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If he listened for it he could hear the Song underlying every breath. Akela’s song, bright and coppery; Athen’s sharp woodwind’s dancing around her chimes, Jenna’s soft murmur of low strings, and Tos’s bass drums rumbling underneath. Hunter and her Dog were whispers only, echoes of echoes not meant for living ears or minds.
He wondered sometimes what damaged she’d done by binding the two of them in rituals meant for the Veil. He’d tried to ask Tos once, but the dog had just growled at him until he’d given up and left the grizzled mutt to his brooding. Jon didn’t trust Akela or Athen to answer honestly, and Jenna– Jenna avoided him in an almost desperate scrabble and that told him more than he wanted to hear.
He was unnatural, unnatural to things so foreign they had never felt the touch of life or death. It unnerved Jon, the loss of anything to belong to. He wasn’t human, not really, but he wasn’t just Huntsman anymore either. He was life and death and dogs, and he’d given anything just to be human again.
