The Wicked Witch of the West | Bigby Wolf Love Story

In Sheep's Clothing

TW: Graphic depictions of injury (not as graphic as the last chapter) and scars. Talk of self-loathing.

~Pet

~~~

     Bigby's apartment is infamously known to be the smallest in the Woodlands. It's barely big enough to be considered a studio apartment. The place is dim, due to the only real light being set over the tiny dining table to my left. There is a desk against the left wall that has a lamp, but it barely lights up the papers directly under it.

     Bigby sits limply in his blue armchair that's awkwardly squished in the corner created by the kitchen wall and a window. Swineheart's tools are placed on the little table next to it. Despite it being used as a cramped living room, it's most likely supposed to contain a bed, given that the door next to the desk hides only the tiny bathroom.

     Snow steps in front of me as she paces over the worn and discolored hardwood. Colin—Bigby's unofficial pig roommate—stands by the dining table, flinching every time he hears Swineheart drop a silver bullet fragment into a little bowl on the end table.

     There's nicotine stained wallpaper on the wall behind the wolf with a simple flower pattern on it. It makes it look like he's laying in a casket filled with flowers.

     Apparently while I was screaming in agony, Bigby flew into a bit of a rage. He killed Tweedle Dum and then got shot with a silver bullet by Bloody Mary, allowing her to just take Crane. Who knows where he'll end up thanks to the Crooked Man.

     I slide the remaining dining room chair—Swineheart's sitting on the other one—over to the window to sit in front of Bigby. His head lays on his left shoulder. Blood still drips down his chest from where the Tweedles shot him. It matts the thick hair on his chest and turns it from brown to dark red. His face is scrunched even in his unconscious state. He looks like he's having a nightmare.

    Just as it seems he's getting to the worst part, his eyes flick open. His stare is intense, but he's staring through the wall behind me, not at it. His body sags as all the exhaustion catches up with the wolf. He tries to lift his head from his shoulder, but it just sort of rolls forward, bringing a groan from his lips.

     "Easy there. Try not to move," Swineheart says. There's a stern edge to his voice, but his tone stays steady and calm. "We can't keep meeting this way, old boy." The doctor digs around a little, searching for another chunk of bullet. Bigby's eyes widen and he jerks forward as blood spews from between his teeth.

     I all but jump from my chair and swipe an unused napkin from the dining table. The rough white paper soaks up the blood dripping from his lip and chin with ease.

     "How bad is it?" Bigby grunts at the doctor from between clenched pink teeth.

     "He's been digging around in you for almost an hour now," I say as I plop back down in my seat.

     "Not the worst I've seen but damn near it. I must say... you're testing even my skills here." Swineheart pulls out a sliver from the bullet and drops it into the little bowl with a sharp clang. The sheriff groans and tries to lift his arm to shift, but the bone is broken and sticking out of his forearm so his hand just... flops.

     "Please, Bigby, don't move it," Snow says as she stops beside me. "Doctor."

     "Look, I'm a bit engaged saving his life at the moment... but if the fracture concerns him that much, he can set it himself." The wolf looks around the ceiling for a moment like he's trying to call strength from something. Then he grabs his wrist and yanks it, hard. A shout bursts from him and his eyes flash gold as he almost topples out of the chair, but the bone is back where it should be. "Hm. Not bad."