"FAWN!"
I had just started lapping water, when Aamon and Luthor noticed me missing. I looked up from the corner of my eye to see both sets of enraged eyes from the tree. I raised my hands in mock surrender.
"I was thirsty!"
"Go back where I put you." Aamon's smoldering slits glared daggers at me, and despite my hatred of being told what to do, I scurried back to my Hell circle. He didn't drop his disciplinary demeanor until I flopped back dramatically onto my butt. Content at having benched me, he turned his focus back to helping Luthor.
I decided to take another approach to remedy my stress, so I took a page from Aamon's book and dug until I hit soft damp soil below the grass. I launched the soil and grass clumps towards blood I couldn't quite reach, and what little was near to me I buried. I stood up, hands over my head, and I counted clouds. I counted my breaths. I tuned everything around me out until I could feel that dreadful pull ease. I wiped my palms on my thighs. Feeling safe enough, I sat back down and nestled my hands between my crossed legs to stop then from shaking.
"Are you alright?"
"No. That's why I wanted water."
"You could have asked."
"It was right there."
"You want to be dragged away-"
"Nothing is going to drag me off. I'm too much trouble, and both of you were right there." Luthor stayed out of our spat, soaking it all in from his perch. He was last to come down after Aamon, handing him fabric, posts, a duffle bag and what looked like an older cooler. Once he had made it to the ground, he came to hand me the duffle bag.
"Mind to help me find this key?" I nodded and scattered the contents in the short grass, careful to keep them confined to a small spot as I sorted through everything.
Toilet paper, hand sanitizer, knives, a spare change of clothes, batteries, flashlight, Coleman lantern, hand warmers, snacks. I sighed. A box of ammo that had spilled open, a disposable rain poncho. A rechargeable battery pack with a cell charger. No keys, no phone, and no wallet.
"It's not here."
"Would it be in that?" He thumbed towards the cooler.
"It shouldn't be. That's to keep things cold, like water." Luther grunted.
"So, his clothes or it has dropped?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Luthor studied me for a moment, his expression mimicking one my father used to make when I would concerned him. I zipped the bag shut once it's contents were stuffed back in.
"This has been hard for you?" His brows furrowed.
"Not this part. I do wish I had found the key though."
"I don't much enjoy hurting humans. Too much like us for my tastes. That's more of Aamon's hobby. We do shut down threat of those who venture too close when we have to, and we waste nothing we kill." I understood what that meant. I also remember Aamon bringing them bodies. "But, if sorting through these isn't what's hard for you, what has been?" He cast a look toward Aamon, and Aamon understood to give him a moment with me.
"I'm just being difficult."
"I don't expect anything less. This is different for you. I find myself difficult just to be so, without reason." He was trying to joke, so I smiled.
"I feel guilty."
"Because you live?"
"Yes, and no. I guess thats part of it. I feel terrible because he died, and all I could think of is...the blood." I couldn't meet his eyes. I felt like a cannibal freak. I felt more like a vampire than a wolf. "I thought if I could cover the scent and get water that it'd help-"
YOU ARE READING
The Bitten.
Paranormal"It was a cold, rainy evening. Nightfall was looming, making the surrounding trees cast vicious shadows onto the ground around me. All I wanted was to fix my flat tire, get on the road, get home. My wet hoodie was becoming plastered to my body, and...
