One leg is cold while the other is comfortable under the blankets. I grumble at the loud cracking of the fire and the grogginess of my head. I want to sleep just a little bit longer I know I have chores to accomplish but they can wait a few more minutes. I snuggle further in to my bed. my noise twitches because of the long hairs brushing against it.
I stop breathing my blankets aren't furs, they don't have hairs one them. My lungs burn with the urge to breath but I refuse for a few more seconds. My brain working on the issues at hand, that I was not in my own bed or my own house.
A gasping breath parts my lips while my eyes fly open. Not my house. The banked fire, the black cauldron that wafts aromas in the air, the rough table all in front of me proving I'm not at home. But most of all the silence rings in my ears.
No one else's breathing, no rustling movements, no jarring bangs resonating through the house from a drunken fool. I have no chores that require my attention, no punishments for noise or uncoordinated attempts at chopping and stacking wood. The peace that settles inside my person shocks me.
My rant to the kidnapping wolf from yesterday replays in my head. Did I trade one prison for another or escape the hellhole called a home for a place that could give me purpose?
The urges of my bladder and stomach have me moving from the bed. I look the room over for some kind of chamber pot. The room looks much like it did yesterday until my eyes fall over the single chair in the house. My jacket is the most prominent piece on top but I can hope my clothes lay under it.
The door looms on the edges of my vision. Will it bang open bring the cold gaze of intelligence along with the biting cold or will it stay shut long enough to allow me privacy to dress. My hope is the latter but I don't expect for the alone time to last.
I dress quickly in the clothes laid out and find while the pants and jacket are mine from before the shirt is larger and while well worn still in one piece. At this point I don't care whose they are just that I am covered with more than an animal hide held together by my hands.
I stalk outside to find a place to pee, rounding the cabin where the space between the structure and the woods is minimal. I check around quickly and my business before taking a good look around me. I scan the edge of the woods for movement of any kind, mostly keeping a look out for that quick-witted wolf.
While scanning the woods a glow shimmers in between the trees.
The glow lights a path to the object. The clearing around the glorious sight extends twenty paces around the gorgeous article before the trees continue to exist. A halo conforms to a flower frozen in time. In varying stages of wilt petals litter the floor of the ethereal ring of light. Before I can move out of the tree line a growl erupts ten paces ahead of me. The animalistic sound resounds through the forest as he steps from between the trees.
But not my wolf I notice because the coloring is not the same.
YOU ARE READING
The Cabin, the Woods, and the Wolf #watty2016
WerewolfWaking up in a place she doesn't know. Remembering vague details about she got there. Lastly there is the fact she is being held in the cabin by a massive wolf, who shows when he wants or when she is about to escape back to her own miserable house...
