Weekly Drabble #352: Morning Picnic (Patreon)

This prompt is 'dog days of summer', so it naturally (of course) brings us back to Meredith and her terrifying werewolf boyfriend. She's gotten used to the fact every month on the nights around the full moon, Fraydich vanishes from their home and turns into a towering and terrifying monstrosity, but she's also trying to see if she can bring the man out from within the beast on those nights...

Enjoy!

~

Morning Picnic:

Meredith often wondered how much of Fraydich was truly left after he changed. The beast was there; there was no question of that. But how much of the man remained on the nights when the curse took him and he left their home, delving into the forest to go through his agonizing and terrifying transformation? She knew from personal experience that there wasn’t just a mindless animal left behind those red eyes, but an intelligence that recognized her.

The only question was, was that intelligence that of a man, or a cunning beast? She felt, she hoped – she knew – it to be the former... but was it? Was it truly?

She’d been certain that there was more than an animal within Fraydich since the first night she’d let curiousity and concern override common sense and followed him into the woods. She’d seen the change that ripped and mutilated the slender, handsome young man she loved into a towering, black-furred monstrosity capable of tearing a dear – or a foolish woman who over-estimated how safe she was – limb from limb with frightening ease. Fortunately, aside from a bruise here or there or a few scratches – and that was all they were, scratches – Fraydich had never hurt her. He always remembered who she was, even if it took him a moment or two. At first, he’d often had to be reminded. Now, it was rare that he forgot.

Still, she remained cautious. Sometimes it was easy to forget when he loped towards her, dropping to all fours and excitedly sniffing her, or when his belly was full and his hunger sated and he lay against her, great head upon her torso like a loving hound. Then, in the moments when she moved too quickly or his blood was up and he rounded upon her, clawed hands as wide as her chest ready to strike, lips curling back from a mouthful of teeth...

Those moments were fewer every month, but they could still occur. When they did, most of the time Fraydich would quickly remember who she was, shoulders and head drooping, eyes downcast as if in shame. A few times she would have to stand her ground. She never ran. That was the worst thing she could do, as it would trigger the beast’s predatory instincts. In an instant, she would change from an uncertain thing to prey and he would chase her. So when he growled and stalked towards her, she stood in place, heart hammering in her chest as she talked to him, waiting for him to remember her... or scolding him until she saw that glimmer of recognition appear once more.

It was a dangerous game, but she knew how much the curse weighed on Fraydich, how much shame it brought him and the fear of waking the morning after with no memory of what he had done... and the fear that it had not been wildlife or cattle that had sated his hunger. If she could kindle his memories when the change took him, perhaps... perhaps it would not hurt so much. If could remain more man than animal during these nights, then perhaps it would lift part of his burden. She hadn’t yet succeeded, but she would continue to try.

So she pressed on, despite the danger. Every time things were a little better, but she never took anything for granted. The man she loved would never raise a hand to her, but the beast... the beast was a different story. There was a reason Fraydich fled into the deep forest before the change took him.

“Come here,” she cooed gently, catching sight of a pair of red eyes within the fading shadows. It had been close to dawn when she had left her small farm, and the sky was lightening. Come sunrise, Fraydich would once again be man in body and mind. The beast would surely have fed by now; that was when it was at its most dangerous. It was also a superlative hunter. Rare was the night that it didn’t find something to satiate its bloodthirsty need.

At her call, a dark shape slithered through the trees like black smoke, aware but uncaring that she had seen it stalking her. Meredith had become quite attuned to Fraydich’s presence. His absence from their bed used to wake her, and now she could feel him even when he was like this. She could always tell when he was close, even if she couldn’t see him. It was like being aware of a dark, silent emptiness. She couldn’t explain it better than that, but she had learned to sense it.

The werewolf moved slowly, cautiously. His teeth weren’t bared, but he moved on all fours towards her, holding himself low to the ground, though his size meant even that posture put his head at the height of Meredith’s chest. Standing fully erect, he towered over her, and he could switch between two and four legs with unnatural ease.

“Come on,” she cooed again. “Don’t be shy.”

He sniffed the air, hesitating as the familiarity of her scent finally registered and he tilted his head to examine her. His eyes widened and he slowly stood. His hands flexed, fingers twitching and he strode towards the young woman as she laid out a blanket on the short green grass of the clearing. It was the same place she’d found him at the first time. He came here for the change and almost always returned here when the moon began to set and the curse within his flesh began to fade in kind.

“There you are,” she encouraged as he stepped out of the trees, his shape becoming clearer in the slowly-lightening morning sky. Every time she saw him like his, her breath caught in her throat. He was a terrifying vision, a thing of muscle, sinew and ink-black fur with a face that, for all that it resembled that of a wolf, was capable of more emotion than any animal. There was no anger on it now, nor bestial hunger or animalistic wrath, but a curiousity that felt more human than not. Even, perhaps, pleasant surprise at her presence.

Even like this, he was Fraydich, her Fraydich. The man she loved was still in there. Were he not, she was certain she would have been ripped to shreds and devoured long ago.

The blanket settled, Meredith walked over to the small alcove where her lover hid his clothes, taking them out and setting them on the blanket. “Come get settled.” she gestured to a well-worn patch of grass nearby, the stalks flattened and earth packed from the seizures caused as the curse burst and warped through Fraydich’s flesh, turning him from a man into a monster.

The werewolf approached her, snorting through his nostrils as he peered down at her. There was a little bit of a flutter in her heart, but she was feeling confident tonight, meeting her lover’s red eyes. He knelt, not onto all fours like a wolf, but resting his knuckles on the blanket like a crouching man. He sniffed at her again, but this time not out of curiosity, but recognition.

He licked her face.

Meredith had never gotten used to that, but she didn’t squeal when he did it anymore. “You have woodchuck breath,” she accused.

Whuff.

Fraydich nudged her with his snout, whuffing again. He didn’t bark. He growled, roared and howled but never barked. She looked into his eyes. She saw the animal in there, but when she spoke, it was to the man. “I missed you too,” she said, cradling his massive head in her hands. She looked up through the canopy to the lightening sky beyond. “It won’t be long now, though.”