Seravian
Androgynous Dragon
Author's note: Some text from this scene was revised and repurposed from a similar scene in a thread that is no longer active. I thought it was perfect for what I had in mind and thought using something that was already somewhat established would help me adhere to the word count a little better. Rather than start something completely fresh and take off into the sunset, only to come back down waayyyy off target, ya know?
It's understandable if this leaves a sour taste, but I just wanted to be honest.
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It had been a long day at work. A lot of people had called off, leading to his department being understaffed, and his manager had been even more of a prick than usual. It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to snap at the bastard.
Oliver was glad to finally be home. As soon as he pulled his 2002 Dodge Durango into the driveway of his two-bedroom cottage, he wasted no time grabbing his lunchbox and getting out. He locked the vehicle up behind him out of habit. Sighing, he dragged his feet along the short path, up the small flight of stairs leading to his porch. Grumbling, he fumbled with his housekey and unlocked the door. He shed his coat, hanging it on the hook near the door, and took his shoes off as soon as he was inside and flicked the light switch.
Making his way through the living room and to the kitchen, he set his lunch box on the counter and went to the fridge. He grabbed a Mike's Hard Lemonade and, after some decision, pulled out a container of leftover lasagna. While it was heating in the microwave, he ate a banana and cracked open the lemonade. It wasn't much, but he was too tired to cook anything grand. He threw the Tupperware and his fork in the sink, and the empty bottle in the recycling, when he was done. He would wash the dirty dishes in the morning.
Oliver took a long shower to wash away the mental stress and exhaustion of the day. The warm water relaxed him, he didn't want to leave it. Until the warmth of the water began to fade. Then he got out, dried himself off, headed into his bedroom and changed into some comfortable pajama pants, and threw himself onto his bed with a heavy sigh of content. After a few seconds, he made himself comfortable under the blanket and settled into the soft mattress.
Sleep did not come easily, much to his annoyance. The shower had rejuvenated him a bit too much, combined with the fact that the full moon was a few days away. He ended up tossing and turning. Thankfully he had requested the next few days off work in preparation for the full moon. Camping trip. He didn't have to worry about being up early.
When sleep did find him, morning came before long.
After a hearty breakfast of chicken and waffles, he gathered his tent, portable gas burner, a duffle bag which contained a tea kettle, and some silverware among other things people often took along when they went camping, and a suitcase for his clothes into the back of his Durango. He always chose to go camping around the time of the full moon. It was better than chaining himself in the basement or hiding away in some abandoned structure. His chosen campground was in a remote area, away from civilization, and took almost two hours, but he always looked forward to it. The trip served as a nice getaway.
A wolf can only take so much of human society before they needed to get away and let loose for a while. Wolves were wild, not meant to be holed up among humans. This sentiment was amplified by the presence of the full moon.
The campsite he settled in was a nice, wooded spot, near a gorgeous view of the hilly landscape. It even had a fire pit, even had a fire pit, and some logs fashioned into seating that appeared to be left by whoever stayed at the site before him. The first thing he did was get a fire going… He cheated and brought a few charcoal logs, matches and, should that fail, a lighter to help with the task. Never did get along with simple flint and kindling. With that out of the way, he got to setting up the tent and making the rest of the site feel like home.
Oliver spent the first night resting up once he was finished. The following day, he decided to look at the map he had of all the campground's hiking trails to plan out how he was going to spend his time. Hiking was perfect, and the reason he had been drawn to this particular campground. Many of the trails took hours to complete, and went through areas that were far, far away from civilization. He could slip down one, go a bit off the beaten path, and let the wolf that he was run wild. Simply thinking about it made him feel restless, eager.
When night fell, he did just that.
The black wolf bounded through the wilderness with the full moon above him.
Everything felt right. It was just him and the world. His mind was set on the moment and not being stuck on a forklift for ten hours. He ran, climbed up rock formations and hills, leapt over gaps, slid down slops, even chased down a deer that had unfortunately crossed his path.
Then, as he was eating the freshly killed deer, he heard rustling. He glanced up to see a large grizzly bear lumbering toward him. A low growl rumbled in his throat. He kept his hand on the deer's shoulder and his muzzle close to its flesh, baring his teeth. The bear halted its advance, gazing at him with dark eyes that possessed a distant stare. He could smell blood, and noticed its breathing was labored; it was wounded. But not only that, something just seemed wrong with it. Bear encounters were uncommon, and they usually ran from him. This one stayed where it was.
Even stranger, he typically didn't see many bears out this time of year... The bear had better not come here looking to take his kill… It was his. It should go get its own.
Oliver rose to his full height and snarled, warning the bear to turn away before it was too late. To his surprise, the bear showed no signs of backing down. It got up on its hind legs, standing a little taller than the wolf, and roared back at him. A hoarse and strained sound, as if it had taken great effort to emit it. Then, it charged at him, moving with an almost unnatural gait. He stood his ground as the bear tried to swipe at him, grabbing it by the wrist and shoving it hard. It rolled on the ground and got back to its feet.
The confrontation that followed was a flurry of claws, as the two apex predators threw everything they had at each other.
He had intended to send the bear packing with a few more wounds to lick. However, the bear was out for blood and seemed intent on fighting to the bitter end. Why? He wasn't sure, but there was no way he was going to lose his life to some out-of-control beast.
The bear swiped the side of Oliver's face. The wolf howled in pain, staggered back, and in that brief moment of falter the bear then managed to grab him and sink its teeth into his shoulder. He snarled. Using every bit of his strength, he pried the bear's jaws off him. The jawbone snapped. Dislocated or broken, it didn't matter. The bear raised its head, exposing its throat, and lost balance. As it toppled over, the wolf was upon it, teeth sinking into its throat. Bears had thick necks, he found getting his mouth around it was no easy feat. He chewed and ripped and tore, until he gained enough ground to clamp his jaw down on the bear's throat and cut off its air.
Oliver held position as the bear thrashed and slashed at him, trying to get him off of it. His muscles burned, the limits of his strength were pushed further and further. He was not much of a fighter, has not had to seriously fight in a long time. Living in human society made a wolf soft. He had heard that from another werewolf once, one who lived off the grid. Maybe it was true. However, right now, he was driven by his will to survive. He could say, with confidence, that living among humans had not weakened his instincts.
With one final push, he threw the exhausted bear to the ground and was upon it. He didn't show no mercy as he dug his claws in and disemboweled it.
His heart raced, adrenaline coursing through him, breathing hard, as he took a few seconds to collect himself. The wolf's violent nature craved more. He turned his attention back to the deer, tearing flesh from bone, both to finish off his interrupted meal and let off some steam.
Appetite sated, he looked back to the bear's corpse. He touched the claw marks on his face, and the bite marks on his shoulder. Victory brought immense satisfaction, but he decided that was the first and last time he would fight against a bear. Though he supposed a bear was much better than encountering, and getting into a fight with, another wolf out here. One of the reasons he liked this campground so much was because he only encountered other wolves once in a blue moon.
Just as he thought about heading back to his campsite to recover, birds darted from the trees. It wasn't something he would have paid attention to normally, but a sudden sinking feeling made him pause.
He strained his ears to listen and heard dogs barking in the distance. They were coming fast.
It's understandable if this leaves a sour taste, but I just wanted to be honest.
---------------------------
It had been a long day at work. A lot of people had called off, leading to his department being understaffed, and his manager had been even more of a prick than usual. It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to snap at the bastard.
Oliver was glad to finally be home. As soon as he pulled his 2002 Dodge Durango into the driveway of his two-bedroom cottage, he wasted no time grabbing his lunchbox and getting out. He locked the vehicle up behind him out of habit. Sighing, he dragged his feet along the short path, up the small flight of stairs leading to his porch. Grumbling, he fumbled with his housekey and unlocked the door. He shed his coat, hanging it on the hook near the door, and took his shoes off as soon as he was inside and flicked the light switch.
Making his way through the living room and to the kitchen, he set his lunch box on the counter and went to the fridge. He grabbed a Mike's Hard Lemonade and, after some decision, pulled out a container of leftover lasagna. While it was heating in the microwave, he ate a banana and cracked open the lemonade. It wasn't much, but he was too tired to cook anything grand. He threw the Tupperware and his fork in the sink, and the empty bottle in the recycling, when he was done. He would wash the dirty dishes in the morning.
Oliver took a long shower to wash away the mental stress and exhaustion of the day. The warm water relaxed him, he didn't want to leave it. Until the warmth of the water began to fade. Then he got out, dried himself off, headed into his bedroom and changed into some comfortable pajama pants, and threw himself onto his bed with a heavy sigh of content. After a few seconds, he made himself comfortable under the blanket and settled into the soft mattress.
Sleep did not come easily, much to his annoyance. The shower had rejuvenated him a bit too much, combined with the fact that the full moon was a few days away. He ended up tossing and turning. Thankfully he had requested the next few days off work in preparation for the full moon. Camping trip. He didn't have to worry about being up early.
When sleep did find him, morning came before long.
After a hearty breakfast of chicken and waffles, he gathered his tent, portable gas burner, a duffle bag which contained a tea kettle, and some silverware among other things people often took along when they went camping, and a suitcase for his clothes into the back of his Durango. He always chose to go camping around the time of the full moon. It was better than chaining himself in the basement or hiding away in some abandoned structure. His chosen campground was in a remote area, away from civilization, and took almost two hours, but he always looked forward to it. The trip served as a nice getaway.
A wolf can only take so much of human society before they needed to get away and let loose for a while. Wolves were wild, not meant to be holed up among humans. This sentiment was amplified by the presence of the full moon.
The campsite he settled in was a nice, wooded spot, near a gorgeous view of the hilly landscape. It even had a fire pit, even had a fire pit, and some logs fashioned into seating that appeared to be left by whoever stayed at the site before him. The first thing he did was get a fire going… He cheated and brought a few charcoal logs, matches and, should that fail, a lighter to help with the task. Never did get along with simple flint and kindling. With that out of the way, he got to setting up the tent and making the rest of the site feel like home.
Oliver spent the first night resting up once he was finished. The following day, he decided to look at the map he had of all the campground's hiking trails to plan out how he was going to spend his time. Hiking was perfect, and the reason he had been drawn to this particular campground. Many of the trails took hours to complete, and went through areas that were far, far away from civilization. He could slip down one, go a bit off the beaten path, and let the wolf that he was run wild. Simply thinking about it made him feel restless, eager.
When night fell, he did just that.
The black wolf bounded through the wilderness with the full moon above him.
Everything felt right. It was just him and the world. His mind was set on the moment and not being stuck on a forklift for ten hours. He ran, climbed up rock formations and hills, leapt over gaps, slid down slops, even chased down a deer that had unfortunately crossed his path.
Then, as he was eating the freshly killed deer, he heard rustling. He glanced up to see a large grizzly bear lumbering toward him. A low growl rumbled in his throat. He kept his hand on the deer's shoulder and his muzzle close to its flesh, baring his teeth. The bear halted its advance, gazing at him with dark eyes that possessed a distant stare. He could smell blood, and noticed its breathing was labored; it was wounded. But not only that, something just seemed wrong with it. Bear encounters were uncommon, and they usually ran from him. This one stayed where it was.
Even stranger, he typically didn't see many bears out this time of year... The bear had better not come here looking to take his kill… It was his. It should go get its own.
Oliver rose to his full height and snarled, warning the bear to turn away before it was too late. To his surprise, the bear showed no signs of backing down. It got up on its hind legs, standing a little taller than the wolf, and roared back at him. A hoarse and strained sound, as if it had taken great effort to emit it. Then, it charged at him, moving with an almost unnatural gait. He stood his ground as the bear tried to swipe at him, grabbing it by the wrist and shoving it hard. It rolled on the ground and got back to its feet.
The confrontation that followed was a flurry of claws, as the two apex predators threw everything they had at each other.
He had intended to send the bear packing with a few more wounds to lick. However, the bear was out for blood and seemed intent on fighting to the bitter end. Why? He wasn't sure, but there was no way he was going to lose his life to some out-of-control beast.
The bear swiped the side of Oliver's face. The wolf howled in pain, staggered back, and in that brief moment of falter the bear then managed to grab him and sink its teeth into his shoulder. He snarled. Using every bit of his strength, he pried the bear's jaws off him. The jawbone snapped. Dislocated or broken, it didn't matter. The bear raised its head, exposing its throat, and lost balance. As it toppled over, the wolf was upon it, teeth sinking into its throat. Bears had thick necks, he found getting his mouth around it was no easy feat. He chewed and ripped and tore, until he gained enough ground to clamp his jaw down on the bear's throat and cut off its air.
Oliver held position as the bear thrashed and slashed at him, trying to get him off of it. His muscles burned, the limits of his strength were pushed further and further. He was not much of a fighter, has not had to seriously fight in a long time. Living in human society made a wolf soft. He had heard that from another werewolf once, one who lived off the grid. Maybe it was true. However, right now, he was driven by his will to survive. He could say, with confidence, that living among humans had not weakened his instincts.
With one final push, he threw the exhausted bear to the ground and was upon it. He didn't show no mercy as he dug his claws in and disemboweled it.
His heart raced, adrenaline coursing through him, breathing hard, as he took a few seconds to collect himself. The wolf's violent nature craved more. He turned his attention back to the deer, tearing flesh from bone, both to finish off his interrupted meal and let off some steam.
Appetite sated, he looked back to the bear's corpse. He touched the claw marks on his face, and the bite marks on his shoulder. Victory brought immense satisfaction, but he decided that was the first and last time he would fight against a bear. Though he supposed a bear was much better than encountering, and getting into a fight with, another wolf out here. One of the reasons he liked this campground so much was because he only encountered other wolves once in a blue moon.
Just as he thought about heading back to his campsite to recover, birds darted from the trees. It wasn't something he would have paid attention to normally, but a sudden sinking feeling made him pause.
He strained his ears to listen and heard dogs barking in the distance. They were coming fast.