Nikolai Zuyev

[Nikolai]

NAME: Nikolai Denisovich Zuyev.
NICKNAMES: Nikolai isn’t one for nicknames, oftentimes just going by his surname, which is just as easy to say (in his opinion, anyway) as his given name; if people genuinely have trouble or he doesn’t trust them with his full name, he introduces himself simply as ‘Nik’ (which people always misspell, obviously). The only real nickname he has ever had is Kolya, which was only ever used by one person; she is the only one he allows to call him by this almost affectionate abbreviation.
RACE: Werewolf; bitten.
OCCUPATION: Rogue.
GENDER: Male.
SKIN COLOUR: Caucasian, with a subtly noticeable tan.
NATIONALITY: Russian.
AGE: 37 years old, but looks to be in his early twenties, physically.
CLOTHING: Nikolai’s clothing betrays the fact that he doesn’t exactly live the high life and hardly has an easy and comfortable existence; he doesn’t have a great variety of clothing, so much of the time, he can be seen just rotating what he has while other things are being cleaned. Most of his clothing is plain, jeans and slacks, shirts and t-shirts, the occasional zipper-jacket with a hood that he neither needs nor wears; he owns a weather-beaten black leather jacket that wouldn’t look out of place on a biker, and he sometimes, in something of a cliché, pulls on gloves if he feels he might need them for whatever reason, whether it be for combat or just because he wants to keep his presence somewhere a secret and leaving any kind of evidence behind wouldn’t be all that wise. Without fail, he wears boots, feeling wholly uncomfortable and even unprepared in anything else; he feels a fraction more confident with the added weight of boots, as if he can utilise them as an extra weapon, which, frankly, is hardly a stretch of the imagination. When it comes to colours, Nikolai isn’t all that varied or ‘loud’; black, white, greys, and other, darker block colours.
HEIGHT: 6’1.
WEIGHT: 186lbs.
TATTOOS: N/A.
PIERCINGS: N/A.
JEWELLERY: Just one plain ring, seemingly made of something not unlike titanium, which he wears on his right ring finger.

BODY MODIFICATIONS: Nikolai has several scars, from a variety of different incidents, though very few have any significance; the one exception is what seems to be a messy slash from a knife or other blade/sharp edge down his right side, at an angle. He also, of course, has the evidence of his turning in the form of clear scarring from a vicious bite around his left calf.

WOLF FORM.

BUILD: Nikolai, in his wolf form, is noticeably muscular and powerful, with a lot of visible strength through his entire torso, and his upper joints, specifically his chest and abdomen and his shoulders. Like many werewolves, he becomes slimmer around the waist and hind quarters, which lends itself well to manoeuvrability and twisting in combat and even just transportation. His paws (or hands and feet, the front appendages possessing a fifth digit not unlike a thumb) are powerful, the rear more like a wolf’s than the front, which are perfect for gripping, slashing or breaking, whether it be wood or bone, or anything in between. His claws are thick and razor-pointed, not unlike his canines, housed in a jaw capable of crushing through bone and cartilage effortlessly, the rest of his teeth relatively short in comparison but by no means less dangerous. His head is much like a regular wolf’s, but more stocky, squarer in a way, with overly-large ears that form into soft points. His neck is thick, and obscured by a protective, shaggy mane that coats much of his back as well; it runs down in a slight ridge to a smooth, thick tail that isn’t all that long, all things considered. In this form, because of the extra joint in his hind legs, Nikolai is capable of moving as either a biped or quadruped.
HEIGHT: Biped — 8’4; Quadruped — 4’7.
WEIGHT: 289lbs.
HAIR: A metallic sort of grey in colour that seems almost dusky-blue under some lights, it coats his entire body (save for a point at the tip of his tail, where it is a much lighter grey, as if dipped in paint), from muzzle to tail, providing warmth and protection, against the elements and attacks. He has a very noticeable mane, which runs from between his ears all the way down to his shoulder blades, continuing in a small ridge to meet his tail. The mane itself is long, shaggy and spiky, very feral and wild, and at its longest, hangs at his sides when he isn’t in motion, whipping out behind him like tendrils, almost, when he is moving at high speeds or leaping through the air.
EYES: A misleading shade of red that many mistake for a vampire’s shade when it flashes when he is in his human form.
DEFINING MARKS: His ears, forepaws that seem a fraction too large, the untameable mane and his tail.

PACK.
PACK: N/A.
POSITION: N/A.
TERRITORY: N/A.

HAIR.[/i]
LENGTH: Nikolai’s hair is actually quite long, and can usually be seen hanging down to form ‘curtains’ on either side of his face, even going so far as to obscure his eyes at times, if he doesn’t push it back consciously. At the back, it reaches the middle of his neck, and in its natural style, tickles and even somewhat covers his ears at the sides.
STYLE: Usually, he doesn’t see much point in styling it to keep it out of his face; his propriety and businesslike demeanour has slipped somewhat over the last decade or so, and his hair, while he has kept it from getting too out of hand (presumably by himself), he hasn’t really bothered with keeping it tidy. Why he hasn’t gotten it cut to make this easier, not even he could say, simply because it has never occurred to him to do anything other than what he does every day, which is frankly very little.
COLOUR: Blonde, though it is naturally darker underneath the topmost layers, just like with his facial hair, appearing brown more or less.

FACIAL HAIR.[/i]
LENGTH: Several centimetres at its longest, and a few millimetres at its absolute shortest, kept under control by the occasional grooming process.
STYLE: Nikolai has more or less a ‘full set’ when it comes to his facial hair, in the form of sideburns, a beard around his chin and bottom jaw, a sort of goatee and a moustache as well.

EYES.[/i]
COLOUR: Blue.
ODDITIES: As with all werewolves, Nikolai’s eyes will shift to their wolfen hue whenever he is pushed to emotional extremes, whether it be shock, rage, pain, sorrow or even elation, in some cases, considering his ‘youth’ in lycanthropic terms. Nikolai can also will them to change colour, for a variety of reasons; to intimidate, tease, taunt or just to hint at his wolfen side.

PERSONALITY: Nikolai was born and raised to be a protector, a defender and fighter; a bodyguard. He still carries this mantle on his shoulders, his ‘calling’ carrying through in his stance and stride, purposeful and confident as it is, even when he has no one to protect. He is exceedingly dedicated and when he has his heart and mind set on something, nothing, absolutely nothing — short of death, of course — can sway him. He doesn’t have it in him to just quit when he’s signed himself on for something, but in recent years, that has been part of Nikolai’s biggest downfall and problem: he’s lost his cause. From birth, he was designated as the voya’s heir’s bodyguard, and he trained long and hard in his youth to be everything he could be, so he wouldn’t fail. Now, he feels as if he has failed, and it has taken its toll on him. Where Nikolai was once businesslike and neat and tidy, he is now dishevelled, even roguish and feral in appearance; he is so obsessed with trying to find Lidochka Mikhaylov, so sick with worry and guilt, that nothing else in the world holds importance short of staying alive himself so he can one day find her, or at least know what happened to her. But while he has let himself go in terms of appearance, he certainly hasn’t slipped in terms of performance, when it comes to his combat and self-defence; he is just as highly skilled as he was back when he and the female were still together, if possible even more so, as if he daren’t slip any further. What if he were to find Lidochka again and be unable to protect her? For Nikolai, that would be a fate worse than death, that kind of failure.

Becoming a werewolf seemed to give him even more confidence and a sort of warped sense of pride. Nikolai is far from arrogant, but he knows he can hold his own in battle, it’s what he was trained to do more than anything, and that self-assurance shows in every move he makes, carrying through in his voice when he speaks, never fumbling or stuttering. Nikolai knows the value of asserting oneself, and firmly believes that appearing strong and secure puts off many would-be attackers or challengers. He has become something of a dominant personality, whereas before he was submissive and obedient, but it wouldn’t be illogical or incorrect to assume he would fall right back into place if and when he finds Lidochka again, his oldest, dearest friend.

Nikolai became too attached to her. He knows it, but doesn’t regret it. That attachment proved itself countless times in the past, when she confided in him above all others and he remained steadfast and constantly at her side, wherever she went, rarely letting her out of his sight. It drives him mad that he can’t be there for her now, wherever she is, and the worn, old journal he keeps is filling up fast, page after page, of leads he has followed and information he has gathered or tracked across the country; dates display on every page, line after line, tracking his lack of progress, and even now, he hasn’t given up hope, fourteen years on. The wolf in him wouldn’t let him quit even if he had it in him to do so.

He is just as steadfast and certain, even downright stubborn, in his expression as he is in every other aspect; he rarely gives up what he is feeling, and certainly doesn’t let others read him easily. He is fully capable of laughter, but is careful who hears it. Nikolai’s trust is extremely hard to earn, and if and when it is granted, he takes it very seriously. Nikolai is very, very capable of holding a grudge, for years if need be, and given his fierce determination and capabilities, even as a young werewolf, he isn’t exactly the sort of person to get on the bad side of, if it can be helped. He definitely isn’t shy or squeamish, and if he has an issue with something or someone, it is voiced, with a snarl if necessary. Nikolai has accepted his wolf, let it into his life to help him and guide him, and isn’t afraid to let it out, either.

WEAKNESSES: Given his nature, Nikolai is, of course, extremely vulnerable to the element silver, which can not only make him physically sick and weak, but can burn, infect and poison him, even kill him in extreme cases. The simplest contact with the metal can harm him, as he has learned, and like all werewolves, he has to do his best to steer clear of it. Another downside of his nature is his age; being extremely young by werewolf standards, especially as a rogue, he has no control over his bestial side when the full moon rolls around. Not only will he change uncontrollably, but he loses his senses completely, for lack of a better description; he becomes excessively violent and feral, giving in to his baser, destructive tendencies and instincts. The only way to keep from unleashing havoc is to keep himself contained, literally, during the three nights of the full moon, but for a rogue, this isn’t easy; Nikolai is at least aware of the times when his wolf tears loose, so he can plan in advance, usually.

The ribs on his right side occasionally ache, not at all influenced by the weather or exertion; it is an almost spontaneous ‘blow’ from within that he feels, but he isn’t well-known for showing weakness, so he usually keeps it to himself, which leads to another big weakness. Nikolai is painfully stubborn, resentful of the idea of showing weakness in any way or leaving himself open in any sense; he doesn’t show pain unless it is practically crippling, tries to keep his emotions inside and certainly doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. While this does make him hard to read to the untrained eye, it could also backfire; refusing to acknowledge injuries of any kind could add up to a fault, which could either end up leaving him vulnerable or even kill him in the absolute extreme case.

Nikolai’s biggest weakness, however, without argument, is not physical, but rather mental and related to another: Lidochka Mikhaylov. He cares deeply, too deeply, for the female, and would literally lay down his life for her, without even pausing to breathe first, let alone think. He has risked his life for her more than once in the past, and if given the window, would do so again, without hesitation or fault. The fact that he is without her now, ignorant to her whereabouts and even her condition, whether or not she is even alive, eats at him viciously, and there is a definite self-loathing that he feels about it; he blames himself for her being left alone. To say that his devotion to her could be used against him, and easily, would be a drastic understatement; when it comes to Liddy, everything else is dropped, and he definitely does not care who knows that he would fight, brutally, and die for her.

ABILITIES: As a werewolf, even a young one, Nikolai has all the benefits of lycanthropy: heightened senses, agility, awareness, endurance, grace, speed, strength and healing factor; being able to leap to, from and across great distances without penalty or injury; pain endurance off the charts, and of course, a powerful wolf form at his disposal. Even though he is young, Nikolai understands just how to utilise his animal form, and is a formidable opponent even for one with only just over a decade as a werewolf under his belt.

Nikolai was trained, vigorously and for hours at a time, to be a bodyguard, from a young age. This has granted him with a generous, highly varied understanding of martial arts and weaponry, from something as simple as firing a handgun to the complex art of capoeira. To say that Nikolai is highly skilled would be a rather hefty understatement, especially considering how seriously he took his position while he was human; he trained hard, and at length, and it has definitely paid off. Even against several opponents, he could hold his own in combat, armed or otherwise, and that confidence and ruthlessness carries over into his wolf form. While many don’t consider it an ability, Nikolai views his extremely strong stomach as a plus, without a doubt; he has seen a lot of downright gory and even sick things in his life, even before becoming a werewolf, and it takes an awful lot to affect him. His training also included methods of torture, to put it in its simplest form; he knows how to cause pain, to varying degrees, in others with minimum effort, a lot of the time without leaving physical evidence, and it’s probably safe to assume he’s mastered these skills over the years just as he has his other talents.

Obviously, given his heritage, Nikolai not only speaks, and writes/reads, English flawlessly, but is completely fluent in Russian, able to read and write Cyrillic as well. He can also handle a wide variety of vehicles, heavy-duty and otherwise, and many of them at reckless speeds. Over the last decade, out of necessity more than anything, he has also become something of a mechanic, if only because his truck has the tendency to just, well, die, and he can’t afford to take it to a professional.

WEAPONS: More of a fan of close combat, Nikolai prefers the weapons that allow that proximity: he owns (and favours) a pair of sawback machetes that have obviously been in several fights; he has more than one pair of knives (all apparently with different worldwide origins) designed for combat, including a bowie knife, and several daggers as well, one or two foldable or just small enough to tuck and secret away on his person at any given time, such as push daggers. Saying all of that, he does understand the benefit of long-distance, and has a pair of H&K USP .45 automatic handguns just for that purpose. Obviously he can’t keep all of his weapons on his person at one time, which is why the bed of his truck lifts up and locks down, a customisation he invested in some time ago. He just likes to be prepared.

PRIZED POSSESSIONS: It is far from prized, but Nikolai owns a beat up ‘old’ Ford pickup truck that he uses to get from place to place, and also as a storage of sorts, for not only his weapons, but what clothing and other bits and pieces he has managed to keep hold of over the years. Perhaps surprisingly, Nikolai also has a weathered, leather-bound journal that is written entirely in Cyrillic.

HOME(S): Nikolai doesn’t really have a home to speak of right now; he just sort of goes from place to place, finding refuge where he can during the nights, especially during the full moons.


Continued below…

[Nikolai]

HISTORY: Nikolai Denisovich Zuyev’s fate was more or less sealed before he was even born. Son of the Head of Security, intended bodyguard to the heir of the entire organisation known as the voya, Nikolai had a far from routine childhood. He was privately schooled in all aspects by his father, and other members of the Security faction, and Nikolai applied himself with a fiery determination that was hard to match, something that pleased his father. Even at a young age, the boy knew what his life held, and wasn’t afraid to take hold of new lessons with both hands, learning everything he could so he could be the best. The idea of failing his father was almost painful to him, so much so that even when he was finished learning one thing, he immediately asked what was next, and when they could start. Some people called him too eager, blindsided, but his father wasn’t about to hold him back if he was enthusiastic. After all, with the job that lay ahead, he had to be the best there was, or there was little point in the endeavour at all.

From the moment he met Lidochka Iosifa Mikhaylov, the bond and rapport was plain to see. Perhaps he shouldn’t get too attached to her, but even if he tried to distance himself, it failed horrifically, and whatever free time he had was spent in her company, even though she was, as some might put it, ‘out of his league’. The heir to the Russian mob, for all intents and purposes, Lidochka was destined to be a great leader, and he, her bodyguard. Nikolai cared very little about his standing when measured against hers; he was to be her protector, and he intended to take that very, very seriously. Intended to dedicate all of his energy to it, in fact. Their bond only became stronger, unbreakable, over the years to come, and he became the only one permitted to use the affectionate titles of Liddy and Mikhas, names he would only use in private, out of respect and for propriety’s sake.

When Lidochka’s father was arrested and taken away, Nikolai rarely left the young woman’s side, remaining always within reach or at least earshot so he could be of assistance in any way, if and when she needed him. Of course, whenever she went out at any time, he was right there once again, beside her and armed and prepared, more than ready to lay down his life for hers if a threat arose. When her father returned, changed by his experiences, Nikolai did what he could to help her in such hard times, a dedication that was about to be truly tested for the first time. When the ‘authorities’ requested a meeting with the voya, he was wary but held his tongue, knowing his place, staying with Lidochka as always, accompanying her on one of the walks she took frequently to clear her head and just be away from her responsibilities.

The moment a car pulled up alongside them, Nikolai put himself between the men who spilled out of it and Lidochka, defending her as several of them attacked him; the fight was short, but by the time he finally went down, he was bloody and beaten, unable to rise again before Lidochka was taken, the limousine tearing away again and out of sight. More than anything, he needed to get back to her father, to give him the message the men had left him with, but with the beating he’d taken, he could barely make it five feet on his own. Thankfully, when the two didn’t return on their own, people were sent out, and they found Nikolai and returned him to the complex, but he refused any and all medical treatment until he was allowed to speak to Lev, Lidochka’s father. Delivering the message was his priority, his own condition be damned.

Even during his recovery, all he cared about was any progress being made with Lidochka’s freedom. He tried not to step out of line, but it was tough, his concern was so uncontrollable, and with each week that went by, he became increasingly restless and even temperamental, but only behind closed doors, or around his father. When six months had gone by, when Nikolai was ready to demand something be done, a trade was finally arranged. Nikolai didn’t care what they were giving the bastards so long as Lidochka was released, and he refused to be left behind when the trade went through. He was placed in charge of the money and document exchange, the location, of all places, a frozen lake, out in the open perhaps where treachery or ambush would be obvious before it could even be attempted. The second he laid eyes on Lidochka, of course, he practically forgot about what he was carrying, even as he moved forward onto the thick ice. He told himself to focus on the exchange, not to run forward to help her as everything in him screamed he should do.

And then she collapsed. As soon as she started to fall, Nikolai bolted forwards, somehow managing to keep his footing on the unsteady surface, releasing what he was carrying as he got close enough, even after Lidochka had fallen, not only to the ice but through it. He didn’t call for help, or shout her name, simply tore off his coat and dove in after her. Even as the icy water assaulted him, he could think only about the woman he had jumped in to save, and as soon as he had hold of her, he managed to kick and swim up to the surface, keeping his grip on her, breaking the surface and keeping them afloat until they could be helped back onto the thick ice above. As soon as he realised she wasn’t breathing, he bellowed for the others to get an ambulance, once again not thinking or caring about his own health as he started CPR. His efforts paid off.

Even in the hospital, suffering from hypothermia as they both were, he stayed at her side, absolutely insistent that he be allowed to remain with her. After news of the second meeting going just as wrong, if not worse, as their own, it was announced that Lidochka would be leaving the country, and Nikolai would be going with her. It wasn’t safe anymore. Nikolai, obviously, didn’t argue, all too ready to escort Lidochka out of the country where she might be protected away from those who had already hurt her so much. He was determined to keep her safe, as well, especially when he had failed before.

America was never intended to be a permanent home for them, but their way had been paid by Lidochka’s father, and they were housed in a secluded cabin in New York State, where they could be out of sight and out of mind. But business didn’t end with their relocation, Nikolai’s responsibilities certainly hadn’t, and even though he wasn’t comfortable with it he left Lidochka alone in the cabin one night to rendezvous with one of their American contacts. He thought nothing of the moon as it loomed overhead, night truly drawing in, and as he met with the contact, neither of the men heard the disturbances in the trees until it was too late. The creature came out of nowhere, ploughing into the American and downing him with a sickening, wet crunch of bone and blood before it turned on Nikolai. Before he could get a shot off at it, it charged, and he saw no choice but to try and run. He didn’t get far. Large fangs sank into his leg, dragging him down, and not knowing what else to do, fuelled by fear and adrenaline, he pulled a knife from his belt and managed to twist back enough to stab the beast. The blade lodged in the creature’s neck, up under its powerful jaws, and gagging and choking on its own blood, it stumbled back before collapsing somewhere in the darkness. Trying to stand proved a bad idea; as soon as he got halfway, he staggered to the side and then fell, losing consciousness until the early hours of what he presumed was the next morning. He could only hope he hadn’t been gone longer than that, and even with the injury, he pulled himself up and forced himself back to the cabin, where Lidochka met him, full of questions.

Nikolai didn’t know what to tell her. He didn’t know what had attacked him, whether it was dead, why he wasn’t dead. He could only assume he was suffering from shock, barely able to string a sentence together, and after she had tended to his wound, Lidochka suggested he rest. She didn’t need to ask him twice. He awoke again just before the moon rose; his companion was asleep, and he intended only to step outside to get some air, clear his head and try to think. He certainly didn’t expect to buckle to the ground before transforming, charging off into the woods without hesitation, his mind subdued beneath something primal and powerful, something purely animal. When he came back to his senses the next morning, all he could feel and taste was blood, evidence of wounds on his body already healing over, and not knowing what else to do, he stumbled back to the cabin, his leg no longer causing him any pain after it had been torn open by the beast only two nights before. Returning to the cabin, covered in blood, he knew he had no choice but to tell Lidochka what had happened; the only explanation. He told her everything, refusing to leave anything out, and to his relief, she believed him. It helped him relax enough to rest once again.

Only to repeat the process that very next night. The moon rose, and Nikolai was awoken by a pain, his waking alerting Lidochka, who saw him change; thankfully he only charged out of the cabin instead of turning on her, the ‘wolf’ he had become moving through the trees with a feral kind of curiosity, not noticing the human who trailed behind him. By the time the sun rose, he wasn’t back in the cabin, but instead woke with a view of the tree canopy from below, and covered in a blanket. True to his suspicions, Lidochka sat nearby. What followed was a conversation he never could have imagined having, least of all with the weight of seriousness that theirs carried. And when she asked him to make her like him, he paused for only a minute, the longest he had ever hesitated when it came to her requests or orders. This wasn’t an order, however. He knew that. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been able to refuse her even if he had concluded it was a bad idea, but whatever his reasons, he agreed to do as she asked.

When they got back to the cabin, she cut her wrist, and before it could bleed too much, he closed his own bloodied hand around the wound, holding it there until he felt he could let go with certainty, and when it was done, he felt no guilt, or regret. It felt right.

When the next full moon came around, Nikolai did not change alone. Lidochka’s own wolf, new as it was, rose with the lunar call alongside his, and they ran out into the woods together. Instinctively, he had wanted to stay with her, a male with his female, possessive almost, but somehow, somewhere during the night, they were separated, and Nikolai found himself too close to civilisation. An animal as big as he was couldn’t go unnoticed, but it wasn’t human attention — not exactly — that kept him from returning to the woods and the cabin.

It was a truck.

For years to come he would think how ridiculous, even mundane, it was, being hit like that, but when the vehicle clipped him, heavily, in the side, it threw him with enough force to keep him down, not unconscious but wounded and dazed enough to keep him from lashing out when the driver and his passenger spilled out of the truck to see what they’d hit. It wasn’t a deer, as they’d suspected, but something they’d never seen before, and they managed to get the creature into the back of their truck, into one of the pens designed for a Wolfhound — ironically — or a Mastiff. The pull of the moon kept him from changing back, even wounded as he was, and he lay in the back of the truck recovering until the vehicle came to a stop again, the creature in the back drifting in and out of awareness. The collision had wounded him badly down his right side, leaving him limp and weak in both legs, and unsteady, too shaky to try and rise. But when the humans tried to get near the cage, he snapped and snarled at them, forced them back, shaking and rattling the metal enclosure, but not so much that they couldn’t see something very strange about this creature.

Not many animals wore pants, after all.

Sure enough, when morning broke, so did the full moon’s hold over Nikolai, and he changed back into his human form, still badly wounded but once again thinking only of Lidochka, and how he couldn’t see, hear or smell her anywhere nearby. He didn’t even know where he was. He was barely even conscious, by that point, but his concern and panic kept him from blacking out even with the blood loss. All he knew for certain was that Liddy was gone, he was hurt and the cage he was in was, frankly, too small. But it also wasn’t especially strong, and becoming — a fact he had accepted even after only one month — a werewolf allowed him a few benefits, including a certain heightened degree of strength. Of course, his injury made it more difficult, but he was hardly going to wait for whoever had put him in there to come back. When one of the metal hinges finally broke, he managed to work one side of the pen free and get loose, only keeping himself from collapsing through sheer force of will; who knew what would happen if they found him making a break for it?

Thankfully, they didn’t, and Nikolai managed to get far enough away from the property for his collapse to be less of a threat. With his back against a tree, he slumped to the ground, trying to judge just how badly he was hurt. It was already healing, but he knew he had to find shelter, somewhere safe where he could sleep and recover without being discovered. That came in the form of an abandoned lodge not far away, within walking distance, and he allowed himself to pass out only after barricading the door closed. When he woke, he went right back out again, the pain in his side still consistent but not nearly as fierce; the impact of the truck and his subsequent landing against the road had torn his side open, and even though it was healing, it didn’t seem to be vanishing as other nicks and grazed had. Day after day, he tried to backtrack to where he had been hit, to where he had gotten separated from Lidochka, but he couldn’t find his way; he was in unfamiliar territory, and out of his depth, and the simple, pathetic fact that he was lost only ate away at him, making him angry with himself, and as more time passed with no results, he started to panic. What if something had happened to her? What if he never found her again?

But Nikolai refused to give in to that despair, dedicating himself to finding her again. He encountered other werewolves along the way, even passing up more than one offer to join a pack, only talking with them long enough to ask if they had seen or spoken with a female who matched Lidochka’s description. Every shake of the head or honest, sometimes regretful ‘no, sorry’ only made him more anxious, and yet at the same time, more determined. But he couldn’t cover enough ground on foot, he knew. After weeks of trekking and searching that way, he was beginning to wonder if maybe Lidochka hadn’t moved on, either in her own hunt or for other reasons. Hitchhiking didn’t seem like a valid option, not with his wariness of the full moon and need for control over his own path, so, quite simply, he stole a truck. He felt no remorse in the theft, just as he felt nothing when he took what he needed to feed and clothe and supply himself, covering more and more ground with each week and month that trickled past, marking it on an old map and cataloguing his progress in an empty journal that had been in the glove compartment of the stolen trunk.

Months soon turned into years, and Nikolai’s passion in his search never dipped, never wavered or faded. Time only enhanced it, and even now, fourteen years after their separation, he isn’t about to give up hope of finding her, some trace of his old friend. Even as the great, dark city of Los Angeles looms ahead of him, filled with countless vampires, werewolves and humans, he refuses to quit. He knows he’ll find her again.

It’s just a matter of when.