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Darryl returned to their make-shift camp, arms full of firewood. They’d found a nice spot for once — a small clearing far enough from the road to avoid being harassed by other travelers but close enough that he’d managed to drive the Odyssey into it. Glenn was still off finding water for Henry to purify and Ron was wandering around the forest pretending to help, but the collection of edible plants and, to Darryl’s surprise, two dead rabbits should have meant Henry was back from foraging. Strangely, he was nowhere to be found.
The hair on the back of his neck started to stand on end, and he quietly placed the firewood on the wet grass. He took the ax off his belt. The woods around him were quiet except for distant birdcall, and the Odyssey was empty and undisturbed when he peered through the tinted windows. He crept around the front to check the far side and barely suppressed a shout.
A wolf lay curled up and fast asleep by the back tire.
It was big, with thick sandy fur and traces of blood on its muzzle. Darryl looked around the surrounding forest for evidence of whatever it had injured. He feared a collapsed body, or drag marks through the dead leaves, but saw nothing.
Darryl hefted the ax higher in this grip. This thing could still kill him if he didn’t get the jump on it.
He edged forward. The wolf sighed and tucked its muzzle further under its foreleg. He took one more step, preparing to swing, and a twig snapped under his foot.
The wolf opened one yellow eye.
Darryl swung down reflexively, very narrowly missing it as it sprang out of the way. There was a strange flash of motion as the ax head sunk deep into the soil between two very human legs.
“Stop, stop!” Henry Oak-Garcia scrambled backwards away from him, “Jeez and crackers, it’s me, Darryl!”
Darryl dropped the ax. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Henry? Christ— What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was napping!” His voice cracked around the words.
“I could have killed you!” Darryl shouted back.
Henry had the gall to look indignant. “I didn’t think your first impulse would be to kill an endangered animal,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows.
“Wolves aren’t endangered here, Henry,” he argued, “We see them all the time. You know, when they’re trying to kill us?”
Henry opened his mouth, but apparently had nothing to say to that.
Darryl put out his hand. Henry grasped it without hesitation, and Darryl pulled him to his feet. He was covered in greenery and wet like he’d been rolling in the grass, and there was still a bit of blood on his lips.
“You’ve got, um.” Darryl gestured weakly to his own mouth.
Henry pulled a disgusted face and flicked his hands away from himself. His eyes glowed green for a moment, and the blood and dew were instantly flung from his clothes and skin in every direction, but completely missing Darryl.
Darryl shook his head, bending down to pick up his ax. “I still think it’s messed up that we all get sucked through the magic portal, but you’re the only one who’s suddenly got magic powers,” he said.
“I like to think we all have magic powers,” Henry replied brightly, “You, for example, are excellent at not hitting things, which makes you a wonderful driver and saved my life just now.” He stretched his back while Darryl regarded him irritably. “Did you see that I got rabbits for you? Do you think you could prep those for tonight?”
Darryl followed Henry as he started towards the center of the clearing. “You got those just for me?” he asked.
He could have sworn Henry blushed, but he rolled his eyes and said: “For all of you. I’m a little more used to this whole vegetables-only schtick, but you all need your strength up if we want to get the kids, so I’m making some concessions.” He began picking out the smaller pieces of wood from Darryl’s pile.
Darryl picked up one of the rabbits. He could figure this out. “Thanks, Henry. And uh…”
Henry looked up at him as he trailed off.
“Sorry I tried to kill you. Just now.”
“Apology accepted.” he said, “But next time you try to murder an animal while it’s minding its own business, don’t.”
***
Glenn emerged triumphant not much later with several condoms full of water. Ron showed up a couple hours after that with a handful of stones that Henry quickly identified as extremely common and returned to Ron with a pat on his shoulder.
Darryl successfully prepared and cooked the rabbit, and the four men sat around the fire to eat as the sun sunk under the tree line.
“Great work, Darryl,” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of rabbit, “Wonderful bake on this.”
“Henry did the hard part,” Darryl said, “I just cooked ‘em.”
Henry looked embarrassed even before Glenn said, “Hang on, Henry killed the cute little bunny rabbits?”
Henry tried to defend himself. “Well—“
“Yup,” Darryl interrupted, “He wolfed out on them.”
“That’s fuckin’ sick, man.” Glenn looked genuinely impressed. Henry gave a tight-lipped hmm in response.
Darryl nudged Henry with an elbow. “Almost took a swing at him when I came back to camp. Hadn’t turned back yet. I thought he’d finally snapped and killed one of you guys; He still had blood on him.”
Ron’s eyes widened, and Henry stood up very suddenly.
“Well, I think I’m going to call it a night,” Henry announced coldly, “Thank you, gentlemen.” And with that, he walked away.
Darryl watched as Henry disappeared behind the Odyssey, guilt pooling in his stomach. There was no sound of a car door. Glenn was watching too with one eyebrow cocked. He shrugged. “Touched a nerve, I guess.”
Darryl stared after Henry. “Should I go talk to him?”
“Better you than me,” Ron piped up.
Darryl knew that if the situation were reversed, Henry would not hesitate to follow him and talk it out. Which would almost certainly lead to an actual argument. “I’ll give him a minute,” he muttered.
They ran down the night discussing theories on how they got here and who had their kids. Glenn argued it was the government, Darryl was still pretty sure they’d died and gone to purgatory, and Ron was just shooting down everyone else’s ideas tonight.
Ron peeled off first, retreating to the very back of the van to sleep. Glenn tossed Darryl a small tin box and raised his eyebrows at him. “In case you need a little social lubricant,” he said, and took up his usual bed in the back seat.
Darryl let the fire burn down to coals before opening the box. Naturally (thankfully), it contained a joint. Darryl pushed the lid back on, stood up, shoved it in his pocket, and brushed himself off, resolving to cheer Henry up. After trying to kill him, it was the least he could do.
Luckily, Henry hadn’t gone far. Darryl found him on the far side of the clearing, laying on his back, looking up at the stars.
“Hi, Darryl.” He sounded tired.
Darryl sat in the grass next to him and looked up at the sky too. “Kinda freaks me out that those aren’t our stars,” he said, “It’s disorienting.”
“That makes sense. I don’t know, I—“ Henry sighed. “Maybe it’s a Druid thing, but these feel familiar too.”
They sat with that for a long moment before Darryl spoke again. “At dinner — you did something very nice for us, and we threw it back in your face a little. That wasn’t great. I’m sorry.”
Henry turned his head to look at him. “Thank you. I’m sorry I bailed. I, um.” He licked his lips absently as he searched for the words, “We’ve killed a frankly horrifying number of people on this journey of ours. It would be pretty bad if we couldn’t finish because you were too starved to swing an ax. But I don’t like it.”
Darryl nodded. “To be clear, I don’t like that we’re killing people either,” he said, “but I’m glad our priorities are in the same place.”
Henry hummed in agreement. He was starting to look far away. Thinking too hard about what had to be done, Darryl was certain. He wanted to distract him.
“Why didn’t you use magic?”
Henry side eyed him. “For…?”
Darryl wondered if questioning this particular subject was smart, but it was too late now. He plowed ahead. “On the rabbits. Your method seemed pretty… physical.”
Henry raised his eyebrows. “Would you want to eat acid covered meat?” Henry asked, “Or meat that’s been exploded? Or pulverized?” Darryl was definitely regretting bringing up the rabbits again. “Magic is powerful, Darryl, but it feels like, like rot sometimes. Wolves evolved to kill for food, so I thought that would be the better option. And it just… feels better. Sometimes,” he finished lamely.
Darryl processed that for a moment. “Is being a wolf… fun for you?” he asked.
The question took Henry off guard. “Fun is an odd word for it, but… Yeah, I guess so,” he said, like that surprised him.
“Why?”
Henry laughed in a sad kind of way that made Darryl’s chest tighten. “Nothing but heavy hitters tonight, huh, Darryl?”
“You don’t have to…” Darryl said, but Henry put a hand on his knee to stop him.
“It’s fine, it’s just… magic and feelings. It’s a little complicated.” He folded his hands over his chest and looked straight up as he spoke. “I’m still there, when I’m a wolf or whatever. I’ve still got my human understanding of the world, but some things are a little bit simpler? I get some hunting instincts, I’m a lot less anxious, I’m more willing to let myself rest. I’m guessing I’m adopting some of the physiological properties of a wolf’s brain when I’m changed, but I’m really not sure.”
“Huh,” Darryl said. “Dog brain. Who knew.”
Henry laughed, genuinely this time. “Yes, dog brain. Highly recommend it.” He stood, brushed himself off. He extended a hand down to Darryl. “Well, I’m pooped. Ready to rest up for another chance to face the day?”
“Probably not,” Darryl replied, and let Henry help pull him up.
***
Darryl tasted bile at the back of his throat. He’d managed to slip away from the rest of the party before whatever this was really set in, but now he was sitting alone on the forest floor, knees up against his chest like a child, clutching the back of his head as if he’d fly apart if he let go.
They were getting close to finding Grant. He couldn’t keep the feeling of skin out from between his teeth. He couldn’t stop thinking about Grant watching him keel over dead. But that was all moot if Grant was dead already…
Darryl was shaking, biting back something akin to rage because if he let it go he was going to make some horrible noise and if anyone found out about this, Christ how would they look at him? He’d been abandoned by the people he could lean on, abandoned by Carol when he and Grant both needed her, abandoned by God to suffer and die in a strange alien world, abandoned by his fucking dad— Who’s to say the dads wouldn’t decide he was a lost cause too? Who would ever want—
Darryl heard soft trotting footsteps through the trees, slowing to a stop as they approached. A sob forced its way out of him. He had a feeling he knew what — who — was in front of him, and shame burned hot and bright in his belly because of it.
The intruder stepped closer, and warm breath rustled his hair.
“Go away, Henry,” he said, voice hoarse.
Something licked Darryl’s hand. It startled him enough that he jerked up, releasing his self imposed headlock and coming face to face with a large sandy colored wolf.
Darryl squinted at him. “Did you just lick me?”
The wolf stared back with wide, solemn eyes. His tail wagged once across the ground.
“That’s… that’s gross, Henry. And I’m really not— Hey!”
The wolf nuzzled under one of Darryl’s hands so it rested on top of his head and looked up at him imploringly. Darryl paused, then gave him an experimental scritch. His tail swept back and forth over the ground.
The wolf had managed to be an effective distraction, but the horrible emotion was building in him again. He didn’t have much time to decide whether to lose it in front of Henry or send him away.
Darryl sighed, trying to blink away tears before he noticed. “This is a dog brain thing?” he asked, “Pack bonding or something?”
The wolf began panting and wagging his tail harder.
Darryl mentally weighed all the fucked up shit on their plates against petting his friend in dog form. It really wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to him lately.
“Alright,” he murmured, “Dog brain.”
He pulled Henry into a hug. Henry was more than happy to oblige, it appeared, as he immediately leaned hard against Darryl and tucked his big, soft head into the crook of his neck.
Darryl laced his fingers into the thick fur of Henry’s scruff and buried his face in his shoulder. His grip grew tighter as tears began to soak into his coat, but the wolf stayed stoic, his weight a grounding pressure against Darryl’s chest.