The Blue Werewolf
C/By Kenjaje
Chapter 2: The Bite
--October 29; 1:33 AM; The Tower
"Acoota!" Stitch whispered quickly as he woke from his light sleep, his arms came to his head as he sat up slightly, to block something imagined in his mind. His eyes flashed for a second, then vision snapped on, and he realized he was only having a dream; however he couldn't remember the dream, or why he woke himself up, but he judged from the amount of perspiration dripping down his neck that it must have been a dream he's fortunate to have not remembered.
The night was warm and humid on his fur, which was frayed and twisted in every direction possible; a whirlwind of hair surrounding his body. He straightened out as much as he could, and left the other puffs, as they were too annoyingly frustrating to flatten. His eyes adjusted more to the almost pitch-black room. He was soon able to see well enough to gather his whereabouts; he had (somehow) fallen asleep next to Lilo, who was sprawled in an uncomfortable looking position underneath the drenched sheets. One arm sprayed out to the side, Stitch remembered tossing and turning over it, and the other was behind her head, situated behind her neck.
He adjusted the arm behind her neck, as its veins were bloated with the stationary blood; she would have probably woken with pins and needles soon had he not. Not wanting to disturb her further, he slid off the bed and stepped onto the carpeted floor. The fuzzy fabric tickled the pads of his feet as he shuffled by, he glanced at the clock on the other side of the bed before hopping up into his little bunk.
He nuzzled his nose into the soft, dry covers and dried the excess water on his neck onto the other side of the pillow, then turned it back over and laid down. His eyes remained open for a short time, and the thought of the story crossed his mind; at the time, that was scariest thing he'd ever heard. He was actually a bit confused as to why he allowed himself to listen to that story. Even though Lilo always spoke of the supernatural—mummies, mud monsters, ghosts...werewolves—he had always regarded them as fake, because he knew they were. But this book claimed that its stories were indeed real, it said so right on the cover.
"Real Encounters With Werewolves" He read again, lifting his head and craning his neck to see the book near the far wall; flat, and opened to some random page to display both covers to him. The back merely consisted of black boarders and texts, but the front was quite scary; a picture of a wolf shadowed in darkness, its eyes a glowing red, and just barely visible, blood dripped from its fangs. For a second, the cover looked very real to Stitch, as that wolf was the same one that was supposedly in the story that they were just reading a few hours ago.
Despite the rising fear in him, Stitch closed his eyes and banished it completely. Even if werewolves were to be scary and evil, he could take one on. He played a simulation in his mind, imagining himself dodging bites and blows, laughing at the strange animal's attempts to hurt him. Stitch knew he was strong, fast, and smart, but deep down inside, he didn't really think he could stand up to a werewolf...if they were real.
He used that fact to back his courage up; werewolves were nonexistent, weren't they? His mind started to doubt the facts he'd been told. He'd never seen one, but then again no one had ever really convinced him that they weren't real; Lilo seemed to speak as though they were. He started to panic again.
"Just go to sleep." He thought. "It'll all be better during the day." He brushed his cheek against the dry pillow once again, and felt the warm, humid night air, and used it to his comfort. Warm felt so securing right now. Soon, Stitch found his eyes closing and his mind slightly wandering and drifting into slumber.
But something wasn't right; Stitch could feel it in the air. He opened his eyes again and sighed, unable to get to sleep after a few long minutes of trying. He shifted onto his back and let the blood settle in the back of his mind. He stared blankly at the ceiling's dark texture, smooth and sleek chrome...it looked boring to him. He leaned over and pressed the button to open up the skylight above his bed.
Moonlight filtered in through the hole, basking him in a mystical glow of cyan sparkle. Stars twinkled in deep blue canvas of the night sky, glistening every now and then, and disappearing as a cloud drifted past on its way to the left. Stitch let out a tranquil sigh; night was his favorite scenery about earth.
Stitch debated with himself; he wanted to go outside, but didn't know why. Maybe it was the sky, maybe it was moon, or maybe it was just the gentle breeze that brushed past his nose, but he suddenly felt the urge to run in the night; something about this thought just seemed unique and different.
"Eh." He told himself, tossing the sheets off and standing in his bed. He reached up for the skylight and without a sound, slipped through the passage, barely scraping the sides with his hind.
Outside, a gust of salted wind blew past him constantly. Whatever ruffles were left in his fur were reordered and fixed by the sheer thrust of the breeze. He stepped across on the roof, and hooked his claws into the metal to climb down.
At ground level the wind was much calmer, barely felt by his ears. The grass was wet from the storm that had occurred, and ended sometime between nine and twelve o'clock. The clouds outside seemed no more threatening than a slight drizzle, if anything. He took in the sweet scent of the saturated earth, and took off in a run.
This was different; this was unique. It felt strange to him, just running around without no reason or cause, except just to run. It felt relaxing, the mud squishing between his toes and the flowers that smelled of rose and grape around him as he darted into the brush. He was beginning to love the woods; the scenery, the animals, the fun times he and Lilo had while occasionally playing hide'n'seek.
He stopped as he ran out of breath, kneeling by a twisted, wet, old tree; its bark slick with water that appeared to be trickling in between the cracks. A staccato of tiny thumps of raindrops hitting against the ground sounded all around him, he listened to their beat as his heart's own drum slowed down.
But, there was another beat of a different noise coming from the distance. A solid, strong beat, which trampled grass and broke sticks. Stitch looked around, but didn't see anything, and thought nothing of it. Until, that is, he remembered the book. A pike of adrenaline shot through his body as his mind thought of the boy in the woods in the story. He felt as though he were in that position, and imagined himself being hunted down by a wolf. He'd never actually seen one in real life, other than a few pictures, including the cover art.
His eyes narrowed, he hadn't even thought of the option that it was just another animal; some sort of rabbit or skunk. He darted his sights from left to right, turning on his nocturnal vision, his eyes glowing a fluorescent red. The sound was still off in the distance, it sounded as though the "wolf" were running away from him. He followed the sound, a long distance behind it.
Suddenly, the sound stopped, and so did he. Frozen in fear that the animal had sensed his presence, Stitch fitted his footing and tensed himself, ready to fight. For a minute and a half he stood erect, without motion, and barely breathing. The hair on his back repeatedly stood on end, as if trying to guess when the animal was going to pounce out of the brush, and missing its timing.
Finally, Stitch moved; he relaxed his arms and decided it was safe for the time being. He slowly breathed out and closed his eyes. As if waiting, the a rustle in the bushes right behind him alerted his instincts, and he turned around in a flash and pounced in the general direction of the noise with a scream of power.
He saw what he was about to attack; and it was but an innocent kitten. Immediately he forced his weight down and slammed into the ground, falling short of the tiny cat. He looked up from the dirt at the gray furred feline, and it mewed cheerfully in his ears.
"Oh..." Stitch cooed at it, and in a way that slightly shamed him. But still he felt relieved that it wasn't a wolf. "See? They don't exist." He told himself again. He patted the cat on the head, but it suddenly had a frightened body gesture, and twirled itself around, leaping back into the bushes and off into the distance to where Stitch couldn't here its pace any longer. Slightly sad, Stitch stood and proceeded back to the house; he'd had enough excitement for one day.
Stitch heard another noise on his way back, but didn't think about the "wolf" anymore, he knew better now. To him it was just some other animal. He continued on, unaware of what was stalking him. He had no time to react; he heard two barks, sharp and crisp, and turned around only to scream in pain as two jaws clamped hard into his arm. His eyes went blurry and his footing was lost; he fell to the floor looking up at the source of the pain. Before he blackened, he saw what he feared most at the moment, two large, demonic, red eyes, and gleaming fangs that sung in the moonlight.