A/N: Hehe x3 Addiction is goooood.
Chapter Three – "Cry For Help"
Ginevra looked tired the next morning when she arrived with his breakfast—lamb chops today, as she decided that the wolf needed a diverse diet—and he thought briefly back to his dream. This time, she set the tray on the ground in the stall, and then sat down there as well, clearly not worried about being bitten. She was silent though as she watched him eat, no doubt taking in how much easier he moved now, evidently not hindered anymore by his previously cracked ribs, or by his supposedly still 'broken' legs. Other than her usual good morning, she hadn't spoken a word yet, and her lack of cheer puzzled him.
After he had eaten, he cocked his head to the side, and then nudged her softly with his nose. She started at the contact, as if having forgotten he was there despite gazing straight at him. She blinked a few times, running a hand back through her pale hair, and then rested her head on the side of the stall.
"Sorry," she apologized, "Just a little sleep deprived. Had nightmares last night. Kept me up."
He whined softly when she didn't continue, nudging her again, and she blinked at him.
"What?" she asked with a slight laugh, "You want to know about my troubles?"
He wagged his tail once, panting a bit, and she laughed again.
"A wolf, wants to know about my troubles," she said, shaking her head, but then reached out to ruffle his fur, seeming to be at ease around him after just these three days—well, two days, technically. "Alright Dr. Phil, I'll share."
He resisted rolling his eyes at the reference and rested his head on his paws, gazing at her attentively. He was limited with responses as a wolf—and he should be, anyway, since he wasn't supposed to reveal himself—but he found that he felt at ease with her, as she appeared to with him, and was inclined to hear of what was troubling her.
"It's just the same old…" she said quietly, looking down at her hands as she drew her knees to her chest, "Nightmares about my brother. He was…he died six years ago, when I was only eleven."
Whining sympathetically, he licked her hand. She was obviously alone—he hadn't seen or smelled anyone else, such as ones who would be her parents—and he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be all alone. If something happened to his dad…well, he couldn't even begin to consider how he'd cope. As annoying as the old man could be, he loved him nonetheless.
"Yeah, it's hard sometimes," she said in response to the lick, "I suppose that's why I have chickens named Bugs and Lola," she added with a laugh, attempting to lighten the mood she'd ended up creating.
"Anyway, look at you; all healed up and going to be off on your way soon," she continued, running her hands down the legs that had previously been broken, "Such a fast recovery."
Instead of being suspicious or surprised—any one of those he'd expected—she just sighed, seeming disappointed. "I suppose you have a family to get back to—a she-wolf and a litter of pups," she said.
He made a face—as well as a wolf could, anyway—at her mention of a family, and huffed.
"Or not," she laughed. "Well," she added, rising, "I have to take care of some things with Ronin and find out wherever Bugs wandered off to now—he's always getting lost, that silly chicken. He's lucky Elmer Fudd isn't around gunning for fowl instead of rabbits."
He rolled his eyes at her humor, though grinned a wolfy smile all the same.
"If you're still here in the evening, I'll have some more lamb for you," she said, sounding as if she were bribing him, hoping he'd stick around. And really, she hoped he would be here in the evening.
He had remained the whole day, into the evening, and was indeed around to receive more lamb chops for dinner. Even after that, he stayed, much to her delight. Though the sun had set hours ago, and silence had settled over the farmhouse and barn. She was deep asleep, though her peace had already been shattered again by nightmares. In her dreams was her brother, primarily, but her parents guest-starred as well. She tossed and turned violently in her sleep, and from his place in the barn he could hear her whimpers and her voice as she talked to unknown persons.
His ears twitched in the direction of the farmhouse as her sleep talking grew louder. The words were too muddled, even for him to make out, but it sounded almost like she was pleading, begging. Unable to lay there anymore, he rose, standing for the first time in three days, since whatever had happened to land him in this situation. Quickly stretching out tense muscles, he gave his shaggy fur coat a good shake, sending bits of hay flying. This done, he made his way over to the barn door, nudging it open with his nose—an easy task for a large wolf, especially when the door hadn't been latched shut.
Finally, a chance to see the outdoors again. The surrounding woods were dark and unfamiliar as he trotted across the grass towards the farmhouse, though teeming with wildlife—owls, mice, raccoons, even a small herd of deer, off some distance away. He wasn't concerned with any of that though, his attention was on the sounds of Ginevra's nightmares. He stopped outside, underneath where he figured her window was, and debated on what he was going to do. What did he think he was going to be able to do—what could he do? He certainly couldn't phase back—that would be awkward, what with no clothes and all.
He had to do something though—he felt compelled to. That same tugging on his memory, something about her, something that tried to trigger something primal in his mind. He circled around the house, trying to figure out a way in. He didn't peg her for the type to leave a window open, or a door unlocked, but after nosing open the screen door to the enclosed porch, he found that one of the front windows was open. Hoping there was nothing breakable immediately on the other side, he scrambled through the window, barely fitting, and landed with a thump inside the house.
It was dark, of course, and silent save for the sound of her troubled whimpers from upstairs. The house was nice—large and roomy—but he wasn't really interested in a tour just now, and so started up the stairs as soon as he found them. Her whimpers suddenly turned to screams and he flinched, thinking that maybe something was actually causing her physical pain. As he bounded up the stairs and down the hallway though, he could smell nothing other than her human scent, mingled with the familiar odor of banana nut bread that also surrounded her.
The door to her room was only halfway shut, and he pushed it open silently—not that any sound would be easily detectable under her screams. He could tell what she was saying now, as the words were reverberating off the walls, echoing out into the night.
Stay away from him! Stay away! Stay away from him, you monster! Monsters!
Her words disturbed him, her anguished tone giving him chills, and he hastened to the side of the bed, nudging her arm repeatedly. She woke with a loud gasp, recoiling away at the sight of his shadowy form. He whined softly, and she blinked a few times, finally recognizing him. In the dark—with his wolf's vision—he watched the emotions flit across her face. Surprise, confusion, relief, all the while accompanied by a trace of pain.
Wordlessly she slid out of bed—luckily for both of them, wearing a tank top and sleep pants—and wrapped her arms around his neck. There was nothing he could do except let her cling to him and nuzzle her shoulder somewhat, so that was what he did. She began to sob into his fur, falling to her knees, and slowly, carefully, he laid down so that he wasn't towering over her. In a way, he was glad he was still a wolf—he wouldn't really know what to say to her right now if he'd been human, but for now it was simple. He simply had to be here.
She was trembling as she cried, her tears streaking through his fur, but he didn't mind that. He only wanted her to stop crying, to not be sad. Eventually her tears slowed, and then finally stopped as she took deep, shaky breathes, having worn herself out. She slid over onto her side, her eyes already closed as she nestled against him. Whimpering briefly, she laid her head against his side, one hand tangled in his russet fur. Shifting a bit, he curled up around her, lowering his head to his paws as he watched over her. She murmured slightly, but was already falling back to sleep, comforted by his presence.
