I awoke to the sounds of birds raucously singing outside. Far from the occasional chirruping squabbles of house sparrows that sometimes happened near my apartment back home, there were easily a dozen different bird calls I could distinguish, and all of them competing for airtime. I pushed the blankets off and decided to start the day.
Scrounging through the minimal kitchen I found some ground coffee among the dry goods that still lined the shelves. Dione had apparently figured it wasn't too likely to spoil. There was no dedicated coffee machine, but I did find a cheap plastic filter holder and some filters that granddad must have used when coffee was required. There was a significantly larger selection of teas, in the cupboard, so granddad must've been more of a tea drinker. I stoked the potbelly stove, which still smouldered from when he'd started it last night to ward the chill from the air and put some water on to boil.
As that started, I hopped quickly in the shower, savouring the warm water cascading over my face and body, waking me up. As I dried offf I could hear the kettle of water bubbling vigorously on the stove. Now dry, I moved the kettle off the heat before getting dressed. Finally put together, I poured the coffee over the grounds and allowed it to percolate through, filling the house with the rich warm aroma of coffee. There was no cream, so I simply added a spoonful of sugar to mask the surely stale coffee taste. Briefly, I considered watching the television to see if there was anything important in the news, but the sunlight beaming down outside looked too appealing.
Out the back door of the house was a covered porch complete with a couple of wooden chairs and a table. The wood was well-worn, and there were patches on one of the armrests that seemed to have eroded from use, becoming glassy smooth. For a moment, I imagined I could see granddad there, watching over the yard, drinking his tea. I took the other chair and shared a moment of peace with his ghost.
The yard from this side was minimal. There was a chicken coop that stood empty, and the ground was covered by tufts of wild grass and some sort of creeping groundcover plant that I didn't recognise. The creek from the side of the house curved around the back of the yard here and beyond it was a dense thicket of woods. I sipped at the coffee. It was hard to deny the appeal of the place. It was a bit overrun and would need some significant labour to fix, but the property itself was gorgeous. And the people I'd met, well...
I was disturbed from my thoughts by a loud "rrreow?" from the floor beside me. Looking down, I met the eyes of a small black cat. I reached down to pet it, and it immediately flopped over on its side, inviting belly scratches. I rubbed the cat's belly for a bit until there were the sounds of footfalls from the side of the house. The cat rolled back over, its ears searching for the origin of the noise, and when the figure appeared, it darted away to disappear behind the house.
The new visitor wasn't familiar. An obviously female form, she moved with a kind of predatory grace. Her honey-brown hair was shaved down one side in a kind of undercut that had been especially popular a few years back, fading to black at the tips, as though she'd dyed it some time ago and never refreshed the colour, and she had several piercings, barbells and metal studs through her ears and a small loop through her lower lip.
She wore an oversized Pink Floyd T-shirt whose sleeves had been torn off, and whose bottom half was shredded or sliced into erratic strips, allowing her muscular abdomen to peek out as she walked. Skintight jeans were accented by a broad black leather belt with a row of decorative rivets, and she was wearing big leather tactical boots to complete the outfit. Several tattoos adorned her muscular arms, one being covered from shoulder to elbow in a sleeve depicting the moon rising over silhouetted trees.
"How you feeling this morning?"
Her voice was brassy but familiar.
"I'm fine. And you are...?"
She smiled, showing rows of pearly white teeth. She swooned dramatically, placing the back of her wrist against her head as she turned it skywards
"After all we shared last night and you don't even remember me! For shame!"
Her golden eyes shimmered with unvoiced laughter.
"Cydwen?"
Now she did laugh.
"That's me! Just wanted to stop by and apologize for last night. I wasn't exactly in my right mind. Normally I try to keep away from people when I'm like this, it's why I live outside of town, but I hadn't realised anyone was here other than Dione."
I stood and proffered a hand.
"I'm Jev, by the way. Didn't get much of a chance for introductions last night."
She shook it. Her hand was thickly callused and she had several small scars on her hand and forearm. She'd followed my questioning glance and answered:
"I'm a metalsmith. I mostly do art and jewellery pieces, but I can do some more mundane things, too. Mik used to get me to fix his tools when they got bent out of shape or blunted. Sometimes things bite back." She held up a silvery pendant hanging by a chain around her neck in the shape of an octopus, "this is one of mine."
I raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"It's lovely. Silver?"
"White gold. But silver's no big deal to
real
werewolves. Just the movie kind. I mean, don't try shooting me with a silver bullet. That'd be bad. But only because it'd be a bullet putting a hole in me, not because it's silver. Same with the full moon. Wolf-people at night, people-people by day. Doesn't matter if the moon is full or not."
There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask about the logistics of changing from a petite brunette to a 7-foot-tall wolf beast every night, but decided they were probably not polite conversation and also that I had yet to be a good host and offer my guest some refreshment. I hiked a thumb to the door.
"Did you want to come inside for a coffee or tea or something? We don't have a lot, unfortunately, I haven't been to do any shopping. But If you'd like I can offer a slice of leftover pizza... I haven't bought food yet."
My voice trailed off as I realised how lame the offer was, but surprisingly, she did agree to the tea. We entered the house and I put the kettle back on the stove, fished out some tea bags, and put together the beverage.
"So, how'd
you
end up all worked up last night?"
She'd asked just as I'd picked up the tea to serve, and in my surprise, I nearly dropped the mug. Her golden eyes shimmered with mischief as she watched me fumble. I recomposed myself and delivered the tea to the table in front of her. I started to answer but was interrupted by the front door creaking open, and Dione appearing behind it. She wore the same jean overalls, but today wore a patterned green shirt underneath. Her eyes were squinted almost shut, and she delicately closed the door behind her. It seemed apparent that the previous night's excesses had taken their toll.
"Hi Cyd, hi Jev... 's too bright outside so I'm jus' gonna crash on your couch for a bit... Nice 'n dark here."
She seemed to wince at the volume of her own voice.
"Hey, kid... Hit the cola pretty hard last night, hm?"
At this point, Cyd was practically vibrating with restrained laughter. She quietly pointed a finger at the nearly-insensate Dryad and silently mouthed to me,
"Was it her?"
I mouthed back:
"Nothing happened,"
emphasizing the point by waving my hands.
The werewolf made a face and seemed on the edge of losing her restraint. She wasn't even mouthing the words anymore. She pointed again at Dione, then at me, and then mimed a blowjob before pretending to fall asleep at the table, still holding an invisible cock. Her shoulders heaved with quiet laughter, keeping her mirth contained so as not to disturb the hungover Dryad. She'd stopped paying attention to me, so I decided to try to help Dione.
"Dione, did you need anything? Painkillers? Glass of water?"
She groaned her assent but didn't specify which option. Passing near Cyd, I reiterated quietly, "Nothing happened," which only set her laughing harder.
I grabbed a few white tablets out of the medicine cabinet in the washroom, poured a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge, and set them on the coffee table beside Dione. As I approached, though, her eyes snapped open. She looked at me, then at Cyd before dropping back down on the couch.
"Oh, gods, you two fucked, didn't you?"
She must have seen my dumbfounded expression, as she just shook her head and gestured to herself.
"Uh, fertility spirit... Remember?"
She grabbed the pills and the water and waved me away.
"Go on, back up. Zarine almighty, it's like looking into a lighthouse flare right now."
If that prospect bothered her at all, beyond the immediate sensory discomfort, she didn't seem to show it. Cyd had apparently re-composed herself. As I re-entered the kitchen to give Dione her space, she patted me on the shoulder. She was still silently chuckling to herself and a gleam of tears in her eyes as she led me to the back door.
"C'mon, let's go get you some food to put in this place so you don't have to survive on pizza leftovers. Let Dione have some time to recover from her big night."
This set her laughing again, but the groceries were a task I'd planned to take on today anyway, so I allowed myself to be led outside.
"You didn't finish your tea."
"Oh, I got
exactly
the tea I was hoping for."
We made our way onto the main road into town. Cyd had mostly composed herself by the time we reached the stone bridge.
"It's actually really good to see her making progress like this. I think having you around will be good for her."
"How do you mean?"
She stopped and scrutinized me for a moment.
"Did she tell you about her tree?"
"The one my granddad planted? Yeah?"
"He had to have it magically sterilized before he could get approval to plant it..."
I still wasn't sure what she was leading to. Cyd rolled her eyes and slowly explained, as though she were speaking to a particularly thick child.
"Di's a fertility spirit... In a sterile tree... The dryad's personality is influenced by the tree she lives in, so..."
The light finally went off in my head.
"
There
it goes..."
"So does that mean
she's
