We Become the Night

Fur isn't all it's cracked up to be Part 1

Why does it always seem like the only dreams I remember I run in them? Is it because I don't run enough in real life?

The pain is the first thing I notice. It radiates throughout my body. I know what's causing it. The shifting of my bones and muscles. My spine and hips shift shape so that I can no longer stand up right. I fall out of the bed onto the floor. What is supporting me is not my hands and knees, but four paws. I see though different eyes. A world not in technicolor, but in strange hues of oranges and blues. What's that? My large ears twitch as I hear a sound and my head whips towards the doorway. I pull back my lips over my massive teeth and let out a slight snarl. I pad lightly out my bedroom door and down the stairs. The front door is open too and I head that way. My nose sticks up in the air, scenting it. It leads me away from the house and down the road to a neighbor's house. What is that tantalizing odor? My mouth is hanging slightly open and drool drops out as my mouth waters with what can only be described as a tasty scent. Ah, that's what it is. I narrow my sights on the little dog chained up in the backyard of the Smithe's house, only five or so doors down from Joshua's.

That little dog didn't stand a chance. I trot down the street. I'm not totally sure what I'm looking for, but I'll know it when I find it. I was right. There it is. That's what I was looking for, right in that open field. A stray cat. My impressive bulk bounds towards the cat with ease. I'm on the kitty with little more than a thought, and he too went the way of the Smithe's yapping snack.

I awake the next morning in my bed at Joshua's house. What a strange dream, I think as I shift and stretch to work out the kinks in my back. I put my hand down on the bed and I feel something sticky. I pull my hand back and look at my palm. It's coated in a red, sticky substance. Oh, God, please don't be what I think this is, I sent up a silent prayer. I slowly bring my hand to my nose and take a small sniff. Rust. Yep, it's what I thought. Blood.

"JOSHUA!" I shout, hysterically. I hear pounding footsteps coming down the hall. The footsteps pause only slightly right before Joshua bursts into the room.

"Cal? What hap..." the question freezes in his throat at the same time he does. He slowly walks forward as he takes in the scene before him. He stops only about a foot from the end of my bed and surveys the situation. I can't seem to form coherent words enough to explain what's going on. I just sit in the middle of the blood-soaked bed, muttering and moving my hands up and down in a helpless gesture. 

"Cal? Do you know what happened? Are you hurt?" He comes around to the side of the bed and takes my head between his hands. "Cal, show me where you're hurt." He looks me straight in the eyes, unblinking.

"It's," I swallow the lump in my throat down and try again. "It's not mine." I say quietly.

"What?"

"The blood. It's not mine. I don't know where it came from." I say a little louder. His hands are still framing my face and he has not let up the pressure at all. His gaze wanders to the blood, but he doesn't look freaked like I think he should.

"Uh, Joshua?" I say distorted thanks to his hands.

"Yeah, Cal?" He brings his gaze back to me. I point to his hands with my blood-covered one. He immediately lets go. "Sorry about that. Okay. Here's what needs to happen. First, we need to get all this cleaned up. Then, you and I need to talk."

I nod, and as carefully as I can, I get out of the bed.

"Go get in the shower. Throw the clothes away. I'll bring some clean ones in there for you once I get this bed spread taken care of." I nod again and, making sure there isn't any blood on my feet, head gingerly to the bathroom.