The Werewolf Hunter

Stuck With Her

-Jake Holmes-

She sat beside him sighing almost every ten seconds. He counted, literally ten seconds.

Three...two...one...sigh.

Then it restarted like clockwork.

Ten...

...Nine...

...Eight...

...Seven...

...Six...

...Five...

...Four...

...Three...

...Two...

...One...

...Sight.

"Will you stop that damn sighing." He demanded angrily.

"What?" She exasperated and wiggled, rolling off the bench.

He found himself laughing hysterically. "What the hell was that?" He couldn't help the deep laughter that escaped his chest. He hadn't seen something so ridiculously stupid in his whole life.

"I didn't know what else to do." She shrugged, looking dumbfounded herself. "I can't believe I ended up in jail." He found himself chuckling, he couldn't believe it himself. "For breaking your arm no less. Like by the time they try to ask if you wish to press charges it'll be healed to the point that you can't. If you could, I would hope you wouldn't, anyway. This is supernatural business. Not for a normal court." She got quiet when speaking about supernatural things.

"I wouldn't press charges. Not legally. The government has nothing to do with us." He paused for several seconds before letting out a huff, "You know they think we're a tribe living in the woods. That's why those trees haven't been chopped for some subdivision." He smirked but it didn't meet his eyes.

"What's wrong?" She questioned, crossing her legs and setting her hands in her lap.

"Nothing." He left it at that and she didn't push for more. "So, your tattoos. I really like them." His voice was small. Thinking about her tattoos made him want to mark her skin with his own form of a tattoo.

"Yeah, they're great. I enjoy getting them." She looked at the peonies on her left leg and smiled. In the very center of the second flower, Matt's name was engraved against a pedal.

"What about the ones on your hips? I didn't really get a good look at them." He asked, curious but he had seen them. Clear as the sky was blue when the clouds were gone.

She leaned back slight, lifting her shirt and unbuttoning her pants. "On my left side," Her pants pushed down for him to see. He smiled at the exposed skin around her hips but tried to focus his mind back on the task at hand. In cursive, it read Daniella Peterson, "and the right side." Her hands moved to show him, and he read the name, David Peterson. "It's for my parents." Sadness filled her voice. He cursed himself for asking to see them.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did your mother die?" Curiosity got the better of him and he wanted to know the true story. Many rumors had gotten around but he'd never known what was right. Some were of her killing herself when she found out David was a hunter. Some were of her running away. Some even talked about her getting run over, dying of a disease.