Feral
This was just not his day, Feral thought. He knew he should have left things alone with the boy, flown far away, but he hadn't. He had felt guilty of all things. Guilt for the boy and putting him through the experience of seeing the real wolf. That guilt, something he could not remember ever feeling, had kept him here in Durango watching the child from a distance. He had felt compelled to make sure he had not been too traumatized by the experience. Now look at the mess he had gotten himself into.
Feral paced back and forth as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened while the boy stared at him from the stump he had plopped down on. From the boy's expression he was feeling as dumbfounded as Feral was.
What was happening? How had it happened? Never in all of his years of being... well...whatever he was... had something like this happened to him. He could read people's thoughts and he knew the Superior Ones could read people's thoughts but he had never ever heard of anyone, animal or man, being able to hear it inside of their head as if having a regular conversation. It was impossible! Totally inconceivable!
"Um excuse me..?" Feral heard the boy tentatively say.
Speaking of humans.
"Not now human," Feral snapped still focusing on the problem at hand. What did he do about this? How should he handle it... the boy? And why this boy? What was so different about him that Feral could communicate with him and no one else? Feral howled in frustration!
The boy still sitting on the stump jumped when Feral called out to the sky. Feral forced himself to cease his cry. The boy was already overwhelmed, Feral could tell. His eyes were over large, his skin was paler than its usually healthy brown, and his hands trembled slightly as they rested on either side of the stump.
Feral tried to understand the bigger picture of this event. Would this put him at risk? Should he leave Durango right now? Would the boy tell? Feral had so many questions and he currently had no answers. With a heavy sigh Feral stopped pacing and instead looked down at the ground. Feral had not been so confused and disoriented since the change so long ago.
Apparently seeing his struggle, the boy chose this moment to speak up again.
"Um hello?"
Feral kept his head down hoping the boy would take the hint. He was not ready to practice this new parlor trick even if the kid was. Unfortunately the boy kept prodding at him.
"Are you okay?"
Feral snorted at the question. Was this boy honestly asking if he was okay? Why wasn't the boy freaking out? He was only a human after all.
"Does it look like I'm okay?" Feral asked with irritation.
"Your heads down. I can't really tell," the boy answered, evidently taking Feral literally.
"Well, I'm not okay!" Feral snapped back, looking up to glare at the boy so he could see his vexation.
The boy flinched at his response and quickly lowered his head to look at his feet. "Sorry," he said meekly.
Feral sighed before sitting down himself. Looking at the boy it was obvious the kid was not doing too, great either. Not used to having to think about others, Feral struggled to rein in his impatience.
"I didn't mean any harm," the boy whispered.
Feral said nothing. As the silence lengthened Feral looked over at the boy only to find him in turn staring at Feral. When his eye connected with the youth's the boy quickly lowered his eyes and looked away. Feral's eyes narrow as he watched the boy do this one then two then three more times. The furtive glances by the boy tugged at Feral's conscious and a new emotion maneuvered its way into Feral's chest. Shame.
It was obvious from the boy's behavior that he was just as distressed as Feral was, if not more. His snapping and snarling was not going to help either of them nor would it change things. He was acting more like a child than the child who sat so forlornly before him. With yet another sigh from deep in his chest, Feral rose and slowly ambled over toward the boy. Hearing, Feral's footsteps the young man lifted his head back up and faced Feral.
"I apologize Human. I have failed to see you are distressed as I am."
The boy offered a small yet timid smile. "It's okay," he replied albeit shakily. He licked his lips nervously before pressing on. "So who are you? Or what are you?"
Feral took another deep breath. This kid did not beat about the bush. Answering would be complicated, Feral realized, because in all of his years he had never really had to explain what he was, not that there had ever been a definition for what he was. He was an anomaly. How do you explain that, especially to a human? This was going to be complicated if he didn't simplify it. As much as he hated too, Feral knew the best example he could use to help explain what he was.
Kicking at a few twigs and pawing the leaves, Feral made a more comfortable spot for himself on the ground and sat down. The boy watched him and waited patiently for him to speak.
"What do you call those movie monsters... the ones that drink blood from their prey?" Feral finally asked.
The boy frowned a little in confusion before his eyes widened in surprise. "Are you talking about vampires?" he gasped his pale face now flushed red indicating his blood pressure had risen with the implications, though Feral was about to tell that as he could hear his heart beating faster. "Are you saying you're a vampire?" the human half choked, half squeaked out.
Feral barely prevented a growl from escaping. He hated comparing himself to the vial creatures but it was the simplest way to explain to the boy what he was.
"Yes," he finally answered. "Similar but not the same," he attempted to explain. "I can hear your thoughts like they can and I," Feral hesitated here, not wanting to go into the other scarier aspects of his curse so he petered out with a casual, "I have other similar characteristics. But," he emphasized strongly, "I am not one of those, so please refrain from referring to me as such!" he ordered.
The boy nodded. Feral was pleased to see that his cheeks were less red and that his heart rate had decreased but it still pounded strongly, a little too strongly. The strength of the beat indicated to Feral that the boy continued to be agitated. Feral was pleased. This child had more than once stupidly stumbled into dangerous territory with careless disregard for his safety. The boy's continued fear now gave Feral, hope that the kid was not as foolish as his actions made him appear. There was curiosity and then there was foolishness. The boy needed to understand the difference. The child's sudden question drew Feral's attention.
"What is your name?"
Feral was surprised by the question though he gave no outward sign. He was not used to talking or transmitting, or however way one would describe what was happening between the two of them that was allowing them to communicate, with anyone. Exchanging names was probably normal for the boy, but for him it was unheard of. No one knew his name. Proffering something so personal made Feral feel vulnerable in a way he could not explain.
Feral looked down and pawed at the ground, like a person would fidget with their hair. He stumbled over what name to tell the boy. Though he no longer thought of himself as Hidden Paw, he hesitated to share his second, darker name.
As his indecision continued, Feral felt hurt creep into the boy's thoughts. Feral's hesitation in sharing his name seemed to be causing the boy an unexpected and unintended emotional injury. This boy had helped him with his physical pain, Feral would not be the cause of his emotional pain. Lifting his head back up to face the boy he finally offered, "Feral. My name is Feral."
"Feral?" The boy parroted testing the name out. "Cool," he said, nodding his head as if in approval.
"Cool?" Was that a good thing, Feral wondered, sensing it was by the child's nodding head and the approving look on his face. The boy thought his name was cool?
"Ricky."
"Huh?" Feral asked confused, still wandering at the boy's reaction to his name. The boy liked the name that Feral had taken that he had thought best described him. It had not been a good thing at the time. It had never, until now seemed a good thing at all.
"That's my name. Ricky. Ricky Vera," the boy, no he reminded himself, Ricky, said.
Feral nodded as he processed the name but quickly shrunk back away from the boy-Ricky, upon seeing Ricky reaching his hand out to him. He growled slightly in warning causing the boy to flinch, quickly pulling his hand back to his chest at the wolf's swift change in behavior.
"Don't," Feral ordered.
"What?"
"I am not a dog. I am not your pet! Do not treat me as such!" Feral explained, denying himself the touch. He would not admit to Ricky that he had enjoyed the boy's affectionate touch in the basement. It was best he not get used to things that could make him soft. His world was not an easy life. Losing his edge could be the difference between life and death. He would not risk his life over such an unnecessary indulgence.
"Oh-ok," the boy accepted. "I'm sorry for before. I didn't know."
Feral could sense Ricky's disappointment. He also remembered how much the child had enjoyed stroking his fir while they had been in the basement. It was clear he would miss patting Feral but feral held strong to his convictions. He was not the child's pet. He needed to make that clear from the beginning.
"But I wasn't trying to pet you," Ricky tacked on sending Feral's thoughts flying.
Feral's ears shot up, "Oh?" he questioned. Feral listened intently to the boy's thoughts, trying to take a communication shortcut, but finding that he couldn't tap into what the boy was thinking right now. In that second Feral realized that though he could often read the he obviously could not read him entirely. The boy was not an open book as all of the other humans he had encountered had been. What made this boy so different?
"I was just trying to shake your paw," chimed in, in explanation.
Feral frowned in confusion. "Shake my paw?"
Thinking that the frown meant he was upset the boy quickly launched into his explanation. "Well you see... when two people meet, they usually shake hands. It's the polite thing to do. But you don't have a hand, you have a paw. I was reaching out to shake your paw."
Feral grew thoughtful upon hearing this. It was true. He had seen many humans make all sorts of physical contact with each other. He had witnessed shaking of hands, hugging, and kissing. He didn't know anything about being polite but shaking hands seemed harmless enough and most definitely the most preferable of options.
"I suppose a formal introduction is appropriate," Feral conceded.
The boy smiled his pleasure. Feral watched him, thinking that he may have trouble reading some of the things on this kid's mind but his face was a transparent as water. His fear, his anxiety, his pleasure was written there for anyone to see. Feral kind of liked that.
Once again, the boy extended his hand out toward Feral, only this time Feral in turn extended his paw. Paw and hand connected briefly in mutual amity. The contact felt weird to Feral. Any contact was abnormal. Shaking hands with a human boy was even stranger though he could not deny the pleasant feeling of companionship this polite linking of hand and paw brought.
The boy dropped his hand first and lay it down in his lap. Feral watched as Ricky chewed at his bottom lip nervously, glancing around the forest looking unsure of what to do or say. He was obviously hesitant about what came next, Feral realized.
Feral took that moment to put himself in the boy's shoes. He was most likely as bewildered by this situation as Feral was, maybe even more so. He was the one after all sitting in the middle of the woods with a wild woof. One no less that described himself as a vampire. Looking at it from that point of view, Feral could not figure out why the boy wasn't running away, screaming in fear!
Feral didn't know whether he should feel sorry for the boy or be angry at him. He leaned toward feeling pity. After all, when it was all said and done, Feral wasn't so sure how to behave either.
Thankfully, the boy broke the silence before it got even more awkward.
"Why did you steal my sketch pad?"
The first thought that ran through Feral's mind was that he couldn't believe that, that was the boy's first question. He was witnessing a monster up close and personal and instead of asking any wide range of questions revolving around that fact he instead asked about why he would steal a sketch pad? This boy was... interesting.
The question itself embarrassed Feral a bit. He had been watching over the boy. Curious as to how the child would react to seeing his evil twin. While watching he had on a few occasions been able to get close enough to see the drawings the boy had done. They had impressed Feral. When the boy had gone into the house he had taken advantage of his absence to take a closer look.
The drawings of himself had affected him profoundly. He had seen his reflection many times in the ripples of water in a creek bed but he had never seen an actual picture of himself. He had been so captivated by the image he had not heard the boys return, something that never happened.
Feral shuffled from front paw to front paw before he spoke. "I was curious. I wanted to see what interested you so much. I was impressed by what I saw."
The boy's eyes widened at his unexpected praise. "Impressed... Really?"
Feral nodded. "Yes. You have a keen eye for detail."
The boy's face split into a huge grin. He was obviously pleased at the praise. "Thank you!" the boy exclaimed. "I... I mean..." He then closed his eyes, trying to collect himself before attempting to speak again. "It's nice of you to say," he continued before a thought seemed to dawn on him. "But I guess you don't get to see a lot of art, huh?"
A puff of a chuckle, something Feral never did, escaped before he could stop himself. The boy, he was finding, was kind of entertaining. "No I do not human," he answered.
"Ricky."
Feral shook his head. He did not want to call the boy by his name. It felt too, friendly. Too, dangerous. Calling him by his name, personalizing their relationship would cross a line he would not be able to uncross. He feared where that could lead and what kind of trouble it would bring.
"You know you could've just asked for my drawings instead of stealing them right?" the boy asked him, looking at him with an expression of chastisement, making the moment, this encounter even more bizarre than it already was.
Here he, a vampire wolf, stood in the middle of the forest having a mental conversation with a young human boy. The boy was not running and screaming in fear. He, the big bad wolf, was not hunting and eating. Instead the child was calm chastising the wicked wolf for taking his sketch pad without permission. What bizarre world had Feral stepped into?
"I find that a strange question," Feral replied. "I only learned a few moments ago that we could even communicate. Top that with what you saw the other night, my rabid wolf," he reminded the boy as the kid seemed to have forgotten. "Do you really think I would have thought that I could just walk up to you and ask? How would you have handled that? I sense your fears and hear your heart racing. Do you really think I could have just walked up to you and politely requested to see your notebook?"
The boy's eyes widened comically as if realizing how ridiculous he sounded before giving Feral a sheepish grin. "I guess that was kind of silly of me, huh?"
Feral huffed. Mere moments ago the boy had been eying him in fright. Now they were sitting here calmly talking to each other like everything was normal. But it wasn't normal. Feral had not decided if that was a good thing or bad but he could not deny this strange connection he felt to the boy. Feral knew it was most likely do to being able to communicate with someone after all of these years, at least someone who was not trying to kill him. That made this... thing between them something he was not ready to walk away from, despite every molecule in his body telling him he needed to do just that!
The boy licked his lips before opening his sketch pad. "Would you like to look at them now?"
Feral blinked in surprise at the kind invitation before he wearily walked over to the boy's side. Once he was standing next to him, the boy started to turn the pages showing Feral everything he had drawn.
The immortal canine was impressed. Very impressed. The boy had a true talent. His wildlife work was especially notable. He had captured rabbits bounding along in the grass, squirrels chasing each other, and deers grazing peacefully all unaware that they were being etched so accurately; watched. There were also the pictures of him. Some were drawn from his time in the basement, others were just silhouettes or head shots. They were all very good. But none of them compared to the last sketch in the book. The last sketch was of him, looking very large, very proud, and very alpha. He looked... regal.
"Is that really me?" he asked in awe.
The boy looked up at him and nodded. Feral glanced at the drawing once more before glancing back at the boy. "It's very detailed," was all he could think to say. Feral didn't have the words to describe how this picture made him feel. A part of him, even after all of these years, had continued to see himself as that small hopeless runt. Seeing that picture. Seeing how this boy saw him was powerful and almost entirely too much to take in. He needed to be alone to process all that had transpired. His shifting views of the boy and his shifting views of himself were overwhelming and taking their toll. All he wanted to do now was go back to his cave and sleep off the confusion and inner introspection.
Abruptly he stood up and took a step back away from the boy. "Thank you for showing me all of your work," Feral said formally before he turned to walk away saying over his shoulder, "But I must leave now." He had taken only a few steps when the boy's soft voice drifted toward him.
"May I ask why?"
Without looking back, Feral sighed before replying, "I have very important business to attend to." He didn't tell the truth. He didn't admit that he had to get away to be by himself. He did not explain that he was a solitary creature not used to so much external stimulation outside of his regular activities. And he didn't confess to the boy how affected he was by the boy himself or his pictures.
"Oh," the boy said and Feral could hear his disappointment. "Okay. But could you help me with something first before you leave?" he asked hopefully.
Feral groaned to himself. He knew he should keep walking. Ignore the boy. But he didn't. "What?" he asked grudgingly.
The boy chuckled sheepishly before making a shy request. "I don't know my way back. Could you show me?"
Feral sighed. Without replying, Feral gave him a curt nod of agreement. The boy stood up and followed Feral through the dense foliage.
The walk to the house was conducted in silence. Feral was surprised that the boy stayed silent throughout the walk. He had half expected a multitude of curiously asked questions but he had not gotten one. Perhaps the boy was a distressed as he was, Feral thought. Feral's own mind felt inundated. Maybe the boy was facing a similar dilemma?
They reached the edge of the woods in no time. Feral turned his head to face the boy. "This is where we part," he said, giving the boy a final nod he turned and walked away. He was determined to keep moving this time.
"You know," the boy spoke softly, stopping Feral in his tracks. "You're invited if you ever want to see any of my new sketches."
Feral's eyes widened in surprise at the invitation. Despite his best intentions, Feral turned around to face the boy. "I mean," he rushed on. "Since you seemed to like them so much I wanted you to know it was okay with me if you came by... to see them."
Feral pondered the boys offer. He knew he should just walk away. Leave and not look back. There was so much potential for things to go bad. Yet there was this yearning he could not deny. This boy was different in so many ways. Conflicted though he was, he just could not walk away. He wanted some time to figure things out.
"I would like that human," he said. With a final nod, he turned and steadily walked away before the boy could stop him again. His walk transitioned into a trot and escalated into a run, all the while contemplating a very important question...
What had he gotten himself into?