A Spell of Hate

Cal and Malikah: Questions

Malikah stood staring at the slab of meat outside her door with a  mixture of horror, hunger, and uncertainty.

"What...who...?"

She looked around, puzzled. She didn't know where it'd come from. There were no people nearby, no lingering tang of emotions. She'd not heard anybody walk up. She didn't feel anybody hiding close by.

Was this supposed to be some kind of warning, like what the mafia did? Had she royally pissed off somebody without knowing it?

Still, it was a lot of meat... she could eat on it all week.

Unless it was poisoned.

Was that what was this was? Poisoned meat? And where was the rest of the deer?

Her eyes looked left and right, taking in the empty porches of her neighbors. It wasn't a new allotment from the Circle or else everybody would have gotten some. So why her?

As she continued to debate the merits of cooking the meat and risk being poisoned or throwing the meat away and risk wasting perfectly good food, an excited bark drew her attention to the corner of her house.

Heart beating with hope, her eyes rose to find--yes! It was the puppy!

"Oh, sweet baby, you came back!" she cried, dropping to her knees and opening her arms as the tiny beast flung itself at her, yipping happily, nosing and licking at her neck and face.

"Did you miss me too? Where have you been?"

As if in answer, she felt something press against her neck. Pulling back to study the puppy she saw a piece of paper safety-pinned to his brand new collar.

Gulping,  she quickly looked around her to make sure she was alone and then carefully removed the paper. Thankfully the puppy stayed still.

Dear Vampire,

I never thought I'd write those words in the same sentence, but here we are. Anyway, I'm a Weildon that lives through the woods, and it seems we have a little friend in common. Mullac, my dog, told me that you saved him yesterday, fed him, and were really nice to him. Thank you. I really appreciate what you did, and I hope you accept this venison as a token of that thanks.

If it's not too much trouble, I hope you wouldn't mind keeping Mullac (Mule for short) company in the evenings. I let him outside before work, but I work pretty late into the evening. He came home right as I got out of my truck yesterday, more excited than I've ever seen him, telling me about his new friend.

I've been worried about it getting too cold for him this winter, and it'd make me feel a lot better if he could hang out for a few hours with somebody like you. I'll keep providing meat as my daycare fee, unless there's something else you'd rather have.

Please let me know if you'd be okay keeping him for a few hours most evenings. He's a smart dog and well behaved, for the most part.

Best,

-C.U.R.

Malikah couldn't hold in her snort, "Really? A Weildon whose initials spell out 'cur'? That's too funny. It'd be even better if they were a canine shifter."

The puppy--"Mule" apparently-- gave a playful yip and began tugging on her shoestring.

"Mule!" she giggled, reaching down to push him away from her tattered shoe strings, "That's not a chew toy."

He traded biting her shoe strings for rubbing against her hand, and for some time the two of them simply basked in the contact. 

"Alright, then, Mule," Malikah finally said, setting him down so she could pick up the brown bag-wrapped hunk of meat, "I guess we'll have a really good supper tonight. I didn't know Weildon could talk to their animals. That's kind of cool."