Hairwolf

Stef holds on to Foster as they walk along the shore line of the lake towards the campsite.

“So that’s what it’s like, ah?” he asks. “The transformation. Looks really painful.”

“Imagine your body slowly filling with ice water as tiny barbs push out of your skin in various places,” she says. “Some long, some short. That’s the fur piercing through your skin. All this while experiencing a debilitating vibration that reverberates throughout your entire body. If I’m left alone, I can transition smoothly, peacefully. If not, it’s painful and angry. And I keep the anger and get aggressive. Then there’s the muscle growth, bone growth... My gums sting where my fangs grow out. My nostrils feel like they’re sitting in hot tar. My fingernails burn until they’ve

grown into claws. And then I’m gone and she takes over till the next morning. Loads of fun. I’m

used to it now, I’ve been doing it for so long.”

“How do you think Ominous found you? This is a big park.”

“I don’t know. But now that I know he can I’m a little concerned.”

“But if he could find you, that means you could find him?”

She thinks about that. “Maybe.”

“You were glowing this morning.”

“Glowing? You mean like a light?”

“Well, a faint light. Must have been your aura.”

“A side effect of the psychic paralysis probably.”

He has no clue what that is.

“The individual inside awakens before the body does,” she says. “When it happens, you wake up, but you can’t move. And for some reason your emotions have one hundred percent control. So if

you think love, you get love. You feel it in every cell of your body. I felt your arm around me,

protecting me so I felt . . .”

“. . .loved,” he asks.

“Well, I was going to say protected. But we can go with loved.”

Breaking the moment, a familiar voice calls out to them.

“Dave. Stef,” Brizzbee shouts, running up. “You’re okay. I was worried sick. What happened?”

From the camp, Lillian shouts out, “Brizzbee. Turn around. I got something for ya.” She’s loading a dart into the chamber of the rifle.

“What is she doing with your rifle?” asks, Stef.

“Probably getting even,” Brizzbee says. “I shot her again last night - after you bumped into me. I was trying for the other guy. Lillian, drop the rifle.”

“Why? Am I aiming too high? Think I’m gonna miss your big fat ass?” She says, angrily. “Now stand still and let me shoot ya.”

Lillian locks the bolt in place and marches towards him. Brizzbee starts darting back and forth as he advances on her, making a tough target.

“Stop movin,” she says, trying to draw a bead on him, but the barrel is all over the place. It’s not easy hitting a moving target while moving. She stops, aims and pulls the trigger. BANG!

Brizzbee sees the dart zipping past him. Lillian is very surprised that she nearly hit him.

She yells to Stef - “Did you see that? I almost got him. I need another dart. Gimme another dart.”

Brizzbee’s walking right at her and he’s not happy.

A short time later, Lillian sits quietly in the back seat of the Wardens truck, hands cuffed in front

of her. Stef enters next to her cleaned up from the long night wearing a large smile.

“It’s a good look,” Stef says, regarding the hand-cuffs. “I wonder if they come separately.”

“Get the key, I’ll let you have one,” Lillian says. “So what’d you do, lie there and let him carve up my dress?”

“I think I can fix it? I really love it. What were you thinking last night? I told you to stay in the cage. Did I hurt you?”

“No. Almost, but no.”

“All of you could have gotten killed.” Stef brushes back a piece of Lillian’s hair, grateful she didn’t get hurt. “Thank you for watching out for me.”

Lillian is surprised at Stef’s comment. Can she be that used to not being cared for? Not being cared about? What a lonely place to be.

Brizzbee approaches Lillian’s door, asking, “You better now?”

She gives him the cold shoulder, holding the handcuffs out in front of her.

“Not going there, ah?” he asks. “Alright. Give me your hands.You want to be mad at me, be mad. I think I could handle it.”

“You shot me. Not once, but twice. And I didn’t handcuff you.”

“Now’s your chance. Go ahead,” he says seriously.

She’s about to when Stef says, “ Don’t you dare. He sat up all night protecting you.”

“I was in a cage. Alright, thank you. Of all things, handcuffing me.”

“You can’t go around shooting at Law Enforcement, Lillian. It’s against the law.” He takes back the handcuffs and caresses her wrists.

“It’s a dart gun,” she defends. “Trust me – it only hurts for a second. Ask me

how I know.”

“You’ll never, ever live this down, Brizzbee.” Stef says. “Ask me how I know.”

“You shut up! Let the man do his work,” Lillian says, referring to the wrist massage.

She leans back ready to purr like a kitten. It’s a little awkward for Brizzbee, but he’s a gentlemen and will suffer through it.

“Do you have a pair of those without that little chain thingy in the middle?” Stef asks. “I think they’d make a nice bracelet.”

He’s heard everything now. He shakes his head, “no,” and drops the cuffs into his belt pouch. “Where’d you two come from?”

“How did you get the name, Brizzbee,” Lillian asks? “Did your parents lose a bet or something? I don’t mean to sound disrespectful but it is a strange name.”

“Still mad about the handcuffs, ah?” Brizz asks.

“Lillian. Good God,” Stef says, humiliated for her.

“It wasn’t a bet,” Brizzbee says. “It was Scrabble. My parents played once a week with my Aunt and Uncle. My mom was very creative with words and names, most of which she made up – like Brizzbee. But when she threw that one down they called her on it. Made her promise if it

wasn’t a real word, she’d have to name her firstborn after it. It wasn’t and she did.”

“That’s a great story,” Lillian says. “And how sweet. It says a lot about your mom.”

“How’d you two meet?” Brizzbee asks. “College? Work?”

“Her work,” Lillian says. “She was a waitress. My waitress that night. Nine and a half years ago. We have to plan something big for our anniversary.”

Stef is surprised she remembered. Of all the things Lillian seems to forget about Stef it’s nice she can remember the one big thing. It does show that she cares.

“Anyway,” Lillian continues, “I wanted something from the menu and asked her for her opinion. She...”

“...You wanted the beef stew,” Stef recalls. “I advised against it.”

“What you should have said was it sucked.”

“It’s the same thing. She ordered it anyway. Then she threw up all over me. That led to us

yelling at each other and me getting fired. Then she felt bad and hired me to take care of her mother.”

“You did,” asks, Brizzbee. “Now that says a lot about you.”

“Not really. I just wanted her close so I could whoop her ass. No, I felt horrible. Like it was my fault.”

“It was your fault!”

“Here we go,” Lillian says.

But before they get in to it again, Brizzbee asks Lillian, “What was going on with your mom?”

“Oh, the usual old-age stuff. Dementia, bad hips, poor diet. She’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry about that. Gettin old takes work,” Brizzbee says. “What about your dad?”

“Oh, he’s still going strong. Remarried.”

“Taking classes and staying active,” Stef offers.

“What about your parents?” Lillian asks.

“Same. Old age. One right after the other. My mom was first. That was a game my dad didn’t want to win. He waited for her to go first and then like clockwork went soon after.”

Brizzbee looks over at Stef. It’s her turn to offer up something about her parents.

“Still unfolding. Hopefully, Ominous will be able to shed some light on them.”

He accepts that. Then, “So, that’s what it’s like for you all the time? Your transformation?”

“No. That’s what happens when I’m interrupted. Usually I’m more passive. Fun loving.”

“Yeah, right,” Lillian smirks. “A real ball of fun and fur. Frigin, Schteffy-wolf.”

“Schteffy-wolf,” Brizzbee asks, exhibiting tremendous doubt. “That’s not going to help your cause. Not if you want people to start writing books about you. Schteffy-wolf sounds like a fluffy

little pet out of a children’s book.”

“He’s right,” Lillian, says. “We have got to come up with a new name for you.”

Stef likes her name and has no intention of changing it.

“I got it. Fang-fetal,” Lillian says.

“Fang-fetal,” asks Stef. “Is that like, femme-fetal?”

“Yeah! Or how about, Claw-mah. No! Omin-ess.”

“Ominous, Ominess,” Stef says. “Keep goin. You’re getting warm.”

“I got it! Bush-Whacker.”

After a second, they both shout - “That’s it!”

Brizzbee likes it. “It’s got teeth.”

Foster approaches the group at the truck. Stef offers, “I think we found a name for you’re new girlfriend.”

“Oh, this outta be good,” he says. “What is it, Steffy wolf?”

That took them back. “No, ah?” he says, questioningly.

“It was,” Brizzbee says. “How did you guess that?”

“It’s the only thing that would make sense. Steppin wolf, Steffy wolf. What is it now?”

“Bushwhacker,” Lillian says with little excitement.

“Bush-whacker?” he asks, rather doubtfully. “No, it is not. She’s a werewolf not a porn star.

Stef looks at him, half smiling half loving the fact he’s still protecting her.

“I’ll lock you all up, use that name again,” he says putting that conversation to rest. “I just spoke with Vermont Fish and Wildlife,” Foster says, rifling through the cooler for something to drink.

“They don’t know what it was but they do know it wasn’t a bear. Witness’s say it ran through the campsite on two legs. It had to be your Ominous - friend.”

Stef exits the truck joining Foster by the cooler. He raises her shirt and takes a peek at her wound.

It’s completely healed. Stef likes the attention. He pinches and pulls at the skin around the wound. He then sweeps the skin with soft, gentle strokes, causing Stef to flinch,

“What are you doing?”

He lowers her shirt, smiling, “checkin’ my work.”

Lillian exits with, “You had your chance to feel her up last night. But instead you raped my dress.”

“Jesus, Lillian!” Stef bursts out laughing.”

“No! I paid two hundred goddamn dollars for that dress and he goes and performs scherenschnitte on it.”

“I did not,” Foster says. “I just widened the hole that was already there.”

Stef has no idea what the word means... “Scherenshit? Now it sounds like you’re the one making a salad.”

“Scherenschnitte,” Foster corrects. “It’s German for a Chinese word meaning Kirigami. Paper cutting.”

“European Scrabble,” Brizzbee explains. “College drinking game.”