Thankee all for your support in the last two chapters. *Sniff sniff* Couldn'ta done it without y`all. Thank you… (breaks out in sobbing)
Disclaimer: I do not own Calvin and Hobbes.
I finally got my computer back! Yay! Shots on me!
* ** *
Hobbes rubbed his jaws together, feeling the great sensation of his new fangs click together, exciting him dearly. Oh yes. The moon beams sliced through the night, illuminating everything, including the sixteen year-old's scared expression. Hobbes grinned.
With the stealth of a ninja, he crept forward and out into the street, where she had been walking. The suburbs had been safe, she thought. The bushes couldn't possibly house a killer. She had been wrong. She screamed as Hobbes entered the pregnant moon's rays.
Hobbes had time to look at his change. He felt a pure ecstatic tingle run down his spine at his transformation. He was somewhat taller and leaner. His arms were much more muscular, and yet he seemed bonier than usual. His hair had grown everywhere into a thin shaggy coat that bounced with Hobbes. His stripes were nonexistent. The girl had noticed Hobbes too, as if she had known him and was startled by his presence. This sight stunned where she was. Her closed throat would utter but an eep! of surprise.
She knew that he was there again as soon as claw met throat and
* ** *
…Hobbes woke up with a start.
The first thing he noticed was that he was wetter than normal. His nightmare had produced enough sweat to collect on his fur to fill half a bucket. He took in a deep ragged breath and let it all out as he suddenly realized that it had indeed been a nightmare. He hadn't killed another soul, and for that matter, didn't kill the first one either. Just a maniac, that's all.
Hobbes brought a hand across his forehead and settled back into his bed, where Calvin was already making Hobbes tired. He yawned and closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, but troubled sleep it was.
What bothered him before he drifted asleep was the fat moon was already receding somewhat.
In his sleep, he muttered one word. Weretiger.
* ** *
The next three weeks went without event. The worst, in Calvin's opinion, was when Ms. Wormwood had made him sit in the corner just because he had started a student revolution on the fact that kids aren't given medical leave like the teachers. That and Hobbes' constant outbreaks at night screaming and shaking.
On Hobbes' part, the same was true except for his nightmares that seemed to occur clockwise. It seemed to be similar each time. He was hiding in the bushes in the suburbs and an upper-teenage girl would walk by, her boyfriend elsewhere. And then he would attack.
However, about a week into the series of dreams, they would begin to grow clearer, and on the thirteenth night, as he would attack the young girl in the street, in the corner of his eye he would watch a tall figure leap from the shadows toward Hobbes, maybe in an attempt to stop him. Before the figure would fall under the pregnant moon's beams, he would awake, and after this clockwise pattern, he still needed ten minutes to persuade himself it was safe to fall asleep again.
Toward the last week or so he seemed restless, he noticed. His fangs were bothering him worse and worse, as whenever he talked his tongue would run over the abnormality of them. But that didn't bother as much as what he would notice at night.
The moon was getting fatter.