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Why the hell didn't I bring rope?

I'd lived out here for a few months now, and I still hadn't thought to put a bit of rope in my hiking bag.

It was early summer, and I'd gone out on a day walk. My work was sort of feast or famine, long-term on and long-term off: you can only go out on an offshore rig for so long before going crazy. But the pay you find back ashore makes the danger and depression worth it. That's how I could afford such a nice place: sizable plot of land up in the mountains, adjacent to a national park. There were trails crossing my property line, and none of the rangers cared if I crossed, so I did regularly. I worked on the house most days -- an old fixer-upper -- but always made time for a hike, at least an hour long.

That day, I took one of the paths into the national forest I never had, an older, overgrown thing. And, to my great fortune, found a sinkhole. Found it with my foot, that is -- one moment I was walking along the rough trail, barely different from the forest floor, and the next everything around me was falling. Must have been a small void, since I did get buried alive, but there was no way I was getting out. I was buried up to my shoulders in soil, arms halfway up above the surface. The soil around me was soft enough to try moving and I did; when it did little but spray more dirt in my face and make me feel like I was sinking more, I stopped.

A rope wouldn't have helped me much, now that I think about it, unless I got really good really fast at playing cowboy with a lasso. No, what helped me was her.

I shouted for help at every rustle in the forest that sounded close, every echoing noise that sounded like fellow trail-walkers a ways off. Thinking back, it's a miracle I didn't attract something big and nasty looking for a free meal. Instead, I got her.

She approached me from behind -- I was in no position to turn and look, but I could hear her sliding down the side of the hole, and words vomited from my mouth. "Thank you," "Please help," and "Be careful," are the main ones I remember. When she started sniffing my hair, I could tell it was an Anthro that'd found me. Might explain why she was so quiet -- they get that way in the woods, all of them, even the ones that lived in cities their whole lives. Her grip on my arms was strong, and she pulled me out with a growl that made my heart skip a beat. I popped free like a carrot, spraying dirt, and scrambled up the side of the hole, helping my rescuer as she dragged me up the sloping side with grunts and tugs. She dropped me when were clear, back on solid ground; when I turned to thank her, I froze.

The she-wolf was naked, her tall, lithe, slightly-curvy form bare save her fur, now dusted in dirt. But it wasn't embarrassment or lust on her face -- in fact, I couldn't quite read it. I didn't, at first, averting my eyes.

"Thank you, ma'am, but please, put on some clothes. I'm plenty warm, no need for that body-heat stuff."

Her only response was a resounding huff-bark thing. I looked her way again, doing my best to ignore her figure: that hadn't been a huff of exasperation, the wagging tail behind her told me. She didn't look unhappy, more concerned

"Do you not have any clothes?" I asked. "Did you get in some kind of accident, too?"

Again, her only response was a sort of grunt, her eyes darting between mine, her hands hovering near her hips. I tried a little Spanish, but she just cocked her head. She half-barked this time, this time trailing off with a little growl as she pointed to the ground.

"Yes, you saved me from the sink hole, thank you. But I'm -- ahh!"

I jumped back at her advance, which in turn made her jump a little. Her expression turned to one of clear displeasure, and she let out a growling snort.

"Ma'am, please, I don't want --"

I wasn't fast enough the second time; I still yelped when she dug her claws into me, adjusting her hold until it was crushing, and then --

-- Then she started sniffing my hair, then licking it. Her claws weren't breaking my skin, I realized; when I relaxed, she loosened one from her embrace, and used it to stroke my hair, a calming hum coming from her chest. She wasn't prepping to eat me or to hurt me, I realized. She was making sure I was okay, dusting the dirt from my arms and chest. She attempted to do the same to my face with her tongue, but that was a little too far. I managed to slip her grasp, keeping a hand out now.

"T-thank you! Thank you, but that's enough!"

She let out another huffing growl, but paused when I went about brushing myself off. As I did, taking stock of my injuries -- nothing serious, thankfully -- it began to occur to me. The she-wolf wasn't a foreign survivalist, or an escaped psych-ward inmate. She was from here, from the woods. It was rare, I knew, but possible: there'd been plenty of reports of 'feral anthros,' ones that had been abandoned in the woods at birth for whatever reason, tragic or dark. Their animalistic traits gave them better chances at survival, and here in the national forest, one could live for years without seeing another soul.

Or an unlucky dumbass that wandered into a sinkhole.

"I'm okay, see?" I said, even if she likely couldn't understand. "I -- I'm going to go home now. I'll call up the rangers, and let them know about you. They'll handle things like this better than I can."

I was talking more to myself than her, though she did seem to get that I wasn't hurt. When I started to leave, she followed.

"No!" I said; she stopped. "It's okay! You -- you can stay here. You don't have to come with."

Her expression was one of concentration as I gestured, my mind going back to those rough translation scenes in Dances With Wolves.

...The irony was not lost on me...

Ultimately, she decided to let me go, watching me as I walked backwards on the trail, back the way I came. When I got past the first rise and she was out of sight, I stopped for a moment, watching. I wasn't worried about her ambushing me, at least not with lethal intent, but I imagined the proper authorities wouldn't be too happy if I let her follow me home. She didn't seem to be injured or in bad health, so it wasn't like she really needed to come back with me. Still, I glanced behind myself more than usual on my hike back.

It was early afternoon when I made it to the actual home of my homestead, the modest building looking over a natural back yard. I climbed up the slight slope, going in through the front. Normally, I'd have used the porch door, but I didn't want to get the living room filthy. That's what the mud room was for. I dumped my gear and started up the shower, cleaning off the dust, scrubbing the little nicks and scrapes. I'd just finished toweling off when I heard her howl.

I'd heard wolves off in the distance plenty of times before. It happens when you live in the forests around here. But hers was different, and not just because it was close, loud. She was gnawing at the door handle when I arrived to the front door, stopping when she heard my soft expletive from behind it. The she-wolf looked at me innocently, oblivious to the damage she'd done to my door, oblivious to the gun I'd just de-primed with a sigh.

"You're not going to leave, are you?"

She cocked her head again, her tail still wagging slightly.

"Fine," I said, unblocking the doorway. "Makes it easier for the rangers or whoever to come pick you up."

It took a little coaxing, but she eventually came in over the threshold. When she did, the place was hers: she strutted through the mudroom and into the hallway, sniffing at every object. I had to intervene a few times when she was pressing her nose against some more sensitive objects -- wall paintings, potted plants, the like -- but she didn't seem to mind. I grabbed her gingerly by the shoulder when she reached my gun cabinet, getting her still.

"Look at me," I said, catching her attention. I felt bad for what I was about to do, but I didn't see much other way to deal with it.

"No." I stressed, pointing to the cabinet and shaking my head. "No."

She looked at the cabinet, tried to nose towards it, then growled when I pushed her back.

"No," I said again.

She seemed to get it then, brushing my hand off and continuing her self-guided tour. I followed along, trying to make sure she didn't kill herself while I called up the park office. Half a minute later, she was in my room while I listened to the voicemail greeting. I glanced at my watch, trying to ignore as she took a keen interest in my sheets -- it was 4pm. Of course the office would be closed, it's a government office.

The she-wolf let out a snarl; I looked up to see that she had locked eyes with the mirror, her fur on end, lips curled. It wasn't a pretty sight, I'll admit.

"Mirror!" I shouted, "It's just a mirror!"

My unexpected guest seemed to take this as a battle cry; she barked ferociously at her own reflection, before launching bodily into the mirror. What followed was a crash of glass, a chorus of expletives, and a yelp followed by a loud whine. I grabbed her from behind, pulling her away from the mess she'd gotten herself into and onto the bed. Most of the glass shards had fallen to the floor, it appeared, and the last thing I needed was for her to get cuts on her bare paws. She whined slightly in my arms; I shushed her gently, somehow managing to slip out from beneath her as she half-sat on my lap. She turned to me, snout wrinkling in slight pain as I felt through her fur, looking amongst the gray for shards of silver or red.

I was so focused on weeding through her thick fur, plucking out the small bits of glass, that I didn't notice her tongue until it got down to my forehead. Then I realized I was picking through her chest, how soft it was, how fluffy her fur was. How velvety her tongue was, the feel of her pawpads on my shoulders.

"Stop," I told her, pushing at her snout with a closed fist. "Stop, I'm just trying to make sure you're okay."

I paused then, feeling the heat in my face. The look she gave me said that she got the irony of it as well. I sighed, going back to work. She didn't lick at me anymore, just resting her paws on my shoulders; that I could live with. I pulled the rest of the shards, most of them having been caught in her fur. It was dense, and the few shards that did manage to cut through only did so a little, though I could feel her twinge with each one I pulled. When I finished, gingerly holding the collected shards in my shirt, I locked eyes with the she-wolf and pointed to the remains of the mirror that sat in the frame.

"Mirror," I said, then gestured to the glass shards of it in my shirt. "Glass."

Then I pointed down at the floor, where more of it glittered.

"More. Bad."

I shook my head again.

"Bad."

I poked her, then the bed.

"Stay."

She did, but she didn't look happy about it. Whether it was because I was leaving her or because I was treating her like a child, I couldn't tell. There was an obvious glimmer of intelligence there in her blue eyes, but I didn't know how to reach it. To understand it. I returned with a dustpan and set about cleaning the floor while she watched. After I deposited my first load into the plastic bucket, I began to hear little pinging noises. The she-wolf was cleaning up as well, picking out small fragments of glass from her arms, her legs, places I hadn't checked yet. I was concerned when I heard her soft grunts, but soon realized it they were just from frustration, her blunt claws ill-suited to root out the smaller bits. She certainly didn't give up, though, flinging bits and pieces into the bucket as I scraped through the carpet. A vacuum likely would have been better -- and still would likely need to happen -- but the last thing I needed was a wild wolf-woman having her first encounter with one of those right after getting herself full of glass.

"Mi-ror."

I looked up; the she-wolf pointed to the frame, though she was staring directly at me.

"Mi-ror?" she said again, though this time as a question.

"Yes," I nodded, pointing. "Mirror."

She grunted, then pointed at the bucket.

"Glass."

"Glass."

She grunted, then pointed at me.

Huff.

Those scenes from Dances With Wolves came flashing back again.

"Kevin," I said, pointing at my chest.

"Ke-vin."

She said it a few times, nodding. Then she sat up straight, bouncing on the bed slightly as she pointed to her bare breast, huffing again as her tail wagged. I fumbled for a moment, and not just because of the bouncing breasts -- what would I tell her?

"W-Wolf."

"Wolf," she repeated, then without skipping a beat, "Ke-vinWolf."

When I didn't understand, she growled, pointing to herself, then me.

"Ke-VIN, WOLF."

I sat there for a moment, mouth agape, before I closed it with a sigh. I nodded, and she seemed most pleased. She stood when I did, following me to the garage while I deposited the glass. Wolf stayed in the doorway, her snout curling at the smells; the sight of her bare figure, framed there in sun, was enough.

"Come," I told her, taking her by the hand. She jumped a little, at first, but soon was squeezing my hand back. Back to the bedroom we went, and she sat herself down on my bed while I rooted through my closet. She was enthralled by the sliding door, and I let her play with it as I tried to find clothes that could fit her. She was taller than me by at least a foot; ultimately, something stretchy would have to do. I pulled out a fresh wife-beater and a pair of lounge pants, and presented them to her.

"Clothes," I said, laying them down. She stared at them blankly. I groaned, and pulled my own off, gathering another set from the closet.

"Clothes," I repeated, and put on the shirt and plaid pants. "Put on clothes."

Wolf picked up the shirt, sniffing it. When she couldn't figure out the opening, I reached over and helped her. She was somewhat reluctant, making soft grunts of annoyance, but it eventually was on, covering her sinful curves -- hell, it kind of accentuated them, being a little tight.

"Good," I said. "Now the pants."

The lounge pants were somewhat easier, once she figured out you weren't meant to make your own hole for your foot. They rode a little low, since they weren't designed with a tail in mind; I had her stand so that I could crouch down, tying the waistband. Didn't need them to fall down on her, or me. When I finished, I looked up to find her smiling down at me. Then I was pressed into the fluff of her bare stomach, her pawpads on my head.

"Ke-VinWolf," she said softly.

I breathed her in; she smelled like the forest.

That was all I allowed myself before I gently pushed away, standing up.

I took her on a more guided tour of the house, holding her paw. I told myself it was so that things would be easier during her short stay here through the night, until I got the rangers or whoever to show up the next morning. When I watched her eat, tearing the burger I made to shreds, I almost convinced myself. Same as when I let her explore the deck, and the back yard -- when she bolted off into the forest, I wondered if I'd even have to deal with her. But then she came back, and laid down with me on the couch, setting her head in my lap while the TV played. Then I had to admit it was nice to have company. She took my hand, stroking it through her fur before huffing at me; I understood, and combed through her mane, feeling her relax. We sat there a long time; she occasionally pointed out things she knew on the TV, humming with each little scratch I gave her for a correct answer.

When Wolf finally fell asleep, I slipped away carefully, pulling a blanket over her. She-wolf or not, it could get cold. I made it to the bedroom door before she was behind me, her arms wrapping around me like they had earlier in the day.

"Ke-Vin," she said, almost scolding me. She licked my hair, and nipped at an ear.

"Kevin bed," I told her when she finally let me go. Wolf nodded with a smile, then pushed past me. She jumped on the bed, being sure to bounce a little before curling up.

The look she gave me when I said "No" was one of confusion.

"Ke-Vin bed?" she asked.

"Yes, Kevin bed. Kevin bed. Not Wolf."

I pointed out the door, then picked up the blanket that she'd dragged with her and pointed to it.

"Wolf bed."

"No."

She'd learned a new word.

She pointed to herself, then me.

"Ke-VinWolf."

Then the bed.

"Bed. Ke-VinWolf bed."

Then I understood.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Kevin bed. Not Wolf bed."

"Ke-VinWolf bed!" she barked, claws digging into the sheets. She pounded on them; "Now! Ke-Vin bed now!"

"No! Kev--"

Before I could finish, she pulled me off my feet and onto the bed. She was snarling, her claws digging in, scratching as she adjusted her hold. The animal noises only intensified as I attempted to fight back. I could hear my matching clothes tear as I pushed at hers, and I yelped when she nipped at my patches of bare skin. I froze, knowing how big those teeth were. It gave her the opening she needed, and I was pressed tight against her, her arms and legs wrapped around me. She growled at my efforts again to remove her, my face pressed into the taunt fabric of her borrowed shirt; I stopped after only a few moments, knowing it was pointless.

"Ke-VinWolf," she huffed, and licked my hair. Her grip loosened slightly, though only enough to shift our embrace from one of hostility to one of comfort. Wolf's chest heaved against my face when she settled, letting out a sigh that made my hair flutter. After a moment, she grunted, squeezing me tight to scratch at her side.

"Clothes bad," she said.

I didn't have the strength to argue; she pulled my head back after a little bit of silence, as if to make sure I hadn't suffocated. Seeing that I hadn't, she let go of my upper body -- her legs still holding me firmly below -- and attempted to remove the wifebeater. She snorted a few times after she managed to get the shirt stuck on her head, and then started trying to bite at it.

"No, no," I said, reaching up to help. "No bite shirt."

She made some soft noises in her throat as she continued to fight with the fabric, playful growls and snorts, and she grabbed my hands gently, shoving them in her fabric-lined maw.

"No bite," I told her, and after a slight nibble, she complied, letting me pull the shirt off. Wolf shook her head when it was free, then looked down at me with a smile, her tail whapping against the bed softly.

"Ke-Vin shirt go."

She poked more holes in my shirt and enlarged the ones already there larger as she pulled it off, her legs still clamped around the bottom half. I sighed, lifting my arms to make it slightly easier on myself and the poor shirt; when it was gone, Wolf craned her head down to mine, licking at my face.

"Ke-Vin better now?"

"...Kevin better now," I sighed.

She hummed, cradling my head back to her chest.

"Good."

After a few minutes of lying there, I put my arms around her, unable to resist anymore. Wolf held me a little closer, letting out another small hum of contentment. Ordinarily, I'd have worried about getting cold, the sheets and blankets being beneath us, but the way she'd wrapped herself around me made it alright. She was warm, soft, and still smelled like the forest. Hints of pine and undergrowth there, the occasional scent of a flower here and there. At some point, I drifted off, the problems this she-wolf would pose being a problem for tomorrow-Kevin. It was a sound sleep, better than I've had on shore in years.

It all got shattered when she howled again.

I shot upright, and so did she, disentangling herself with ease. When I got a glimpse of her face in the starlight from the window, though, I realized it wasn't her that'd howled. There was a crash outside, the splintering wood. Swearing, I yanked open the top drawer and pulled out my gun, checking the cylinder and briefly checking the light.

"Stay," I told Wolf -- but I knew it was a pointless request. She opened the bedroom door -- with her hand rather than mouth -- and was off down the hallway, quick and relatively quiet. Quieter than I could have been at that speed, anyway. Quieter than I was, pounding on my bare feet, cursing again at the cold. She was silhouetted against the large porch windows, standing at the door. She didn't make a sound, but I knew she wouldn't go out. She hadn't figured out how the sliding-glass door worked yet.

"Stay," I whispered, then pointed to my back, "behind. Stay behind Kevin."

I pulled the hammer to half, and slid the door open as I flicked on the porch lights.

My porch was full of wolves.

The four-legged kind.

They stared at me, each probably as tall as the railings; that explained how they could bash their way in through the locked gate on the stairs, and why all my deck furniture was scattered around. They pulled their lips back, snarling, and I pulled the hammer all the way back, cursing. I never had this problem before, they shouldn't even be here, and --

"No!"

Wolf -- my Wolf, the one that stood on two legs -- pushed past me again, putting herself between me and the pack. The four legged ones stopped there snarling, looking at her.

"Ke-Vin," she said, pointing to me.

"Wolf," she said, pointing to herself. "Ke-VinWolf."

When they didn't seem to get it, she vocalized in a strange mixture of whining yips, and licking of chops. The pack at this point seemed to have calmed, their fur no longer on end and their stances no longer wide. A few were even wagging their tails. They came to her when she crouched down, sniffing tentatively at first, before jumping up on her, all licking at her face. I took a step forward and the nearest growled, but Wolf barked at him. She pushed off her latest visitor -- a sort of relative, I then realized -- and walked to me.

"Ke-VinWolf," she said, grabbing me by the shoulders.

Then she pushed her lips to mine, her nose wet on mine as her tongue lapped at my mouth. I made the mistake of opening it to gasp, and she took it as an invitation to press deeper, her tongue making almost comical noises as our saliva mixed. Her teeth pressed against my lips, a harsh contrast to the velvet softness of her large tongue as she continued licking, seeming to coat everything back to my throat.

Wolf held my head when she finally pulled back, letting me complete that gasp from a minute or two ago as she looked back down to her former pack. Her four-legged cousins seemed... content. One of the bigger ones huffed, and then they all trotted down the steps into the dark. I stared as the last tuft of white disappeared, trying to believe what I'd just seen when a rough pawpad rubbed against my cheek. Wolf pulled me back to face her, her eyes half-lidded.

"You Ke-VinWolf now?" she asked.

I nodded, feeling my chest go light.

"Good," she said, pulling me close.

"Ke-VinWolf... more."

I let her pull me inside; she let me close the sliding door, and shut off the light.

"...More?" I asked as we shuffled back down the hall.

"More."

She let me go in the bedroom, catching my arm with a huff when I tried to move.

"Wait," I told her, and with a growl, she reluctantly allowed me to put away the gun.

"More," she said when I sat on the bed. "More Ke-Vin. More Wolf."

I prayed she didn't mean what I thought she meant.

"More... small. More small Ke-Vin. More small Wolf."

Oh, shit...

She knew I understood now, her eyes half-lidded as she crawled into bed, wrapping herself around me again.

"But... wait," she yawned, licking my ear before tucking my head under her chin.

"Now, Wolf... Ke-VinWolf... Bed..."

I was tense as I laid there with her; there was no denying what she meant now. What she'd try to make happen tomorrow. But as I laid there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest against my side, the warmth of her soft fur all around me, I couldn't deny what I felt. I shut my eyes, and held on to the arm Wolf had wrapped around my chest.

It was going to be tomorrow-Kevin's problem.