The Wolf's Whisperer

Remissionem

I hadn't seen the wolf for the rest of the day, and unless the beast opened the front door and ran away, it was still somewhere in the house, but I couldn't find it in me to care right now. I had to stop the bleeding at first; only then could I go search for my rifle.

I couldn't deny that I felt deceived and betrayed. I had already believed that the wolf wouldn't hurt me, and here I was, standing in the bathroom, treating the wound caused by the wolf's fangs. Val was right. I was being stupid. But what else am I supposed to do?

"Damned wolf," I swore when I pressed gauze on the wound. It hurt like hell.

Val had called sooner than the promised two hours. He was obviously worried and wanted to make sure his friend was still alive. And he had a good reason to be afraid, I thought, angry with myself. I should've listened to him.

Just… there was one more thing I couldn't comprehend. I knew that if the wolf had wanted to kill me, I would have been dead by now. And I knew– I was sure– that the wolf felt sorry for the pain he caused me. I knew it was necessary. I just didn't know why which made me feel damn guilty for my anger.

I didn't finish my work that day, and I went to bed earlier than usual. The wound hurt, so I was in a bad mood because of that. I didn't sleep very well either; my mind was too unsettled… and troubled… and I could hear the sound of a washing machine in my dream.

When I got up in the morning, I found my laundry done. I would have blamed it on sleepwalking again if there hadn't been the pleasant smell of coffee floating in the entire house. I frowned and walked silently and carefully to the door of the kitchen and peeped in.

What I saw made me stand there and just stare, holding my breath. A guy, tall and muscular, totally naked and with a long, stitched wound stretching from his shoulder to his right arm, was… making breakfast? I thought I was hallucinating again, and I rubbed my eyes. The guy suddenly froze and turned around. There was something familiar in his hazel eyes, and I could swear I saw how the guy was worried and feeling guilty for something in those eyes. I couldn't say how I knew, but I was so sure of it.

When the naked guy spotted me in the doorway, he seemed annoyed with himself for the moment of incaution. He hurriedly stormed out of the kitchen, careful enough not to touch me, and in a couple of long strides, he was at the door and ran out into the morning freeze.

"Hey!" I called after him when I recovered from the first shock and ran to the door, too. I barely put on my shoes, leaving the jacket where it was, and stormed out after the guy.

I could see footsteps of bare feet imprinted in the snow and followed them quickly. The steps led me behind the cottage, where I found… the wolf rolling about in the snow and destroying the human footsteps. I looked around. There were no other footprints around, just those that led him to the wolf.

The wolf stopped fooling around. He stood up and shook, looking at me. I could literally feel the question radiating from the wolf's whole being:

Are you still mad at me?

I locked my gaze with the wolf's hazel eyes while I reached to my neck to touch the wound. The wolf and I were staring at each other for a long time. I was sure the wolf's eyes were the same as the naked guy's in the kitchen.

How could I not realize?

The guy in my kitchen earlier was the wolf in reality. The naked guy had felt the same as the wolf. The same guilt and fear. The same desire to make things good again between the two of them.

"Are you a werewolf or what?" I asked, and only then did I realize how ridiculous it sounded.

I shook my head. "I'm going crazy," I muttered and turned around. I walked swiftly back into the cottage. The wolf was at my heels, the question still attacking my head.

"I'm not mad anymore, okay?" I said impatiently. "But if you do it again, I'm going to have to use the only knife you left in the house, and I don't like doing that all." I knew the wolf didn't understand, and the tone of my words didn't make me feel any better.

Are you still mad at me?

There were no specific words, but the feelings radiating from the wolf could be explained only this way. I sighed and crouched in front of the wolf. "Look. I'm not mad anymore," I said in a tone that was supposed to be calm and reassuring. "But I'm not happy about what you did either." I reached out to stroke the wolf's fur. The animal let me touch him without any complaint.

I knew that I could do it now without any fear. And I also knew that the wolf was never going to hurt me again. Not without my agreement… and this part was scary. Why would I have wanted the wolf to cause me any more pain? It was ridiculous… as well as the whole werewolf idea… Yet, when I stepped into the kitchen, there was still the usual morning coffee and unfinished breakfast.

I turned to the wolf that was still following me. "Um… If you actually made that… thank you," I said and sat down, enjoying the coffee at first and then the breakfast. The wolf ignored me.

Val called later again, making sure that I was still alive, and for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to tell my friend what happened the previous day. I simply said that I was okay and that the wolf was peaceful, and after listening to Val's warnings and advice to get rid of the wolf, I hung up.

Only then did I realize that the wolf was sprawled in my lap on the couch, and I had my free hand buried in his white fur. The wolf purred with pleasure, and when I threw the phone on the table, he pulled up higher to lick my face. I could feel his contentment, guilt, and affection, and I petted the wolf with sympathy, chuckling as I heard the purring sounds the wolf was making.

I touched the stitches on the wolf's shoulder tenderly and smiled when the wolf looked at me curiously. "Sorry, Wolfie, but we'll have to pull out the stitches," I said and stroked the whole length of the wound lightly so that the wolf understood. I could still sense confusion but also trust. I smiled again and rubbed the wolf. "It'll be okay," I whispered, and the wolf licked my face again. I chuckled and stood up.

I could feel the wolf's gaze on my back as I went to the bathroom and brought the first aid kit from there. "You forgot to hide this," I said with a mocking grin when I pulled out small scissors.

The wolf put his head between his front paws, eyeing me, so I stroked him again, whispering calming words. I knew the words themselves didn't matter, but the tone of my voice was what made the wolf trust me.

"It will be okay, don't worry. Now I need you to be a good boy and let me do this, all right?" I was careful and didn't stop talking to the wolf, trying to calm him down every now and then when I could feel the wolf's patience wavering. I could imagine that this wasn't very pleasant, but the wolf coped bravely with my clumsy attempt to pull out the thread from his body.

It took longer than I had anticipated, but the stitches were finally out. My consciousness was immediately filled with relief, and I couldn't say whether it was my own or the wolf's. Probably both.

The day passed, and I didn't see the naked guy again, so I started thinking that it was just some stupid hallucination.

Jesus, the wolf BIT me. I probably lost too much blood and wasn't okay even in the morning. But… the coffee and breakfast… I shook my head and forced myself not to think about it.

The wolf retreated to his usual place in front of the fireplace and was absolutely satisfied with himself. I glanced at him and sighed, reaching to my neck. Maybe calling Val wasn't such a bad idea…