howlin' for you

RACHEL: Quinn's words do her in and any hope and resolve Rachel had for holding it together crumbles when she turns. Because those words don't ring true for just now, or the summer together they've had so far, but truly speak for the past three years. Quinn's always been just there, and along with the tears tracking down her cheeks, Rachel feels silly for taking so long to see just that and what such support and care could mean and bring to her life.

She all but falls into the offered open arms, completely uncaring to any dampness and the fact that there's just a scant bit of terrycloth separating her chest to Quinn's as she presses in close. Rachel tucks her nose in along a pale neck and her lips drag against soft skin when she softly answers, "I know. Thank you."

QUINN: As soon as Rachel's pressed against her, Quinn's arms fold the little brunette in close. Oh, there is nothing on Earth like this feeling. Fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, and her cheek comes to rest against a crown of dark hair. Muscles coil, hugging Rachel firmly. This is how she wanted to hold her before, to let her know that she had her, she wouldn't let her go. That she's safe here in the circle of Quinn's arms.

RACHEL: Even though she probably should, Rachel doesn't exactly avert her eyes. She makes it a point to not blatantly stare or let her eyes linger, but Quinn doesn't seem embarrassed and Rachel shouldn't provide her any reason to be.

"Yes, of course," Rachel answers as she is finally forced to look away and turn her focus to carefully boarding the pontoon and snatching the large beach towel Quinn keeps close to her captain's chair. "I'm sorry my visit's completely unannounced." It's also much earlier in the day than the times before when Rachel has just shown up to spend time with Quinn. "I just..." She tries to cover the break in her voice as simply the pause associated with stepping back onto the dock, but her next words are still tight and strained. "I wanted to see you."

QUINN: That sound in Rachel's voice -- the little waiver -- makes Quinn's stomach knot. She hates that sound. Even now, knowing Rachel is with her and safe and will always be safe here, she hates it. The girl would have never been in danger in the first place if she'd just been there. But she wasn't and now she's sure the brunette is a few well-placed breaths away from a cathartic meltdown.

Once Rachel sets the towel onto the dock and turns her back, Quinn hauls herself up and quickly tucks the towel under her arms and around her body, knotting it up against her chest. She thinks about her own moments of uncertainty in those woods. Would she have had to fight that bear? Definite possibility. Is she beyond relieved that they're both standing here not broken and bruised? Yes.

RACHEL: Turning at the sound of her name, Rachel uses her forearm to shield her glassy eyes from the glare of the sun. She spots Quinn with the wave of her arm, and shakes her head because really the dock is the first place Rachel should have looked for her her friend. As she starts off in that direction, Rachel's honestly a bit grateful for the extra few seconds she has to gather herself and will her body to not betray her anymore. She's relatively unharmed and more importantly safe so really there's no longer any need for waterworks.

There's a final sniffle just before her sneakered foot hits the first slat of the dock, the squeak and sway accompanying her softer, "Hi, Quinn," before she attempts to work the best smile she can muster across her lips. Except it never quite grows to be a patented Rachel Berry Grin(TM), its edges as confused as the furrow of her brow. "Quinn? Are you...?"

QUINN: She has to play off like she has absolutely no clue what Rachel's spent the better part of the late morning going through. She "doesn't know" the girl is upset. She didn't expect her to come here. So she has to grin a little sheepishly under the girl's question, bare shoulders shrugging in the water as she wades a little bit closer.

RACHEL: As she winds along the route carved out out by the bay, Rachel's not surprised that her wolf sticks by her side. The tension that appeared at the same time his teeth pressed at her neck dissipates with each step forward they take, and just when the dust of her scattered nerves has settled again and Rachel's ready to reach out and run her hands through white fur, her wolf takes off into the woods. She can only think that it's because he sensed that they were close to the estate or likely even caught the scent of Quinn or any of her friends that are often present, so Rachel makes the final few hundred yards trek of the Fabray property alone.

When the actual house is in sight, Rachel can feel her cheeks grow hot as her eyes start to burn, and honestly she feels so silly and so worn down from yet another ride on the emotional roller coaster today has been. She's wiping at her cheeks and rapidly blinking her eyes in an effort to compose herself as much as possible when she steps onto the porch of the home and knocks three times against the front door.

QUINN: There was no way she could make it to her house unnoticed. So she did the next best thing she could think of. Would it result in an awkward moment or two? Probably. Would it be worth it? Well, as an only viable option... what other choice did she have?

RACHEL: He's gotten this close before, so at first Rachel thinks nothing about the wet nose bumping along her jaw. Perhaps her wolf's just making quite sure that she's okay. But then there's a different sensation against the sensitive skin of her neck, a warm puff of air that has the fine hairs at the base of her neck rising, and then come the teeth. Rachel gasps as her eyes round before a twin shiver of fear and pure sensation rocks her spine and forces her eyes to shut. This is it, not bear food, but a wolf snack out in the woods where no one will hear her scream.

Except it's a shaking breath that finally pushes past her lips when Rachel's more than relieved when the wolf pulls away and stands tall once again. She wastes no time scooting herself back and then up until she's standing. "That's a good boy." It's not lost on Rachel that she's using a similar tone with her wolf right now that she used with the bear. Calm and as collected as she can manage while she gains her bearings and decides if she'll began a much more cautious and watchful march back home or... If she follows the curve along the shore, she'll find herself at Quinn's, and right now after the morning she's had, Quinn's special brand of attention is exactly what Rachel believes she needs.

QUINN: It doesn't take much thought to realize exactly where Rachel's going. Twenty or so paces in, Quinn stops for a moment, paw hovering above the earth and wonders exactly what she should do. If Rachel goes to her house, she should be there. Not here. Behind her. In this body. If she leaves to shift and beat Rachel there, she won't be able to watch her to know for sure that she's safely out of the woods. If she pushes her luck and leaves at the last second, she'll be left shifted but with absolutely no clothes.

RACHEL: A bit limp from the tension and emotion that's left her body, Rachel easily falls to the ground, the wings of her shoulders bracing her as she sinks into soft earth. From this new angle, she's not sure if she's simply seeing her wolf in a new light, or if there has been a subtle shift, but it's almost as if he's vibrating, back straight and head tipped skyward in a display of confidence and a stance of protection. Rachel's honestly surprised when his head doesn't tip further to let out a prideful howl.

QUINN: She's ready to snap back the reins tightly when she notices that Rachel doesn't actually look afraid. She doesn't look bothered. A little surprised maybe but even that fades away pretty quickly. It's... strange but good. So she simply brings her focus to the Alpha's and they share the view. Rachel, prone and beautiful, brings the most intense feelings bubbling up to the surface. Deep feelings. Animal feelings.

RACHEL: A mess of limbs and emotions, Rachel's not quite sure how long they sit as she collects herself and welcomes the comfort of her wolf. She'd go as far as to categorize his warmth and weight as affection with the way his nose nudges now and again, an additional reminder that he's here.

Eventually, just like the earlier press to her knee, a particular nudge of a wet nose finds Rachel's eyes blearily blinking open to the world around them only for her to turn her face into soft fur a moment later as she winds an arm around the wolf's broad back and holds herself close in the nearest thing to a hug she can manage.

Her wolf smells like the woods and the sea and oddly enough something very familiar, but Rachel's just too weary at the moment to really think it through. Instead as fingers begin to scratch, Rachel says, "You're such a good boy."

QUINN: Rachel's face pressed against her body and fingers running through her coat make Quinn happy. They make the Alpha happy, too, and things are always best when the two of them get along. The Alpha takes a great breath, deeply, and luxuriates in Rachel's scent. Having her so close -- so small and so thankful, clinging -- makes it feel invincible. It wants her so badly, just as badly as Quinn does. Which figures. They are two sides of the same coin. Or something.

Or I could just be a really big fan of Shakira...

RACHEL: When she does eventually attempt to calm and quiet tears that have transitioned to hiccups, Rachel's first two deep breaths simply rattle around the cage of her chest and only serve to reignite a fresh wave of tears. With cheeks streaked with dirt from wiping at hot tears, her third breath comes and Rachel focuses on steadily filling her lungs, and as she does Rachel's attention branches out, allowing her to truly recognize the the fixed support pressed against her.

She sags then, tired and heavy, nearly melting into white fur. Her guardian. Because that's the only explanation Rachel can even attempt to conjure at the moment, that she had a ghost tracking her moves through the wood. A silent protector.

QUINN: Rachel's weight pressing into the solid mass of her body is a welcome burden. She doesn't so much as budge. If she had to guess, she would say that she herself weighs more than twice that of the little brunette. Rachel could climb onto her back and ride through the forest, and it would be of absolutely no consequence to Quinn. This body, even more than her human one, is made for strength and speed and ferocious protection. These woods, this land, these people... this girl.

RACHEL: While a part of Rachel recognizes that the immediate danger has past, another part is glazed over, standing as still as she can even though she's begun to involuntarily shake. It's not until a wet nose makes contact with her knee that she snaps to and then almost immediately crumbles to the ground.

Even with the numerous times she's been on stage and performed, Rachel's never suffered from stage fright that's led to any sort of panic attack, but right now she thinks this is what it must feel like because even though her chest is heaving, she can't quite suck in the right amount of air. Something's lodged in her throat and--

A long and not exactly quite sob rings among the canopy and Rachel makes no move to stifle the tears or accompanying chokes as she releases emotion ranging from fear to relief.

RACHEL: Countless times she's run this same route without incident, not even a cramping calf has ever really registered on her radar, but now there's an additional layer of unwanted panic as something crashes through the trees and onto the path. Shrieking in surprise, Rachel stumbles again, cursing as she adds more scrapes to already blemished skin. She blinks through the pain and then has to blink a few times more to fully realize that a wolf -- /her/ wolf -- is now standing between herself and the potential danger of a nervous mama bear. Rachel wishes that his appearance brought some sort of relief, but in actuality her fear escalates along with the situation.

She's not afraid of her wolf -- nights under the stars have made that so -- but she's never witnessed this particular posture with hackles high and teeth bared, but rather the situation, one that she's only in due to no fault but her own. She doesn't want anyone hurt, not herself, the bears, and especially not her wolf. But now with the bear's focus fully on the wolf, Rachel's able to slowly and steadily inch backward along the trail all the while hoping that just the mere appearance of her white furred knight won't force a stand-off, but instead will simply send the bear and her cubs away and into the woods.

QUINN: Bears are interesting creatures. Large and powerful, built to kill but capable of a gentility deceptive of their potential destruction. And smart. They are very smart but stubborn. It must be their place high on the food chain. There have been fights between Pack and bear but no one has ever died in them. It's not Pack's mission to kill for sport. For food, yes, but senseless killing is what humans do not her Pack. So she doesn't want it to come to that today, not with those cubs, but their mother doesn't back down. She even rises to her hind legs and rumbles a warning in Quinn's direction.

The challenge makes her snarl, snapping her jaws in the bear's direction. Cubs or no, she won't be the first to budge. Not with Rachel -- and her own dominance -- on the line. If it comes to a choice between those bears and Rachel, she'd be more than happy to get a little blood in her fur.

Thankfully, though, it doesn't look like bloodshed is in the cards. The mama bear finally drops back down -- her weight so great that the earth beneath her giant paws quakes -- and turns to herd her cubs back into the trees. Quinn remains at attention, ears tuned to the sounds of anything else approaching, but when nothing comes she relaxes.

RACHEL: With her heart lodged in her throat and throbbing in her ears, at an almost achingly slow pace Rachel rises to her feet. She takes care to keep her shoulders hunched and her spine short, to appear smaller than she already is and as non-threatening as possible to the agitated mother bear snorting and swatting at the ground.

"I'm sorry I scared you and your babies," Rachel keeps her voice soft and sweet, nearly melodic as she tries to remember park ranger advice from elementary school field trips about bear encounters and hazards her first step back in the direction she previously came. "You just want to protect your babies, but I promise I'm not here to hurt you and I know you don't want to hurt me."

QUINN: The closer she gets, the stronger the scent of Rachel's fear soaks the air, and it chills Quinn to the bone. Her coat bristles, fur rising on end. Fear is the worst. If it were anyone else in the world, the Alpha would be delighted, gleeful at the reaction. Just like any animal. Fear only makes a situation worse for the human and far better for the predator. But it isn't just anyone. It's Rachel, and it's unacceptable.

RACHEL: She's almost to the approximate halfway point -- honestly not too far off from Quinn's -- where the land juts out into the water. There are days where she'll stop there, take a break to enjoy the weather and scenery, then stretch and regroup before she pushes the pace on the path back to her home. But today isn't one of those days. Her lungs feel strong and her legs still fresh, the steady burn to her muscles invigorating rather tiring, so onward she goes until it's too late.

In an effort to immediately stop coupled with her sheer surprise and fright, Rachel stumbles, her hands reaching out to break her fall. "Shit." It's hissed as she takes just a moment to allow her eyes to fall and assess the torn flesh and damage to her palms before she's scrambling to right herself and put as much distance between her person and the black bear with her two cubs ahead on the path.

QUINN: She can hear it just as soon as she smells something else. Rachel falls. It must be a fall. Off in the distance there's a sound that's loud and incongruous with the natural sounds of the wood. Her ears prick forward as she skids to a halt, nose tipping up in the air to sniff. And sniff. And sni-- Shit.

RACHEL: As part of her morning routine that she's slowly reestablished over the past couple weeks, Rachel's out for her run. She's on autopilot, sneakered feet pounding the earth as she treks along a well-worn trail through the woods that loops to the bay and back. Though she's aware enough of her surroundings that she wouldn't stumble over a stay branch if it was in her path, most of her attention is focused on the playlist streaming through her earbuds.

Newly made just the other night, it's a selection of songs specifically picked for the feelings they inspire in relation to her budding romance with Quinn. With two official dates in the books and numerous hanging out hours clocked, Rachel honestly couldn't be much happier, which is why even with a heaving chest and sweat gather along her brow, a stupid and silly smile continues to threaten to envelop her face with every stride.

QUINN: She really wishes Rachel would pick a different time of day to run. Just before or after lunch, dusk... any time but so early in the morning that she can barely make it out to the trails from Cheerios practice and shift in time to catch her. Hauling ass after getting her ass hauled by Coach Sylvester isn't her idea of a fun morning. But it's what she has to do, isn't it? To watch Rachel. Guide her. Protect her.

Not that she's ever really needed protecting. Generally the wildlife in the woods keeps a distance from any spot they can smell one of her Pack. They're not normal animals. They're higher on the food chains. Higher than humans. Things like to stay away lest they be eaten.

If you took a peek at my most played on iTunes, I’d probably have to fess up and say a wolf.

Shakira really gets my blood pumping.