Perhaps, in a way, he does know her. The familiar stillness of her feminine features finds its match in the harsher planes of his pale likeness. They may have never before met, but there is a commonality in them. One hard to place a finger one, but much harder to deny. She may be a wolf and he a storm, but they share an uncommon lack of tameness. A ferocity that belies the calmness of their demeanors.
Hurricane would deny it, such fierceness. He has spent so many of his years in the bitter iciness and unforgiving harshness of the forgotten Tundra that he has begun to take it’s likeness upon himself. But there is a fire that resides deep within his soul, one that remains banked until an iron comes along to stoke its flame. His lost home, despite its chill, had done that once. But now, he has nothing. Fallen into obscurity like those windswept flats and forgotten by time itself. Maybe one day, there would be something that caught at his truest of hearts, but he is no fortune teller. It is not his fate to know what might come to pass.
He barely notices the silence between them, so comfortable it is. He has long since grown used to silence. When one has only one’s voice to hear, it becomes easy to forget how to speak. It becomes easy to allow feral instincts to reclaim oneself. But if there was anyone who could understand that, perhaps it was she, this wild wolf-woman who had singled him out so easily.
Are you a hurricane? Her question gives him pause. Of course, he knows his is far more than a name. It is a thing others have often read much more into than he could claim credit for. He supposes, once, he might have been named something else. He remember very little of his childhood. Only his mother calling him her little hurricane. He doesn’t know why he remembers that and almost nothing else, but for whatever the reason, the name had stuck.
After another lengthy silence, he shakes his head. No, he is not a hurricane as she is the wolf. At least, not to his decidedly biased mind. To others, perhaps he was. But to him, he is neither wild nor ferocious. He is not a thing to gaze at in awe nor fear. “I am just a man,” he rumbles without shame or conceit.
And he is. Just as inconsequential a man as every other who takes space upon this earth.
quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast
hide your soul out of his reach
Hurricane