her head in agreement. “Fair enough.” Her lips curved into a mischievous grin as an idea struck her. “Say, should I go with you in wolf form? You know, help the people get used to my presence?”

Rava turned, fixing her with a flat, deadpan stare. “I feel this is less about altruism and more about indulging your desire to scare people.”

Vivienne placed a hand over her chest, her expression one of exaggerated offense. “How dare you? I would never! My only goal is to ease their fears. Sure, I may be a little scary at first, but if they got to know me, they’d see the real me—the charming, delightful creature underneath. Not a monster!”

Rava’s eyes narrowed slightly, though the corners of her mouth twitched as if she were holding back a smirk. “Yes, because nothing says ‘not a monster’ like towering over them in a predatory form while grinning like you’ve already decided who to eat first.”

“I could keep the grinning to a minimum,” Vivienne offered, her tone mock-serious. “And I’ll sit. Maybe wag my tail a bit. You know, non-threatening body language.”

Rava pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long sigh. “It’s too early for this.”

Vivienne beamed, her grin widening with satisfaction. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

Rava rolled her eyes but chose not to dignify the statement with a response. Instead, she grabbed her things and left the room, Vivienne following close behind. After Rava had wiped herself down with a damp cloth and eaten a small meal consisting of bread, dried meat, and some kind of hearty stew, they set out for the leatherworker.

The moment they stepped outside the clan hall, however, Vivienne couldn’t resist. With a ripple of shadow and sinew, she shifted into her newly condensed wolf form, her massive, shadowy frame now leaner and more compact, though no less imposing. Her makeshift toga slipped off in the transformation, pooling on the ground in a heap. Without missing a beat, Rava sighed, bent down, and scooped up the discarded fabric with her paw.

Vivienne tilted her lupine head innocently and wagged her tail, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. Then, like a picture-perfect caricature of a loyal hound, she fell into step behind Rava.

They hadn’t made it far before the stares began. Vivienne delighted in every wide-eyed look, every double take. She caught whispers from bystanders as they pointed her out, some trying—and failing—not to stare directly at the towering shadow-wolf following Lady Ravanyr.

When a particularly burly lekine man rounded the corner, his arms laden with barrels, he stopped in his tracks, his fur bristling as his wide eyes locked onto Vivienne. “By the gods!” he yelped, dropping one of the barrels with a loud thud before taking off in the opposite direction.

Vivienne couldn’t help herself; her tongue lolled out as her massive, shadowy form quaked with silent laughter, her tail wagging in exaggerated delight. She padded forward with an almost exaggerated bounce in her step, perfectly mimicking the demeanor of an overly enthusiastic canine.

Rava didn’t so much as break stride, though her ear flicked in subtle irritation. She glanced back briefly, her expression unreadable save for the faintest crease of a frown. Vivienne met her gaze with an uncharacteristically wide-eyed look, her tail wagging even faster as if to say, What? Me?

The towering lekine sighed, shaking her head as she continued down the road, the sheet still clutched in her paw.

Vivienne followed dutifully, at least for a few paces, before her mischievous streak got the better of her again. Spotting another lekine walking by with an armful of fruit baskets, she let her tongue loll even farther and leaned her head closer to the passerby’s shoulder. The poor individual froze mid-step, one ear swiveling back, his tail puffing out. The moment he dared to glance over his shoulder and saw Vivienne’s shadowy, toothy visage looming beside him, his entire body jerked as he nearly stumbled over his own paws.

“G-gods above!” he sputtered, fumbling the baskets before skittering away like a frightened rabbit.

Vivienne sat down where she was, tail thumping against the cobblestones as she watched him flee. She even tilted her head in mock confusion, her glowing yellow eyes narrowing in faux innocence. If a shadowy wolf could smirk, she would have been doing it now.

Rava turned her head slightly, catching sight of the commotion. She didn’t slow, nor did she scold Vivienne. Instead, she simply let out a long, drawn-out sigh and continued walking. Her deliberate pace and refusal to react only seemed to encourage Vivienne, who bounded after her like a pup eager to please, her paws clicking against the stone with a jaunty rhythm.

The rest of the walk to the leatherworker’s shop was much the same. Vivienne found ways to keep herself entertained, from sidling up to unsuspecting townsfolk to exaggerating her movements just enough to draw attention. A few startled screams, countless wary stares, and hushed whispers followed them wherever they went, creating an odd ripple effect through the morning crowd.

By the time they reached their destination, Rava’s shoulders were stiff with barely contained exasperation, though her expression betrayed little. She handed the sheet to a waiting attendant at the leatherworker’s door without so much as a glance at Vivienne, who sat behind her with unnerving stillness, her tail wagging slowly. The wolf’s expression was one of smug satisfaction, her antics clearly having brought her no end of amusement.

Rava finally glanced back, her sharp eyes narrowing. Vivienne, undeterred, blinked at her innocently, her tail wagging with exaggerated enthusiasm.

A slow, sly grin spread across Rava’s face, her ears twitching ever so slightly. “Sit,” she said calmly, her voice carrying just enough weight to draw attention.

Vivienne tilted her massive, shadowy head to the side, her glowing eyes narrowing in playful defiance.

“I said sit,” Rava repeated, this time with unmistakable authority.

The transformation was immediate. Vivienne plopped down onto her haunches with a thud that echoed faintly against the cobblestones. Her posture was perfectly obedient, though the wagging of her tail betrayed her enjoyment of the absurd display. Nearby passersby stopped in their tracks, their gazes wide with disbelief. A few whispers passed between them as they pointed at the enormous shadowy wolf sitting obediently like a trained pet.

Rava stepped closer, reaching out with a deliberate slowness to scratch under Vivienne’s chin. The motion was as casual as it was calculated, and Vivienne, despite herself, leaned into it. The touch felt surprisingly pleasant, and her tail resumed its rhythmic thudding against the ground.

“There’s a good girl,” Rava murmured, the faintest hint of amusement slipping into her tone. Her sharp claws dragged lightly against the edges of Vivienne’s form, the motion eliciting an almost imperceptible shudder from the nightmare-turned-canine.

Rava straightened and took a step back, her tone cool and unyielding. “Now, stay.” Without sparing another glance, she turned and strode into the leatherworking shop.

Vivienne blinked after her, momentarily frozen. Her dark, luminous eyes widened, and for a brief moment, she looked genuinely affronted. Stay? Did she seriously just tell me to stay?

She huffed quietly, lowering herself ever so slightly onto her massive paws. Her body moved with exaggerated care as she began to creep forward in a mock crawl, testing the invisible leash of Rava’s command. Each paw landed with deliberate softness, and the tip of her shadowy tail twitched with barely contained mischief.

The reaction was immediate. A ripple of gasps passed through the street. Several onlookers recoiled, clutching their belongings or pulling back into the relative safety of nearby doorways. Their wide eyes flicked between Vivienne’s massive, shadowy form and the leatherworking shop door, clearly torn between fleeing and continuing to stare.

One particularly brave lekine cub, however, remained rooted in place, tugging on their parent’s sleeve. “Mommy, is the big dog a pet?” the child asked, their voice no louder than a whisper, yet filled with awe.

Vivienne’s glowing gaze snapped to the cub, and her tail began to wag. The motion was slow and deliberate, each thud against the cobblestones reverberating ominously. The child’s eyes grew impossibly wide as they stared back, their curiosity mingling with a flicker of uncertainty.

“Come along, now,” the mother urged, her voice tight with unease as she tugged the child’s arm.

“But it’s laying so nicely!” The cub protested, reluctant to leave.

Vivienne tilted her head ever so slightly, the gesture unnervingly human-like in its precision. She allowed her maw to part slightly, revealing the faint shimmer of teeth within the shadowy void of her mouth. Her tail wagged again, the thumping growing just a fraction louder.

That was all it took. The mother tightened her grip on the cub and ushered them away quickly, casting one last wary glance at Vivienne before disappearing around the corner.

Left alone again, Vivienne straightened back up, her tail giving one final triumphant flick. She returned to her obedient sitting position, her posture proud and poised as though nothing had happened. Though her expression was unreadable in her wolf form, the smug satisfaction practically radiated off her shadowy figure.

From the corner of her glowing eye, she caught a glimpse of another lekine cautiously peeking out from behind a fruit stall. With deliberate slowness, Vivienne turned her head toward them and wagged her tail once more, sending them scurrying.

“Stay,” she thought with an inward chuckle. Sure, Rava. I’ll stay.