A/n: A little snippet from my Wolfboy universe, which you can read about by looking in my profile...

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“Sasha,” a voice said quietly, so quietly that she almost didn’t catch it, and in a voice hoarse from disuse.

Kat’s head came up and met the very dark, nearly black eyes of the – who her admittedly biased sister had dubbed “wild boy” – their father had brought home. It was the first time she had ever really looked at him, and she had to admit he didn’t look exactly ‘wild’: light hair the color of sand, dark eyes underneath straight eyebrows, and a scar along his chin. “What?” she asked.

“Your sister,” he clarified. “She kept calling me ‘boy’. My name is Sasha.”

“Oh,” she was momentarily stunned for a split-second and then lifted her hand and said pleasantly, “Hello Sasha. I’m Kat.”

He stared at her hand for a minute like he didn’t know what to do with it, and then hesitantly reached forward and put his in hers and they shook. The next minute he snatched his hand back and eyed her warily. A long silence followed where both of them stared at the floor awkwardly.

I guess I’m supposed to say something, Kat thought to herself. But what? “Where do you live?” “Oh, nowhere! I was found literally being raised by wolves, taken in to be re-accustomed to society, and then your family brought me home!” That’ll be a great conversation starter. Sasha, in his turn, kept flicking nervous glances around the room, reminding her of a trapped dog.

It was at this moment that Kat’s own dog came barreling in. He was absolutely huge, what Kat’s dad called “small lion sized”, and it was that comment that had earned the cheerful golden retriever his name. He skidded to a stop in front of Kat and licked her hand in welcome several times, getting it more than a bit slobbery, and then proceeded to sniff around the newcomer. After a few moments the huge dog wagged his tail with enthusiasm, barked in his “friend” bark, and promptly stuck his nose into the crotch of Sasha’s jeans.

“Aslan!” Kat squealed, and leapt up to drag him away by the collar – not an easy feat. She threw all her weight into making him sit down, and when he did he simply looked at her, his ears perked as if to say “What did I do?”.

Kat was mortified. “I am so, so sorry!” she said breathlessly, her arms still around Aslan’s furry neck. “I don’t know what came over him!” She did, actually. That was a sign that Aslan approved of you, but it was just so embarrassing!

To her ultimate relief, he was laughing. “Its okay,” Sasha told her. “I like dogs.” He held out his hand and made tsk noises, and Aslan bounded over happily and was immediately rewarded with a thorough scratching.

Kat carefully did not point out that of course he liked dogs; he had been raised by wolves!

“Do you have any other pets?” he asked, scratching Aslan behind the ears.

She shook out of her reverie and shrugged. “Two fish who try to drown each other. A kitten who’s hyperactive – actually she’s Brianna’s, that’s my sister, you met her – and a parakeet that demands things. And Aslan, but he’s mine. What?”

Sasha was giving her a weird look, almost like he didn’t understand her.

“Do all girls talk that much?” he asked seriously.

Kat felt her blush go from her neck to the roots of her red hair. Had she been babbling? Oh, of course she had, she could have just answered yes or no! “Um – no. Well…yes. It’s hard to explain!” Normally she would have snapped at him to mind his own business and stopped there, but his utterly sincere expression made her believe he was asking an honest question, and the least she could do was give an honest answer. “I mean, yes, a lot of girls talk that much. My sister, for example, talks more than she breathes, but I normally don’t talk that much. I like to read.”

She was rewarded with the brightest smile he had given her so far. “I do too!” then, to her ultimate surprise, he blushed. “I can’t read very well right now, but I like some stories.”

It was the most words he had said since he started talking, and Kat realized he had a slight accent to his words, possibly from not talking for so long; it made him sound almost a little British.

“Have you read any good ones?” she asked then, surprise at how happy she felt to have something in common. Aslan evidently found this conversation boring because he stood up and trotted out of the room – or perhaps it was because all of Sasha’s attention was now on Kat and not on petting him.

Sasha nodded enthusiastically. “I really like Dangerous Truths by Anne Walsh.”

“I have a copy of that in my room!” Kat grinned widely as he talked about the few books he had read, and she recommended one or two (or five) that she thought he might like.

Maybe this wild boy won’t be so bad after all, she thought vaguely.

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The boy called Sasha was confused. In three moons his world had been snatched up, shaken around like a wolf with dinner, and dropped back on the ground. He felt completely different than he had before. He could speak now – to humans – and he was wearing something besides the “rags they had found him in”, as the doctors had said. He was standing in a room in this new house with a bed, and window, and all these supposed luxuries.

The doctors said I should be grateful, he told himself firmly. They said animals are animals, and humans are humans, and there’s no way someone can be both. He sighed as he sat on the seat in front of the window and brought his knees up to his chest, curling his arms around them and resting his chin on top. No matter how much I want to be.

Kat and her family had been really nice, but Sasha just wanted his old life back.

You can’t have that old life back! the smarter part of him admonished. You have a new one. Deal with it.

Sasha gave up fighting the smarter voice and pushed away from the window, climbing into the bed. It was soft – much softer than the bed of straw and leaves and the dens he usually slept in, and softer still than the cot he had had at the institute. It was too soft, actually, and after an hour of tossing and turning he finally gave up and dragged the covers off the bed and curled up on the floor.

With the cold hardwood beneath him, and the blanket wrapped around him, Sasha could almost pretend that he was sleeping back with the wolf pack around him, back home.

Almost.

It was comforting enough to lull him to sleep, at least. What would come in the morning, would come in the morning. Right now he needed sleep.