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Scott was just about to get into bed when he saw the red string connecting him and his soulmate turn black. His mother had told him stories about red strings turning black, it could mean his soulmate was in danger, dying, and sometimes, his soulmate changing.
But whatever it was, he began following it. It was tight, tugging on his finger as he climbed out the window, running into the night. It pulled him all the way to the edge of the preserve before it began to grow loose. The string was completely black and relaxed. He pulled on it, lifting it up from the forest floor as he followed it.
Then he found himself in front of a limp person. His face was turned away, lying on his stomach on the forest floor. He had a ripped shirt and was breathing quite raggedly.
“Uhm, are you okay?” Scott asked, inching closer.
He growls, like an animal would. Was he rabid?
Scott reaches over, touching his back to which he flinches. He turns around and Scott looks at them.
He didn’t know whether to run away or to gape in awe. Scott looked at him intently. He sure didn’t look human, almost like a monster. Eyes that were blazing red were fading to normal eye color, but he had sideburns that almost met at the chin, a ridged brow, and pointy ears. What was his soulmate?
“Are you a monster?” Scott asked, he really had no idea if that was a good thing to say. Oh gosh, what if he just offended his soulmate by saying that?
He grunts, sitting up.
Scott notices the blood-soaked shirt, he lifts it up, gently after his soulmate realizes he wasn’t going to hurt him.
The stomach had a few slashes across them, that looked like it was being seamed back together magically.
“You’re healing?”
He looks away, huffing.
“Can you talk?”
“Yes,” he growled, abrupt and clearly annoyed.
“What are you?” Scott asked again, more cautious this time because his soulmate had claws that could probably slash his throat in seconds.
Even as a wounded monster? Being? His soulmate had the strength to give him the glare-iest glare Scott had ever received in his life.
“I’m a werewolf,” he finally said.
“Woah, a werewolf? They exist?!”
Again, he was met with a glare. Boy, his soulmate really needed to take some socialization 101 classes and maybe tone down on the animalistic growling and grunting. Then again, his soulmate was a werewolf, maybe growling is just how they communicate.
They seem to shift back, the ridged brow, wild sideburns, and pointy ears disappearing to reveal a much more human face. And a handsome one at that.
“I’m Scott,” Scott said, realizing that he should probably introduce himself, “your soulmate.”
“Derek,” he said. Did he have a limit on how many words he could say?
“What happened to you? Another werewolf?” Scott asked, pointing at the bloody shirt.
He nods, “it’s not safe for you out here.”
Derek gets up as if nothing had ever happened to him. He walks over and picks up a leather jacket that was at the base of a tree. Scott watches as he shakes it to get rid of the dirt and leaves before putting it on.
Derek touches Scott, grabbing his forearm to probably pull him out of the forest before the other werewolf comes for his human ass when the red string that was black a moment ago begins glowing.
It glows gold as it slowly dissolves. Floating in the air like fireflies as it came undone from Derek and Scott’s finger where it was tied.
“Woah, cool,” Scott said as the last remnant of the string faded into nothing.
Derek doesn’t say anything, yanking Scott out of the forest.
“Dude, slow down! I might trip over something,” Scott said, trying to keep his feet up as fast as Derek pulled his body.
“You’d rather not trip on something than be a rabid werewolf’s next meal?”
“Ok, but still, I can walk, y’know.”
He sighs, slowing down as he lets go of Scott’s forearm. Scott begins to walk out by himself when Derek picks him up. He goes from standing in the middle forest to his face, less than inches close to Derek’s ass, in a split second as he hangs upside down.
“No warning? Okay,” Scott felt himself get red for both a) being this close to Derek’s ass and b) Derek’s hand being wrapped over his own ass. And an additional c) the sheer embarrassment of all this.
“Can I at least get your number, or something?” Scott asked.
“I don’t have a phone,” Derek said.
“Oh..” Must be a werewolf thing.