The Wolf Who Stole My Shoes
I'm not dead. I've cooked up a tribal wolf story. Suggestive at times.
--THE WOLF WHO STOLE MY SHOES--
I had a nightmare about the wolves last night.
A dense cluster of oak trees had cast me into the darkness of night, and their wispy branches had long since lost their leaves. Only the wind could part the black canopy, harsh gusts that revealed pockets of stars before hiding them away once again. November's chilly air bit through the seams of my coat and tremors swept along my back and legs. I clutched the garment closer to my hunched frame and braced for another burst, but it seemed Mother Nature wanted to make a fool of me, for within seconds the whistling wind had gone quiet along the forest floor. Only the smallest branchlets above me continued their derisive dance, and after a cautious moment I pried my head from the collar of my coat. I could do nothing but stare. In one synchronous motion, the trees ahead of me parted and the cruel moon bathed me in pale yellow light. The clearing stood still. With no wind to contract my nostrils, the scents of the forest crept in while I gazed. The musty smell of damp logs, leaking sap and freshwater plants that lined the nearby river bank. What a false invitation it was, because mixed in with those smells was the unmistakable odor of dry fur.
She had materialized 15 feet in front of me. Her 6-foot figure shone as a silver silhouette, as moonlight caressed the trough between her ears and climbed around matted grey tufts and toned muscles. A set of pearly teeth appeared from the shadow as she licked her chops and stepped forward. The motion caused the light to flicker into her green eyes, two emeralds emerging from the abyss before me. I took one step back, unwilling to let my eyes off of the creature. She responded with another pace forward. I wanted to call for help, but at this point my fate was certain. It- She, could easily outrun me in the uneven terrain of the forest, and she could do it long before any help arrived.
The wolf stepped forward. I stepped back. Then again, she pushed forward. I retreated. We moved in lockstep, two shadows in a twisted tango toward the treeline. However, I would never make it there. In one motion, she bent her knees and lunged nearly four feet into the air, a blurry flurry of claws and teeth. I turned to sprint back but couldn't make three steps before those claws made contact. She grabbed a hold of my legs and sank her weight into me. I tumbled forward onto the floor, aware of the gashes in my pants and thighs, yet unable to feel anything but desperate and sure of it. I closed my eyes and wished for a quick death, feeling her forepaws pin my torso into the dirt.
And yet, it seemed the creature had other plans in mind. There was no deep bite into my jugular vein, no snapping of my neck. Just a large force sitting on my thighs. "Maybe it had a fascination with leg meat in particular, I thought as she rolled up one of my pant legs. When I stopped panicking, I propped my arm on a tree root and turned to get a better picture of things, an action which only confused me further. The hulking beast was struggling to untie my leather shoes. It seemed she didn't have the dexterity to pull the strings correctly without ripping something. Her fat fingers fiddled for a little while longer before finally freeing me of my footwear.
Once the removal was complete, I was once again pushed into the dirt as the she springboarded off of me, dashing away with the shoes and socks in hand. I only saw the quick swish of the creature's tail as she disappeared behind a grove of oaks. I was alone again, although more humiliated than before.
I shot up in a cold sweat. Though the bedroom wasn't lit by torch nor candle, I could make out the faint outlines of objects in the wooden abode, thanks to Old Devil Moon. I saw no creature, and a quick check revealed that my shoes were resting on the floor. Though the initial shock was quick to die down, a plethora of questions lingered in my mind. Why would a wolf take human shoes? Their feet take an entirely different shape from my own, with raised metatarsals above the paw, instead of a flat heel. They wouldn't fit. My leather soles weren't worth stealing either. Do the wolf tribes even wear shoes to begin with? I've only seen the species during diplomatic events, and they all walked barefoot.
Needless to say, I couldn't fall back asleep, and the questions remained unanswered as the Sun rose and the workday began. I decided to refrain from telling my father about the dream, as I was convinced he'd make fun of me for it. I'm far too old to be having nightmares in any case, and he's far to busy with the family business to give me any consolation. As it stands, the two of us make a living as cobblers and cordwainers. Most days, we set up a lowly wooden post just outside the village square. It's a pain to drag half the workshop to the street, but being a frontier town, we get a steady supply of travellers craving a sturdy pair for the road.
I hate making shoes. I don't have the patience to properly fit the soles to their uppers, and I'm not interested in the intricacies of a proper sole stitch. Today is no exception. In fact, the dream has me even more aloof than usual as I stare at the dirt road, tilting my head up as I trace its path into the forest. Wolf territory.
The frontier was a lot more dangerous 20 years ago, according to my father. Townsfolk would be hired set up outposts in the woods, but none would last long. They'd all meet the same grizzly fate. It wasn't long before the wolf attacks became fodder for war, and soon every man with a gun was hired to vanquish them. Their spoils would be the lands they conquered, and the humans foresaw a quick conflict with an easy victory visible in the distance. Unfortunately for them, their superior technology wouldn't hold up against the guerilla tactics of their opponents. The next few years were characterized by attrition and atrocity, and both sides would agree to a cease-fire before humanity had taken much land. It was to their astonishment that the lupine tribes managed to ward off such an existential threat. If you ask me, I think the Moon was on their side.
The moon certainly isn't on my side. I was fit as a whistle just yesterday. Now I can't think about anything other than that strange and nightmarish encounter that she planted in my brain while I slept. The day itself was unremarkable, which allowed me some much-needed time with my thoughts. I wanted to draw a picture of the beast while I still remembered it, but I'm not deft with the quill and parchment. Besides, Papa gets annoyed when I use them for anything other than bookkeeping and receipts.
Instead, I examined the closest connection I had to the creature: A bag of small jadestones that I had procured from the market a few towns over. There was only one race who cared to pull these rocks from the Earth. We're not allowed to barter with wolves, but the border is impossible to secure and some objects slip through the veil. As I held their crafts in my hands, I began to wonder what purpose they used to serve. Many of the green stones had been fashioned into beads, others had been sharpened into blades and still others were flattened like disks.
The beads held such stunning beauty that for a moment, I forgot I was being haunted. In fact, I wanted to apply their allure to one of my own crafts. When Father wasn't looking I tied them into a pair of anklets, then pinned those to an old pair of hikers that I had been working on. I tucked them with the other shoes we had displayed to make it more inconspicuous, and spent the rest of the day lost in thought about the fur-covered beasts that had unearthed the rocks in the first place.
It was late in the afternoon when I made a crucial mistake. We had already eaten supper and returned to the post during the last hour of daylight. Father was negotiating the acquisition of hides with the local tanner, so I took the opportunity to admire the jade once more. From the comfort of a chair, I was turning over a stone in my hands when suddenly he snatched them from me, along with the rest of the bag.
"Horace! What do you think you're doing?" He belted, looming over me.
I could feel my face redden and words struggled to come out of my mouth. "They're just rocks, Father."
"Just rocks? Don't play games with me, boy." He leered. "Where did you source these?"
I couldn't look him in the eyes. "...From Hemlock Square, some 10 miles North of here, sir."
He grabbed my collar and yanked me from my seat. "Listen to me, you fool! I don't care if you got them from the old king himself. This is wolven paraphernalia. We don't humor the uncivilized."
I wanted to protest, but felt too much embarrassment. I sank into my coat as he continued.
"Your brother is risking his life guarding this settlement from wolves, yet here you are, endorsing their pathetic lifestyle! Have you no shame? Have you forgotten what they've done to us!?" He yelled, droplets of spittle hitting my chin.
"I'm sorry, Papa." I croaked, grabbing the arm with which he held me in place.
"You aren't, but you will be. Do this again and I'll beat you." He let go of me, but the punishment wasn't finished. Before I could say another word, he emptied the jadestones into his palm and threw them towards the treeline. They shimmered in the light of the setting sun as they scattered into the tall grass. My hand reached out as if to catch them, but the effort was in vain.
The war had changed Father. Neighbors say that he used to walk with a sense of humility, that he would stop and talk to people even when he was busy. He hadn't become so fearful and paranoid. I was too young to remember the war, and thus too young to remember this version of him, so I grew up with only the shell of my Father to guide me. Brother was old enough to understand the war, and later it would inspire him to join the guard. Although Papa was keen on instilling the both of us with a fear of wolves, I developed a sense of his embellishment over time. We fought. Buying the jadestones was a personal rebellion for me. But after seeing the wolf in my dream, I'm beginning to think he was right about them.
All this is to say, it helps me to remember the testimonies of my neighbors when they describe that old goat. He used to be a better man, and I'm just now learning to appreciate that. Had I been in my father's shoes, I would not have turned out much differently from him. The wolves killed the first thing he ever loved.
Not that it mattered now. "Good night," the man stated as he reached for his suit coat. He grabbed what he could and walked homeward. It appeared I would have to carry everything else, across three trips, as an extension of my punishment. He probably wouldn't even be awake by the time I finished. I looked out at the emptying lot in front of me. Most of the shops had started closing their posts, and the market was quickly growing quieter before nightfall. Only a handful of souls were still lurking, although none seemed particularly interested in the drama of my recent scolding. A farmer talked to his wife while the the two of them stacked empty baskets of produce. A masked clergyman scanned the square, presumably getting last-minute supplies for tomorrow's mass. A few drunkards stumbled towards the friendly glow of the town's inn. I should get going.
I made it to my last trip without issue. All that remained were the chairs and some loose shoes that I couldn't cart off prior. By this time, it was dark and I didn't see anyone in the square. No rowdy partygoers, no nightly ceremonies, only a few guards on patrol. I caught a glint of a musket out of the corner of my eye as one marched down the street, but when I looked up to check, there was not a soul in that direction. Only the ominous void of the forest. As I made haste, I noticed something else was amiss. My shoes, the special hikers to which I had attached the beads, had disappeared. I was trying to save them for the last trip so Dad wouldn't notice them, but I couldn't find them anywhere. The rising full moon was playing tricks on me.
Another glint poked the corner of my eye, drawing my attention towards the woods again. I knew it was a trick of the light, but I stared down the road anyway, hoping I could locate the next glimmer in my central vision. Seconds passed. The crickets chirped while I waited. Some muffled laughter leaked out from the inn across the street. A low gust of wind blew into my ears.
That's when I saw it. 100 yards from me, walking towards the forest entrance, was the clergyman in his full robes and hooded attire. It didn't make sense for any man to be out there at this hour, and I immediately took him to be an informant. I dropped everything and crept after him, clinging to the sides of buildings and keeping a low profile. As the distance between us closed, my suspicions were raised even further. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't a man at all in that robe, but a woman. I could tell by the way the robe hugged her hips and buttocks. Not that I was staring at her hindquarters... I mean, women are not allowed to be priests! Something was very wrong here.
I arrived at the last house between us and the forest, but a great open field sat between me and the treeline, and if I chased her any further she would spot me. I fixated on the mysterious figure as she continued walking along the narrowing trail. Her unusual gait caught my attention, with high footsteps as if she were awkwardly marching. I watched as a familiar green shimmer emanated from at her feet. My shoes! That wench had stolen my bedazzled hikers and I could do nothing but watch! My blood boiled at the very sight of it.
By now she had reached the forest's edge. She glanced behind her to see if anyone followed, nodded, then disrobed herself. I watched in horror as two fuzzy triangular ears escaped from her hood, and a toothy snout popped out from under the mask. With every inch she lowered her garments, it revealed a growing sea of gray fur and repressed musculature. She balled up the robes around one arm but kept my shoes on her feet. Though I could barely make out her figure, I was horrified at how much she resembled the creature from the nightmare.
Despite my momentary fears, I wasn't going to let another wolf steal my footwear. Those anklets were the only jade stones I had left, and I refused to let the beast take them from me so easily. As soon as her tail had dipped out of sight, I sprinted into the woods after her.
The forest was far less inviting than the town square. The constant shade meant an immediate drop in temperature, and the wall of trees did surprisingly little to shield me from the biting wind. I could hardly see where I was going in the shadows, and found myself tripping over exposed roots and small boulders at every turn. Thankfully I was able to spot the offending lupus due to the trickle of light reflecting off of her shoes. My shoes, I mean. The bulky pair of hikers didn't fit her feet at all and the wolfess had slowed her pace down considerably because of this. Many years ago, I put socks on a stray cat and watched it waddle in confusion, and the similarity to the current situation almost made me chuckle. As long as I kept my distance, following her was going to remain easy.
I spoke too soon. In that same second, an enormous tree branch broke under my weight with a wicked *SNAP!*, and she flicked her head to my exact location. The hackles along her neck became dungeon spikes, and those two fur-topped ears swiveled towards me in expectation. Her viridian eyes peered into my own and for a moment I thought I was dog chowder. The dream replayed itself in my mind and I was waiting for her to lick her chops. However, I must not have been too appetizing since she darted directly away from me without so much as drooling. Wait, the shoes! I snapped out of my shock and gave chase, throwing caution to the wind and praying that I didn't trip on the uneven terrain.
I don't remember the last time I ran at full speed, and my exhaustion became apparent within minutes of the chase. Under any other circumstances she would have easily outpaced me, but thanks to my own shoddy craftsmanship under her paws, it was possible for me to close the gap with my running pace. Being a mediocre cobbler has its benefits.
The sounds of rushing water began to echo off of the trees, and it raised my spirits to know we were closing in on Oak Valley River. The 50-foot-wide behemoth was one of the natural barriers that prevented humans from vanquishing these beasts to begin with. This time, I was about to use it to my advantage. With each passing second I was cutting off her exit window, and she knew it too. Sweat poured down my forehead and froze to my skin. My breaths became shallow and cold, but I kept pushing forward. It struck me as odd that she was letting me trap her, considering she knew this territory more than I did. I didn't understand her escape plan until the two of us came upon the river proper.
The sky opened up directly above the river, and both banks were drenched in starlight. She was 20 feet ahead of me when I realized her plan of action. There was a fallen tree bridging the two sides of the river and she leapt onto it without any hesitation. If she were able to cross successfully, I'd lose everything. It wouldn't be safe to follow her past this point; I would be caught exhausted and deep in wolf territory. Those savages would kill me on the spot.
The beast was halfway across the bridge when I gave the log a leaping kick. It gave a great *THUD!* as the impact stung my legs and the log jolted two inches laterally. The creature was completely thrown off balance, yelping in surprise as the floor shifted underneath her. Her legs lost contact with the wood and she threw her arms out to her sides, making desperate scratches into the log before momentum took over and she plunged into the river's icy depths.
The monster resurfaced with great desperation, gasping for air and hopelessly trying to paddle against the fast current. Although I could no longer salvage my shoes, I could sleep easy knowing that I taught her a lesson, and potentially removed a spy from the village. "My father would be so proud of me right now." I thought to myself, as she continued to thrash in the freezing river below me.
Curiosity got the better of me and I walked along the near bank to see how she escaped. Every time the wolf swam to one side, she'd get caught up in a tangle of river weeds and slip until the river re-centered her. It turns out, being covered in fur makes one a poor swimmer. When she noticed I was still observing the struggle, she hissed, giving rhythmic growls and whines in my direction. It took me a moment to realize that it was a language. "Oh, was she cursing my name?" I mused. That's quaint. Maybe she shouldn't have stolen from me if she wished for an easy passage home.
I turned away from the unsightly image in front of me. It was time to head home. I had taken but one footstep wh-
"HELP!"
...Did I imagine that, or did that thing just speak human? It was much more nasally and ejective than a human's voice, but there's only one other sapient being in earshot, and it may have just approximated the word "help" with a canine's vocal restrictions.
"HELP!" When I turned, she was clutching a rocky outcrop in the middle of the river. Barely holding on, her whole body sopping wet. It was a rather pathetic sight compared to the ferocious animal I had once envisioned.
"Help! Please!" She gargled, more meekly this time. She looked up and a pair of emerald eyes locked with mine. They were wide and pleading, and her light eyebrows furrowed in unison. Suddenly I got the gnawing feeling that she could really die from this.
Then I thought, "What if it were me who had fallen in the river? She would have turned tail and ran without a second thought. I would be dead, and Papa would be distraught." It embittered me that I was negotiating on her behalf more than she would have done for me, yet I could only imagine the sobs of her parents when they discovered that their daughter had died.
Maybe it was because I'm more civilized and sympathetic. Maybe I thought she was just slightly attractive when we locked eyes. Maybe the Moon was driving me insane. Whatever the reason was, I went against everything my family stood for that night and resolved to save this god-forsaken wolf.
Frantically looking around the illuminated river bank, I located a large branch, probably one from the same tree that bridged the gap. With a single scoop, I snatched it up under my shoulder and I snaked my way down the wet soil and clay that sloped the river bank, careful not to fall in myself. I swear that the creature wagged its soggy tail once it noticed I was approaching. From a ways downstream, I dug my ankles into the clay to stabilize my position. My feet ached as freezing water entered my shoes. From there I extended the branch as far as I could towards the river center. It was about 15 feet long, meaning the wolfess would have one shot to swim my way and grab hold of it. Neither of us that the strength to repeat this operation, something she knew as well as I.
With all of her remaining energy, the lupus kicked off from the island, and the roguish waters swept her into motion. Each paddle was a struggle, such that she would not reach me in time. As she approached, I extended myself even further, giving the woman an extra foot of support. From deep within herself, she found a tiny speck of hope to keep padding. Miraculously, she touched a single paw on the branch, and once she was secure, I pulled its length out of the river with everything I had. She noiselessly glided towards me, and didn't even make eye contact as her limp body collapsed onto the wet clay.
At first, neither of us spoke a word. I gingerly detached myself from the embankment and stepped upwards to the grass. She shivered in place, unable to lift her head up. I grabbed a hold of her muscular forearm and dragged her onto the grass. In this moment of contact, I realized just how cold her body had become. The wolfess immediately curled herself into a ball and shivered violently. Though her position was subdued, her breathing was shallow and erratic since shock had taken effect.
It's strange. One moment, I wished for her to suffer. The next, I only wanted to nurse her back to health. Although the stench of wet wolf made me convulse, and the texture of her watery forearm was repulsive, I worked tirelessly to get rub most of the cold water off the creature. Going in with my hand, I swiped the wettest parts of her body back and forth, shaking the droplets off from each gray clump of fur. Starting from her back, I gradually worked my hands around the rest of her torso to wring out most of the moisture. Admittedly, I couldn't will myself to dry off her breasts and genitals, but reservations aside, she seemed very cooperative and understood what I was doing. The wolfess needed my coat more than I did, and given that she lost her robes in the river, I was quick to lend it to her. When she slipped her damp arms inside and realized the sleeves were already warm, a smile spread across her muzzle and she sat upright. I smiled too, because I knew she was going to live. The night was quiet, now. It seemed we were getting a reprieve from the worst of the elements.
Her breathing was evening out, but I continued to dry her head and legs. Hand-drying her head was similar to petting a dog, and I believe it had the same relaxing effect on the woman in front of me. Wherever I pet her, she used her weight to push against my hand and increase friction. Her eyes remained closed while she focused on the sensations surrounding her face. I spent some extra time here after I had dried her, just to raise her spirits. I needed to see her happy.
Her legs were much simpler to wring out. It was then when Inoticed that she was still wearing the jade-covered shoes that I crafted, although they were covered in plants and moss stains from her recent battle with Oak Valley River. I delicately untied them and wrung out as much liquid as I could before placing them back on her feet.
We were ready to go, but I had grown so attached to the strange woman that I didn't feel comfortable letting the weakling walk home on her own. That being said, I didn't want to walk with her, back across the bridge and into dangerous wolflands, so the only remaining option was to take her back to the house where my father and I lived.
With an exasperated grunt, I hoisted her up with an arm around my shoulder.
"We go?" she asked, still hanging from me.
"We go." I replied, trying to keep my sentences as simple as possible. "We go human house. Okay?"
"Okay. We go human house." She nodded, barely able to speak as we trudged back into the darkness of the underbrush.
The trip back home was a big blur, as was the woman strung around my shoulders. Thankfully, "human house" was less than two miles away, and I knew we could approach from the South to avoid the nightly patrol. Neither of us talked during the 40 minute period, but I could feel her comfort in the way she leaned on me. I could be imagining things, but it felt like more than just huddling for warmth. God, have I been lonely for so long that even a wolf's touch has become seductive?
I tried to kick the intrusive thoughts out of my mind as we approached the house. In order to prevent my father from turning my little friend into shoe leather, I communicated my plan with her before we snuck in through the workshop.
"My father lives here. He hates wolves." I warned, hugging the wall of the house. She followed behind me.
"He kill wolf?" Her ears folded back as if I had betrayed her, lured her into a death trap.
"Yes, he kill wolf. But he's sleeping now. In his bedroom. Just be quiet so he doesn't wake up." I put a finger over her mouth to symbolize that she should go silent, while the two of us crouched just outside of the workshop door. As I peered in through the window, the shop appeared as dark and vacant as I had hoped.
The door creaked open a little too loudly for my liking, but within seconds we were inside. Though she wanted to marvel at the tools, equipment and shoes scattered across every table, I grabbed her hand and escorted her through. The last embers of the hearth were still crackling in the living room, with the fire having exhausted its fuel far prior. Papa must have gone to sleep at least an hour ago, which was good news for the two of us. We tiptoed past his bedroom and into my own, and I tenderly clicked the door shut behind us.
My brother and I used to share a bedroom, but he's off in another town right now, getting far better accommodations that what a cobbler's life can provide. Fortunately there are still two small beds in here, with mine on the left and his on the right. I pointed to my brother's bed and then my own while gently murmuring to her.
"You will sleep there. I will sleep here. Okay?"
"Nooo..." she flattened her ears again. "I sleep here," she pleaded in the direction of my mattress.
"Why? That's my bed." I lifted my palms.
"Bed smell like you." she affirmed. Now I smell terrible on all accounts, but if my scent really comforted her, then I suppose this bed would help her sleep better.
"Okay, fine." I obliged. Her ears bounced back and she sat down. My brother's bed would serve me just as well anyway. I stood and shuffled to the other side of the room.
"Nooo..." She pleaded once more and her tail stopped swishing. I wish I were half as expressive as she is.
"What is it now?" I mumbled.
"You sleep here too." She rubbed my blanket in a circular motion.
"Why?" I contested.
"You smell like you." affirmed the wolfess. She really does have a way with words. All 10 of them that she knows.
As much as I would have loved to lecture her on the ethics of being a human and lying down with a wolf, the language barrier made it too costly an effort, and I relented.
"Very well." I said, walking back to the left side of the room to the new-found rhythm of her tail.
Once there, I helped her take off the coat and those clumsy human shoes she had insisted on wearing. In doing so, I was reminded of all the questions I had yet to ask her. Rather than interrogate a creature so sleepy and weak, I resolved to stick to the most important items. She lie longways on the bed with her legs in my lap, and I gently caressed them as I spoke to her.
"Listen. My name is Horace. What's your name?"
She tilted her head up. "You, Hooraas. Me, Argraaagrmt."
Was that a sneeze, or her real name? I couldn't pronounce it to save my life. "Can I call you Argent?"
She snickered at the gross perversion of a nickname, but approved it nonetheless. Ah yes, Horace and Argent. Two names that flowed as cooperatively as oil and water. Two titles that got along as amicably as man and wolf, for that matter. I continued with my questioning.
"Argent, how do you know the human language?"
She scratched her chin. "Hmm... I listen in street. Also I stole human book for children. But I learn also."
"Oh, I understand." She seemed to take more pride in the learning than the stealing, at least. I'll give it to her; I certainly thought she was clever when I first met her.
"One more thing. Why did you steal my shoes?"
Argent turned her nose away from me and tightened her mouth in shame. So far, she had done nothing but take advantage of my belongings and my assistance. She didn't even thank me for helping her. Perhaps the culpability finally was catching up to her after dragging the two of us into tonight's events. It was the only ounce of remorse she had shown all night, and I hated how much that humanized her. She looked pensively at one of her hands. "I have cold blood. My paws, always cold."
"Always cold?" I began to wonder if Argent had poor circulation. This realization made me feel much more guilty about dumping her into the river. I paused, but tried to rub her calves more and keep things lighthearted while I uncovered more about her situation.
"Why didn't you just make shoes for yourself?"
"Tribe no have shoes. No one in my family have shoes. I try make shoes, but they hurt my claws and cold air get in foot. Every Winter it hurts."
"Such awful pain, it sounds like. I'm sorry." I patted her knees and cupped my hands around them.
On the inside, I felt conflicted. It disgusted me to sympathize with my larcenaist, but I had just watched her collapse from exposure not two hours ago. I didn't feel sorry for kicking her in the river, mind you. I only felt sorry for the extent to which she suffered in it. Argent wandered into my life like an obnoxious little vagrant, yet I was in a unique position to help her. As I kneaded my hands across her ankles and feet, I knew what had to be done.
"Okay, Argent. I need to do some chores before bed. Try to get some rest." I consoled her while I stood to brush the fur off of my legs.
"No! Stay!" She quietly protested and clung to my arm. When I shook her off, the wolfess pouted and crossed her arms.
"No one will hurt you. If you hear my father coming, you can escape through the window." While this was a sufficient answer for me, she was keen on having my continual presence in the room.
Despite the vast and intelligent lexicon of her arguments, I was able to convince her after 5 minutes and an agreement to tuck her into bed. MY bed, might I add. I still could not believe her audacity.
With that, I swiftly shut off the room's only lantern, snuck out into the common room and gingerly closed the door behind me. Good night, Argent. "I promise this will all be worth it." I whispered to myself as I clutched the old hikers in one arm.
Sleath was on my side as I crept back to the workshop. I had been exhausted after all the previous activity, but the task ahead of me required focus, and my peculiar house guest had reinvigorated me to exude the effort.
Time was of the essence. I struck a match on my leg and fed the fire to a few tallow candles in the center of the room, whose melted wax had already created a firm base for them to sit on. The leather flew off of the roller as I pulled one of our last orders of vegetable-tanned leather into the open air. If I wasted any more time, I would forget her measurements. In a blink I had razed a few squares of leather off of the soft material with a leatherknife, and my hands continued to move with the speed of a machine. From the oak-tanned roll, I procured a small square for the sole, and my knife soon encircled two sections the size of her paws. I wasn't worried about errors. I could stuff the excess space with wool if it came out a bit too large.
The remaining cuts were easy, although without a proper mold, I had to improvise with my forearm. One piece for the length of the ankle, two more for the meaty disk of her paw. It's the cobbler's gift: I had taken one look at this woman's feet and I already knew every detail about them. Any more paw knowledge and I would be lashed 50 times for my fetishism.
The sewing process had always been my worst enemy, so I tried to distract myself by thinking about other things. My mind invariably drifted back to the wolfess I had just tucked under my blanket. Argent... did I hate her? Sure, she was dishonest, ungrateful, and possibly a spy, but the more I spoke with her, the more I began to see the deeper web of her moral fiber. Did I find her mildly amusing? Yes, when her antics were not at my expense. In truth, the strongest indicator of my feelings was in my actions. Why in God's name would I make a pair of shoes in the middle of the night for a woman I hate?
Do I fancy her physically? Through the window I could see the orb she worshipped. The glow of Selen had undoubtedly put a spell on me, to make me pay such fervid attention to her lupine figure. I could feel myself blushing, and turned to make sure she wasn't spying on me. Rest assured, I was all alone with my labors.
Two hours passed. The threading was complete. With the leatherknife, I had produced four small slits in each shoe, just wide enough for her claws to slip through while the inner wool could stave off the wind from her precious toes. As for the finishing touch, I took the old anklets from the moss-stained hikers and stitched them to the new shoes around the length of the foot. I had just about finished attaching them, when I heard a loud thump coming from beyond the shop door.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.* It couldn't be her. Those were the unmistakable sounds of Papa's heavy feet slamming the wooden floor. I turned pale with horror. If he entered my bedroom to check on me, he'd discover the sleeping invader and annihilate her. If I rushed out to greet him, it would look suspicious and he might interrogate me then and there. As Father's door creaked open, I prayed that Argent was at least awake enough to flee from his wrath.
I prayed, not to God, but to the Moon. Who better to bring the wolf salvation, than her own deity? Thus, for the first time in my life, I prayed to the Moon. And the Moon listened.
The door to the workshop swung open, and my hands moved at the speed of light to hide the lupine footwear and replace it with another unfinished pair of work shoes. This commotion startled my father, whose sleepy eyelids shot open to examine me.
"...Horace?" The man's voice was rough from disuse. He cleared his throat. "Horace, it's the middle of the night. What are you doing here?" he asked, peering over my shoulder.
I twisted to face him. "Sorry, Pop. I was just trying to work on some unfinished pairs."
"Wha-? You? I've never seen you take a liking to shoes in all my life!" He crossed his arms.
"I couldn't sleep;" I lied. "Something about the craft just piqued my interest." That much was truthful.
"Really?" He threw up an eyebrow and put a warm hand on my shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you're starting to take your apprenticeship seriously. But you should get some shut-eye, boy. We have mass tomorrow and the Lord commands you to rest."
"Very well, sir." I said, rising from the stool I had been sitting on. "Did I wake you?"
"No, my bladder is to blame. I need to relieve myself." He stated, stumbling to the door and flinging it open.
"Good night, Dad." I chided as I saw him out.
"Good night, son. And clean out the rat traps, for pity's sake. It smells like an animal in here." He interjected over the crickets outside.
"Right away, Papa."
The door closed and I took my chance. In a moment I had scooped up the shoes and rushed back to my bedroom. The rat traps were already clean; Argent's damp coat just stank like an outhouse when she first arrived in the house. I must have become nose-blind to the odor after spending so long with her.
Upon my re-entry, Argent took a huge sigh of relief. The footsteps must have stirred her from sleep, and she had been clutching her blanke-- MY blanket, twitching and ready to flee at a moment's notice. I needed to assuage her fears.
"Everything's okay, Argent. I'm here now. Father doesn't know you're here."
The blanket sagged as she relaxed her grip on it. With the door closed behind me, I paced over to her, sat down at the side of her bed-- my bed-- OUR bed, for the love of God, who knows at this point? Moving on, I sat down at the side of our bed and caressed her sloped forehead with my fingers, while my palm saddled the bridge of her nose. I had understood that petting would re-establish my rapport with her, but I admit it felt good, the tickling sensation of the each stray tuft against my skin. In moments she was lying back down in comfort. The two of us listened through the wall as my father crawled back into his bed without any issue.
Soon, it came time to show her the shoes that I had made for her. I lowered them onto her stomach, and although the room was most entirely dark, she immediately understood that the hikers, with their digitigrade shape, were a gift for her. In fact, Argent was so ecstatic that she lurched up and hugged me. It was much more sensual than any hug a woman had given me before. Her nose kept trying to pry under my chin, not to bite me but to rub her face and neck into my own. I entertained this little gesture and pushed my head into her neck as well, but at once the powerful scent was too much and 20 gray hairs found my tongue, which caused me to retreat.
Of course, she tried the shoes on and they fit like gloves. the ends of her claws were free to poke through the slits while the meat of each footpaw remained cozy and protected in their woolly cocoons. The jadestones on top glinted in sync with the green in her eyes, the latter of which seemed to get more mesmerizing each time I looked that them. She broke my hypnosis, hugged me and nuzzled me once more afterwards, but I had swallowed too much fur already and this ensured that the second hug stayed brief.
"Thank you." She whispered into my ear. "You are my favorite human." I was flustered by the intimacy of her simple words, and thanked the darkness of the room that she couldn't see the redness in my face.
It wasn't long before our exhaustion caught up to us again. My aching body no longer cared about the ethics of sleeping next to a wolf woman, and in fact the premise of a hearth in my bed seemed quite inviting. She seemed just as eager. As soon as her little celebration ended, we wordlessly stripped ourselves and clambered back into our bed. That's right: OUR bed. I'm getting over it.
I elected to keep my underwear on while we snuggled, if only to stave off my own temptations. Argent didn't seem to mind, although with her buttocks firmly pressed against my pelvis, I had to make some adjustments to prevent her from getting lanced. Eventually we settled into a cozy spooned position, with her head resting on one of my arms, while her torso was cradled by my other. Moments before we drifted off, she spoke softly in the quiet of the night.
"Hooras?"
"Yes, Argent?" I whispered back into the triangular dish ahead of me.
"... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I steal your shoes."
I held her closer to me. "I forgive you. It's okay. I'm sorry I knocked you into the river." Better late than never. For both of us, I mean.
"I forgive you too, Hooras." She mumbled.
"..." My body was shutting down. Her fur felt divine against my skin.
"Hooras?"
"What is it, Argent?"
"You smell nice."
I sighed.
*KNOCK KNOCK* "Get up! It's time to go to Church!" A heavy voice boomed from just beyond the door.
I snapped awake in a panic. "Argent!" I thought, "You need to get out of here!"
But when I opened my eyes, there was no Argent. The room was filled with sunshine, but my warmth had gone away. I was alone in my bed. Wolfless and cold. As if to mock me, a draft came through the open window and told me everything I needed to know. What a fool I was.
"Be right out, Papa..." I muttered, dejected.
I had a nightmare about the wolves last night.
First, a wolf stole my shoes. Later, she stole my heart.