Constellations

The sugary smell of cinnamon stirred my unconscious mind just enough that I woke thinking that this whole zombie nightmare had just been, well, a nightmare. But then the unforgiving roughness of the ground, the scent of smoke drifting from the fire and the sound of my werewolf humming Bad Romance wiped that fantasy and jolted me fully awake.

"Morning Scout." Fucking, chipper, too perky to be un-caffeinated werewolf. I mumbled something appropriately morning-ish as I settled next to him and watched as he stirred the oatmeal in a pot. Half a dozen instant packets fluttered at my feet in the weak morning breeze. They were my favorite, cinnamon spice, and my stomach made itself known with a loud, long rumble.

"Sounds like your belly button is making out with your spine, Scout." His smile was warm and friendly but didn't quite make it to his eyes. They remained calculating, as if he was measuring me up in every possible way from how many bites it would take to reach my juicy center to how bendable I was for later amusements.

I quickly accepted the tin plate of oatmeal and was scrapping the last morsel off the bottom with my fingers within seconds. The wolf sat, spoon poised at his lips, watching me inhale breakfast. He gingerly took my plate out of my hands and replaced it with his own, rubbing my cheek gently with his thumb as he stood. "I can make some more, Scout."

"Please don't."

It was a simple request but the wolf's reaction was almost violent. Dropping down he pushed forward into my space, his hand gripping my shoulder, skin pulsating between clawed and human. Eyes speckled with fiery highlights stared menacingly into my own. "Don't? Don't what? Touch you. Are you backing out of our agreement so soon, Scout?"

"No," I gulped and fought down the urge to scramble away keeping my eyes lowered. "Don't call me Scout. Please. It's just too close. It makes me remember and I try so hard not to think about it. I'm sure my therapist would drone on about the importance of working through your issues but I am sure he is stumbling around somewhere eating rats raw or something so fuck him and his ideas on my mental health."

I could feel the memories bubbling up. Those last few moments with Scott by my side as we fled the school yard into town. He didn't even hesitate when she fell, just turned back, trying so desperately to reach her before she was bit. "All good deeds are punished these days."

"What?" The wolf actually looked concern. His hand stroked my arm slowly, soothing my fractured nerves.

"My friend, my best friend. He tried to save a girl and was killed."

"Your friend was named Scout?"

"Scott but when I hear you call me that, it makes my skin flinch. It hurts."

"Okay." Without another word he scrapped the last of the oatmeal into my bowl and started to pack up the camp. The bedding and blankets went into one large pack, cooking supplies and food into the second, and my shriveled pack sat between the two, the runt of the litter.

"Stiles." As he turned, I clarified, "My name is Stiles." He nodded and returned to packing. I sat for a few moments finishing my breakfast and licking the last bits off the bottom of the plate. "So, are you going to tell me your name or do I just keep calling you my wolf?"

I caught my mistake just a split second too late to bite my tongue and keep it from spilling out. I expected anger from my Tarzan of the mood swings wolf but received a smile, a shimmer your pants down, can't think because the blood has left the building, damn sexy smile, instead.

"Peter." He took my licked clean plate and pulled me to my feet. "We have a way to go today, Stiles." He played with my name as he said it, warmed it with his tongue, tasting the constants as they left his mouth. Stepping closer and pressing his nose against my neck, he took a long inhaled breath, held it with his body completely still, before letting it out to tickle the sensitive skin of my throat. Yes, folks, the blood has left the building and moved south.

Peter was about ten yards away, walking with a lip biting swagger before I pulled it together enough to follow. I trotted until I caught up with him, falling into a steady pace by his side. He swung my pack off his shoulder and handed it to me to carry.

It was screwed up. I will be the first to admit that this whole thing was insane but for the first time in almost…hell who knows how many months, I felt like I was a part of the human race again. Even if he wasn't quite human. I was connected.

I tried to hold it in, stem the tide of words that threatened to overflow my tight lipped dam but before the sun was overhead I was pouring out a flood of rambling thoughts. It had been so long since I could talk to someone and Peter surprisingly was a good and, more importantly, patient listener.

"So can you turn into a wolf? How many different forms do you have? I've seen the human, which is nice, and then you have the whole side burns and big teeth look and your super wolf form which is scary as hell. Can you turn into a real wolf? The whole four legged sha-bang?"

"I can but it's not usually convenient. No hands."

"So if you bit me what would happen? Would I turn into a werewolf too? Do you lose control on a full moon because that would really suck for me?"

"No, werewolves are born. The gene is dominant so any children I had would be wolves." His face darkened briefly, a shadow of pain. I had felt that look many a time on my own face. "Do you ever stop talking?" It was a sudden enough change from the genial wolf from moments before that I nodded and followed in silence for the rest of the afternoon.

By midafternoon I was starting to droop. Peter made much better time than I ever had unless I was running for my life. "Can we slow down a bit or better yet, stop completely. I'm exhausted Peter. Helpless little human and all that."

Peter stopped and scented the air. "Keep heading in this direction and I will check ahead for a place to stop." Handing me the rest of the pack he shimmied out of his pants and shirt. I should have looked away but my brain went foggy when he tipped his ass up to pull off his shoes. The man was salivatingly hot.

Glancing at my wide eyed, slack jawed look, Peter smiled and for the first time since we had met it reached his eyes. "You wanted to see my wolf form." I expected high budget movie effects, bones popping as muscle and tendons reshaped themselves; agonizing howls as fingers became claws and fangs erupted from a newly formed muzzle. Instead he shimmered briefly, skin twitching as he curled inward. Fur spread upward across the smooth plains of his body as he stretched forward going onto all fours and rolled his shoulders.

Turning my direction I could see his ears take their final form and his tail ruffle into being. I expected him to be the same inky black as his seven foot monster wolf-man form but he was a toffee color, his longer guard hairs tipped with rust. He was breath taking.

He walked over to me tail wagging slowly as he approached. I dropped to my knees and found myself burying my face in the soft fur along his ruff. My fingers tightened into the dense hair along his shoulder, scratching him lightly as he waited good-naturedly as I pet him.

Feeling silly I pulled back. Peter grinned at me, all teeth and bannered tail. "Yes, you are gorgeous but you already knew that. I always wanted a dog but Dad was allergic." The wolf grin dropped off his features and his ears flattened slightly in annoyance. I just laughed. "Go on; find us a safe place to hunker down for the night."

Watching him lope away I had to wonder about the weirdness of my life. How desperate was I that I found myself latching on to the first kindness offered in this hell bent world. Gathering the packs I shrugged off the worry. Yea, Peter was a little creepy and a werewolf but I was really starting to like him. As I continued to walk I found myself humming a familiar tune.

Peter caught up to me a short while later a limp bunny clasped in his jaw. He dropped it at my feet and shifted back while I did my best not to look. "It's all clear. There's a good place to set up camp about a mile ahead." He grinned at me, a human version of his wolf's toothy smile. "So which form impresses you the most?"

Human I thought but kept that locked inside my skull. "They are all beautiful." Crap that was even worse than what I was thinking. "I mean, the wolf forms are very attractive. Not that your human form isn't." Red spreading from the tips of my hair follicles, across my face and down my neck, I turned and started walking. "A mile? We should make it before it gets dark."

I could feel his amused gaze on the back of my neck like sunshine; warm and inviting. Back before the end of the world I had this NEED to fill empty silences with babble and empty conversation. I don't know if it was because I had become accustomed to the silence from being alone for so long or because it was Peter walking by my side but for once the quiet didn't bother me.

I set up camp while Peter cleaned the rabbit. He huffed as he tossed the entrails far away from the camp site. "A waste."

I paused from straightening the sleeping bags, my thin summer bag tucked inside Peter's heavier one with the slick tarp tucked over and under making it look like a giant green taco. "What's a waste?"

"That's some of the best parts." I must have turned a little green, making a matching set for our taco bed, because he quickly added, "I would eat it in my wolf form."

I didn't quite believe him but I wasn't about to judge the eating habits of the furry and deadly. Cutting the meat into strips, Peter had the rabbit cooked before the moon worked its way across the sky seeming to spill stars in its wake.

"I don't remember there being this many stars in the sky." I nibbled warm pink rabbit as I stared at the heavens finding half remembered patterns of light from my childhood camping trips with my mom and dad.

"Light pollution. The cities were too bright, washing out all but the brightest stars. You used to have to travel miles into the country in hopes of seeing a sky like this." He pointed out constellations, telling the legends and myths associated with each one as the fire burned down to red veined coals.

I drifted off with his warmth at my back, the soothing feel of him tucking the sleeping bag around me the last memory of the night.