52 Ch 52 Interlude (1/2)

Sleep. All I wanted was sleep. I had walked briefly among the strangers who showed up to rescue me, many giving me a nodding bow. I clapped Sheep on the arm, smiling at him. Lobo started on about meeting his friend.

”At the pointe. I'll meet everyone at the pointe. Be careful, don't shift in Yellowstone, there are cameras here and there. Can you help them to the pointe Lobo? I'll meet anyone who wants to meet with me in a few days. I appreciate it, my friend.”

I rode out of Yellowstone on a four-wheeler behind Mac. I dozed on and off against his broad back. I lost track of Dad. There were vehicles and wolves around us. My wolves. I stirred upon occasion, saw Cherokee and Businessman running on four legs nearby. Anna's four-wheeler followed Mac out. Her vehicle had a small narrow trailer that Derrick was laying in.

I glanced over once and saw Running Elk beside me on an ATV. There was a girl pressed against his back who gave me the biggest smile and waved. I smiled back but didn't move my arms from around Mac, merely resting my head against him and yawning.

I wasn't sure where we were when we stopped. It wasn't his place or mine. All I know is Mac helped me in a door and I curled up on a mattress. I heard a growl and woke enough to look up. I huffed and Dad joined me, smelling of shampoo. I got as far as thinking I should clean up.

When I woke the next time, it was to the smell of food. I raised my head but couldn't focus my vision on anything. I heard a slap and Mac chuckle. I laid back down.

The next time I woke I really woke. I reeked even to myself and desperately wanted a shower. The lighting was dim but I could see the space around me was large. I rolled off the bed, trying not to wake Dad.

”Showers are that way, stack of shorts there. Anna has a whole cooler here full of your tea.”

Mac threw me a bottle of tea. I was surprised I had hands to catch it. Mac was shaking his head. I raised up... had I been a wolf and shifted enough to catch the bottle? I must have been. I remembered four paws hitting the ground now that I thought about it.

I nodded to Mac, who had to be uncomfortable in that little metal folding chair. I took note of the pistol he had set on top of the cooler after he closed it. How long had he been sitting there watching over me?

I went in to shower, drinking the tea as I went. I hummed a little as I scrubbed, stopping to lean against the wall.

”Still tired?” Dad asked.

I nodded, closing my eyes and just enjoying the water. I about jumped out of my skin when Dad started rubbing me down with a lathered-up washcloth. I swatted his hand away.

”Not like I never scrubbed you before, Son. Let me get the backside. You really are filthy. Not as bad as the time you took the chocolate trail though. I think that was the only time your mom was really mad at me. She made me clean up the mess you made.”

I stood there, leaning against the wall, letting my father do his mothering. I smiled, remembering the night he spoke of. It was the first time I had yelled at Dad.

I hadn't wanted to spend my birthday training. He had insisted he was going to track me to see what I had learned in the past year. He gave me a brief head start and I'd took off running.

I had used trees to keep my scent off the ground, jumping a fence to purposely land in a cow patty. It was a route we came to call the chocolate trail for two reasons. The first reason was the manure piles left by the cows I had jumped into like stepping stones, rolling thoroughly in each one.

The second reason was what had been waiting for me at home. My reward if I got home without him being able to trail me was a chocolate cake. He never let me eat chocolate, telling people I was allergic to it. It was my tenth birthday and Mom had made me the chocolate cake I wanted.

I made it home, cut one slice out to save for Mom, and ate the whole rest of the cake, wolfing it down, leaving him none. I was mad at him and full of vindication in my ability to outmaneuver him.

They got home with me curled up on the kitchen floor, under the table. I had gone in on their bed to wait for them, dozing on and off, when I felt sick. I had headed back to the kitchen to see if they'd made it home yet.

It was Mom's gentle touch that woke me up. She didn't say a word at first. When she did, she just gently told me she was going to get my bed ready, then looked at Dad over her shoulder.

”Clean your son,” she had said. Not just said, but gently commanded in a way that left no room for argument.

Mom wasn't sure if my stomach was upset merely because I had eaten chocolate. She was leaning toward the fact I had eaten the whole cake that had upset my stomach. She had fixed up my bed while Dad took me into the bathroom to clean me up. I had dry manure all over me except my hands and face, which I had cleaned before eating the cake. I hadn't scrubbed the rest of me because I was in a hurry to finish off the cake before he got home.

Dad didn't say a word back then. Neither had I, despite the many rehearsed arguments I had prepared for my dad.  He had scrubbed my fur repeatedly, massaging the muscles in the process, finally getting me to shift back to a boy. Mom had slept with me that night, gently stroking my forehead.

I never thought about how the rest of the mess, the trail of goo I'd left all over the house, the chocolate cake which had come back up all over their bed, had gotten cleaned up.

”Was she really mad?”

”Not at you,” he said, ”at me for goading you as I did. She said I deserved to appreciate the results of my efforts. I spent that whole night and half the next day scrubbing in appreciation! Never did training on your birthday after that, only fun things for you. I miss her.”

”Me too. I'm glad I have you though.”

His hands paused in their scrubbing before going back to work on me. I think I might have dozed on my feet. He rewashed my hair.

”It's getting long again, time to get it cut, ” he commented.

”Keeping it long this time,” I mumbled.

I leaned on him as I stepped into the shorts, and he guided me back out and over to a kitchen set up.

I yawned. ”Where are we, anyway?”

”Warehouse,” Mac said quietly. ”It's about two in the morning.” He brought over two more bottles of tea.

”Go sleep,” I told him as Dad brought over a big bowl from the fridge. It was full of potatoes, chunks of beef, and small carrots.

I lifted the bowl and gobbled it down, not even realizing until I was done that I literally had wolfed it down. I licked my snout, tried to shift back to man, knowing I was in-between.

”Don't worry about me kid,” said Mac, ”I think I've seen just about everything now.”

I looked at his slightly wide eyes as he tried to be nonchalant about me wolfing down my dinner. I chuckled and grabbed the bottle of tea. Dad grabbed the other one as I put a hand on Mac's shoulder as I headed back to bed.

”Thank you for coming for us, ” I told him, knowing how totally inadequate that was for all he had done.

Mac only nodded.