The Wolf and the Cat

8---eight---8

"You know, the key is to throw the stick early," Patrick looks down at their collection of fish.

"I'll take a note of that," Pete hums.

Pete drops Patrick a few steps from the house while he goes to start a fire. Patrick hops to the shack with the fish in tow, hoping to rinse them and bring Pete a knife so he can cut them.

He doesn't get one hop into the house before he was stumbling backward and crying out for Pete.

Pete drops the firewood in his arms and rushes to the strawberry blonde, who points a skinny arm at the shack.

"Is there something in there?"

"I-I don't know," Patrick shakes his head. "But it's a mess and--"

Pete pushes in the door, freezing instantly. Everything is everywhere. The drawers and cabinets are open and their contents are scattered across the floor. The bed is askew and the sheets are torn off. Every corner of the room was raided and thrown.

Pete's angry. He's angry that someone would come into his shack and tear it apart like it was nothing. He's angry that someone even came near his property and touched his things.

"I can help you clean up," Patrick says gently. "We'll figure out if anyone took amything."

Pete pushes past Patrick as he turns, marching around his property. Something was here. Someone. Pete's going to find them and he's going to rip their goddamn head off.

But he doesn't find them, and therefore he doesn't rip their head off. It's been thirty long minutes, just past noon now. On his way back to the shack, he thinks over who could've done this.

His old pack is the best answer. They've always been out for him. But how'd they know he'd be out? Or did they plan to ambush him?

If that's the case, why would they tear up his shack? What were they looking for?

Pete opens the door, instantly spotting the strawberry blonde gently placing Pete's blankets on his bed. Patrick fixed the mess, moving furniture back into place and stocking things back onto their shelves.

"I don't know if everything is in the right place," Patrick says, almost cautiously.

Only at this time, as Pete looks into the pretty blue eyes, does he realize how close Patrick was to being hurt again.

Pete didn't want Patrick to hunt today, and he almost had Patrick stay home. For the first time, he's so grateful for how stubborn the cat is.

"You're not staying here when I'm not here," Pete decides.

Patrick's eyebrows knit. "What do you mean?"

"Someone trashed this place and if you were here, they could've hurt you."

"I can protect myself," Patrick promises.

"I know but--" Pete sighs. "Just please? I won't be able to focus if I know something could come in here and harm you."

Patrick's shoulders loosen. For a moment his eyes glimmer and the corners of his lips upturn. It makes Pete's heart flutter a little too fast in his chest. His heart completely stops when Patrick stands and hugs him.

"No one has ever cared about me like that," Patrick mumbles into Pete's chest.

"It's just so you don't die," Pete manages, patting Patrick's back dismissively.

Patrick's grip only tightens. "Thanks for not wanting me dead."

~~~

Brendon ducks beneath the low hanging branches, nearly crawling. Ryan has more trouble getting through, but he maintains pace with Brendon.