- Arbutus ridge wrote:
- character: a she-wolf
scene: a horror story in a forest
word: noodles
The forest was quiet, save for the sound of a roaring campfire. Tired from a day of travel, a hunter slowly kept closer to the dancing flames, hoping to see a friendly face. He had tried to get back to his village before dusk, but he'd been out shoot wolves an hour later than planned and failed to get back by the time darkness fell.
At least I have one pelt to show for it, the man thought as he wiped the sweat and dust from his face. His hands were caked with dried canine blood, and he hoped whoever had made camp would be kind enough to spare some clothes as well as some food. There was a creek nearby to wash up...
Movement near the corner of his vision made the hunter stop, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. "Hello?"
"Ay, fellow," a male voice called back, the accent thick and unrecognizable. "What brings yer out 'ere at this hour?"
The hunter sighed in relief as a tall, stocky blond man stepped out from the shadows. "I was after my prey all day, and nighttime caught me. I was hoping I could borrow some of your hospitality?"
Looking at the hunter, the stranger ran one hand through his wild hair, his blue eyes locked directly onto the other's brown hues. "Ay, you might," he replied. The man nodded at the filthy pelt across the hunter's back. "Yer prey be wolf?"
"Yes. Do you hunt?"
The stranger smiled, his teeth glinting in the firelight. "Well 'nough, I reckon. Why on't yer get washed up and then we 'ave some dinner, ay?"
Smiling slightly, the hunter graciously accepted a pair of clothes the stranger held out. "Thank you."
"Na, thank you. Wer gettin' lonesome out 'ere."
His smile fading slightly, as he turned, the hunter made his way to the nearby creek. Hopefully this stranger wasn't a robber. He'd almost been sure the stocky man had said 'we', but with that accent... The hunter shook his head, stripping off his clothes and climbing into the frigid water, washing the wolf blood from his flesh. After a few minutes, he turned to the bank and grabbed the clothes. He frowned; the clothes, while good quality, were covered in dirt, rips and countless fine, white hairs.
"What in the world..." he muttered. "I guess I wasn't the only one hunting out here."
"Ay, ye'd be right."
The hunter jumped in the water, looking up as the stranger slowly emerged from the woods, the firelight catching the man's golden hair; the tall creature seemed to glow, and the hunter shivered from a chill that did not come from the water's temperature.
"You've been hunting wolves, too?" he asked, voice strained.
The stranger smiled again. "Naw, boy. Wolves 'ave been hunting ye."
A noise behind him made the hunter whip around; his gaze met that of a female wolf. She was pure white, even her eyes, and suddenly the hunter realized from where the hairs had come. The she-wolf's lips curled back in a supernatural grin, an impossible, cackling laughter rising from the throat of the beast. Turning back towards the stranger, the hunter's stomach twisted as he came face to face with not a man, but a second, massive wolf.
"God help me."
Screams faded uselessly into the night as the water ran red. Minutes later, a man and his beautiful wife emerged from the forest with a wolf pelt and a burlap sack. Smiling at her husband, the wife sat by the campfire and continued making dinner, gently stroking the wolf fur as she set the pelt beside her.
The marrow from the hunter's bones made a delicious noodle stew.
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