Chapter XXV: Brush and brunt
Aran felt satisfied. Not only because he just had lunch, but more because of what Jennifer had explained. Even though she did not explicitly mention why he was at her place himself, knowing more about what she did was unraveling some of the mystery around his treatment.
The collie untied Aran's bib and cleaned his muzzle with a damp washcloth, but she did not release him from the highchair straight away. Instead, she went to gather some items from the cupboard. The wolf could not see much of what his caregiver was doing, since she was more or less behind him, and the restraints of the highchair did not allow him to turn around far enough.
When she removed the tray and unbuckled the tether, Aran saw that she had spread a square piece of quilted fabric on the floor. It was about three feet in length and width, and the collie had placed two brushes on top.
"How often do you brush yourself, little one?" Jennifer asked as she 'helped' him take off his t-shirt.
"Not more frequently than strictly necessary. It's kind of a hassle to do it on your own, and Mike lacks the subtlety and patience to brush my fur properly. I get by, but I don't spend much time on it."
"Well, we should change that, don't you think? I don't want your fur to get all tangled up."
The collie took Damian from the playroom and handed it back to her charge. Aran then sat down on the mat, loosely holding the husky as Jennifer started to brush his back.
"I don't know. I've always thought of brushing my fur as a necessary evil. It's a typical girl thing to spend hours a week on grooming."
"I disagree, pup. Don't be surprised if your fur looks even better when I'm done."
"Better? Now that's a surprise. You think I look good?"
"Why, of course I do! Black wolves are rare, but I think the color suits you."
Aran shivered and remained silent.
"What's wrong, little one?"
"So strange... My dad always said my color is a disfiguration, an impurity. He even called it a curse sometimes. He stems from generations of same-species marriage and believes in 'genetic purity'. Basically, that means he thinks people shouldn't have offspring with anyone outside their race."
"But your father is a grey wolf, and he married a timber wolf. How did he explain that?"
"Those species are closely related. It would be like a Labrador and a Golden Retriever having puppies. For my father, that was as far as one was allowed to go," Aran answered, then closed his eyes with a sigh. "He said that my black fur was a disgrace."
"I think it's beautiful."
The wolf shivered once more, followed by a sniffle.
"It's okay, little one."
It appeared like Aran did not hear her. Instead, his shivering grew more intense. The wolf tensed up as his shivering turned into trembling. His eyes were still tightly shut, rendering visual contact impossible.
"Aran? Are you okay?"
He still did not respond.
"Little one? Did I say something wrong?"
The lack of response bothered the collie. Her charge was clenching his muzzle, gritting his teeth, and whimpering loudly. She then realized that the wolf was having an anxiety attack, and that her intervention was very welcome at this point.
"Aran, listen to me! I know you can still hear me. I'm going to try and stop your attack by administering a sedative to you. Be brave for me, I'll do my best to save you."
Every Chainbreaker has a syringe with a sedative on them at all times. This is usually a safety measure to knock a charge out in case of danger or emergency, mainly to be used as a form of self-defense for the caregiver. However, a small dose could just be what Aran needed right now.
Jennifer took the syringe from a hidden pocket and gently stuck the needle in the neck of her charge. Careful not to administer too much, she slowly depressed the plunger. At the first quarter, she stopped and withdrew the needle.
"Aran, I don't know what you're seeing now, but don't be afraid. I'm going to touch you, but I won't hurt you."
She knelt a little closer to her charge and gave him a warm hug from behind, trying to make the surface of their touch as large as possible. The wolf was still trembling, but Jennifer knew that it would not take long for the sedative to kick in.
"Have no fear, Aran," she whispered in his ears. "You're my puppy, my good little wolfie. You're special and precious to me, and I'm not going to leave you alone. Whatever you might be going through, I'm here for you. Trust that I'll protect you, little one, you're safe with me. I won't let you go."
Minutes passed as the collie kept petting her charge and whispering kind words into his ears. Eventually, Aran opened his eyes and panted.
"Pup, are you okay?"
"What... happened?" he asked, disoriented.
"Another anxiety attack, I suppose. You're with me again, aren't you?"
"Guess so... m'sleepy, Jen," he replied, somewhat mumbling.
"That's because I sedated you, so you wouldn't hurt yourself. I'm sorry for that, but I couldn't stand to see you suffer."
"Dat's okays..."
"I'm going to carry you upstairs and put you down for a nap."
She spoke self-assuredly, but knew very well that sleeping could mean nightmares for Aran. However, it would be unwise to keep him awake. The wolf did not say anything, but just nodded in approval. Once upstairs, she undressed him and put him in a mittened sleeper. With Damian in his arms and his pacifier in his muzzle, Aran was good to go. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The sun was already setting when the wolf woke up. Still groggy and somewhat confused, he tried to remember what had happened and how he had ended up in the crib again. His mind could not answer this question, so he decided to call out for Jennifer.
It did not take long for the collie to reach him, as she had been waiting for her charge to wake up. She asked if he was hungry and offered him a puppy bottle of mealtime-worthy formula. Being too sleepy to protest - not that he wanted to - Aran accepted the nipple and downed the entire bottle.
The formula was followed by a dose of the antidote, to ensure that wolf would not wake up in the middle of the night in suffering. Jennifer then checked his diaper and concluded that her charge needed a change.
After all, he was not wearing a nighttime diaper, so changing him was a good idea for more reasons than one. Aran mumbled something about not remembering his wetting and that his 'accident' still didn't mean he was a puppy, but he fell asleep again before Jennifer had even put him down on the changing table.