Servamp Short Stories

A story of a wolf and his stick

"Ash, we're running out of firewood. Go get some more." Gear demanded, not tearing his eyes away from the blueprints he was drawing up.

Ash sat up and made his way into the forest, carefully reminding himself to stay under the shade. "Yes, mother." He called out sarcastically.

"And get bigger twigs this time! The ones from last time were tiny as hell! And stop calling me your mother stupid cat!" Gear snapped. Ash responded with a simple dismissive wave.

Since the day he found Gear and sought his help to separate him from his demon, the two had lived together under the same tent. It would be an understatement to say that Ash simply felt grateful for the werewolf's help. He was indebted to him, not just for freeing him from that monster, but also for giving him a home when he had nowhere else to go. Ash was indebted to him, and for now, the best way he could repay the favour was to help with simple chores. Like gathering sticks.

"Hmm, I should try to find bigger twigs. Okay, let's see." Ash held the small bundle of branches under his armpit and surveyed the ground for firewood. The leaves on the amber forest floor crunched under his footsteps, filling up the silence of the quiet forest. He hadn't had much luck today. All he found were tiny fallen branches and twigs. Maybe this was a sign to turn back now.

Ash spun around and began his return journey to the campsite. He hummed a soft tune as he went along when he suddenly felt his foot caught on something. Causing him to stumble forward and drop all the sticks he worked so hard to collect.

He bent over and picked up the sticks while giving his surroundings a quick scan. Just in case he had accidentally missed out on one. That's when his eyes finally fell on something odd sticking out of a leaf pile. The item that caused his fall. Ash swept the leaves away and pulled it out. His eyes lighting up with delight as he looked at the object in his hands.

.

.

"Gear! Look at what I found!" Ash ran to their campsite, eager to show Gear his findings.

Gear eyed the stick in his hands and turned to him. "That's nice. You found a branch."

"A big branch."

"Yes yes, you found a bigger branch, exactly as I asked." Gear rolled his eyes and buried his head right back into his work. He had better things to do.

Ash frowned. He spent all morning searching for a larger stick like what Gear requested, hell no is he accepting just a "that's nice" for an answer. Ash waved the stick wildly in the air, "Do you know how hard it is to find a branch this size? And....." His voice trailed off when he suddenly felt Gear's piercing gaze looking directly at him, studying him with that intense stare that made him shiver. His eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as if he were in deep concentration.

Ash's eyes darted around nervously, clearly uncomfortable with Gear's harsh gaze. Oh shit, did I make him mad somehow, he thought.

Wait, I don't think he's mad. Gear lacked his murderous aura that formed whenever he was pissed. So why was Gear looking at Ash that intensely? Ash blinked, and it dawned on him. Gear wasn't staring at him, he was staring at the stick in his hands.

Ash waved the stick in the air to confirm his suspicions. True enough, with every movement he made with the stick, Gear's eyes followed, his tail wagging in perfect synchronization behind him.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Gear was drawn to the stick.

Ash recalls the dog on the sheep farm he played with when he was still human. A friendly border collie. He remembered playing fetch with it, how his furry companion never failed to bring back its stick no matter how far it was thrown.