The Ruined Luna

Eight

Dreams were a terrifying escape from reality. They meant you didn't have to face the waking world. But in the dark corners of the mind, horrors were infinite. I'd come to dread them as much as being awake. Scared to close my eyes, and just as afraid to open them. So it stunned me when I awoke some sixteen hours later, to the sounds of morning without any memory of any dream at all. 

Softly filtered light lingered between the weave of the curtain's fabric, muted and pale. I blinked slowly, groggy. My wolf yawned in my head, huffing at being woken before she was ready. I rubbed the edge of one of the blankets, grounding myself in the cotton texture between my fingers as I breathed deep. No scent beyond mine and the barest hint of Britta's dog wood blossom smell lingered in the air. The realization that I had been truly alone during the night was comforting.

I yawned and pushed myself up. I hadn't bothered to change out of the towels, both of which were now crumbled in the bed with me and the robe belt loose so that it gaped open to the waist. I picked them out of the tangle of blankets and laid them at the foot of the bed to take back downstairs with me so I could hang them up and reuse them. Then I crawled out of bed, rolling my neck on my shoulders and stretching wide up on my tip toes. I felt...better. More solidly in my body. That...was such a nice change.

I made the bed, wanting to keep the wholesomeness of the calm space and snagged the towels and went downstairs. Once in the bathroom, I took care of my personal business, washed my hands, hung the towels up, and set about finding a tooth and hairbrush. I found both in the small drawer under the sink. I scrubbed my grubby feeling teeth, then set about tackling the rats nest sleeping with wet hair always caused. I was even luckier when I found a hair tie in the drawer, and quickly braided my hair it into a single thick plait that I let hang over my shoulder. Then I went and grabbed my eye patch and fixed it into place. It was easy to adjust. Satisfied I didn't look rabid, I headed back to the loft and hunted for something to wear. I found a matching pair of black bras and panties, which to my surprise actually fit. I wasn't as busty as I'd been, so the B-cup was a solid find, and the panties were a boy short cut, which I preferred.

Actual clothes were a little dicey. In the end I found a pair of faded blue jeans that fit at the waist but not the length, riding high on my ankles. I also found an olive t-shirt with Smokey the Bear on it, which I tossed beneath a baggy blue flannel that I left unbuttoned. Lastly, I pulled on a pair of plain white socks. I marveled at the feeling. I almost felt human. Downstairs, the front door opened, and the smell of eggs and bacon wafted up.

"Jolene! I brought breakfast!"

My stomach rumbled, the emptiness gnawing at me so that those little bubbles popped in the back of my throat. I swallowed, then went downstairs where Britta was unloading container after container of food. My mouth watered.

She smiled as soon as she saw me. "Good morning! I hope you slept well. I brought all the basics. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, some fruit, coffee." She waved a thermos and grinned.

I went to the kitchen and found two coffee cups, plates, and forks which I carried to the table and set out. My mouth watered as she loaded up my plate high with food, then set it before me. I stared at it but was determined to not come off like a heathen by diving into it, no matter how hungry I felt. It wasn't until the coffee was poured and she'd taken her own seat before I started to shovel the food into my mouth. It was heaven.

My plate was nearly clean before I caught myself, freezing and looking up at her while heat bloomed in my cheeks.

She pretended not to have noticed; her attention riveted on her coffee. I straightened and lifted my own coffee, smelling the rich chicory wafting from the surface before sipping it. It had been so, so long.