Sometimes, it's the big bad wolf that needs saving.
- - -
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
- - -
"THEY DON'T have dogs," he commented, staring at them with almost calm detachment. Five guys, no dogs. Then he turned to me. "Pop off the top buttons of your blouse - and take off that red poncho." He raised an eyebrow. "Lovers remember?"
I followed his instructions without minding them, detaching myself from that ordeal to focusing on what I knew about the hunters around this town. He muttered an 'excuse me' and I froze as he pulled at my hair tie, murmuring, "Muse it up."
So I did. "This must be a backup," I said quietly. "The ones closer that saw the flare. They've most likely radioed in where they think it was and scouted the area to find the source." How calm I could sound when all I could hear was this ringing in my ears where my heart was hammering, I had no idea. But then the middle guy, the tallest one, pulled out his mask and the audible relief that I exhaled made the stranger, the werewolf, look at me.
"What is it? You know them?"
"One of them. That guy in the middle, he's a childhood friend."
I could feel the judgement on his face without turning. I still had my eyes on them as Hunter Rollins picked up his radio and said something to it. When I refused to meet his stare, he finally caved.
"You're childhood friends with a hunter?"
I tapped the steering wheel impatiently. Then stopped when Hunter ordered something at the brigade he had. They all turned to the car and took off their masks. Hunter started walking towards us, leading them.
"Miss?" he called again, this werewolf.
I sighed and pinned a glare at him. "It's not my fault I didn't know he was going into this profession, okay? I've known him since I was a kid. His mother was the only other person my grandmother tolerated in this place and even then she had her reservations because Hunter's family were hunters. I knew he would pick this up too, this job. But I couldn't drop him now if I could, couldn't I? since I'll most likely plead for that childhood friendship to get us off this."
He went quiet and I turned back at Hunter. Just when I thought I can piece together an excuse - a girl, a boy, one car and one with handcuffs on, this is not going to be a pleasant story - he, the werewolf, muttered, "he's a hunter named Hunter?"
Even that one cracked through my unease and I managed half a breathy laugh. That fact always put a smile to my face and apparently, even in dire situations. "Yes. His parents are assholes."
