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It was like a solemn scene from a dark comedy, Dylan and Kaitlyn hanging out in the lodge with the corpse of the recently-deceased, recently-unwerewolfed Caleb Hackett. Kaitlyn had bullied Dylan into a chair, and was still hanging onto the shotgun while checking the locked windows. He watched her in a daze, his brain starting to turn to fuzz from the blood loss and the many adrenaline spikes that had kept him going over the night.
Man, I could use a snack, Dylan thought to himself dazedly. Or a drink. Or an ambulance. Or a hug- actually, I’ll take the hug first. Medical attention can wait a minute. Okay, actually, maybe my brain’s not working right right now, the fuzz is winning.
Somewhere through the fuzz, though, it registered suddenly that Kaitlyn was on her twelfth or so loop of window-checking.
“Uh… Kaitlyn?” Dylan asked hesitantly.
“What,” she snapped, not looking at him.
“I think you’re probably okay to sit down, too.”
“No,” she snapped again, stomping over to the first window in her rotation again.
“Uh… okay,” Dylan answered, deciding not to push it. Kaitlyn seemed really on edge.
Like… uncharacteristically on edge.
And… uncharacteristically pale.
Then Kaitlyn turned his way just enough to see her face, and oh, her eyes were uncharacteristically yellow.
Turned out Dylan still had enough energy for one more adrenaline spike, who could’ve guessed?
He carefully stood up, trying not to catch Kaitlyn’s attention, but it was a futile effort, since her gaze snapped to him instantly.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I was just gonna…” Dylan thought hard for a second. “Check the kitchen? For a drink or something.”
Kaitlyn’s (very, very yellow) eyes narrowed, but she jerked her head in acquiescence.
Dylan scampered out of the room, not giving her a chance to change her mind, and closed the door behind him. He then searched for something to block the door.
No chairs… no tables… he was just contemplating whether or not he could jam one of the cooking utensils into the gap in the door hard enough to do anything when he heard Kaitlyn yell from the main room-
“NO!!!”
-accompanied by a familiar, splattering, squelch-y noise.
Okay, no more time for MacGyvering, Dylan had just enough time to think to himself before he heard the distinct sound of werewolf feet hitting the floor, moving his direction. With no other options presenting themselves, he yanked open the freezer door and swiftly shut himself inside.
Not a moment too soon, either, as the kitchen door smashed to splinters to let in a hulking monster that could only be one Kaitlyn Ka.
Dylan watched through the freezer door’s tiny window as she sniffed around, clearly looking for him, ripping open cabinet doors and upturning dishes, visibly frustrated by her missing prey. After several tense minutes, she threw her head back and let out a bloodcurdling howl, then leapt back through the destroyed door.
Dylan let out a sigh of relief, slumping against the cold wall. Then the obvious problem hit him.
“Oh, shit.”
Okay, this might be bad. Being locked in a freezer while wearing not-really-wet-but-definitely-still-damp clothing and missing a hand until someone who wasn’t a werewolf found him… might be bad. He could vaguely recall something about blood loss and freezing temperatures being mentioned in one of his first aid certifications he’d gotten back in May, but the specifics were escaping him. He probably hadn’t paid attention, given that those first aid certifications were being acquired for a children’s summer camp, happening in the summer.
While he spiraled on whether winter camp first aid courses would’ve prepared him better (or if winter camp courses even existed) he missed the sound of a large creature’s footsteps stalking back into the kitchen to search it once again. He didn’t miss it, though, when there was a sudden splatter of blood on the freezer’s tiny window.
Huh. “Kaitlyn? Was that you?”
Nothing, for several long seconds. Then-
-the door was dragged open, by Dylan’s properly short and un-werewolfed work friend.
“What the hell just happened?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Uhh… somebody shot the one that bit you?” Dylan guessed. The sun wasn’t really up yet, so that seemed like the most logical conclusion.
“Oh. I… turned into a werewolf?” she asked, slowly processing the implications of that.
“Yeah. You were surprisingly tall.”
“Fuck you. Why were you in the freezer?”
“I couldn’t think of any other lockable doors.”
“It’s not lockable from the inside, dingus!” Kaitlyn scolded him, clearly appalled by his survival skills.
“Hey! It worked better than any of the other ideas I didn’t have! It wasn’t like I could go back out there for the shotgun,” he defended himself, waving his hand and handless wrist in emphasis.
She scoffed at him, then grabbed him by the elbow to drag him out of the freezer doorway and into a hug.
(It was a slightly awkward hug, what with Dylan being a foot taller than her and Kaitlyn being half-naked and covered in her own blood. It was still the best hug he’d ever had.)