Clawed fingers stroked my hair. Fear slunk up the back of my arms and tickled my neck. Now that the other dangers were gone, it came into clear focus that I was with something I had no clue about. I didn’t know if it talked. I didn’t know if it ate humans. I didn’t know much of anything.
It had saved me more than once but there were too many unknown factors for me to feel entirely comfortable. I pushed away from him suddenly, backing up. My shoulders hit a door that swung open, creaking on its hinges.
I jerked my head around and realized I’d backed up into a small cabin. There was a battery-powered lantern hanging up on a shelf that illuminated the small but comfortable surroundings. It was furnished with dated, torn furniture—broken legs, ripped fabrics, stains. Most looked as if it had been fished from a trash heap. There was an ancient TV and a bookshelf filled with older movies. I could pick out the cover of westerns from the selection on the shelves.
When Mothman moved to come inside, he had to duck half a foot down just to fit through the doorway. He had to be seven feet tall. Caspian had been the tallest person I’d ever known and this creature was significantly taller than him. I backed up, his height and overall presence overwhelming me. My hip hit the edge of a table. A metal tea kettle fell over and cool water splashed over my clothes. The water did nothing to help the chill still seeped into my bones. It felt like it would take ages to ever feel warm again.
Mothman’s strange eyes aimed at the kettle before his head shifted back up to look at me. I must have looked terrified. I felt terrified, clutching on to the edge of the table and shivering, my eyes wide. I wanted to run but I didn’t know if there was anywhere to go.
He held up his hands as if trying to calm a frightened animal. I’d never seen skin so dark and each long, thin finger ended with a thick sharpened talon. He began to move his hands, making strong motions. He pointed at me then made a circle with two fingers before straightening them out quickly. He did it a few times with me watching wide-eyed and clueless.
“Is that… ASL?” I asked, looking quickly at the tv for a brief second. It was a ridiculous thought, but comforting to imagine he was trying to communicate. He nodded his head and made the motions again.
“I don’t know sign language.” My voice wavered as I talked. I wasn’t even sure if he understood me but it felt better to at least pretend. His shoulders sagged and he stepped towards me. I gasped in shock and he froze up, his round eyes shooting to me as ifI’dsurprisedhim.
I edged around to the other side of the table, knocking into a chair as I went. He lifted his hands up and kept walking into the house, going over to a pen sitting on the couch.
My eyes whipped around the place. It was tiny, with two doors open. I could see a small bedroom and a half bathroom through the open doorways. I looked back at the open front door and wondered what would happen if I ran. A thick copse of trees hugged close to the cabin outside.
A notebook hit the table in front of me and I jumped up in surprise. Mothman stood on the other side of the table, his hands up, a pen hanging between two clawed fingers. I looked down at the notebook.
“I’m not going to hurt you,Ava,” he had written. My mouth cracked open. Hecouldcommunicate. He even knew English! Which meant he was as intelligent as me. A being that could be talked to, reasoned with, and understood.
Also, he knew my name. Seeing it scrawled out on the paper in his handwriting felt surreal. I looked up and nodded at him. I believed his words. He’d had plenty of opportunities to hurt me and hadn’t. He’d saved me numerous times. In the woods, on the bridge, and even catching me falling out of the sky.
He relaxed as I nodded, his hands going down to his sides and his shoulders evening out. I tried to look at his face but it was just dark. The collar of his jacket was flipped up high and his wide-brimmed hat blotted out any light.
“Thank you for saving me. You’re... Mothman?” My eyes slid to his back. The wings were gone. The back of his duster had been modified so that there were two long slits down the entire back. His wings could burst from the openings and then tuck back in that way. I couldn’t imagine being capable of flying whenever I wanted. I used to dream of it all the time as a kid, flying over the trees.
Questions began swirling in my head, a hundred all at once.
“Is this your place?” That seemed the easiest way to start.
He nodded in response to my question and I swept my eyes around the place again. This was the home of Mothman, a mythic monster. Honestly, I expected a gruesome cave like the park ranger had talked about. This place was simple—lots of wood, scavenged furniture, and overall a sense of quiet seclusion that felt almost depressive.
“Are those your movies?” I asked, tipping my head at the bookshelf. I was curious how he got electricity for the TV. Clearly, he wasn’t hooked up to any electricity grids out here. Mothman nodded again, animatedly, like he was excited I was interested in him.
I started to relax more. This felt oddly normal, or at least not as if I were in a life or death situation. He picked up the notebook and began writing again. He walked around the table and handed it to me this time. I stood there, breathing heavily but took it from him.
“Are you curious about me? I’m curious about you.” His hands came up slowly and settled on my shoulders. I dropped the notebook on the table and tensed as I felt the weight of his hands. He slowly massaged his fingers into my muscle before one hand slipped down my arm, trailing the length. He slid his fingers around my wrist, tickling the sensitive skin. I swallowed thickly.
“Have you been around many humans?” I asked. He lifted my hand and traced my fingers delicately. The thick, pointed talon that tipped his finger dragged gently over my palm. The skin tingled where he touched, the hairs on the back of my arm lifting up. He didn’t answer me but instead kept exploring like he’d never seen a human up close. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe I was his first.
He dropped my wrist and brought both his hands up to my shoulders again, massaging the muscles slowly, watching to make sure I didn’t act too frightened. I wondered what he thought of me, if he thought anything at all. I wondered why he saved me.
His thumbs began rubbing my collar bone, giving a deeper massage. Tension began to leak out of me and I relaxed into his touch. My strained shoulder ached but started to loosen. It felt good after what felt like hours of tension. I eyed the splinter for a moment. It was still there, just a stupid annoyance to worry about later.
His hands moved from my collar bones, going lower. My eyes widened as he trailed his fingers over my breasts. His head tipped to the side as if he didn’t understand that part of me.
“Um,” I started but then his big, dark hands were gathering up my breasts. He held them, squeezing and feeling while I sputtered on what to say. His thin, long fingers were gentle and appraising as he tested the weight and shape.
His thumbs rubbed over my nipples. I squeaked in shock as they pebbled in response, a prickling thrill I hadn’t expected. Every nerve was on fire now. I could still feel the trails his claws left on my palm, the indents of his thumbs from when he massaged my shoulders, and every swipe he stroked against my chest. I stood there stunned by how I was reacting to his explorations.
He noticed my tension so he left my breasts alone. His hands dipped lower, smoothing over my belly and fanning out over my hips. I took a stuttering breath, trying to calm myself down.
“Can I do the same?” I asked, reaching out a hand towards his collar, aiming for where a jaw or neck might be. What was under his coat? What was under his hat? He didn’t seem to mind at all as my fingers slid into his collar. Amazingly soft fur threaded between my fingers as I stretched up on my tiptoes to touch him.
“Wow,” I sighed, feeling awed. Each thread of fur was so thin but as a whole was amazingly thick. My hand sunk into the texture. Mothman removed his hands from my hips and leaned over for his notebook, picking the pen up. I pulled my hand back and held it in a loose fist at my chest, savoring the soft texture of his body.
