The Man in Wolf Clothing [Mr_Sir & Oversea]

[Mr_Sir]

Daniel was on the run, his primal instincts of survival guiding him blindly through the night. The wound in his side from that hunter had nearly taken him down, but he was a werewolf after all so it would take quite a bit more. Blood caked his fur however, the anthropomorphic figure holding one clawed hand at his side as he would look desperately for a place to hide and hopefully tend to his wounds. Of course this was all being done by his instincts, his higher thinking all but cut off when he was changed and so badly injured. Normally he could keep his human mind about for the most part, but the rage and primal urges still won out most of the time. How long had it been since the curse had taken him on that fateful day out taking a stroll through the woods? He could barely even remember now, all he knew was the rage when changed and trying to hide himself when not.

Jet black fur had a sheen over it from the moon light, his muscles rippling as he quickly sprinted his way through the abandoned back alleys of houses built close together with taller office buildings in the urban environment. Foot steps about as silent as something his height and weight could make them, moving fast enough that most people wouldn't see anything but a shadow passing if they weren't already looking right at him. He didn't even consciously know where his feet were taking him, the instincts of the wolf guiding him along a path that would hopefully lead to his salvation.

He had come to a dead end however, knowing that hunter was probably still after him. Whoever he was, he was skilled in fighting werefolk it would seem, and Daniel didn't feel like having another run in with him until he had fully recovered. He would lift himself up over a nearby wall with a snarl, but the action agitating his wound even more. He growled heavily, moving to crawl now over behind a nearby bush. Breathing heavily, he would move to keep himself out of sight as best he could now. No clue where he was, nor if he would be able to recover from this wound anytime soon. He looked up to the sky, it was getting close to day break and he would be able to change back at least. There was still one or two more nights left of the full moon, and he wasn't safe until it had passed. At least the hunter hadn't found him in his human form, otherwise he wouldn't even be safe then.

Soon however fatigue would overtake him, his eyes growing heavy from exertion and blood loss. He would heal he knew, but it would take quite some time. His kind were always amazing at surviving after all. So for now he would stay curled up behind the bush, allowing himself to finally rest. His last thoughts were wondering if he would be found here by whoever may live here. He didn't know, and at the moment he didn't much care. Hopefully at least it would be after he changed back so at least they wouldn't be too shocked by him.

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  Though Cacia was often described as a solitary individual, the nights spent away from her little bungalow had done its fair amount of emotional damage. The laundered stench of the hospital had become far too much of a formality; when she opened her eyes from an often restless sleep, the blinding hospital light dominated her vision. Her doctor - a very kind Middle Eastern woman - had been hounding her to take her medication. "It will help with the pain" she'd promise. Despite her advice Cacia had all but surrendered to her illness. It was predicted she wouldn't live past her twenty-fifth birthday which seemed to be approaching dangerously fast.
  
  She didn't want to instill herself with false hope and relinquished the majority of her treatments save for a prescription painkiller or two that facilitated her otherwise nonexistent rest. "Well, that was the last one until next week." Dr. Khowst offered her client a brief smile but it appeared to wane as she stood. "Going home?" Undoubtedly a rhetorical question. Cacia had been holed away in the hospital for the past eight days. Tests were thorough but in no way absolute; she felt as if they were wasted time on her part even if Dr. Khowst swore they would do some good somewhere down the road.
  
  Being home again was like having the hospital life virtually siphoned from her mind. She disdained her tote at the foot of her door and waltzed into the darkness to be greeted by a loving howl and a lyrical pitter-patter of large, furry feet. Absentmindedly the nomadic women flipped on the light switch and was mauled by a mass of fur and girth. Her German Shepard, Rusko, had been heavily neglected during her absences. From time to time the neighbors across the street would stop by to feed him and let him outdoors but it hadn't given him the love he desired from his master. She fervently caressed his skull whilst haphazardly flattening his ears. He barked in reply and bounced as if weightless around the living room where he eagerly awaited his master.
  
  "Rusko," she breathed silently. Her voice was laden with fatigue and husk, "I'm going to bed." One could have sworn the mutt was cognizant of his masters musings. He wagged his tail and followed the woman during her trek to her bedroom where she hastily - and clumsily - changed her clothing and wrapped herself protectively within her comforters. For once she had attained a rather useful rest until Rusko began barking furiously downstairs. These were some hours later, but she hadn't quite taken that into account. Cacia stumbled downstairs and to the kitchen where Rusko was pawing at the patio door. Though unfrightened, she happened to be curious.
  
  Outside she greeted the sensation of dewy grass upon her soles, but had been dismayed by the sight left before her. A man, virtually naked, laid bleeding in her garden. Rusko ran out to investigate. His eyes were almost lamentable as he began innocently lapping at the man's wounds. "Inside." It took time for her to drag his outlandishly heavy body indoors and became an even more grueling task with Rusko bouncing left and right. A million things were running through her mind but, sadly, the one that held her interest above all was the possibility of police making a not-so-routine drive around the block.

 

[Mr_Sir]

The man was out cold, though a few grunts in protest were given as he was dragged in as it agitated the wound slightly. Still he wasn't bleeding very much for someone with such a deep gash in his side. His skin was lightly tanned from just being outdoors on a regular basis, jet black hair sat shaggy and thick atop his head. His body was well defined, toned with a rather athletic look to his muscle structure. Dirt and mud from the ground covered his form haphazardly. If it wasn't taken care of soon the wound could very well become infected, but it seemed to already be starting to heal which at least was a good sign.

Scars covered his form, most looking like claw marks of different types from animals of all sizes. Others looking like bullet holes, and still some possibly even by man made blades. Obviously he had been through quite a lot in his life, though none of the scars seemed to indicate wounds which would have been as serious as the one he currently had. After a few moments of being dragged however the pain was too much for him to continue in this manner. His eyes would snap open and he would give what sounded almost like a dog growling as one of his hands would shoot up to grab the female's wrist. They had made it just past the threshold of her door, his dark brown eyes glaring right at the woman who was dragging him into her home now.

"What...are...you doing?" His voice was deep, but currently ragged and labored as he tried to talk through the pain. It was obvious that he was in pretty bad shape for the time being. He looked around then, noting the dog nearby and taking a second glance over the female who was there. She was more frail looking, the man surprised that she could even drag his form into the place. His grip on her wrist quickly weakened as the initial surprise wore off, and soon he would let his hand drop as he was still suffering from the wound. He was still suspicious, but he didn't want to anger her canine companion as he was in no shape to take on anything right then. He would lay there, but after a few moments of heavy breathing looking to the woman to speak again.

"Where am I? When did you find me?" He had to know if she had seen him while he was still in his other form, or even if she had caught him between forms in the middle of the shift. There was no way he could really know how safe he was here unless he knew if she had seen him like that or not. Were he at his best, or even just a little better then he wouldn't have anything to worry about. But in his current state this woman even had him at her mercy, and so he had to be ready to deal with the pain and run again if he had to. Still, if she had meant him any harm she would have more than likely left him outside, maybe bound him even. He would just have to see how events transpired.

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  This wasn't quite the night Cacia had envisioned. All week long she'd longed for the comfort of her undisturbed bed and the unmatched sensation of cool, crisp sheets on her bare thighs. However, this particular issue needed to be rectified before she could be reunited with a good night's rest. She hadn't quite taken into account his scars; it was dark outdoors despite the moon's overbearing presence and she had concerned herself with salvaging this man's life for she was under the heavy impression that it was in danger.
  
  At his agonized grunt, Cacia's grip haphazardly loosened to accommodate his needs. She had been too concerned with his well-being to bother answering his question. Her clothing was cumbersome, loose and oversized. The thin cashmere sweater she'd adorned had - in response to her irregular movement - fell about her left shoulder revealing a series of pattern-like scars. Her powerful legs flexed and sprung with all their might in an attempt to drag this injured man into the cool, safe confinements of her bungalow.
  
  By now her flesh, naturally bronzed and taught, had glistened with a thin layer of perspiration from this strenuous activity. At his second inquiry, she merely hushed him and continue to guide him into her living room where she had finally managed to prop the man onto her sofa. Her hair fell, unwanted, into her view. She managed to flatten her ethnic curls against her skull while gazing absentmindedly at her "guest". It would take a whole day to scrub the blood from the floor if not longer, but she reminded herself of the repercussions if the police were to happen by.
  
  She veered upstairs and returned shortly thereafter, skillfully balancing several towels and a neat satchel which appeared to contain medical supplies, all certified belongings of her hospital. Little did she know her actions would be in vain. "Take in a breath; relax," she reassured calmingly. Her voice fell from her lips like molasses, slow and creamy; established, but powerful. She raised a hot, moist towel clear into his view and neatly folded it where she began addressing the wound. From where she knelt the gash almost seemed as if it had mended, though she swore it was the dark playing tricks on her human eyes.
  
  Her touch was gentle; one could tell she was a dying woman with the unworldly softness of an angel. The spongy material lay rested on his chest near the wound just as she began to swab. A bottle of rubbing alcohol laid in view on the coffee table. She believed he knew that the pain to come was certain.

 

[Mr_Sir]

The man would help her as much as he could to the sofa, noting the bit of a blood trail that was being left behind. He grumbled some, shaking his head a bit as he would give a sigh. He was a bit agitated at her not speaking hardly any, but it was obvious now that she was helping him as much as she could so he would let it go for the time being. The male looked her over as they made their way in, noting the scars on her shoulder and wondering what those were from. He allowed his eyes to roam over her a bit, but pulled them away to keep her from noticing. She was attractive, but he had long ago done away with the idea that he would be with any female ever again.

As she started to dress at his wound, he would look over at her supplies, she was obviously quite well stocked. He wondered exactly if she was a nurse, or what other situation would cause someone to have so many medical supplies. He had visibly relaxed, however the sight of the bottle of alcohol did certainly bring a slight scowl to his features, but he knew that he could handle the pain. He was more just confused at the situation. She must not have seen him in his bestial form before, otherwise who could possibly be willing to take care of someone like him? He was still really confused in general that she would take care of a perfect stranger at all who was trespassing. It had been quite a long time since he had been greeted in any positive manner. He would sigh, trying to relax dispite the coming alcohol. Speaking to the female.

"I don't know why you're doing this....but thank you."

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  While he whispered his thank yous, Cacia took the opportunity to remove the cork from her bottle of rubbing alcohol which, in retrospect, had actually been a half-filled bottle of vodka sitting in the back of her fridge. "Quiet," she grunted, spitting out the cork half-way across the living room. Before applying it to his wound she took a long, exaggerated sip of the transparent fluid and slammed her eyes shut when the burn had set in. Cacia was a somewhat masochistic woman in that aspect; the kick of any alcohol was more then anything to put her into a fitting mood.
  
  Without torturing the poor man any further Cacia poured the alcohol into his wound, watching as it flowed recklessly onto her couch and formed a puddle on the hard wood. At that moment in time, she hadn't had much concern for the messes accumulating. Her fingers, smooth and able, reached feebly onto the dining table where she plucked up a prescription bottle. They were girthy in size; white and chalky, but potent. "These will help with the pain, they're potent though. Just relax." She unfurled his large, calloused fingers and tucked the tablets neatly away in his palm, hoping that he would opt in to taking them.

 

[Mr_Sir]

The male scrunch up his nose a bit as the smell of the strong alcohol would hit him shortly after she uncorked the bottle, watching the woman as she took a heavy drink of the stuff. Well she could certainly take a drink and that wasn't something one often saw in a woman who looked this frail. He did give a bit of a growl when she all but demanded he be quiet, still she was helping and so it wasn't like he had much room to complain. Though the true snarl would come out as the fluid was poured over his wound, the male clenching one of his fists as the pain went through him. Still though it would seem he handled it well, showing no other real signs of discomfort. Not a fan of pain in the least himself, but he had learned well how to endure just about anything over the course of his cursed existence. He watched as she would move to grab a medicine bottle now, pulling out a few pills and moving to place them into his hand. He looked at them sceptically at first, unsure if it would be such a good idea to take anything just so freely given to him by a complete stranger. Never one to have really developed much trust in his life, after all most would rather kill such a monster than help them.

"Not needed, I'm no stranger to pain really." He would hold onto the pills, but after a few moments starting to sit up. Moving to place them on the nearby table as his face contorted a bit in pain, but once again he seemed to handle it quite well. He flopped back into his seat again then, sighing heavily as he eyed the bottle of alcohol. Motioning his hand to it, and looking to her then. "If you would be so kind though, a drink would be much appreciated." He would wait for her response, not sure how the woman would really take him denying the medication, but still asking for a swig from the bottle himself.

He still wondered if the woman had seen him at all in his other state, it was unlikely since she was helping him. However he was always one to take caution over trust, trust had after all gotten him into a number of horrible situations until he had learned better. She was helping him now, but who was to say she would do so if she found out the truth. He would need to get out of here before night fall, otherwise it was quite likely in his mind that she would turn against him once she knew the truth. He already had enough weighing on his mind without adding the life of someone who had been trying only to help him. But of course he would have to defend himself if she did try anything for whatever reason.

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  Who was she to deny a bleeding man a drink? She appeared almost elated to share her booze with the stranger. She stalled; waded in the potent aftermath of the vodka writhing down her throat and plopping into her empty stomach. At the time she'd been a victim to hunger; food hadn't graced her belly for hours. The medication she took did a number on her liver and heavily affected her appetite. She was often described as a glutton back during the days when she was significantly healthier but now it was seldom she was seen even nibbling on soda crackers.
  
  Surprisingly it had not yet crossed her mind to inquire as to why this man was suffering the way he had. Cacia wasn't in the least bit a meddling woman. She found solace in silence and would often wait for others to address her with their news rather then poke and pry like many other women her age.
  
  Almost soundlessly she withdrew from the man's side and tucked herself neatly away on an adjacent chair. Her skin - bronzed and coffee-colored - was slick with perspiration. The humidity was smothering to a degree in which she envisioned a man drowning her air supply with a down filled pillow. She coughed, cast her eyes to the window then back to her patient. She was silently examining the streets for any sign of city officials who happened to be doing their late night rounds. "Don't drink it all. I have enough to last me this weekend."

 

[Mr_Sir]

The man would give a nod at her words, only taking two decent swigs before he would set the bottle back down upon the nearby table. Well his wound was disinfected, but he looked at it for a few moments before looking at his surroundings. After a few moments his attention coming back to the female. He would look her over, noting her skin tone, how she was already sweating with so little exertion, thinking about the fact that she had helped him. He couldn't help but be highly appreciative of this person, the first to help him in quite a long time and without even asking him questions about what had happened, or why he was in this state. He really was grateful as he didn't particularly want to actually get into those details for the time being. Finally however he would speak again.

"Have you got any gauze and bandages? I can dress the wound up myself, it has stopped bleeding but I'd rather not get any mess on your furniture or anything. Hate to ruin the things of someone who has actually done me a good turn. Who can I thank for all this?" He would tilt his head, waiting for her response as he would hope now that she would give him the courtesy of her name. Not like he would be around long, he would have to leave before nightfall to make sure he didn't accidentally harm her. Primarily he also knew he needed to get away from the area, it was only a matter of time before that hunter tracked him down once again. He would look down at himself for a few moments though then, then back up to the female.

"Also, you wouldn't happen to have some extra clothes I could borrow at all or anything?"

 

[Osheaga]

• 
  
  "Walcott," she breathed silently. Admittedly Cacia was a very wary woman; she seldom gave her name to strangers and in its stead offered up her surname as an alias. It was, in a sense, a cushion. She was so distant and detached from her human kin that trust was nonexistent.
  
  A shuffling sound disturbed the silence. From the shadows came a familiar, furry face - Rusko, Cacia's faithful canine companion, had emerged toting his most favorite chew toy. He dropped it at Cacia's foot and nudged it towards her with his nose. She gave him a look that said, "not now", but his persistence was uncanny. His ears flattened against his head; he sulked, then scuttled near the sofa where his master's patient was. He seemed to be drawn to the man for some reason. Though he knew, Cacia hadn't the slightest. Rusko eventually bowed his head in defeat and neatly tucked his chew toy underneath his paws.
  
  "I don't have enough left to dress your entire wound." She swept her bangs over the crown of her skull, revealing a pair of strikingly exotic eyes. As for mention of clothing, Cacia rarely entertained guests. There were a handful of occasions that she had male company over after a night of heavy drinking; they would leave their clothing and depart the following morning but Cacia hadn't necessarily kept a ledger of all of her male visitors.
  
  "There may be a t-shirt or two ... I can look." She struggled to her feet and steadily ambled up the stairwell, returning shortly thereafter with articles of clothing draped neatly over her arms. She laid the pair of sweatpants and the t-shirt on the coffee table next to the injured man. "It's all I have."