Meg was so warm. Partially awake, she didn't remember her sleeping bag being this comfortable. Maybe it was Luc's. She didn't remember which bag they'd ended up under. She reached her hand out to touch the top of the bag. Her hand touched fur instead.
"Fur?" she thought for a second. "Oh!..."
Meg opened her eyes to find herself with a wolf fur comforter named Luc cuddled around her. He had totally shifted in the night and now took up nearly all of the tent. She was in a little pocket in the middle. Not that she really wanted to move, but she had to pee.
"Luc, gotta move," she said softly. No response. "Luc!" she said a bit louder. The huge wolf just snuffled a bit and moved around a bit tighter.
"Now what in the hell do I do?" she wondered.
Grabbing an ear, she tugged and said his name again.
The wolf dreamed. He was warm and comfy in a shelter. As he woke, it came to him that the soft one he was curled around protecting was awake. She was saying something. He didn't understand her, but she was acing like a puppy that needed out. He sniffed her as she yapped. She needed out. He understood. He needed out too.
The wolf startled Meg when he raised his head up and sniffed her. His head was bigger than hers. He was bigger all over than any wolf she'd seen on TV. After he sniffed her, he uncurled and belly crawled out of the tent. Meg shot out of the tent and headed for the bushes.
When she came back, the wolf was down by the trail, carefully marking his territory. She laughed. Then she turned to the camp stuff and tried to figure out what to make for breakfast. Meg wondered just how long the wolf would be here and when Luc would show back up. The sex last night had been really nice once she got over the idea that he went furry.
She started the small stove and was heating water when she realized that the wolf was gone. Looking around, she saw Luc stand up out of the tent pulling his jeans on. He hadn't put his shirt on, so his muscles teased her with lewd thoughts.
"Oh yumm" she thought.
"Moooorning," Luc yawned. "Sleep well?"
"Yes. How was your morning stroll?" she asked and pointed to the areas he'd visited earlier.
"I guess it was okay. There isn't always a lot of information exchanged when we shift. We aren't the best at communicating at times," he explained.
"So, if you were human and knew that Timmy was lost in the woods, you couldn't shift and turn into a super K9 search and rescue wolf to find him?"
"Well, probably. Especially if someone I trusted was there to give me the scent. However, it is the stuff as a wolf to human that isn't always so good."
"So, you don't remember going out of the tent this morning and peeing all over about fifty trees?" she asked.
"Not really. I remember great sex, beginning to shift and mumbling something and then the next thing I really remember is standing next to the tent naked," Luc said.
"Geeze, it is like that for all shifters?" she asked.
"No, some remember everything, others even less than I do. It all depends on how integrated you are with your other side. Just like with people, there are all kinds of memories. If you've had a bad time at a key point, you might not remember things, or nothing but the bad bits. It is really random," he said. Luc knew it sounded sort of lame, but it was the truth.
"Oh," said Meg. She poured hot water into the cups for coffee and then put the sausages she'd found in the frying pan to cook. "So, is it just werewolves that are true, or are there other things that go bump in the night out there?"
Luc looked at her. He just sort of shook his head. This was not a can of worms he wanted to open, but... "Yes, there are. All sorts. Any fairy tale you've heard of probably has a core of truth to it. Most aren't as bad as you read about, or they are a thousand times worse," he said.
"Worse? Like what?" she asked.
"As far as I'm concerned, the worst of the lot are the fairies. Disney has them to be these sweet little things on wings. In real life, they can be real sadistic bastards. Tink with PMS and an attitude is a good way to think of them. Nice as long as you are, but if you piss them off, just forget it. Their little swords are sharp!" he said, thinking of the time he'd teased them as a child.
"Swords? Attitude?" she asked.
"Yup. Just because they are small, don't think that they are cute either. That artist Froud did one of the best jobs at drawing them. Surprised they let him live really. Or, he is some sort of other world creature and they won't touch him," he said.
Meg thought on that a moment. She stirred the sausages. "By the way, you caught me last night like I was nothing."
