Werewolf's Humanity

Good Sport, Part 1

Sammy glanced at himself in Odysseus' rearview mirror. He'd done his best to brush off the dust of his day's labors, but he would be glad shed his garments as soon as they got home. He had managed to spend all day on top of a horse, for the first time ever, riding with the others to guide the herd to fresher grazing land. It was definitely a step up from working the milking machines, which always left him smelling like milk and hay the rest of the day. He was officially a genuine cowboy, he thought with pride, pride which shifted into humor when he realized he wasn't just a cowboy--he was a werewolf cowboy. It was amazing what a sense of identity could do for someone.

"Liam should be done with his football practice by the time we're done loading up the hay," Odysseus said over the British New Wave he had playing in the truck. "The sooner he gets his car fixed, the better."

"It's been in the shop for weeks," Sammy said in obligatory agreement. The garage's owner was a member of the pack, so at least they knew Liam wasn't getting fleeced.

"Unfortunately, that's typical for Cedar City. Small town like ours, parts take forever to come in, especially foreign ones. I told him to buy American, but that boy loves to be contrary."

"Maybe you shoulda told him to get the Toyota, then."

Odysseus gave that suggestion a good-natured scoff. "He's been able to see right through reverse psychology since he was two."

They pulled in to the feed store--also owned and operated by a pack-mate, which meant Odysseus got everything at near-cost--and loaded up their supplies. Someday, when their kind came out, Sammy wondered how the good folks of Cedar City would react to knowing how many of their neighbors were actually werewolves. Sammy both dreaded and lived for the day he would no longer have to hide what he was.

Once everything was loaded up, they drove deeper into the heart of the small town, where lay a simple strip of grass-laden land with two trees and a gazebo that the town considered good enough to call a park. They pulled up to the sight of Liam and several other boys grappling with each other, while a middle-aged man with a pot belly sat on a folding chair and watching them.

He blew his whistle and the boys disengaged. Both Sammy and Odysseus flinched.

As Sammy opened his door and hopped out, he could hear Coach Will Brennon shouting. "-good offense, but our defense is still crap! Our whole season hinges on our game with the Pine Grove Predators next week, and we're nowhere ready!"

"Sorry, Coach!" one of the boys whined. "But without Big Billy, we're f-"

"Language!" the coach snapped.

"-We're... uh..."

"We don't have a chance," Liam spoke up, and shrugged. "Pine Grove breeds 'em big."

Sammy, of course, understood the high stakes being discussed here. The Cedar City Loggerheads had a fierce rivalry with Pine Grove High Predators that spanned generations. Liam, and his father, and his father's father had all fought in that particular war.

"I don't tolerate harsh or defeatist language, Simon," said Coach Brennon. "What you boys need..." Sammy saw the man scanning the surrounding park, only to settle his gaze on him.

For once, Sammy didn't shirk under the scrutiny. In the nine months since his rescue, he had grown over an inch, and Hatchet's regimen had managed to sculpt some muscle on his six foot, two inch frame. Between that and the braid of hair growing out to his shoulder blades, Mady had started calling him "Samson" instead of Sammy. He had to admit... he liked it, the way it made him sound strong and rolled off the tongue. As long as he avoided making the same carnal mistakes as the original Samson, the name otherwise suited him.

"What you need is someone big you can practice on," Coach Brennon said. "Hey, Nick! Mind if I borrow your new kid for a few minutes?"

Odysseus scratched the five o'clock shadow on his neck. "Well, you'll have to ask him if he minds, Will," he said.

Coach Brennon directed his pointed gaze at Sammy. "Sam, isn't it? Well, how's about it? You wanna help out the team?"

"By bein' target practice?" Sammy said. "Sure, where d'you need me?"

Sammy was guided to the middle of one lineup and given a few quick directions. By now he knew the basics of the game from watching Sunday night games on TV with Odysseus, Hatchet, and Elizabeth. And he had attended a few of Liam's games with the rest of the family. So he just needed a few quick instructions on carrying the ball properly and dodging tackles. Sammy could smell everyone's salty, sweaty anticipation as they took their positions.

The whistle blew, and the neat lineup exploded into a frenzy. Suddenly, somehow, the ball was in his arms. His half of the team managed to lock up most of the other half, but two or three burst through the defense, coming straight at him. Sammy didn't hesitate. He spun, side-stepping one attempt at a tackle, and blew past the others. He could feel someone--Liam--at his heels, so with a deep inhalation of air, he let himself fly, pumping his legs and outpacing his pursuer and making it all the way to the gazebo, which had been designated the goal.

The coach's whistle blew, and everyone peeled off from one another. "Damn, son! I've only seen someone outrun Simon twice before!" He clapped his hands. "All right, men, let's try that again. And this time, someone actually try to tackle Sam, wouldja?"

They lined up, this time Sammy playing for the other half. The whistle blew, and one of the boys managed to collide into him. While he struggled to break free, Sammy watched as one of his teammates caught the ball and sprinted off towards the goal with another player nipping at his heels. Sammy took a deep breath, heaved, and left his opponent spinning in the grass. In just a few breaths, he caught up with his teammate's pursuer and wedged himself between them. He slammed the brakes, feeling his opponent slam into him, but held his ground and cleared the path for another goal for his side.

The whistle blew again, and Coach Brennon turned to Odysseus. "Nick, why've you been holding out on me?"

Liam, who had finally caught up with them, growled and stalked off towards his father, leaving Sammy very confused as several other boys clamored around to give him hearty high-fives and slaps on the shoulder.