The
summer night was warm on my skin, still
I had goosebumps as I stood at the end of my porch and waited for
Aaron. He grinned through
predatory white teeth as he
stalked into view and stained the air with the smell of
cheap bourbon. We sat on the porch (my mother objected to my
socialising with Aaron, but she would be at
work until some time the next day) and talked about things like
school and
movies before he
steered conversation towards the pair of
wolf skins he'd brought with him.
"I found them in the woods," he told me with an affable drawl, "they were hanging from a tree by somebody’s camp. It looked deserted so I took em."
We shed our clothing and tried on the skins, and were soon capering about in the pale moonlight. Fur cast silver as we chased each other through the darkening woodland.
After some time, we chanced upon a couple walking hand-in-hand. I dragged one down and tore his throat open as he thrashed about, then ate his heart, liver and several other organs. I was still licking my muzzle clean when Aaron got back, he'd toyed with his quarry, chasing her until she was in sight of her beau's red pickup. His fur was matted to his sides.
As the sun rose we changed. Myself into a plain floral dress my mother had bought for me and Aaron into his faded jeans and a woolen shirt.
We burnt the hides out back, the smoke had cleared and Aaron was long gone by the time my mother got home, complaining about work even as she fell into a dreamless sleep.