Bloodfang

Lying Low

Feral

Feral lay quietly on the basement floor as the boy's tentative footsteps made their way slowly down the wooden stairs. He pretended, as he had the last three days, to be sleeping. Though his shoulder was greatly healed it still twinged a bit when he released his wings. He figured he needed about two more days before he could leave here safely. Two more days of doing everything he could to avoid interacting with the boy he now knew as Ricky.

Though he did not look forward to forty-eight more hours of pretending to sleep, he thought this was the safest thing to do for Ricky, and for himself. Ricky, because Feral could read his thoughts and his fears. Ricky was handling an injured and sleeping wolf just fine. Feral was not sure what Ricky would do when he had to deal with one who was awake and healed.

As for Feral, he was protecting himself. He did not want to grow any closer to the boy than he already had. He did not want to become any more attached. There was no point. Man and beast could not be friends. There was no sense in pretending they could. Pretending to sleep kept a wall between him and the boy. No communication meant no further bonding. His was a solitary life and he would do what he had to protect that. Feral needed to heal and get out.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Faking slumber was just that, faking. Feral was very much awake when Ricky came down into the basement. His mind was an open book to Feral, his words spoken aloud were spoken freely, with no hesitancy, as he had no idea that the wolf he cared for could actually understand him, and his ministrations continued to warm Feral's cold, cold soul.

Ricky talked to him about everything, too. He spent long hours sketching in a sketch book while talking to Feral about the bullies in school that made him feel weak, and he talked about his mother and her new boyfriend, Taylor. He chatted about school and how much he dreaded going to high school because he did not have a friend, and he talked about being different and not socializing with his peers as much as he would like to. He discussed his uncle and it was clear he was very worried his uncle would discover Feral in the basement and what his uncle would do if he did. Ricky worried he would be sent back to New York or worse, his uncle would shoot the wolf. Aware of his concerns, Feral did what he could to not draw attention to himself. He had no desire to be shot. He did not want to think about how he would feel if Ricky were to be sent back to New York.

Ricky also spent a lot of time talking about his father. Ricky talked about the loss of his father in a way that Feral could relate to. He had felt the very same way when his mother had died. Their mutual grief added new layers to Feral's feelings for the boy. Layers he hoped to shed once he finally healed and was able to leave.

The boy also talked a lot about Feral. Feral knew Ricky was worried that he continued to sleep. Ricky kept referring to it as a healing sleep but Feral could tell that explanation was starting wear thin as each day passed by. Feral watched as Ricky stared at the glowing screen of the tablet he carried around with him. From what he read out loud it was clear Ricky was researching wolves and their healing process. Ricky just didn't know that Feral was not any old wolf so what he was reading would not apply.

The boy was ever faithful to care for him. During the day Ricky spent most of his day downstairs with Feral. He talked out loud to the wolf as he did the laundry. A chore, Feral realized, Ricky had taken on to keep his uncle from coming down into the basement and discovering his secret. Ricky was always pleased when he checked Feral's wound. Pleased and amazed at the speed with which it healed. The speed of healing was another reason Ricky kept researching. Even to a fourteen year old boy, the wolf was healing faster than expected. Actually faster than was seen humanly possible so he was determined to prove it was not weird, simply a wolf thing.

Then there was the other thing that Ricky did that both drove him crazy and mollified him. The boy had developed a tendency to pet him. Feral had mixed feelings about this. On the one paw he felt like reminding the boy that he was not a dog and should not be treated like a pet. Just because Ricky had saved his life did not mean he could stake a claim on Feral as his pet. But Feral had also noticed how... nice the touch was. Each time Ricky pet him, stroked his dark fur, Feral had to fight the feeling to lean into Ricky's hand for deeper contact. Each long and gentle stroke soothed Feral. He had not known, or had at least forgotten the pleasure of a caring touch. He had thought himself long immune to tenderness. Over the last few days though, trapped as he was, he had been forced to endure the boys petting or else reveal he was not really sleeping. He was not sure when the enduring had become enjoyment but his initial defensiveness about being treated as a domesticated animal no longer existed to be replaced by a strange contentment at the calming touch.

There were times as Feral sat quietly beside Ricky that he wished he could communicate with the boy. He had no idea what he would say to him but the way Ricky's mind worked, the way it was wired so differently from most humans, along with his compassionate heart and astonishing bravery drew Feral to the boy. Ricky had healed him. Ricky had protected him. Ricky had accepted him unconditionally. Only his mother had ever done that.

Feral had to remind himself that Ricky was a two-legged. He would not be able to comprehend a wolf like him. If his own pack had been terrified of the beast he had become, his own father, how could he expect a boy to accept him? He lectured himself fiercely and made the decision then and there that he needed to leave. The longer he stayed the more warped his mind would become, more confused about what he could and could not have. He was a solitary being, a lone wolf. He needed to remember that. Staying any longer would hinder his resolve. The decision made, Feral planned.

He would leave now, while it was dark and Ricky slept. The thought caused pain but Feral knew he had no other choice. This had been a few moments out of time but it was over and he needed to get back to reality. His reality included vampires and loneliness. It did not involve a teenager named Ricky.

Feral knew he couldn't go back to his cave. It was too risky right now. The vampires would look in the obvious places. He would need to leave the area altogether.

Ignoring the pang of regret that thought caused, Feral stood to his paws and made his way out of the basement, through the garage into the darkness of the night. Before he decided where he would go he needed to feed. He had not done so for several nights and he was ravenous. Once he fed he would be back to full strength and back to normalcy.

With resolve, Feral trotted across the yard and disappeared into the woods. He would not regret this decision, he told himself as he darted along the shadowy forest. Leaving was the right thing to do. As he stepped deeper into the woods he admitted to himself that he did regret though, not saying good bye to the boy who had saved his life.