Don’t Cry Werewolf

Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Wow, what a ridiculously busy day it's been... and so many interruptions as far as getting my post done -- like my dialup went south for a time. The good news is I did 'finally' get the first chapter of Fortunate Wolves entered in the *So You Think Can Write* contest. That was a real trial, just getting the manuscript pasted into their form. Anyhoo, I used a different pen name, just so you're not confused. If you want to check it out, here's the link: ~soyouthinkyoucanwrite.com/manuscripts-sytycw-2013/fortunate-wolves~

Okay then, I wanted to follow Pat's lead and write a sexy, slave-market flash scene. But time isn't on my side. Instead, I dug up a very *unpolished* except of a werewolf WIP I began back in 2008. It's got the Halloween vibe, and is on the dark and depressing side because the heroine is seriously ill -- so beware...

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My working title is ~ Don’t Cry Werewolf

“This should be the spot.” Weak, in pain, she shuffled slowly. Focusing on each step, she tried not to stumble, not wanting to fall, hurt herself so severely she’d have to crawl into the isolated forest.

“The lucky spot,” she encouraged herself. “The lucky spot where I get eaten by a werewolf.” She whispery-sang those words to herself over and over – forging ahead at a snail’s pace.

The night-chilled air wheezed in and out of her lungs. Her feet drug over the dead damp leaves from last autumn. There wasn’t much spring foliage to hinder her way. 

“Here, little werewolf,” she called out. Again she laughed at herself. She needed a big monstrous werewolf, actually. “Here, big horrible nasty werewolf,” she called out instead – several times. She chuckled, faltered, the effort costing her.

Looking upwards at the immense display of tree limbs in the moonlight, she felt the usual quick up and down of her chest, listened to her struggling whoosh of breath. It took nothing anymore to wear her out completely. “Hey, if nothing else I’ll get lost in the forest and die,” she murmured philosophically, between her strained puffing breaths. “Maybe only the bugs will get me.”

Able to lift her foot again, she continued moving deeper into the old forest. “Death by mosquito – god, that would be horrible. Instead of a thousand cuts. A thousand bites. – The itching...no it’s better to be ripped apart. Definitely.”

Reaching an enormous tree trunk, she leaned against her palm – the rough bark strangely comforting. “Maybe it’s still too cool for mosquitos.” Breathing heavily she turned, leaned back against the trunk, rested. “Death by exposure can’t be much fun,” she whispered, huffing huge breaths, hurting breaths. “No, death by werewolf is the way to go.”

When her breaths calmed down, she called, “Here, werewolf, here, werewolf.”

Painfully she shoved from the tree trunk, shuffled from the rough bike trail onto a deer trail. “I may not be as tasty as little red riding hood.” Feeling woozy, she slowed her steps. “But I should be good enough for one meal.”

Numbness crept into her limbs. She forced one step after another. “Maybe I’ll just die on the trail.”

No fresh dinner for you, werewolfie. She sent the telepathic message just in case werewolves were a telepathic species, like most animals. No drugs, I’m mostly organic – even if I’m no spring chicken dinner. She stumbled to her knees.

“Damn!” Pain radiated upwards sharply. Straightening, she grimaced, shook her hands out. I guess a bear will do. Soon as she could, her breathing not as ragged, she leaned forward on her hands, struggled to stand up. Groaning with the pain and effort, she cried out, finally standing up.

Geez – not a good night to die. Dragging one foot, exhausted, she continued along the deer trail. Bear...cougar...maybe a wild pack of dogs...come on, werewolf. Eat me!

She begged. Heart, mind and soul, she begged. Come on, werewolf. Eat me! Her eyes shut, she took several small steps. She begged, knowing it had never mattered before how much she’d begged for help. I need a cliff.

She opened her eyes. Nothing, no glowing red eyes. No glowing eyes at all. I should just jump off a cliff...of course, there’s the whole fear of heights thing. But it won’t really matter once I’ve jumped...I could just pretend it’s a flying dream...Hit.

Her body felt wooden, about ready to collapse. Feeling chilled, she hugged herself – kept dragging her feet forward, tiny steps. She didn’t care. If she simply dropped and died – that would serve her purpose. It’s just that she wanted to know. If werewolves existed, she wanted to know. Before she died.

She figured she was owed at least that...for enduring her pathetic nightmare life. For maintaining her integrity, her goodness as a person, despite the endless brutal trials.
 
Why not serve yourself up as a meal? And know. It was eco-sound – no land-eating coffin. No energy expended in cremation. Just bloody rent flesh, dinner for a werewolf. Any remaining pieces devoured by nature.

“The natural way to go,” she whispered. “Instead of don’t feed the animals at the zoo. Do feed the animals.” She laughed silently at herself. “The new cool on YouTube,” she muttered. Looking around, she noticed there were no more night sounds. “The zoo’s new slogan – end it here, save a polar bear,” she whispered, trailed off. The eeriness tingled her flesh to goosebumps.

Hugging herself unconsciously, she waited, noticed she was frozen. She couldn’t move her feet. A strange dread coursed through her. Yet she was calm, a strange anticipation soared through her. Slowly, slowly, she swivelled her head, looking. 

It rushed at her from the darkest part of the forest, fearsome, upright, huge.

Shadow-dark in the moonlight. Searing feral gold eyes charged straight at her. Her scream stuck in her throat. She was grateful. Her fast breaths hurt like knives in her throat. It would be upon her soon.

Closing her eyes instinctively, she prayed it was a werewolf. That she would know. Somehow. Fluttering her lids open the next split second, she saw the wolfen features, monstrous and magnificent, displayed beneath the full moon. She nearly passed out from the shock, swayed. His ferocious growl as he ran at her possessed her spine.

Forcing her eyes wide, she watched him launch – fur and bulk and incredible power. His hot breath blasted her neck. His fang tip touched the side of her neck. She fainted.

But not before she thought – goodbye, cruel world.

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Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance