Yowl was lonely, he felt he was the last of his kind, the others had gone as their ancient customs had provided. As if by instinct they knew when it was the end of their time, and they went to be with their ancestors deep in the caves beyond the living levels. His father crippled in a fall, went below when he was small, the Old One, his mothers father, had taught him their ways. How not to be seen, where to find food, storing for cold times, along with his mother, they were all he knew.
The Old One told of times when there were many, until the "Naked Ones" came. The stories tell not where they came from only that they came, the Old One told how they were to be avoided. The Naked ones fought with their own kind, killed the animals, and chased the "people". The People lived with the land, eating what it provided, not needing the hides to cover their bodies. They as the four footers were equipped with natural covering; their large feet hardened with generations of walking yet had kept a sensitivity that allowed silent walking. Their sight and hearing acute to their surroundings and was far better than the Naked Ones. Contact was avoided at all times; it was better to live in peace.
But now Yowl was alone, the Old One went below five colds before, his mother during the last cold, since the Old One had left he had looked for more of the "People" his searches taking him many days from their cave home, to find a mate. At first he avoided anything with the smell of the "Naked Ones" on it, but found this limited his searches. Their trails were hard and black, hollow rocks with naked ones in them rolled down the trail and he was afraid. The rocks make loud noises and smelled bad, at night the rocks were silent and the naked ones in their funny colored skins would go into them and sleep. Yowl would sneak closer at night to watch them. Often some of the naked ones would wander into his world, deep into the forest walking as he did, wearing their funny hides and sleeping under other hides, he watched these closely to see if the stories were true. The males seemed hostile often wanting to control or change the forest, where the females were gentler like him; they seemed to enjoy just being there. Yowl learned their schedule, for four suns there were few of them around then on the darkening of the fifth sun they would come spend two suns here in the big spaces with no trees, then leave.
It was one of the quiet times when they were gone when Yowl felt very lonely, and today he sat, just listening.
Sara and Jessie had been best friends since the third grade, Girl Scouts, band, and everything else they had done together. Shared boy friends, broken hearts, and dreams. When they graduated high school they ended up across the country in different colleges, their summers filled with jobs, and internships, and new careers after graduation. Both had been luck securing jobs in the same community, Jessie a computer programmer, and Sara a CPA. They started planning their first vacation together since they were kids. Both wanted out of their offices and back to nature like they had as kids.
It was a beautiful Tuesday in May; temp at about 85 and sunny it felt good to be alive! They drove up the old logging road in a Jeep they borrowed from Sara's father, following instructions to a "great little stream" the old fisherman at the Big Foot Bait & Tackle shop had told them about. It was out of the way, but they wanted to rekindle their friendship with out outside influences. They had shamelessly flirted with the old man getting him to tell them about his secrete fishing hole and the warm springs near by. Stories about the Sasquach were fairy tales told by drunken tourists and old coots. But the old fisherman wove his yarns and they loved it. Jesse in her old bibs and white tee shirt with no bra, and Sara in a tube top and shorts made the old guy remember his glory days and wish he could join them for a night. But daydreams are for old fools and he smiled as the girls left the store. He followed watching their cute asses as they carried their supplies to the back of the rag topped Jeep. He sat at the log bench just out side the door as the girls disappeared around the back of the Jeep, "what do you say Jessie, want to give the old guy a real tip" Sara asked?
"What have you got in mind?" Jessie sheepishly smiled back. Her friend always made things interesting, and Jessie had a feeling things were about to get interesting.
The old man had just lit his pipe and leaned back half closing his eyes daydreaming of being forty years younger and how they didn't make girls like that in his day. When both girls stepped around the Jeep topless. Sara's wearing just her shorts and hiking boots and Jessie had the straps unhooked on her bibs, they were barely hanging onto her hips, their shirts nowhere in sight. "Bye Pops!" the girls giggled, and drove off in the Jeep. As the old man picked his pipe up off the ground where it had fallen, he went back inside with the first real hard on he could remember in years.
As the girls rolled out on the highway laughing Jessie reached for the shirts they had tossed to the front from the back door. Sara suggested "what do you say we leave em off? The breeze feels good, and it kinda turns me on." Jessie laughed an "OK" at her and after five miles, and two smiling truckers, they turned off the highway on the dirt road "Pops" had told them about. Sara had reddish brown hair that hung nearly to her waist, an avid mountain bike rider she was in excellent shape, and Jessie watched Sara as she drove them up the rocky road. With each bounce Sara's firm 36DD breasts would bounce, her dark nipples hardened by the breeze, and it excited her.
In college Jessie's only experience with another woman was a botched attempted by her former boy friend to have two girls at once, she hardly knew the other girl and left before things had really started. It felt strange to even think this way about her friend.
