InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Good morning, Sunshine."

awildthing (awildthing) wrote in valarlogs,
@ 2012-07-03 22:03:00

Entry tags:

!complete, sheriff graham (the huntsman)

Who: Graham and his wolf buddy.
When: Early Wednesday morning.
Where: Back yard, Graham’s place in Irvine.
What: Surprise wolves!
Status: Complete. (Unless Buffy would be there and would want to tag in; in that case, in progress.)

He’d had the dreams again, but this time they’d had the kindness to play themselves in a proper order and from start to finish in a narrative that almost made sense, so at least there was that. Graham woke surprisingly calm for having just gone back through the fairy-tale life, this time with 100% more killing people in taverns. (Seriously, what?) His breathing was steady, and instead of thrashing his way out of bed, he rolled over and caught a look at the clock. 5:30. Well, not too early to feed the wolves. He could go back to sleep after.

It took a few minutes to get everything out of the wolves’ refrigerator – the one he kept specifically for their meals – and then, with three containers balanced in his arms, he unlatched the back door and nudged it open with a foot.

A pale gray wolf sat on the stoop. Graham froze.

There weren’t wild wolves in southern California (at least so far as he knew), but his first instinct was to treat the canine like it were potentially feral and hostile. He’d raised his own little pack from pups; he knew their quirks and they recognized him as the alpha. Did he love them? Yes. Did he ever once, for an instant, forget that they could do him grave harm if he forgot what they were? No.

Graham took a measured step back and was careful not to look the creature in the eye. Its… ah. Red eye. Jesus.

“Down the steps.” Graham said, with more sureness than he felt. This was a first meeting; he couldn’t let the wolf’s first impression of him be weakness. “I’ll feed you, but I need you back down the steps so that I can get out.”

The wolf backed off as if it understood the command. Jesus. The smart thing to do would have been to shut the door and call animal control. Trained wolves were one thing, but a wild one? Something else entirely.

But. One red eye. One black one. Instead of doing the wise thing, Graham did what felt right. He dropped the containers of food on the counter and stepped out the door. He shut it quietly behind himself, just in case the creature felt like taking a stroll ‘round the kitchen.

“I know you won’t want to be penned up, but I’ve no other option; there are no forests here for you and if I’m to give you a home, I’ll have to go through the motions with the city. Quarantine. Paperwork. I won’t force you – I’ll just open the pen, and if you want to stay…” He was talking to a wolf. A wolf who might, at any moment, try to eat his face off.

It didn’t seem particularly aggressive, but that meant less than nothing. Graham made for the pen, careful to keep the wolf in sight. It paced him and brushed past into the enclosure like nothing was odd. The huff of air might have been a little disgruntled, but the canine didn’t so much as growl when Graham shut the gate. “I’ll get the food.”

Lord, what was going on? Graham grabbed the food and somehow made it back out into the yard without remembering a single step of the trip. He slipped the food in through the vestibule and sat, hand on fence, as the wolf ignored it and instead trotted over to sniff at his fingers.

“Did you come looking for me?” He asked, as if the creature could understand him. There was no reply, because hello, it was a wolf. Instead, it nosed at his hand through the chain link one more time and went off to eat.

Right. If a heart in a box showed up, Graham would get roaring drunk. It was the only sensible plan.