LUPUS LYCANTHROPOS part 2/3
All info is on part 1's post, which is the one before this one, so I'm not linking to it. *lazy* :D
Lupus Lycanthropos, part 2
It was early afternoon by the time Bryson finally arrived in the small town where he guessed they'd taken the Beta. He'd spent the intervening hours locating the other's Den, simultaneously frustrated and impressed at the blond's skill in covering his tracks. Bryson had emptied the small area of all the belongings he could see, taking time to search in less accessible nooks and crannies and cramming whatever he could find into the backpack he found stashed behind a small natural wall of rock. Then he'd moved everything back to his own Den, being just as careful as the blond had been to hide his own tracks. He'd had to rest a short while afterwards, the exertion of the morning having tired him out so soon after the Full. He wasn't too concerned though. He was fairly confident in his choice of search area. While they'd been in a truck, he doubted very much that they'd have travelled much further. His hunch proved correct.
He walked into a small general store, hiding a grimace from the smell of paraffin as it hit the back of his nose. Intending just to hang around and pretend to browse for a while until somebody gave something away, he was gratified to walk straight in on the current conversation. In small towns, news of the discovery of a Werewolf took less time to spread than legs in a brothel. Pushing his sunglasses further up his nose, Bryson's eyes glowed at the Humans through the dark lenses. He bit back a sneer as he realized that, not only would wildfire have trouble outpacing the tales, but they'd grown just a little in the telling too.
"...took four of us to wrestle the bastard to the ground. He managed to get a bite in too." Bryson gazed with semi-feigned interest at an undoubted dog bite on the storyteller's forearm. He opened his mouth to speak, but the asshat continued without noticing. "Told him if he didn't suck the poison right on back out again he'd die there and then. Yellow shit didn't want to do it, but we made him squirm alright, din' we?" The bitten man turned to a companion who nodded in mute agreement. "See, they're just like any damn animal. You beat 'em bad enough, they'll do as they're bid."
The woman behind the counter was more impressed than Bryson. Still, she could almost have picked his brain for her comment.
"Jeez, Jerry. But I always thought that just gettin' yourself bit was enough."
"Now see, that's what a lot of folks think. But me? I've been huntin' down these vermin f'r nigh on twenty years now. Can sniff out a Werewolf at fifty yards. I know what I'm talkin' about, and that's why they don't scare me none. You just got to know how to deal with 'em."
Bryson couldn't resist. He moved close enough almost to be classed as a space invader. His fatigue and purpose combined to stop him reacting to the proximity of the Humans with anything other than a seemingly interested "How many've you caught then? Must be a few in nearly twenty years."
The hero of the day puffed out his chest, turning to make sure that Bryson had a perfectly clear view of his arm which wasn't bleeding and, from the scent, hadn't bled much even at the time of the bite which Bryson estimated to be around three days ago. He bit back a concerned enquiry as to the state of health of the dog with a little more difficulty than he did a natural reaction to the still-present scent of blood.
"Well, I reckon it must be round about thirty five of the monsters." Bryson raised an eyebrow.
"That many? Damn, folks around here are lucky to have you." There was a brief narrowing of the storyteller's eyes as the fleeting thought that the new guy, whoever he was, was baiting him, skittered through his mind, but his own sense of self-importance reassured him that this was just a young guy who was showing a perfectly understandable interest in his achievements and was keeping an equally understandable jealousy in check with his even tone. Realizing that the stranger had spoken again, he asked him to repeat his question.
"Did you kill him?" The man laughed indulgently.
"You don't kill a Werewolf when he's wearin' skin. Can't get the fur off of him then. Have to wait until nightfall. I got him weak enough that a couple of the guys here'll be able to hold him down while I slit his throat. That'll do it good enough." He nodded, then in a moment of magnanimity he added, "You stickin' around for a while? Might be able to arrange it so's you can help."
Bryson shook his head, regretfully. "Sorry. Got an appointment later. Shame though. I'd've loved to watch how you handled him. Ah well..." he shrugged and turned to go, then as if on an afterthought he turned back and asked casually, "Where're you holding him, then?"
~~~~~~~
Leaving the store a little later, Bryson strolled casually towards the western outskirts of the town, turning up the dirt track the Humans had mentioned as though he was simply taking advantage of the sun and admiring the view. There were just two properties a little way up the road, one facing and slightly further up from the other. Walking down the middle of the road, Bryson examined the dust. There were several sets of tracks, one of which was markedly more recent and undisturbed than the others. Bryson followed them with his eyes, trailing them up in the distance. It wasn't yet clear which of the two properties had been the vehicle's destination but, given the clarity of the tracks, he knew he'd discover that as he approached.
As it turned out, it was the nearer of the two houses. Bryson gave a small grin of satisfaction. Less windows to pass meant that there was less of a chance of him being seen. In fact, he didn't even have to go down the driveway to the house he wanted. Ducking around the side, he jumped easily over the perimeter fence with barely more than a whispered grunt in acknowledgment of the effects of last night's Full, ducking down in the border shrubbery and sniffing the air for a moment until he satisfied himself that nobody was around. Then he started to make his way around the building, keeping as hidden as possible, checking the windows to find any which might be open.
Around back, he found a small, separate building; some kind of storage shed, he guessed. Its normal function he couldn't guess and wouldn't have wasted the time in trying to do so. Heading over to it, he made his way to the small window in the side. Cursing at the grime which covered the window, he rubbed at it as much as he could with his forearm and then moved closer to peer inside. At first he could see nothing, but as he looked more he noticed an immobile form on the floor. The blond hair and naked, bound body told him all he needed to know. If that hadn't been enough, the faint scent which was just getting to him via cracks and gaps in the putty identified the other Wolf beyond doubt.
Bryson growled, as loud as he dared. For a while he thought it wasn't loud enough, then the other turned his head slowly, and looked his way. Bryson wasn't altogether sure if he could see him, but the faint whine he heard reassured him that the blond could at least hear him. Keeping his voice low, he spoke.
"I'm getting you out. Hold on."
Without waiting for any further sign or reaction from the shed's occupant, and not bothering with the door which, he knew, would be secured well enough since surely even these Humans had some idea of just what they were dealing with, Bryson began examining the window more carefully. If he could get the blond's scent, then there was some sort of gap in the seal. Sure enough, he found that the window's fit wasn't exactly true along the bottom edge, conveniently close to the latch. Taking out a pocket knife, he extended the blade and ran it slowly along the edge. The poor fit meant that the latch wouldn't be sitting completely true. He allowed himself a satisfied grin as, once again, he was proved right and the latch popped up beneath the pressure from the blade. Putting the knife away in his pocket once more, he eased open the window and looked inside.
Then he stood back for a moment, snarling quietly in frustration as his brain had quickly assessed the situation.
He could get through the window. It would be a tight fit, but he could do it. And he could get to the blond. And that, so far as he could see, was about all he could do with any degree of success. There was no way the blond was going anywhere under his own steam, and Bryson was in no state to carry him. He returned to the window.
"Hey. Can you hear me?"
There was a long pause, then a barely audible whine, followed by a slight movement of the head. Bryson instantly responded to the whine with a low growl.
He watched the blond a little longer, but there was no further movement from the floor. However, since he'd responded to Bryson's presence and voice - after a fashion - Bryson guessed he'd get at least part of any message.
"I can't get you out of here. Not now. And I can't do anything about your leg or anything. But you </i>will</i> be okay. You got that? You'll be fine, but you got to help yourself or they'll have your fucking pelt before Moonset tomorrow." He paused, looking for any reaction, then continued. "Don't let the fuckers near you. I mean that. They come anywhere close and you remember you're a damn Wolf. And remind them that they don't fuck with us."
The last came out in a snarl of anger, frustration and disgust at the condition of the Beta and his surroundings. It also prompted the Beta to open his eyes again, unfocused and distant at first, but he eventually managed to blink himself into a higher degree of lucidity. He looked at Bryson in silence for a long moment, then spent another while trying to move his lips before he finally spoke.
"Thank... you." When Bryson made no comment, he continued. "Paw... stopped me... biting... through it. Can't... Hunt so good... on three..." His voice trailed off as his focus started to drift again, his eyelids closing. Bryson nodded.
"That's right. Not having any three-legged fucking gimps in my Pack. No such thing as a free ride."
The blond didn't open his eyes again, but he spoke once more. "... Pack? How... many?"
Bryson tilted his head to one side as he watched, a small smirk curling the corners of his mouth briefly. "What? Counting us, you mean?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "That'd make... two. If you still want the job, that is. As Beta, that is. Not bedmate."
He was about to turn away when a huffed sound from the floor made him look back. The blond was laughing. Well, sort of. His shoulders shook slightly and continued doing so even though the movement clearly caused him pain. Bryson's smirk grew into a grin, even as he growled again to calm the blond down.
"I take it that's a 'yes' then. I'll be back tomorrow. Just hang in there and remember what I said. You're the only fucker I've come across who looks like he'd make a decent Beta. You don't get out of it by getting fucking killed on me. Not right now, anyhow."
As he closed the window again, Bryson's grin faded at the unmistakable sound of a quiet, distressed whine from the figure on the floor. He looked back in through the reclosed, even if still unlatched, window, another frustrated snarl beginning to grow in his throat.
"We'll show them. Teach them who's higher up the food chain." He would have said more, but the faint yet unmistakable sound of a truck's engine and muffled dog barks told him it was time to go. He wasn't back to full speed yet after the change, and he couldn't help the blond at any time if he got himself caught or killed.
As he moved away and retraced his steps back to the dirt track, Bryson took a last but thorough glance around the area. He hoped the blond would survive the night. Everything after that hinged on that one not so small point.
~~~~~~~
Ferguson doubled over on himself with a gasped moan as the first pains of the Change wracked his body. During the day he'd regained a fair bit of his reason to the extent that he'd been able to do some very limited flexing exercises. Limited by the ropes which bound him, which he hadn't regained the strength to escape, he'd nevertheless succeeded in preventing his joints from seizing completely, and had pretended to be unconscious on the few occasions when he'd been checked on, taking stock of where he was when he was alone.
Just under the window through which the Alpha had spoken to him earlier - although he was still unsure as to just how long ago - there was a shelf which ran the length of the shed. There was very little else there though, the shed obviously not having been used for some time before he'd been put there. He hadn't eaten all day, which was no problem since he'd fed the night before. They hadn't thought to give him water either, which bothered him. Still, he'd overcome temporary thirst before. It wasn't such a big thing. His main concern was to beat down the fear at being caged - made no difference if there were bars or not, it was still a fucking cage - and to stay alive long enough for the Alpha to help him get away.
His leg was pretty much useless. It'd heal, but it needed time which Ferguson didn't have right now. And it still hurt like fuck, sending rivers of fire through his body whenever he tried to move his foot. The crunch and grind of the crushed and broken bones didn't bother him. He was used to that. But, once he was Changed, he could manage on three legs. Or he thought he could, at least long enough to lose his value in the fur and skin trade for four weeks.
He forced himself to concentrate on what was happening to him as more pain made him shudder in agony. He wanted to keep as quiet as he could for as long as he could. His own body was a far better judge of moonrise than the jokers out there, but any noise from him would alert them, if they were there, and he needed as much time as he could get.
As he felt his shoulders and chest being forced out of shape, he closed his eyes and waited, keeping his mind focused on his changing shape and size, shuffling around and out of the pinioning ropes as soon as he felt them slacken with his decreasing upper body girth. He had to be quick and he HAD to ignore both the fire in his torso and the pain in his leg.
Once he'd escaped the first ropes, he moved quickly, whimpering as he fought the urge to throw his head back and scream. He pushed his wrist-tied arms down, bringing his ass up and through the gap in his arms, not wanting his shoulders in that position when the Change was complete. He'd dislocate his shoulders for damn sure and, while he was fairly confident he could hold them off on three legs, he knew he'd be no real match for the Humans if both forelimbs were useless.
It hurt. Fuck, it hurt on every damn level. Ferguson bit down hard on his tongue as he pushed his arms down over the backs of his thighs and knees. His leg did not want to move. Everything in him recoiled at what he was going to have to do.
He did it anyway.
A loud howl of agony made the assembled Humans shuffle nervously as a couple of them wondered if the bastard had actually managed to escape the shed and hide behind the end of the shed. They hesitated, looking from one to the other without a word until ordered forwards with a brief nod from the heroic Jerry. He hung back a little and gazed up at the sky.
"Better'n any clock. Moonrise," he muttered to himself with a smug smirk of anticipation. Pulling back the bolt on his rifle, he pushed a bullet into the breach and stepped forwards.
Ferguson lay perfectly still beneath the shelf, panting in pain and exertion as he shook the ropes from his front paws. He'd pulled the ropes around his legs off as he'd moved his arms in front of him and was now completely unbound. The scent of the Humans just outside the small hut made him shiver and snarl quietly in longing, but his brain told him that he had to Hide. Hide and Be Still. It wasn't easy, but with the prize of a Pack at the end of it, the blond Wolf knew when to keep a low profile.
The Change, combined with what he'd had to do, had taken its toll on him. He was too tired and sore to move for a while, having had to scramble beneath the ledge as soon as his hands were on the right side of his body, in mid-Change. He'd barely managed to keep his wits about him and even now, his main instinct was to give in and try to get to the scent of Human which was so tantalizingly close and yet so far. It took all of his self-control and a good amount of reserve which he never knew he had to keep concealed, away from the rifle's barrel. He knew guns, even in his Moon form and, while he knew the Humans' bullets couldn't kill him, they could do him some damage which, in his present state, he couldn't risk.
Time passed, agonizingly slowly for the hungry Wolf who was beginning to have to struggle to remember just why it was he had to resist everything his instinct was telling him. When a booted foot on the other side of the wooden barrier struck the wall right next to his head, the Wolf snarled and snapped at the air, still somehow remembering to keep it down. Somewhere in the back of his brain he still recalled vague orders not to get himself killed and, while he hadn't taken orders from anyone in the two years since he'd been Sired, it didn't strike him as strange that he felt compelled to obey these over and above everything else which he'd come to accept and know as natural and Right.
Still... it was hard. So hard. He was supposed to Hunt, to Kill, to eat. And he was hungry. Perhaps the Alpha would be pleased with him if he was presented with such a plentiful supply of food...
He began to crawl slowly out of hiding, glancing up at the small window, his lips curling back into a silent snarl as he took up the best stalking position he could, giving care to his sore leg. He could make out shadows. Human-shaped shadows to match the scents which were now tormenting him beyond endurance.
~ Meat! Ben take meat. Show Alph... ~
The blond Wolf's head suddenly snapped up, away from the still not re-latched window and towards the back of the shed, in the direction of the unexpected disturbance. A distant, but not overly so, howl carried on the night air. Ferguson opened his mouth to reply, but the sudden Human voice outside the window reminded him of the need for secrecy which their scents had almost thwarted. He sank back into his hiding place.
"Damn fucking Wolf did escape." There was another silence as the Humans debated what to do, then a decision was made and Ferguson heard their steps retreating as their scents gradually faded. The next new sound he heard was the engine which he remembered vaguely from the previous night. Still, he did not break his cover. Instead, he turned and licked at his injured hind leg briefly, whimpered faintly, then put his head down on his front paws and dozed fitfully.
~ Alpha help...come sunup. Save. Pack for Ben. Alpha say Pack. Pack good. ~