༓･*˚*･༓☾ WYIFH ☽༓･*˚*･༓
YOU SAT AT YOUR ROUNDED KITCHEN TABLE trying to encourage the white hoglet to feed from the syringe, a mixture of dog food and goat's milk stuffed inside.
One of the locals had brought the poor thing to you, having found it injured on the side of a busy street. You suspected it had been knocked by a horse and cart.
"C'mon, little one," you murmured gently.
A pang of worry shot through you when it continued to show no interest. It remained curled in a protective spiked ball, inside of a woven straw basket lined with old linen for comfort and a hot water bottle wrapped in a towel.
A knock on your door had you glancing up. It was late in the evening, and you weren't expecting company which meant one thing: someone needed your assistance.
You picked up the basket and carried it through the arched doorway which led into your small sitting room. A wooden seat lined with cushions sat in the middle on top of a jute rug and opposite the fireplace, currently glowing with shy flames which warmed your home.
The wall behind your seater was lined with a cabinet sporting different-sized square compartments, all of them secured with caged doors. Homes for various animals you helped nurse back to health.
Currently, you had a black swift bird and a red fox. Plus, your newest rescue.
You placed the hoglet in the compartment furthest away from the fox and a box away from the bird. Before you left, you squeezed some of the food onto a tiny dish in the hope the hoglet would grow brave in your absence.
After securing the hatch, you went to greet your guest.
The top of the door was narrower than the bottom, leading to a smooth tip. The dark wood matched your furniture. Your fingers curled around the copper knob and twisted, pulling it open.
Jessabelle stood in the opening, dressed in a long ragged brown coat and safe from the rain thanks to the ledge above. Vines dangled from it, almost touching her head.
She was an older lady with graceful wrinkles and silver hair reaching her lower back. "There's an injured wolf cub in the woods, poor thing is drenched-"
You were already pulling on your coat, one which was similar to hers. "Show me where."
༓･*˚*･༓☾ WYIFH ☽༓･*˚*･༓
You lived near the outskirts of your quiet village.
In a small cottage built from boulders and stone. A chimney climbed the left of it and a single window on the right. Most of the structure was covered in ivy. Out front sat a tiny garden closed off by a cobblestone waist-high wall, the space overgrown with flowers and nature but you didn't mind – nature was kind of your thing.
Jessabelle took you through the houses, past the blacksmith's hut and then even further, all the way to the Goddess of protection statue which overlooked the border like a marble guardian.
She stood tall, breasts covered by long hair and naked save for the short skirt with a slit on either side, held together with string. In her left hand was a staff fit with a sapphire. Her stone-y gaze kept watch over the woodlands.
You'd been told many times that you looked just like her which you always took as a compliment.
She was a goddess, after all.
"It's not much longer now," Jessabelle yelled over the pounding rain, an oversized hood covering her head and protecting her from the harsh elements.
Your belly knitted with concern. "Poor thing must be frozen."
You also wear your hood up, a trap clutched between your hands. You'd brought it just in case you couldn't lure the cub to you and had to leave it there overnight.
Pavement morphed into grass and grass turned into leaf piles and trees. Jessabelle remained in front of you, the ends of her coat brushing against the foliage.
And then she stopped by one of the larger, older trees.
You silently stood next to her, watching as her finger touched her thin lips in a shh gesture before pointing ahead.
Your eyes followed, squinting, before landing on the bottom of a charred tree. It was split down the middle and there it was - the little cub curled up in a ball inside of it, black fur coat soaked with droplets of rain.
Your chest ached when you noticed it shivering.
Placing the unarmed trap on the ground - you didn't think you'd need it - you unbuttoned your coat and snuck forward with light steps.
Either the cub couldn't sense you over the pounding rain or it was too cold to care because it didn't so much as flinch at your presence, not even when you knelt and gently wrapped your hands around its upper body. Not starved, you noted. Quite the opposite.
You immediately pulled it to your chest, concern swelling further when the little one still didn't respond.
You were worried it was too far gone. No reaction was a bad reaction. You'd have taken growling and biting over this placidity any day.
You wrapped your coat around it, hoping the warmth of your body would safely bring its temperature back up. You could feel the slow - too slow - rise and fall of its breathing as water soaked into your favourite tunic, chilling you.
But that was fine.
It was a small price to pay.
At the very least, you could offer it comfort in its final moments.
"I fear it won't survive the journey back," you confessed to Jessabelle quietly.
The downfall had tampered off to a dribble.
A frown creased her features.
"My home is closer. I already have a fire going," she suggested. "Go – run if you must. Fredericks home. I'll be with you shortly."
She knew if you were to go at her pace it'd only slow you down.
You hesitated but only for a second.
"If you're not back by the time I get this little one stable, I'm coming to look for you," you warned, your feet already moving.
"Just go!"
༓･*˚*･༓☾ WYIFH ☽༓･*˚*･༓
Jessabelle's home was the same size as yours, with only fewer cages, less fur, less smell (perks of the job), and less clutter.
She once confessed to you that she'd love to turn her home into a rescue as you did, but her husband didn't share the same passion and had forbidden it.
Fredrick, predictably, wasn't too happy to see you standing at their door holding a shivering wolf cub but you didn't care.
You simply barged past him and ordered, "Go make sure Jessa makes it back okay. She'll explain."
He grumbled but the older man with a large nose, thinning salt and pepper hair, rounded glasses and a miserable expression did as he was told.
He was harmless. Mostly.
Just a bit grumpy.
As you crossed the threshold and beelined for the fireplace, Fredrick shrugged on his beige coat and slipped out of the house, closing the door behind him.
Kneeling in front of the fire, you peeled off your coat and glanced down at the black ball of fluff cuddled into your chest, its snout hiding under a delicate paw.
It was the size of a twelve-week-old cub, you estimated.
"You'll be okay," you whispered, using the fabric of your coat to wipe away any excess moisture from its fur.
You were close enough to the fire that it would help dry the cub, but far enough away it wouldn't warm too quickly. A quick climb in temperature could be dangerous so you had to be careful.
You sat like that for a while, holding it, stroking it's slowly drying fur and humming a gentle tune.
Hope filled you when you notice its breathing beginning to return to normal. Its eyes remained closed, however, so you use the opportunity to feel it over for broken bones.
Jessabelle and Fredrick returned then, quietly stepping inside.
Fred grumbled, moaning about getting wet for an injured mutt and stomped to the kitchen whilst Jessabelle rolled her eyes at him, removing her coat.
She approached you and perched on the edge of her cushion-covered bench a few feet away so she didn't disturb the cub too much.
"I swear," she sighed heavily, keeping her voice quiet. "My husband has more mood swings than a person menstruating. He is going to be the death of me one day." Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the cub. "How is he?" she whispered, annoyance replaced with worry.
"Right hind leg is a bit swollen," you informed her grimly. "It might be sprained. He's almost dry though so I should be okay to move him soon."
You didn't want to overstay your welcome. You knew Jessabelle didn't care. Frederick was a different story.
"Well, the little one is in the best hands," she said confidently, a reassuring smile turning up her thin lips.
As if it heard her – as if it wanted to know exactly whose hands she was talking about – the cub shifted its snout from underneath its paw and lazily blinked its eyes.
Blue.
Oh, so very blue.
You'd never seen the ocean before but you were positive it had nothing on the sharpness of this wolf cub's eyes.
As beautiful as it was, you also noticed something was very, very wrong.
The shape of his head, nose, teeth – no, no, no, no.
Too wide, too broad, too pointed.
You gasped when the realisation hit you straight in the chest. "Jessabelle..."
"What's wrong?" Immediately, she was on alert, back straightening.
"This isn't a wolf cub." A chill settled over you and you shook your head in pure disbelief.
You couldn't believe it.
It was not possible.
But there it was – impossible staring you in the face.
Slowly, you shifted your gaze to Jessa, eyes as wide as saucers.
You whispered to her, not quite believing your own words. "It's a shifters pup."