But the woods are not as kind as the main trail.
My foot slips out from under me, and I sprawl through a mound of leaves and pine needles.
Oof.
The points of my body that hit the ground hardest are still ringing with the impact. Not the worst fall I’ve had in the woods, but still dizzying.
I start to pull myself up, but I glimpse through my hair the large paws stepping through the leaf-covered ground, circlingme. I still. I’m simultaneously wishing for a hair tie, and that I had never gone out for a hike.
My heart is quivering like a rabbit in my chest. Maybe if I remain motionless, it won’t see me.
But I doubt my neon-green yoga pants will blend in with the ground.
I can feel its breath puff against my ankle, feel the graze of whiskers move up my body until it’s sniffing loudly by my ear.
Not biting, just smelling. I dare to look at it through the tangle of my hair across my vision.
Maybe not a wolf, I realize. Something else. Maybe wolf-like, but the shape of it is somewhat wrong.
Maybe I just don’t really know what a wolf looks like, I start to think, but that can’t be it. There’s something too lanky about the beast’s limbs. Tail, ears, fur, muzzle, but an arch to its back that looks unnatural, its head not angled in the way a wolf’s would be.
I squeeze my eyes shut again as it sniffs, trailing down my neck. An involuntary breath escapes me, a hitch in my voice carried on it.
The beast moves back an inch, startled by the sound I made.
And like, that’s fair. Same here.
I peek at the figure looming over me. I’m more convinced it’s not a wolf the more I look. Wolves don’t have . . . abs? But at the same time, I don’t know how else to describe what I’m seeing.
The creature watches a moment, before carefully resuming its inspection. Its hot breath clouds in the cool morning air, as its nose grazes my skin.
Smell me all you want, just don’t bite me,I think.
Bit by bit, I shift onto my side, and slowly push myself up to sit, instead of being face down in the leaves. The beast hasn’t eaten me yet, at least, but I don’t feel like I can get up and go on my way either.
Maybe in ten minutes I’ll be able to stand and back away. Worst comes to worst, I’ll walk home with this thing following me, scoot inside the back door, lock it, and search the local Parks and Rec number.
I manage to angle my head so that my hair isn’t entirely in my face anymore, and the canine creature stops sniffing me. I hold still again and look carefully at it.
Brown eyes. I’ve seen a lot of brown eyes before. But there’s something striking and familiar about the shape, and I can’t fathom why.
I’ve never seen this wolf before. I’ve never seena wolfbefore, not in person.
Not this close.
By all means, I should be more afraid of this wolf. But I’m not. Maybe fear just doesn’t feel the way I thought it would. Maybe my sense of fight or flight is just kinda fucked. My skin feels heated, my pulse pounding throughout my entire body. I’m not one hundred percent certain, but I think my nipples feel . . . peaky.
Oh god, I’m hot for this beast. What the hell?
We eye each other for a long moment, and suddenly, it’s my turn to inspect. I’m searching its face, looking for something I know is there, but I don’t know how to find it, or even what I’m looking for.
Don’t I know you?
I’m not sure why I think that, or where the thought comes from. I don’t think I said it out loud, but the beast reacts as if I did, lowering its head as if to pounce, a snarl wrinkling its snout as it bares its teeth.
It lets out a growl that moves through me, low and rumbling.
The sound does something to me that it should not. All the heart thumping, blood rushing heat under my skin takes direction, and my knees press together involuntarily. The beast’s growl summons the attention of my clit in a way I’m utterly unprepared for.
