Where Woofs (18+)

"That really depends on if you like dogs!" you say nervously. She's close enough to fit your whole head in her mouth, which you sincerely hope she won't, but might very well if you try to run for it— it's got to be bluff, now. "I like dogs! I have dog friends! I do not have bear friends but maybe we could be friends!!"

 

"Okay! Right! Yes!" You don't have any kibble. "We definitely have kibble!"

 

"Whoah, whoah! No fighting! We are not fighting a bear!" you yelp, backing up against Bel's legs. "Ma'am, I sincerely promise we are not fighting any bears."

 

You slip aside and back so Erskin is behind your legs, and only then do you back up a step, following him, not taking your eyes off the bear. "My friend is too big for you too," you challenge. "And so am I."

"Whatever," the bear says irritably, though becoming less hostile as the distance increases. "Quit staring. Don't like staring."

You break eye contact, now that you're far enough you'd have time to avoid an attack without the warning of seeing her body weight shift, and the bear huffs in obvious relief.

"Scared dog, why can the sneaky human talk?" says the bear.

"We're werewolves," you say, not sure if that'll make the bear more or less inclined to fight you.

You weren't expecting the bear to relax and shake herself with a snuffling sort of laugh. "Oh! That's okay then."

"It... is?"

"Yup!" Happy now, the bear half turns away to haul a cattail out of the mud, and plunks down on her fat butt like a panda to strip the outer layers off the edible pith.

You abruptly realize you are really, really cold.

 

You're incredibly relieved, and lean against Bel's long legs, trying to catch your breath and smooth your fur.

"You're insane, you know that, don't you?" you finally tell him, licking his hand. "You're going to freeze your knees off, you mad bastard, and then get eaten by a bear. Get back into fur, we can carry the items back when you're not about to pitch over."

 

"I'm not remotely about to pitch over," you scoff, but you are going to lose some skin off your feet if you don't get into either shoes or fur soon, so you stow the knife in the leg pocket of your pants and drop them to shift.

This does not seem to upset the bear at all. "You're still not big enough to hurt my babies," she says, though you know you are.

She seemed very glad to hear you're lycanthropes, so you venture, "Werewolves don't hunt bears anyway."

"Right," she agrees, as if that's unquestionably self-evident. She finishes her cattail root and digs some more. "Frog!" she announces. She rolls the frozen, muddy little ball onto the shore and pats it toward Erskin. "Frogs could maybe make friends."

 

"Oh! Er... much obliged." You creep forward to pick it up. It's a little muckier than you like but you give it a quick shake to get the worst off and gulp it down.

Wagging cautiously, you sniff along the shore for another frog, then dig it up and fetch it over for the bear. She's remarkably friendly and communicative, compared to some you've met.

"I'm starting to get the idea this park's very popular with our sort," you comment to Bel.

 

"I guess it's the obvious choice for any werewolf in the midwest who needs to have a good long run," you muse as you watch the bear eat the frozen frog Erskin brought her. "And, you know, humans are like... reverent about this park. About not messing it up or giving the animals a hard time. Stands to reason werewolves would be the same. With the obvious exception of prey animals. Which our new friend is not."

"Or my babies," the bear reminds.

"Those are some big babies," you agree. They're as tall as you at the shoulder, and much rounder. Keeping their cautious distance, still, but watching what's going on over here. "Last year's?"

"Yep." She glances at one, then the other. "Yellow Flower, and Faster."

"Bears have names?" You're stunned. You knew they were fairly smart animals, but you didn't expect naming from anyone but -- maybe corvids, if anything. "What's yours?"

"Hummock." A mental image of a soft, round tuft of grass in shallow water. She must've been a fat cub.

 

"That's absolutely charming," you say, already busy scratching out a third frog. You want to eat it but you also want to be friends with a bear more, so you shake it off in the water to rinse it and bring it back over.

"I'm Erskin," you introduce yourself, and give it the proper inflection: "Eris-skyne Aspera, The Challenge Presented By Impalement."

You loll your tongue at Bel. "We're both Knife Wolf! Though mine is a little more conceptually portentous, don't you think? My mother's family was delighted to take my dad's surname, all my post-association cousins have ridiculous fucking titles too."

 

"I didn't find it a particularly difficult challenge last night," you say wickedly, while the bear stares at you like you're both insane.

"Your name is dumb, I'm calling you Thorn," she says to Erskin. To you, she says, "Is your name dumb?"

"Probably!" You've never tried to say it in Wolf before; it's interesting because you've never thought much about your name's meaning. You look forward to Erskin's reaction to your full name being Hannibal Kadros: "Mercy of the Storm God from the White City." You hesitate. "The fuck did I just say."

"I have no idea, Brother's Keeper," the bear names you, and yawns.

 

At his frankly adorable innuendo you have to box his face, and then you stay sort of companionably draped over him while the bear insults you both.

"I like it! It suits you. You look like a stormcloud, anyway." You lick his ears. "I didn't know bears had names too, that's clever. I mostly run away from you lot—" this to the bear, "—on account of having SO MUCH RESPECT for them. Incidentally, do you want another frog?"

 

"Okay," the bear says easily. She accepts the frog graciously and then digs you up a cattail root. "Do werewolves like roots?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. "I like them fine in human form, but it's too cold for my naked ass. Can we eat those, Erskin?" It doesn't look appetizing, but apparently sharing food is the way to become friends with a bear, which sounds like an excellent way to spend the afternoon. Much better than fighting her with a knife.

 

"We're more omnivorous than cats but less than bears," you say. "I've gotten by on garbage a time or three, a bit of starch won't do you any harm."

You go find another frog and eat it furtively. When you peak over your shoulder it doesn't seem like the mother's noticed, but her cubs are starting to take interest.

 

With a mental shrug, you try the cattail root. It's all right, kind of a grassy taste, and the bear seems satisfied that you've accepted her gift.

The cubs, as they come closer, are muttering to each other almost constantly, little whuffs and grunts, which you can only interpret after a few repetitions; they have noticed the frog-digging, and they want frogs too, but their digging is not uncovering any. Frozen frogs don't have much smell. There's a lot of "I bet there's one here!" and "Aw, no frog!" going on. Their mother complacently turns her back on you and goes to show them how to find frogs.

"Those are hardly meatier than mice," you comment, nuzzling Erskin's ruff. "We should find you something more substantial. If nothing else, I've got fish hooks and line, I could cut a pole and see what's biting." You glance at the bear family. "Though we'd probably have to share it to keep the peace."

 

"Would we catch anything from the shore?" you wonder. "And with this lot thundering around, too? I don't want you standing around catching cold all day with nothing to show for it."

 

"Aw, which of us is Brother's Keeper now? No, not from the lakeshore, but that stream up there, I bet." You aim your nose at a gap in the trees, where you were investigating a fast, tea-colored stream before the smell of Erskin's fear sent you running. "Too late for walleye, too early for salmon, but the humble carp and catfish are always biting."

 

You are still hungry. "Wellllll. Put some socks on," you concede. "Thick socks. And the hat. And put a hat on me."