Aurendel - Strays

It was late morning when Jack headed back home with a spring in his step. He was feeling all bright eyed and bushy tailed this fine Sunday morning, and he whistled tunelessly as he walked up to his house. He scraped his shoes loudly on the mat before sauntering in. There he stopped just inside, with a sense of deja vu. The wolf was sitting in his chair, staring at him. No. Glaring at him, eyes glinting dangerously green. Its nostrils flared, and it growled low in its throat. Jack made a point of ignoring its hostility. "Good mornin'!" he said, as if nothing were the matter, and headed toward his room to change his clothes.

It growled louder, and he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at it. "Somethin' wrong?" he asked carelessly.

"You know what's wrong." Its voice was flat and cold.

Jack turned to face the wolf. "Nope, ‘fraid I don't."

"It's Kate."

"I don't see that Kate's any business of yours," Jack replied. Now he was starting to get irritated, and that really put him out, since he'd been in such a rare good mood until he got home.

"You don't love her, Jack."

Jack was staggered by the assertion. "What?" he demanded.

The wolf repeated itself. "You don't love her. She's no more to you than a convenience, a comfort, like your favorite chair," now the wolf was sneering, "or your old broken in shoes."

Jack glanced down at his feet, clad in well-worn loafers. Then he looked up and shrugged. "Even if it's true, what's it to you? If Kate's happy with the arrangement, that's that."

"What makes you think she's happy?" it demanded of him.

"If she weren't, she wouldn't've had me spend the night, now, would she?" Jack asked, not bothering to hide his gloat.

The wolf just barely restrained itself from lunging at him in fury. Through gritted teeth, it snarled, "You take what you want from her, but you can't give her what she needs."

Coolly and condescendingly, Jack asked, "And what might that be?" As if a wolf would know about a human woman!

Scornfully, the wolf asked, "Didn't you listen at all last night? Are you as oblivious to words as you are tone-deaf?"

That was a hit, a very palpable hit. But the wolf continued. "All you had to do was pay attention to the lyrics of her favorite song, but you never notice anyone's likes or dislikes, anyone's wants or needs but your own, do you, Jack?"

Jack bellowed furiously. "You damned impudent pup! I know more about women than you ever will!"

"We're not talking about ‘women', we're talking about Kate. She's not an abstraction or a generalization." The wolf rose from Jack's chair.

"Are you challenging me?" Jack demanded incredulously.

"Yes!" the wolf snapped.

Jack burst out laughing. The idea was absurd. He was taller and broader than the foolish animal--he could break the skinny thing in two with one hand--and had many years' experience in fistfights and brawls. "You can barely stand!" he exclaimed.

If it'd been in its other form, the wolf's ears would've been laid back. As it was, it could only glare before replying. "I'm younger than you, Jack, and faster. Even with a sprained ankle I have better balance and better endurance. My injury gives you a chance," it spat contemptuously, "and to make things fair, I will go against custom and remain in this shape for the challenge, instead of Changing and doing it properly."

"I'll be damned!" Jack muttered. "Outside!" he exclaimed, and turning on his heel, he stormed out the front door. Standing in a grassy patch, he stripped off his shirt and threw it onto the porch. The wolf followed, leaving its crutches behind, and likewise discarded its shirt. Jack scowled. The critter was so lean, he'd forgotten how muscular it was, in a sinewy way. He began to feel a qualm of doubt, but quashed it and raised his fists. The wolf settled its weight carefully on both feet. The two circled cautiously, measuring each other up. Obviously, the wolf had no idea what to do with its hands, since it customarily fought with its fangs. This would be ridiculously simple, Jack decided.

That conclusion reached, Jack swung at the wolf. It moved quicker than he expected, easily dodging the punch. "You're slow, Jack. Feeling your age?" it taunted. It flashed its teeth at him in a tight, cold grin, then lunged at him. He sidestepped, and the wolf stumbled on its hurt ankle. Now it was Jack's turn to smile, and as the wolf came back around it ran right into Jack's fist, taking it full under the chin. Jack's whole weight went into that blow, and the wolf reeled back, shaking its head, its eyes slightly glazed. It was still game, though, quickly recovering its balance. Jack was impressed. His uppercut should've taken the wolf down. Instead, it snarled and came at him again, moving so fast that Jack didn't realize what it was doing until he felt its hands lock around his throat. It had a grip like a steel trap.

Panicking, Jack tried to get his hands around the wolf's neck, but it ducked its head and bit his hands with its sharp, white canines, forcing him to give up that effort. His vision started to swim, and Jack swung wildly, trying for stomach and kidney punches, the solar plexus, anything to make the animal let go, but it had no soft spots, just what the fitness folk call "washboard abs". Dimly, he heard it saying, "Yield, Jack. You're beaten, you can't shake me off now."

Jack shook his head violently, and struck the wolf a tremendous clout upside its head. He had a sudden mental vision of a twelve-point stag, kicking and bucking, trying to free itself of the great black-furred shape fastened to its throat with a death grip. He opened his mouth, but no sound came. Everything went grey, then blackness swallowed him.

When Jack woke, the first thing he became conscious of was a sore throat and a headache. He wondered if he'd caught the flu. Then he remembered, and sat up quickly, eyes snapping open.

He was in his own living room, on the sofa. His shirt, which had been spread across him, was thrown to the floor by his abrupt movement. The wolf was sitting in his chair, watching him. It had put its shirt back on, and the only visible evidence it bore of their fight was a purple bruise on its jaw. The bourbon bottle and a clean glass were sitting on the coffee table in front of Jack. Wordlessly, he helped himself. The alcohol burned his sore throat at first, then numbed it. He cleared his throat. The wolf was still watching him. He glared at it. It seemed as calm as if nothing had happened. "Are you all right, Jack?" it asked.

"Fine," he grunted. He put his shirt back on and took another sip of bourbon. Just then he heard a car drive up, and saw the wolf perk up. He looked out the window to see Kate getting out of her car. He groaned. Her timing left much to be desired. He and the wolf both got to their feet at the same time and started for the door, then froze, looking at each other.

When her knock received no immediate response, Kate just breezed in, smiling and saying, "It's such a beautiful day, I thought the three of us could get some lunch down at the docks and spend the afternoon at the beach." Then she looked at them. "Jack, you haven't even changed clothes yet. Harold, what happened to . . ." she trailed off, glancing back and forth between them, taking in the scene.

"You two have been fighting." She leveled the accusation like a loaded gun.

"Well, you see, Kate," Jack began hoarsely, then stopped to cough and take a swig from his glass.

Rounding on the wolf, Kate pointed her finger. "You. Talk."

"You see, it was this way," it began explaining in a soothing tone, but she interrupted.

"Don't patronize me. Just the truth."

Jack was amused. That wolf thought it could understand and manage a human woman. Hah! Then Kate turned to him.

"Stop smirking, Jack." And she spun around to face the flustered wolf again.

"Kate," it began again, "it appeared to me that Jack, um," it paused, "that Jack hasn't perhaps been treating you as well as he should."

"And you took it upon yourself to set him straight?" Kate's voice rose dangerously, and the wolf winced. "I can take care of myself! And who are you to come barging in out of nowhere and meddle in my affairs?" Her face was red with indignation, her tones shrill.

"That's what I told him," said Jack.

That was a mistake. She immediately leaped upon him. "And as for you! It's one thing for a young man to get into a fight," she said scathingly, "over a woman. I thought you had grown out of such nonsense, but apparently age does not bring maturity!" Now it was Jack's turn to wince.

She lashed out at both of them now. "Did it ever occur to either of you fine gentlemen," through gritted teeth, "to ask me what I want? Never mind, I can see it didn't. Well, since you didn't need me around to determine what was best for me," she continued, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "then I suppose you don't need me around for much else, either."

With that, she stomped out, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled, making both Jack and the wolf flinch. They glanced at each other, shrugging and shaking their heads.

"Women," said Jack. "Can't live with ‘em, can't shoot ‘em."

"Huff, puff!" the wolf agreed.