Ursula, r1 p1

Running, running, never ceasing, above him flew unattainable winged desire...they'd only ever catch one fleeting glimpse of each other at dawn.

His powerful legs bunched, paws crossing, as hindquarters drove relentlessly across the cold ground. His eyes flickered from time to time to the horse running beside him, assuring himself that Mulder was safe.

As he slowed because sunrise crept ever nearer, his huge jaws slavered as he imagined tearing out the withered throat of the man who cursed them to this parody of life. They had agreed at last to take the chance and to see if the man's death would free them from his spell.

Sounding weary, Mulder said, "Walter, it's time to stop, love. I can feel it calling now. My time is near."

They paused in the shadow of a hill to linger the longest in the time between light and dark. Mulder first wiped down the stallion as the best teacher had taught him. He gave Goliath a nose bucket of grain then sat on the ground. Patting the earth, Mulder said, "Sit beside me, Walter. It's been a long night and we've been too much apart."

Slender, tender fingers carded through his thick gray fur. He lay his massive canine head in Mulder's lap. He was for a moment, content to feel his lover's hands on him even if they were separated by his bestial state.

"Ah, Walter, to think how I used to love sunrise...it's time," Mulder remarked.

Mulder stood and walked toward the scarlet streaked majesty of the rising sun. He turned once he reached the apex of the hill. One thing Bishop Spender had right. Mulder was no earth bound creature; it had been right to give him wings. His face was painted by the morning light as he, arms outspread, offered himself to the dawn. His expression held a wild ecstasy as a dappled veil draped over him. His garments fluttered to the ground as above them beat the wings of a large and perfect gyrfalcon, silver winged and white beneath, blinding alabaster as if touched by starlight.

As his own limbs straightened and he was caught between man and wolf, Walter of Navarre howled his sorrow to the heartless approach of day. His hands, now human, reached and felt the brush of feathers as Mulder in gyrfalcon form dipped his majestic wings to salute him.

"My love has wings," Walter thought as he dropped to his knees, the burden of exhaustion and grief for the moment bowing him.

^&^ ^&^ ^&^ ^&^ ^&^ ^&^ The Past:

"Sweet, sleek little rat, would you care for another bite of cheese," cooed the Bishop.

The yellow stained and heavily be-ringed hand played with him, petting his downy fur and tugging on his whiskers. Alex held back the urge to bite as a Captain Skinner was dragged into the room in chains. Since he had been brought into the Bishop's house, he had not seen Walter of Navarre except when he was in this rat form. Now, he was disconcerted to see the Bishop's own Captain of the Guards dragged into the room like this. Blood ran down from a cut on the man's mostly bald head. His rough wool shirt was torn from neck to shoulder, exposing a great shining expanse of muscle, a straining pectoral heaving as he fought the men who held him. It took four stout men to hold the giant among men and even then they could scarcely contain him.

To Alex's shock, more guards entered dragging the beautiful Prince from the tower. They had handfuls of the man's lustrous many colored hair, his hazel eyes were bright with tears, and his soft and yielding mouth bore the sullying mark of a fist. Bailiff Hearne, he of the lean and hungry look, cackled and said, "I told you. Warned you I did? Betrayed you...getting ready to flee right out from under your nose, he was. Lot of good that little Ratty did."

Face smirking, Hearne jammed a knee in Prince Mulder's back and force him to the ground. He fell with a thud and uttered a yelp of pain at the hand cruelly twisting back his arm.

It took more than the four men to hold back Captain Skinner when he saw them hurting the prince. "If you hurt him, Spender, I'll find a way! I'll bloody hell come after you even if I'm in my grave."

The air gave a jump and Alex knew that the man's passion had made that a true curse. If Spender killed Captain Skinner, his spirit would never leave this place and would find his way to revenge.

A knife held to Prince Mulder's throat, Hearne let the sharp blade penetrate the smooth soft skin. A trickle of blood ran down...

At that, Alex couldn't stand it. Small as he was and not the bravest, he squealed, turning lithely around and nipping Spender's fingers. The Bishop threw him to the floor and yelled, "Make him pay! I'm bleeding."

Perhaps, Alex had more courage then he thought for instead of simply leaving, he ran to Hearne and ran up his leg, trying to chomp through the man's leather breeches. He was quickly shaken off, but was ready to go back for more.

However, Prince Mulder yelled, "Dear Rat, desist! Run, run now and escape while you can. I know Spender sent you to spy, but you didn't, did you? Flee!"

Scurrying in his rodent form, Alex obeyed. He dashed to a hole that was concealed in the wall behind a tapestry and squeezed through. He ran until he could not run any more and then he ran some more.

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