Freaked

Watched

I lie to myself. A lot. I say it's peaceful doing this. Which is a huge lie. Sitting out in the frozen dark of my lonely patch of earth on an icy fall night claiming to be stargazing. I am stargazing. But not at peace. It seems peaceful enough, poetically serene almost, the way the sky glitters in the silence over the black moor and your breath billows like dry ice in the air, all alone in the quiet. But it isn't. I lie to myself and say I'm safe and relaxed and the night is soothing. But I can feel it. In the forest. In the shadows. At my feet. In the brush.
Breathing down my neck.
It's here, now.
It watches me.
It's massive. Twice my size. Muscled and tall and breathing in huge puffs of fog. Covered in thick black and silver-brindle fur. It's paw is easily larger than my outstretched hand, without the three inch blades on each toe. Two pointed ears adjust to take in sounds my own are incapable of. A thick-furred tail flickers back and forth, stirring the leaves and debris. Its panting gives me a full view of fangs gleaming in the glow of the moon. Finally two eyes I liken to an astronomical wonder lock to mine, flickers of curiosity and hunger flashing in them.

Unable to turn away from this monstrosity I dare not move, simply staring back and breathing as quietly as possible.
As always.
Looking at it I now decide it is a he.
He comes here often to sit and watch me and terrify me. Never has he bitten or jumped upon or growled at me but I'm well aware he's more than capable. I don't understand why he hasn't attacked me but I dare not complain. He just slinks around with his silent paws padding in the grass and sits down to stare at me. This giant hasn't lain a clawed paw on me and as I sit here now, terrified heart pounding, a small part of me wishes he would. Just get it over with.
Just like every night.
And, like every night, my hand begins its excruciatingly slow ascent to my pocket. It seems like hours before I pull out the paper wrapped cut of venison and untie it.
But unlike every time before that I've performed this ritual, instead of tossing the meat and watching the creature chase it, with some spark of insanity I decide to hold it in my hand and slowly extend my arm. My heart now beats so fast and so hard I feel he can surely smell my fear. He eyes my hand warily, his nose and ears twitching and his panting stopped. Examining the morsel thoroughly, he tentatively licks it as if questioning my offer. My scent must confuse him but he does eventually take the deer with bared fangs and finishes it. Instead of running for my life as usual, I stay behind to see what happens. Licking his mouth, he stays seated, watching me with a new look, head cocked. I have nothing else so I merely stare back at him until he leans towards me. At first I mistake this for an incoming attack and flinch, startling him and causing him to draw back. Then I calm down a bit and catch my breath, which I've been holding. Then, being the awkward person I am, I do the darnedest thing.
I wave at him.
He watches my hand as I slowly wiggle my fingers. Then he leans forward again and sniffs it. Instead of performing a quick and bloody amputation of my arm he benignly licks me with his enormous warm tongue. This is quite unexpected and I am unsure what to do until his nose nudges my palm. I slowly and gently place my hand on his head and smooth his fur back. He tenses up at first but allows me to continue and eventually seems to decide he likes this. As he becomes more comfortable with the petting he lets me move my hand to scratch behind his ears and down to his neck. I'm amazed at how benevolent this giant creature is, having such a terrifying demeanor. When I stop petting his thick hide he looks at me and stands up, licking my hand and tugging my coat sleeve. I stand and have to look up to see his mysterious eyes, he's so large compared to me. Fear still lingers in the air but I reach out once more and lay my hand on his nose to softly rub the scruff between his eyes. He lays in the grass and glances at me questioningly. Hoping to stay in one piece I sit next to him and lay my head on his huge furry chest between his forelegs. A tongue caresses my neck and ruffles my hair as I melt into this large warm blanket of fur and let his heartbeat and rhythmic breathing sing me to sleep under the crisp starry sky of the most incredible night of my short life. After all, it's not every day someone finds a wolf and lives to tell about it, much less fall asleep with it. Hell, I've never heard of such a thing. There's no reasonable explaination.
I'm asleep. This is a dream, that's all. Ill wake up and have drifted off by the fire with a book in my lap and the radio on. There's no monster wolf. I'm just dreaming.

But oh, oh what a dream.