Hairwolf

She likes the taste of them and licks them. He’s able to slide them out gently and offers more roots in their place. But she wants his skin and grabs his hand with lightning speed, pulling him in very close to her face. She breathes in his scent, his breath, his skin, his hair and it makes her curious. She knows this thing – this living thing that isn’t the same as her but how could that be? This angers her. His scent is familiar but that’s all it is. She slaps at the ground but that only causes the stick to punch in deeper and she reels in pain. She relents from the anger and drops down on her back in frustration.

Foster removes his warden’s shirt and then his t-shirt.

“That has to come out. And I have to stop the bleeding. Otherwise we’re going to have more problems than Ominous. This is bear country and they can smell blood five miles away.”

She’s watching, barely trusting and very anxious. He keeps his hands in her line of sight, focused

on the wound area. He reaches for the stick but she pushes his hand away. He tries again. She pushes his hand away again. He reaches a third time but this time she takes his hand and holds it as a warning. Foster covers her hand with his and gently, but forcefully removes it from his. She

regards him suspiciously as if he just crossed a line he shouldn’t have crossed. He may have. He

doesn’t know. What he does know is she is looking at him differently. But she isn’t doing anything. At least not yet.

He guides her hand up to his chin and gently rubs it over his stubbles. She appears surprised. He then guides her claws towards his lips and tastes them, one at a time, constantly keeping eye contact with her.

Now she’s intrigued, perhaps recalling something pleasant from a recent memory. He smiles. She doesn’t know what to make of this gesture or what it means. She can’t smile or maybe she just hasn’t had a need to do so.

He pulls away slowly and focuses all of his attention on the wound. He looks up at her and pauses knowing there’s only one way to do this . . . and it’s going to hurt. Without warning, he pulls the stick out and covers the wound with his t-shirt as the Creature-Stef looks at him in blank stare.

There’s no sound, no physical reaction, other than the tensing of her entire body. This is pain she hasn’t experienced and it hurts.

Foster repeats, over and over, “it’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be over soon.”

With a free hand he shows her the stick and then wipes it across the ground and throws it out of the area. She reals back holding the wound. She wants to hurt him back. Not really, but yeah, she

wants a piece of him. That’s how bad it hurt. She lays back, breathing heavily through her mouth.

At this rate Foster knows she could dehydrate. He grabs her fanny pack and feels for a bottle inside. He found it. She drinks it down and lays her head back, exhausted.

She’s very confused and showing signs of intimidation. She may not be the Queen Bee out here. It may be him. He knows things. Things she doesn’t know. Maybe he didn’t mean to cause her pain. The stick is out but how did he know what to do? She’s never encountered anything like this before.

Foster reaches up to her and caresses her forehead. He’s gentle.

“You okay? I’m here to help, Stef.”

She settles down to his touch which is also new to her. He pushes her hair behind her ear and gently caresses the side of her chin, running his fingertips over the short strands of fur. The gentle brushing creates a soothing sound to her sensitive ears. It’s almost hypnotic. She closes her eyes as her breathing relaxes.

Now he needs to see the wound. But how? She’s wearing a dress. And even though she’s a werewolf, she’s still a female. A female wearing panties under that dress. He’s really confused about this. After a moment of deliberation he decides to go in through the existing hole. But he’ll have to make it considerably larger. He tears the material away from the wound, slowly. The

wound is not as bad as he thought. If he can keep pressure on it it’ll be fine. He looks around for something to help him tie the t-shirt to the wound , but there’s very little. “I can’t move you and stop the bleeding at the same time. Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”

To her, his voice is interesting. Nice. How does he do that? He rests his free hand on her arm, trying to come up with a solution. She likes that, too. It’s safe, comforting but still confusing. She

has nothing to reference these emotions too, at least not in this state. In her world, out in the dark

of night under the full moon, there’s no love. No one to care for or be cared for by. There is only the night and exploration.

Foster looks at the fanny pack and decides to use that. But he’ll have to get even closer for this. Very close. He’s going to have to lift her up just enough to slide the belt of the fanny pack up and over the wound so he could snap the buckle in place. This is going to test her tolerance level for

sure.

“Stef, I’m going to loosen your buckle and use it to stop the bleeding.”

There’s little from her, save the constant eye contact she’s keeping on his every move. As he crosses over her, she’s tempted to bite but fights it. Nothing has ever been this close to her. “”What is this thing doing?””

He notices how close he is to her chattering jaw. “No. No.”

“”What was that? There’s that sound from his mouth again.”” She lays her head down, trying to figure it out. She holds a constant, curious eye on him.

“I thought you were a vegetarian,” he says, smiling at her.

She likes the look on his face. She can’t do that. She touches his face, feeling the creases his smile makes. He uses the intimate moment as a distraction and loosens the buckle, feeding the t-shirt under the strap and over the wound. He then cinches the buckle back together. It worked. She looks at the buckle as if it were for the first time she’s seen it. She had no idea it could do that. She

slides it back and forth but he presses his hand over hers, cautioning to leave it. She’s a fast

learner.

The T-shirt’s in place and pressing down on the wound. He reaches over and sweeps hair away from her eye, so she can see him clearly. “We’re gonna get through this, Stef.”

She doesn’t know what to make of all this attention but it certainly isn’t bothering her. She’s starting to relax more and more with him around.

Foster starts collecting pine branches and covers her legs for the cold night. He realizes she’s barely covered up and it’s going to be a cold night. He then makes a bed of pines for her to rest on. But she, as she did with Lillian, uses them to make a bed for him.

He starts digging out a small circle close by. He then collects rocks, both round and flat, and lays them on the perimeter of the circle. He digs up a large flat rock and stands it on edge on the opposite side of the circle facing her. This will deflect the heat from the fire he’s going to

make.

He collects kindling wood, Old Man’s beard for tinder and dumps it into the fire-pit.

Now he’ll need dead wood for burning. He searches in the dark for dead trees or logs laying on the ground. He collects them regardless of length and piles them up close to the fire pit. He aligns them around the rim with the ends inside the fire-pit.

The Creature-Stef watches him, growing more and more relaxed with his presence. Her energy is low and she’s getting tired. Sleep would be nice but he’s doing strange things, weird things with the logs and rocks. This keeps her captivated. She slides onto the pine bedding, finding a comfortable position to watch him in.

He notices and takes a moment to look back at her. Her gaze is filled with uncertainty and confusion. As is his. The night has delivered them both to a strange event leaving both puzzled and forever changed. As he looks at her from the short distance away he notices the pines have fallen off of her legs, exposing her white panties.

He crawls over and covers her back up. She just watches, all the more curious. As he reaches over her she breathes him in again. It’s nice. She

reaches up to the back of his neck and pulls him close, burying her face into his neck.

He freezes, holding himself steady, hoping she isn’t going to bite him. The fur on her cheek causes him to shudder slightly. It tickles. She senses this, recognizing it as play and starts licking his neck. This sends shutters through him and he tightens up, cautioning, “No. I’m ticklish there.” But she drives her face deeper into his shoulder licking away. Finally he bursts out,

“Stop. That’s ticklish. Let me show you.”

He tickles her neck with his fingers but she just looks at him strangely. “No, ah? Maybe another time.” He needs to continue with the fire-pit. She lays back watching him. She lowers her head and closes her eyes.