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chrisgates · 6 months

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TIMING: September LOCATION: Wilks Mill Farm PARTIES: @honeysmokedham & @chrisgates SUMMARY: Chris thinks his interaction with the weird, bear girl is just a dream and Nora thinks the sad, werewolf man is delusional. She tries to help him out anyway. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Today was a day of exploration. Normally Nora spent her days split between terrorizing townsfolk and hanging out in the forest. Today she was tired of those activities. She wanted to discover something new. As a bear. A Bear because it was funny when people saw a polar bear walking around town. They made faces, called 911, some of them even screamed. Nora lived for that shit.

Nora vaguely wondered if people thought she might be an albino black bear. Her fur was all white, but her eyes were red. Wasn’t that a sign of albinism? She wasn’t sure. She never got through reading the Wikipedia article on the account of the writing being so boring. Only nerds could read wikipedia articles. Anyway, the albino black bear ended up in the farmlands of the area. It was very idyllic. Just like something out of a hallmark movie and postcard. She was going to need to come out here more often to ruin that.

The sight of a beautifully abandoned mill was what she started walking towards. She stopped walking when a pond caught her eye. She could go for a dip, Nora thought to herself, shuffling towards the water. The water looked beautifully undisturbed, and for a moment Nora thought she might like to just enjoy the moment. Staring deep within the flowing waters. She stood there for a while, thinking to herself exactly how she would draw each and every ripple of the water. She was so lost in the moment that she almost didn’t notice something. Was there someone down there looking at her? Nora blinked. It blinked. But it wasn’t her reflection blinking. Nora lifted a paw, trying to rub her eyes to see if she was making it up. She wasn’t. For some odd reason, Nora thought the face looked hungry. She could quite put her paw on it, but it was like staring at a kindred spirit. Ravenous with hunger. She was going to need to bring ham to this lake. Could she afford to waste a ham?

Through the viewfinder, a tall, thin stalk with wide ribbon-like leaves swayed lazily. Atop the organic tower sat a brilliant, blue bulb. Though it hadn’t bloomed, it was still beautiful. Sitting on one of the pairs of leaves was what looked like a ladybug, but it was... Different. The shutter clicked. It was a weird little insect without a doubt, but Chris didn’t think too deeply into it. Variations within a species happened often, maybe not to this extent, but he wasn’t worried — it and the flower photographed well. He was glad he made the decision to wander further from the safety of the Pines; the expansive farmland was beautiful even if the locals’ warnings were a bit odd. Still, he followed them to the letter — getting into trouble was not on the agenda.

And yet trouble seemed to incessantly find him.

Just at the other end of the pond, a good distance from where Chris lay belly down among the tall wild flowers, was a bear. That would have been alarming enough given how open the field was — there really wasn’t anywhere to hide — but what made it so much worse, confusingly so, was that it looked like a polar bear. A polar bear. “What the..,” he whispered to himself and to the tiny yellow flower that lay beneath his chin. With his attention glued to the large creature, Chris tried to press himself further into the grass and blend in; he couldn’t have been luckier to have such a neutral color palette in his wardrobe. While the green was definitely a good few shades darker than the grass and the brown of his jacket didn’t seem to fit with the foliage, it was better than something loud and patterned. Maybe he could get out of this unscathed.

Chris’ heart pounded against the inside of his chest; he could hear it in his ears. How was he going to get out of this? There wasn’t anywhere to hide, there wasn’t anywhere to really run, nowhere close by. The bear would surely catch up with him if he tried to escape. It looked like he needed to lay low for now — but he couldn’t shake the rippling anxiety that crawled up his spine. Not now, he thought, please... not now.

Whatever stared back at Nora within that lake could have held her attention for eternity. The only thing that caught her attention was her own hunger being satiated. The scent of cedarwood mixed with blood and anger drifted toward her on the gentle breeze. A fear scent. A tasty little surprise snack. She took a deep breath, enjoying the meal being offered to her without question. What was there to question? She was a bear in human territory. Humans are always scared of what they don't understand. Now that her concentration on the lake’s surface was broken, the face she’d been staring at disappeared. Nora looked back for a bit, trying to determine what happened to it, but after no movement within the lake, she gave up on it. There was something more interesting to hunt down now anyhow.

Nose to the ground, like every cartoon of hunting dogs Nora had ever seen, she began the hunt. It wasn’t that hard. The scent of fear was flowing from one singular location. However, Nora is nothing if not a true showman. She wanted to put on a show for the lone scared human hiding in the grass. Leaving humans with paralyzing questions running through their minds was pure comedy. Would they be safe laying there? Should they run? Would the bear discover them and kill them? These were all the possibilities that she knew were making their fear double in this situation. Nora made slow lazy circles around the position she knew the human to be in. She was trying to play it off as if she knew he was in the area but she couldn’t quite pinpoint it. After all, hope was a powerful drug for humans. They did stupid things like remaining still when they hoped they wouldn’t be discovered.

Each game needed to come to an end. And just like that, Nora was standing over a human male, nose pressed to the ground in front of him, eyes staring right at him. Nora stood there for a second, before lifting up her head and letting out a yodeling bear scream. That, Nora thought to herself, should be the real killer. The war cry of a bear right before the attack. She hoped he would pee himself. It was always funnier when humans peed themselves.

This wasn’t Chris’ first run-in with a bear given his career as a nature photographer, but this was the first time he actually felt like he was in danger. Distance and a really good zoom were essential in capturing bears safely; he’d be the biggest idiot, otherwise. Even though this definitely wasn’t a fault of his own — he would always check his surroundings before disappearing behind his camera’s viewfinder — he still felt like an idiot. He wasn’t even out there for bears anyway, so the fact that he was now face to face with one really cemented his fear.

What added to the terror of the situation was confusion. Where had the bear even come from? Wouldn’t he have seen it, considering how large and stark white its fur was. Was it a polar bear? If it was, what the hell was it doing in Maine? Did it escape from a zoo? Or was this an albino bear? The creature drew close enough that Chris could make out the flickering of red pigment in the animals’ eyes through the foliage he hid within. It could be albino, and that made a lot more sense to him, so he chose to stick with it. The assumption was safer than the idea of a polar bear loose in New England, even though he wasn’t physically safe in the slightest.

As the bear drew nearer still, clearly intent on finding whatever scent it picked up on, he had half a mind to just get up now and make a beeline for the nearest — well, for the nearest anything. Anything to get away from the sniffling and searching. Instead he sat and waited. Sat and listened. Sat and began to panic more and more as the bear continued to circle and enclose. His ears rang, his throat dried, his skin felt prickly, itchy and generally uncomfortable. It felt like a too wiry wool sweater he needed to rip off.

The moment would’ve been comical if it wasn’t paralyzing. He watched as the bear snuffled closer in a direct line that headed straight for him. He watched its large, white shoulders over the swaying tops of the grass until he could see nothing but its face in his face. This was what cartoons were made of, but Chris couldn’t appreciate the humor. He was too far inside his own head to really tell what was happening, but then he heard the roar and disappeared completely.

The chances of getting out of this unharmed were astronomically small — they knew.

They knew the moment they’d picked up on the bear and now they needed to protect themselves. That was the only way. So they tore through flesh and rearranged their bones, painful still but urgent, desperate. This needed to be quick. They needed to get out. Clothing ripped, giving way to fur and claws. It felt good to be out, but this bear — it would be a problem.

A defensive growl was returned in kind. A warning.

If Nora had a dime for every time someone turned into a wolf after she turned into a bear to scare them she would have two dimes. Which wasn't a lot of dimes, but it was strange that it kept happening. Nora watched as the photographer in the grass, overwhelmed with fear, shifted. It was fascinating to watch his bones distort, twisting, elongating into something new. The animal within him. Nora took notes. Was this how she looked when she turned into the bear? The cracking of the bones, the growth of the fur, the teeth jutting out and becoming sharp points. God, it was cool as fuck. As Nora watched the transformation she felt pride in what she was. It was heavy metal to force your body into a gross transformation process that left you different. And they did it often. Humans could never. They would piss themselves or scream or something. Nora wasn't sure what exactly. She had never shifted in front of a human because the people she kept shifting in front of ended up being wolves.

A growl trickled from the wolf as the fear she'd been feasting on dissolved. Shame. Nora had been enjoying her meal, but this new oddity made up for it. Another wolf! She wondered if he would know the rich man who had broken into her crypt and stolen her sleeping bag. Nora backed away from the growling wolf, giving space and adapting to a non-threatening stance. It occurred to her that this was a fear response. People did desperate things while they were scared. The man in front of her had transformed into a wolf because he'd thought she was going to eat him. Well she was, and had been, just not in the conventional way.

Would being attacked by a wolf hurt? The bear tilted its head as it considered the question. Nora had never gotten in a fight as a bear before, so she was unsure if she would be able to keep up. She also didn't have a desire to fight. Fighting was cheap. Scaring people was the fun part. Plus, Nora considered, she didn't have health care. If she ended up at the hospital because of wolf injuries people would ask questions. Those questions would sound like "Who are you?" and "How did you get those wolf injuries?" When she didn't answer those it would lead to other things. Those things could include being turned in. Being in hiding meant a strict no-hospital rule.

Nora was unsure what it said about her that she was willing to tussle with a wolf as long as it meant no hospital. That was a question for later Nora. Right now Nora was shifting back into a human. Hair disappearing into her flesh, flesh shifting around bones, bones shortening and stacking. Then there was Nora. Just Nora. Standing naked in an open field, hands raised up staring down a wolf. "What giant teeth you have Grandma." Nora's voice was filled with a light chatter as the loss of fur reminded her just how cold it was. "How long have you been a werewolf?" Nora had no doubt this would work. It worked with the last wolf. When this werewolf saw another human standing in front of him he'd chill down and they'd become best friends. Maybe Nora could grab him and the other werewolf she met and start a pack. That was a thing, right? Bugbears were welcome in wolfpacks, right? Probably. Nora wasn't going to question it.

Just as quickly as the bear appeared, it vanished. That was weird. A human woman stood in its place, exposed completely. She didn’t look bothered by that fact or the snarling teeth in her face — or by anything, really. It took him completely by surprise. The wolf backed away slightly, startled; its ears fell back, though it remained on the defensive. Was this a trick? An illusion? What was she playing at? Would the bear return? Where did it even go? The wolf’s attention darted to the surrounding area, then back to the girl, then to the area again. No, there was no sign of it and there certainly wasn’t a hole to fall into…

How could a bear turn into a person? They supposed it could be the same as for them. It certainly looked the same but there was no screaming, no painful cries that danced on the cusp of animal and human as the body twisted and changed. It looked easy for her. Envy sprouted quickly, but curiosity held the reins.

Her voice came in softly, questioning. It was a far cry from the usual responses to the wolf — sounds of terror rang loudly through their recalled scattered memories. How long have you been a werewolf? The question was something they were wholly familiar with — Chris? Not so much. The nasty father knew, the hunter who tormented them knew, but he, the one they were stuck with, tethered to forever more, did not and that frustrated the wolf to no end. How stupid! He refused and refused even with the blood in his mouth, he still refused! Even now, he would refuse if the wolf pushed him out.

That could be dangerous. But this meeting already felt different — she smelled different. There was no fear there. Nothing but her question and outstretched hands. They supposed they could always come back for protection if she did indeed turn violent…

No. No! NO! No no no no no no no! Soft words were lies, they had to be. This was a trick. It had to be. They would just be drawn in and trapped again, wouldn’t they? The animal smell could be a trick, too. They couldn’t do it again, couldn’t let it happen. They didn’t want to be in a cage!! The wolf started to back away more. Its mouth was part way open, teeth still exposed, though their snarls were softer and filled with confusion. It shook its head as it did so, curious and wanting, but still fearful of what might happen.

This wasn’t the same as the encounter in the crypt. As Nora shifted back into a human, the wolf didn’t calm down. A snarl kept his lips pulled tight, eyes fixed on her as if she was a threat. Well. Nora was a threat. Nora knew she was always a threat. The biggest monster in the room. Was her bear bigger than the wolf in front of her? Nora’s eyes swept over the wolf a few times as she tried to decide. Slowly, so the wolf could see her moving slowly, Nora raised her hands up, palms facing him. That was the universal sign of I’m not a threat right? “My bad for scaring you earlier.” Nora’s voice was its normal monotone. Despite staring down a giant wolf in front of her, there wasn’t an ounce of fear licking at her emotion. Self preservation who? Nora knew without a doubt that she would be fine.

“I thought you were a human.” Nora explained, hands still in the air. “I just learned recently, I’m a bugbear.” This was a lot of words, but Nora was proud. Nora was proud to know what she was, and proud to be part of a community. She hoped that the wolf in front of her was also proud of that community. “I feed off of fear. That’s why I was fucking with you. I thought you were a human that I could scare.” Nora got tired of holding her hands up, she let them drop back to her side. “We’re chill right? Like I said, my b on scaring you. I just thought you’d be a tasty meal. Now that I know we’re basically pack mates it won’t happen again…” Nora let the statement trail off. “Maybe.”

It was a big ask to have her promise not to scare someone. Nora had already promised not to scare one person, she didn’t want to see her pool of people she could scare dwindling. The thought was confining.

Nora looked down at the discarded camera in front of the wolf, then back at the wolf’s big paws. “Careful where you step.” She said while pointing down. “What are you taking pictures of out here?” Nora turned her back to the wolf, looking around at the beautiful landscape. Picturesque. Probably the kind of thing you could put on a postcard. “Can I see your photos? Did you get any good ones of me?”

She just kept talking.

It was unusual and confusing — they didn’t know what to do. She was completely nonplussed by the situation. This had never happened before, at least not with the wolf. Chris was better received whenever people came across him after shifting, but the wolf? They either tried to kill it or they ran away and got someone else to kill it. Both were terrible options, neither of which seemed to be present with this supposed ‘bugbear’. A what? What on earth was that? They knew what they were and that was it, nothing else. They didn’t know what this ‘bugbear’ was, but if it was that white bear they’d encountered moments ago, where does the ‘bug’ part come in? It looked like a normal bear to them, albeit a different color. Better for Chris to ask all of these questions.

I feed off fear… I just thought… a tasty meal… pack mates…

What did she think they were? ‘Werewolf’; that was it. They’ve heard that term thrown around and taped to their back, but Chris kept peeling it right off. He kept ignoring it, like it didn’t happen to him - like it wasn’t happening to him. She knew what they were just by looking at them.

She’d turned her back to them, then, her words continuing to flow. Her injury was apparent; maybe she wasn’t in much of a fighting condition? Their safety potential went up, but they were still wary. It was now or never. The pain would be excruciating if the wolf came back so soon after shifting back - unfortunately, they were Chris’ only defensive. This potential ‘pack mate’ situation and answers was worth the gamble.

Transforming from wolf to man or vice versa left them uncomfortably vulnerable. They couldn’t defend themselves while their bones and muscles contorted and stretched. They couldn’t do anything but try to get through the entire process in one piece. It was quite the struggle, and the snapping of bones and blend of creature sounds was a stark contrast to the serene beauty of the nature around them.

Did you get any good ones of me?

That was the last thing the wolf heard and that was the first thing to follow when Chris came to. His clothing lay in torn tatters around him; the cuffs from his flannel remained around his wrists. The first thing he noticed was the pounding in his head - and then the young woman, who looked like she was also nude. His cheeks flushed before he realized how sore his entire body felt. Chris pressed the butt of his palm to his forehead as he tried to sit up. His other hand fumbled with any piece of torn clothing large enough to cover his lap. He blinked at his company, vision still blurry and shivered.

“... Wh..What just happened..? Who are.. you?” Why did you do this to me?, he thought.

When Nora turned around again the wolf was gone, replaced by the mans he’d seen before. This time naked. Scars covered his rightside, coverging around his shoulder and neck. Nora was about to complement them, ask him how he got such sick scars when he spoke. The man’s voice sounded weak, pathetic even. It was a shaky mess with no confidence. Worst of all it appeared he had no memory of his transformation and decided to put all the blame on Nora. This was new behavior. Alan had known who he was after shifting. The two of them had had talks about their various shifting side. How did Nora deal with someone who appeared to not believe her?

“What did I do to you?” Nora gestured down at herself. Naked. Five foot one. An wound still healing on her right side that pained her when she did too much. A knife cut down her left arm also still healing. As a human she was a decoy. The picture of complete innocence. How could someone small and sweet looking be a terrible apex predator such as herself. That was the fun in the illusion. But today she wasn’t using this a trap. Just a tool to calm. Fear radiated off of him at extreme levels. She wasn’t even trying to scare him anymore. She wanted to be part of his pack.

Then they could talk about more scaring.

“You don’t remember turning into a wolf?” Nora asked. Nora bent over picking up his camera. It took a moment to figure out how to work it, but she was a zoomer. Technology was in their blood. Nora pulled up the gallery, instantly finding a photo she was looking for. The polar bear in the field, looking into the lake. Nora handed it to the sad shaking little man. “That’s me. When I’m not human.” She told him. At no times she was human. That was still weird to come to terms with. At all times she was bugbear, but at no times was she human. Even though she looked like them, lived with them and was always among them.

“I scared you, remember?” Nora took a seat on the grass, easing into the position to keep her wound from screaming too much. “You turned into a wolf. I didn’t do that. You did.” Nora wished she’d taken a picture of the wolf. Maybe the guy would believe her. Why else would they both be sitting naked in the field if not for a sudden transformation? “Do you always forget when you transform?”

Chris knew very well that he couldn’t put any of the blame on her — not all of it, anyway. He’d been dealing with some version of this shit for years, whatever it was. Wolf. There it was again, that word. Was that what it was? Too many people found him associated with it, like an invisible target painted brightly on his back where he couldn’t see but he felt the thick, sticky paint dry into his skin. It became him. It was him.

And she could see it plainly, like a neon sign flashing in her face. Chris didn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more worried. He settled on the usual blanket of confusion instead and its partner in crime, embarrassment, was not too far behind. Even if he wanted to believe her (the evidence was overwhelming, not to mention the eye witnesses), he didn’t know where to start (or even if he could). He took things one day at a time — sometimes to the hour, sometimes to the minute. He couldn’t think that far ahead.

Her questioning continued, which did help to keep his attention on her rather than his own discomfort. You don’t remember turning into a wolf? Chris shook his head automatically — he didn’t even know he could (could he?), in all honesty, not before Wicked’s Rest. It would make sense, if it were true. The missing nights, the irritability, the hunger. Chris felt his stomach somersault.

Despite the situation and ever swirling uncertainty, Chris turned his gaze to his camera’s viewfinder. A white bear. A white bear. Its large, pale silhouette stood stark against the green field. There was no mistaking it. And she said that was her? When she’s not human? What the fuck? Was he high? Was this some sort of chemical warfare? Did he eat something poisonous? Maybe he was dreaming — that had to be it, right?

Chris covered his face with one of his hands and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He shook his head in the hopes that this would go away like one would clear an Etch A Sketch, but there they sat, naked and in the grass, with talks of bears and wolves.

“This isn’t happening…” He mumbled into his hand and shook his head again. “This is a dream or I’m.. I’m fucking hallucinating.. Am I on something??” The grass felt real. The air smelled real. She looked real. Chris wiped at his eyes and gave a cursory glance around him again — same field, same farm, same girl.

Do you always forget when you transform? Chris had to wonder if he was being Punk’d. “Wha-just.. What are you talking about?”

This was sad. Nora tilted her head to the side as she watched this strange adult man sit and wallow in his own confusion. The only words coming out of his mouth were ones of denial. Nora bit her lip, doing her best to remain civil. The feral beast inside her wanted to rear its head. It smelled the blood of the weak and it longed to bare its teeth and sink deep into the man's flesh, using words to hurt him. But she couldn't do that. There had been a time in her life where she was the reflection of this sad, confused man. A time where she had to work it out herself. Sure, she was born that way, but Alan had told her wolves weren't born. They were made.

"When were you bit?" Nora asked. She tried to make her voice gentle and caring, instead it came out as a softer monotone. The trained bite of indifference lingering in the edge of her tone, a constant companion to her demeanor. "I was born like this." Nora tapped a hand to her chest. "I'm sure it's a shock. To be human and then not human. But who wants to be human?" Nora was trying her hardest to be kind and compassionate. This was not her natural state of being. "You're not hallucinating or dreaming. I'll prove it. Don't get scared." Don't get scared, as if it was easy as that. To Nora, who was never scared, it was. Which made it impossible to comprehend how to this man, it probably wasn't that easy.

Nora took a step back, ensuring there was enough space between them. "Don't get scared." Nora repeated. The transformation rippled over her body, ripping her skin, breaking her bones, twisting her muscles. As quickly as her body broke into pieces, it repaired itself. Flesh stretching across the bones as they elongated and grew. White fur around. Her nose elongating and turning into a muzzle with sharp teeth. Hands forming into paws ending in sharp claws. Nora let out a loud yodel of a roar at the end of the transformation.

The polar bear turned around in a circle, being sure to take its time. Look at me, it seemed to say. Every now and then she would stop and strike a pose. She was putting on a whole performance. At the end of her prance around, Nora got closer, dropping down onto the ground next to the man. Her head lowered in passiveness. The polar bear was close enough to touch. And she would let him touch her cute bear ears, once. Any more would be too much. After all, all her power was stored in those cute little ears. This should be just enough to convince him this is all real.

When were you bit? The question immediately brought forward a memory he wanted so desperately to forget. There had been a handful of animal attacks in Chris’ life. Most, if not all, of them, he managed to get out with a few scrapes and bruises. They were more scared of him, after all. But there was one, all those years before, that nearly took his life — and part of him wished that it had. Flashes of that day buried itself. Teeth, blood, fur, those eyes. He was bit then. He was bitten everywhere. He couldn’t recall the pain — it all happened too fast. The ripping of his skin was the main attraction and the scars along his right side were a constant reminder. But the pain eluded him.

Is that what she meant? Did he get bitten and effectively cursed like the fictitious wolfman? The wolf who had so graciously and permanently marred him all those years ago didn’t look questionable — at least, not in a fantasy type of way. It was big, scary, especially to a teenage boy, but he couldn’t remember much else. He didn’t want to. He didn’t believe in werewolves (or anything else that went bump in the night), but could there be something to it? His life had been abundantly shitty before that wolf attacked him thanks to dear old dad, but there was no recollection of sleepwalking or memory lapse or waking up covered in blood and scratches before the attack. He couldn’t recall the memories of body aches and dislocations — because there were none.

There were a few movies that played with the idea that being a werewolf was a curse, something generational. Magic, even. And there were others that suggested it was more like an infection or parasite. Now, Chris didn’t believe in magic or fairy tales, but an infection was much more plausible. It made sense for something body ravaging to be passed on through blood — or by saliva through a bite. Right? It was too much for him to think about right now, especially as she continued on, calm and easy as she could. He did appreciate that — the situation was an unusual one, but he was certain there would have been much more confusion and irritation if she would have been anyone else. He valued her for not making this worse.

“I don’t…? I am human…” came his next words, but they held a strong uncertainty that started to creep in the longer he sat out there with her. “I… How? I can’t be anything else…” If he was, then maybe his dad was right. Don’t get scared. Chris felt his heart start to thump harder. Prove it? “Wh…What are you going to do?” Prove that she really was a giant bear and that he really was some kind of wolf monster? Sure. His disbelief superseded any thought that may have favored the idea, thinking instead that she would only prove that they were indeed hallucinating (or maybe even dreaming!).

Don’t get scared, came her mantra again, but it did little to prepare him for what he would see. While coming face to face with an immense bear, a near perfect killing machine, would be enough to bridle him with absolute terror, seeing a human woman transform into one was a whole other story. Was it fear that he felt? Horror? Disgust? All of the above? Chris did his best to back away without actually getting up; he didn’t think he could. Her body breaking and shuffling into a new arrangement was like watching disaster unfold — he couldn’t look away despite the sheer fright that welled up within him.

Chris had lowered himself closer to the tall grass, as if that would help to hide him in case this went south. An instinct, one that stretched out and prohibited him from running. If the bear — if she — were aggressive, he didn’t stand a chance anyway. Freezing was probably the best thing he could do. He watched tensely as the immense creature turned about, as if she were showing off her new form. That funny little thought, paired with the gentle behavior, helped to ease some of his anxiety. He sat worried and unmoving as the bear lowered itself closer but that slight spike of fear waned when she didn’t do anything. Nothing but sit there and look expectant. It would have been comical if Chris wasn’t still confused — and scared shitless.

He did look around, one last time, hoping that this was somehow a prank. No hidden camera crew, no enthusiastic host, no one pointing and laughing at his misery — nothing. Chris’ throat was so dry. “What the fuck…” he whispered more to himself, though he was pretty sure the bear could hear it anyway. How was any of this real? Despite everything in him telling him that it would be a really bad idea — the Animal Planet had receipts, after all — he needed to know. He ignored everything else about their weird ass situation and hesitantly reached towards the bear’s head. Honestly, if this was some long con just to eat him, he could at least cross ‘pet a bear’ off of his bucket list.

A single finger found its way to the soft fur along the top of one of her ears; he didn’t move anything but his breath and that finger. Chris drew back stiffly and whispered again, “what… how..?” This had to be a dream, right? It felt real.

The man was a wealth of fear. It dripped off him with every moment. It was a cloud of emotion that wrapped tightly around him. How did it not consume him? Nora took a deep breath, allowing herself the joy of his offered feast. Humans were scared, Nora knew, but she’d thought werewolves would be braver. Except, this werewolf had no clue he was a werewolf. “Human?” Nora repeated the word, chewing on it as if it was a curiosity and not a norm. There was an unfamiliar feeling deep in the pit of Nora’s stomach. It twisted itself around. Was this, Nora bit her lip. Was it pity? No. Nora had pitied people before. People were not her; they were scared little creatures. This was kind of like pity, but it was sadder. It was more understanding. There was a word for it, and she hunted for it. Going through years of vocabulary worksheets that she knew she should remember. Compassion. Compassion?

A few moments of thought. Nora let herself mull over this sensation of compassion. Was it because there was a reality where this could have been Nora? Refusing to accept the bear inside her, never finding out she was a bugbear, always living in fear and confusion? Probably not as much fear. But she had feared herself that first day. How could she not. Her first transformation had been a shock. Nora studied the man a bit longer. Compassion. She could work with compassion. “You can be something else.” Nora answered. It wasn’t unkind, but her monotone never allowed for much emotion. He would have to interpret it the way he wanted to. “I’m something else.” Nora added that last bit as if it was an after-thought. It was never an after-thought. These past few months had made her difference clear. She had been forced to confront herself in ways she’d imagined before. Her tremulous identity was always at her forethoughts.

After the transformation, Nora was treated to a fresh wave of delicious new fear. She devoured it hungrily, as if she’d never eaten before. Because to Nora, all fear was a delicious treat that she relished. Even if it came from the sad man who Nora genuinely felt bad for. She could attempt to help him, while helping herself. Right? There was nothing against that in the rule book. If there was, well, no one had ever given her the rule book so they could fuck off with it anyway.

Nora let the man get adjusted to her new form. She let him fall back, panic, then eventually come over. She felt the soft brush of a finger against her ear. Honestly? That was a good choice. All bear ears held a magical appeal that Nora couldn’t deny. Nora was even kind enough to keep her mouth closed. Normally, she’d think it would be so funny to let out a startling yell. Bear yells sounded like yodels. And Nora could yodel so loud. But that would wreck an already broken man. Where was the fun in that? Nora maintained the bear for a bit. She wanted him to have enough time to come to terms with its realness. Then she shifted back into her human.

Her human was often mistaken as less scary than her bear. But Nora knew the truth. The human was a murderer, and the bear was just a bear. But she figured it would soothe the man into calming down again. Besides, bears were not good at talking to humans. “How.” Nora repeated the word so that he would remember he’d said that before answering. “I…” Nora bit her lip, working it in her teeth as she tried to come up with the answer. “I want to be a bear. Or. I just think about being the bear. It's just.” Nora shrugged. “It just happens. I’m a bugbear. I was born like this.” Nora was forthcoming with information, because she always wished that others had been forthcoming with information when it came to her. Nora wrapped an arm around herself as she kept trying to talk. It wasn’t the nudity of the situation that felt weird, despite the two of them standing naked as the day they were born. It was an open conversation about the bear. A conversation where she was trying to be helpful and open. It made her feel vulnerable in a way that was unfamiliar to her.

“I’ve never been anything else.” Nora added. “I don’t know if werewolves are born, all the werewolves I’ve met were made. It must be jarring. To be one thing, and then another.” Nora’s fingers tapped awkwardly against her arm. This was the place where she was supposed to say it gets better. And maybe try her hand at some comforting words. But Nora was barely proficient at conversation. Comforting words were hard to find. She didn’t know if it got better. The werewolves she had met had complicated relationships to their wolves. Nora had a complicated relationship with her bear, but her bear had never taken away her humanity. Her humanity just hadn’t existed.

“Isn’t it hard?” Nora asked, pausing for a second before continuing. “To pretend you’re someone you’re not? Human. I mean. I don’t know when you got bit. Maybe recently. But isn’t it hard to pretend you’re human? Lying to other people is one thing, you know. But lying to yourself?” Nora shrugged a shoulder, a habit she’d picked up recently. “That seems harder.”

No!

No, this couldn’t be real.

People couldn’t change into animals. They just — they couldn’t. If they could, then what did that mean? That there really was a bear just a breath away from his palm. That her words and observations were true. That he too could turn into something, into an animal, like her. A wolf, in generality. Werewolf, to be specific. A creature, a monster, forced to turn in the moonlight, bloodthirsty and hungry. It seemed like a horrible way to live. Chris couldn’t see himself in that way, living like that. He ran, sure, but that was for completely unrelated circumstances. He wasn’t a werewolf. He couldn’t be. He failed to see the hammer hit the nail on the head.

So this had to be a dream. If he wasn’t a werewolf and she wasn’t a bugbear and there were no cameras or crowds to be seen, then this wasn’t real. That was the only logical solution left, the only thing that saved him from having to face his life and the horrors he’d both endured and unleashed. His heart felt so heavy in his chest and the baby soft fur that lined the tippy tops of the bear’s ear felt so real — the brain was amazing, wasn’t it? One moment, he was surrounded by absolute fear from meeting a bear face to face and the next? He was having a conversation with a young woman, who just so happened to also be that same bear. Yep. This definitely had to be a dream. How did he not see it sooner?

Normally it was a nightmare that took hold. Chris lost count of how many times he’d woken in a cold sweat, debilitated by the terror that gripped him. While this had started sort of the same, very unassuming in nature, it turned into something different. It wanted to follow the same nightmare path that they all took, but then the woman appeared and everything changed. Her words, though to the point, were soothing. Knowing that he wouldn’t be harmed did help, whether by her admission or assuming that this was nothing but a figment of his sleep deprived imagination. That made it easier to at least answer her thought provoking questions and take in everything she gave him. It made it easier to sit still instead of wanting to run.

He wondered if her admission and willingness to answer came from himself, or maybe he just mentally reiterated some movie he watched a few nights back. The brain was a sponge after all. He had to wonder if he’d watched this scene play out before. “You…” Regardless of the dream, Chris’ throat still felt incredibly dry. The way his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he opened felt palpable. This was only a dream. “So you’ve always been able to just… be a bear? Whenever you want?” She seemed like she liked it, like she was proud of what she was. He wished he could feel the same. Or maybe he did but he wasn’t aware. That’s what therapists were for, but the last one he had, well — he’d rather forget it.

It must be jarring. To be one thing, and then another. Chris instantly thought back to his childhood, having to be both child and a regret. It was exhausting. He felt a pang of familiarity in her words, and a pang of sadness. They hit him hard, truths too painful for him to even think about, let alone to utter out loud. He closed himself off more from her, both for modesty and protection. This was only a dream. Of course the target was hit; of course his brain knew him better than anyone else did, including himself. Lying to other people is one thing, you know. But lying to yourself? That seems harder. He felt that familiar heaviness that settled thickly in his chest and throat, threatening to choke him of his words and push forward tears. He forced them back, but knowing they were there, even in dream land, made it harder to respond.

“I don’t know what else to do….” Chris admitted, finally. “I don’t… I can’t face the truth.” He didn’t want to. It was too terrible, even for a metaphor. Even for a dream.

This man was delusional. Nora had been able to work that out pretty fast. Denial ran deeper than him then it did across Egypt. Still Nora found her heart bursting as she watched a parade of emotions dance over the man’s face as he struggled with whatever realizations Nora was forcing him to confront. Doubt began filling her. Maybe she should have let it be. As a bear, she should have walked away the moment he’d turn into a wolf. Or after when they were human again, she should have let it be. Who was she to force someone to confront their truth? Not the person who could help fix it. Not when she could only see a sad broken man shutting down in front of her, naked and afraid.

Nora let out a heavy breath, sprawling out on the grass and staring up at the sky above them. They both needed a moment. A moment to breathe and relax and embrace the moment. Nora didn’t know what this man was thinking, other than it was a lot. An all consuming a lot of thinking that appeared to be ravaging his internal monologue. Was it too late now to back down? Nora didn’t know the answer. What she knew is that she wished someone in her life had told her the truth sooner. That there had been someone in her life that knew and helped, instead of having to deal with the bugbear of it all by herself. Honesty was the only thing she could offer him, even if it hurt.

“I am a bear and a human.” Nora answered. The bright blue sky of day shone down at them, hurting her eyes. “I don’t think I understand werewolves.” Nora admitted. “I don’t know if it’s the same for you, but I was born like this. I can be human or I can be a bear but at all times I am both. And no matter which form I am in, it's still me.”Nora was slowly learning that it wasn’t the same for werewolves. That their wolves and their humans were separate entities. It must be confusing, two minds sharing one personage. They didn’t even share the same form. What could they have in common to hold them together?

A silence drifted between them again. Nora did her best to let him go through it by himself. To let him have the privacy to face the inner demons she's released upon him until he spoke again. A fresh wave of sadness rippled over Nora with the words. I can’t face the truth. “Okay.” Nora moved into a sitting position, looking carefully at the man in front of her, naked and exposed more than physically. She had inadvertently ripped open his biggest wound, it would appear, she wasn’t going to ask him to face it too. “I think that’s your choice.” Nora got to her feet, stretching out her limbs. “When you’re ready, feel free to find me. I’m on that website this town is obsessed with. Honeysmokedham.” Nora looked away, eyes surveying the empty field. “You’re not alone, and you never will be alone. Not if you don’t want to be. I don’t know much, but when you’re ready, find me. I’ll help you anyway I can.” Because really, that was the only thing she’d ever wished for. Someone who could help her understand. She could do this for him. She wanted to do this for him.

“I’ll see you around. When you’re ready.” Her body broke. It shattered. It folded. It grew. It reformed. The polar bear walked away from the delusional wolf, without glancing back. The polar bear wouldn’t go far, it would walk as far away as it could, before coming back as a human. The human would watch over the sad broken man and make sure he got home safe before going her own way. It just seemed easier this way. Better to help silently, then keeping herself in his line of sight, and shattering her world views repeatedly. Nora thought it was the least she could do.

I can be human or I can be a bear but at all times I am both. And no matter which form I am in, it's still me.

He didn’t want this pep talk or inner therapy session or whatever it was — whatever his mind was trying to do, he didn’t want it. But maybe he needed it. No. No, there was no maybe. He knew he needed this and yet he continued to fight it, fight against it. And he knew why. He was scared. He was chicken shit, a worm too low in the dirt to see the light. He was safer in the dirt, so he thought, despite the plagues of nightmares and constant upheaval of life and home. Outside of the dirt, he was gross, weird and destructive. He was an animal, a disease and annoyance and a thorn in the side.

How much easier would it be if he just gave in to it? To absorb her words and to live by them? Would he learn to live with the monster inside, the one that was fabricated — his ‘werewolf’? He was too cowardly for that. All his years of running and lying was evidence of that. But he could change, couldn’t he? He could try. But trying got people hurt. Chris hugged his knees. What was he supposed to do?

“I don’t know, either..” he started, entirely uncertain if he even wanted to run down that hypothetical route. He thought maybe he’d been born like that — a monster. Metaphorically, it would make sense if he thought about his father’s words. But the scarring he touched absently in thought made him doubt. Werewolves. Were not. Real. Hypertrichosis, sure. Being raised by wolves, maybe. But a full blooded turn into a wolf-human hybrid by moonlight kind of werewolf? Chris didn’t think so. Because then it meant that is what attacked him all those years ago in the woods, what had almost killed him if it hadn’t been for his sister. It didn’t explain his father’s hatred for him, but it would explain everything else.

Was that the answer? Was that it, given so freely to him by a rather strange figment of his dream? Why a younger woman? And why did she look the way she did? Why a bear, and why a polar bear of all things? What was wrong with him? Maybe if he posted his dream online, someone might be able to decipher it — but he was also scared of what they might say. Photographs were so much easier to deal with, and people weren’t as scary through a lens.

I think that’s your choice. His choice to suffer, but she was right. He chose to remain in the dark rather than deal with this head on, like she so easily could do. But she was born with it, isn’t that what she said? She had always been a bear. Was that supposed to mean something? If she were a figment, then his inner self had always been what it was. And it was fine with that, happy even. They didn’t know anything else. And then there was Chris, or his dream version (he was still convinced he was dreaming) who still seemed to have trouble — the werewolf, unable to change when he wanted to, a slave to the moon, to his feelings…

Oh what the fuck?

Her words tore him from the spiral that threatened to pull him down, grounding him back to their bare picnic in the field. This was such a weird dream. Website? Honeysmoked.. Ham? His look of confusion didn’t last long, not when she kept going, offering her help further. Her kindness and hell, even her patience, was enough to sting his eyes with emotion. There had been a handful of people that had helped him throughout his years, only a few who had shown the kind of compassion this… hallucination showed him. Whether it was real or not, he was touched. The back of one of his hands went to press against his now running nose as he mumbled out a ‘thank you’; a genuine expression, one that was muddled with tears he urged to keep from falling.

And then she was off to leave him in the little divot in the field. Well, the bear did — the transformation was just as startling as it had been before, but at least he knew she wasn’t going to hurt him, as weird as a bugbear might be; or rather, as weird as his imagination might be. Regardless, he was left feeling loved in some strange and unusual way. With a sniffle, Chris sat there for a moment longer, and picked up the remnants of his clothes and his camera. He did what he could to be decent, in both action and his physical form, as he traversed the field to head back to the small, motel room. He didn’t see his dream angel, didn't see where she went off to or how she kept an eye on him, to make sure he was safe. But he felt hopeful, regardless.

#thread #tr: [ sister bear ]#tr: nora p

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