Traumatised Tim

Chapter Two

The waterfall was beating down on the back of his neck and shoulders, the powerful rush of water kneading his muscles and straightening out the knots they had gotten themselves into. The cold water felt good on his heated skin. He had woken up that morning and done a workout, a hard workout, and then gone for a run trailing all over the forest looking for danger. The sweat had long since been washed away with the waterfall but he was due in work in an hour and he knew he had to leave shortly and get ready.

                He was only in for four hours today, he liked this shift; it was short and started late which meant he had been able to spend the morning running over what he affectionately thought of as ‘his land’. Though he did share it often. The cooling foam bubbling around his waist were the water came up to when he stood on a particular rock. It was a deep pool but the current was strong, he used wolf strength to maintain his balance on the rock so as to not get swept away. The water crashing from the rocks above him was so powerful it would be hard for a human to remain there  without getting dragged under. He loved his wolf self. He cherished every moment of its existence. For years he had cried out to be stronger and now he was he relished in the things he was able to do.

                The fish around him were swimming away, acting as though the current was slow and graceful as they slapped their tails side to side and glided underneath the water. He sometimes wished that his life could be as calm as that but in the end he did like the challenges life gave him. He thought he might get bored if suddenly there was nothing to do. Scrubbing at his hair one last time to get out the soap he finally swam away from the waterfall and after making sure no one was around, pulled himself out of the water. His naked body rippled with muscle yet he was lithe and graceful in his own powerful way. He was crouched on the ground, knees bent and fingertips maintaining his low position. He smelt something off.

                Casting his head upward he sniffed breathing in the air around him. There was no threat and it wasn’t the sickly sweet pungent smell of the wayward pack. He was not being taken over or attacked but the smell was one he definitely didn’t recognise. Hurriedly standing he took a step in its direction - it must be a rogue. Judging by the smell it was a wounded and terrified wolf. The smell of fear was strong in his nostrils. Wasting no time he took off at once.

                Bursting into his wolf form he padded across the land, crushing the blades of grass under his weight and stepping on twigs and small thin branches that made up the forest. The undergrowth was springy in many areas where there were no paths. He let his paws sink into the green moss and flowers and dirt as he went to the aid of yet another rogue out alone in the dangerous world.

                The ground rose and he started to let the muscles in his legs surge him forward in a springing leap rather that his usual running. For some reason today he was more alert and felt the necessity of getting there exceptionally quick. He had always tried to get to the rogues as fast he could but today he felt like he had to be even faster than usual. With his wolf eyes open wide, taking in every single flower petal and tree that surrounded him, he searched for a wolf. But found none.

                Coming to a halt he moved in a slow circle trying to pin point the smell and locate it. He searched the ground twice over and still could see no sign of a wolf. The scent was close though, so very close it tickled at his nose in a tantalising caressing way. Then he understood his mistake, the rogue was not on the ground. He cast his eyes upwards and felt his heart stop. Draped over two thick branches was the body of a woman. A woman dressed all in white, the material was wrapped around her body, draping elegantly over her curves and tiny body, but ripped in places. The woman must have wrapped it around her to stop it catching on the branches and splinters of the tree while she climbed.