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I curled my legs up to my chest, drawing them in with my arms. Trying to keep myself warm. It was so cold out here. So cold. I looked longingly out the hole of my small home to the starry sky. Not day yet. Not warm yet. Not ever. I turned my eyes back down to myself, to the tattered layers of clothes I had myself wrapped up in, only one protection, the others being the leaves and dirt insulating me inside this small cranny I called my home.
I found myself wishing.... Wishing for... No. Not again. Not ever. I would never go back there. That man. That man fed me. Thomas. Three times. Three nights. The second, he opened his door. I went into that trap. I was hungry. Desperate. Cold. But I would be so dependent on him so soon. I couldn't keep letting him give me mercy. He was never going to keep me.
I've heard stories of others accepting help from humans. They forgot how to live out here. So when the humans turned them away... With cruelty... They starved. Hungry. Cold. Tears rolling down their cheeks. Yelping and crying for mercy. They died there. In the cold. I couldn't let myself die like that. This man... He fed me. He kept me warm. I couldn't accept his help. He would be the reason I died.
I curled my ears in as a small gust of autumn wind blew in. I shivered. It was so cold. My stomach groaned, empty, growling at me. I yearned for the warmth of a fire. Of his embrace...
'I couldn't... No... Stop! He'll be the reason for your death. No... No...'
Just then I heard the opening of his door. His door and his house. So close. I froze. A silence. Nothing. Then I heard my name through the wind,
"Loki!"
No. He couldn't do this. I poked my head slowly out of the hole. My hands against the cold ground of the small entrance. He stood in his doorway. Warm light coming from behind him. He stood there. His eyes scanning. I was hidden in the shadows. He bent down, something in his hands. He set it down there. Then he turned away, and went inside, closing the door. The curtains drawing back, no light from the cabin in the woods.
I slowly crawled out of my hole, just looking at that little cabin. I stood up. And I slowly took a step forward. Two. Three. Then I started walking. Slower. Faster. Slower again. The leaves crunching underfoot. Then before my mind could tell my legs to stop, I was standing before his doorstep. I looked down. A silver dog bowl. With a chicken leg in it. I slowly knelt down. Then I sat on his doorstep. I brought my index finger forward, touching it. It was still warm. I picked it up, sinking my teeth into it. My hunger took over, and I tore into it, the juices running over my lips and the sides of my mouth. It was so juicy, and delicious. I didn't notice the curtains pulling back. I just kept tearing the meat from it, getting through to the bone. I set it down, licking eagerly at my fingers. My hunger slightly sated. I sighed.
Then the door opened. I fell back, skittering away from the open door. I sat a few feet away, staring at the open doorway. I looked on, afraid. He stood there. Smiling tenderly at me. He had a chicken wing in his hand. He slowly raised his hand, holding it out. It was warm. I could smell it.
'No. No, no! Stop! Please stop... Stop being kind to me... No more mercy... Please stop...' I thought to myself. But to no avail.
I slowly reached my hand forward, then I snatched it up, sitting there, devouring it. Clumsily ripping the meat from the bone. He stood there, watching me scarf down the delicious meal. Then I looked back up at him, I had finished it. He smiled at me. And slowly opened the door, stepping aside. I looked in. The light from a candle, and a comfy sofa. The warmth from a fire.
'No.... You can't...'
But he did.
And I fell prey.
I slowly got up. Head down and hunched over. I took a step forward. Slowly. Walking inside.
The bearskin rug felt soft and gentle against my callused feet. The fire in the wall flickered and burned slowly. There was a soft looking couch against the wall. I stepped forward, slowly sitting down on the couch. It was so soft. So warm. He walked in, shutting the door but not locking it. I could leave. But I wouldn't... This would be the end of me.
He walked to his kitchen, taking a cup and a bowl. He started filling them with water. I looked over to the cracking fire, so warm with all its colors. Then I heard him walking closer to me. He held out a cup. And I took it, tentatively, hesitantly, but I did. Water. Cool, clean, water. I raised it to my lips, taking a sip. Then I began slowly drinking it. I felt something on my cheek. Cold. Wet. I jerked back, nearly spilling the water. He had the bowl in his hand and pressed a wet rag to my face. I froze, and he brought it back, gently rubbing it over my face. I watched his every move.
But then I took another sip, and he began to clean my arms and my legs. He was so gentle. Then I realized the water was gone. I was no longer thirsty. He took the tin cup from my hand, setting it on the small table to the side of me. I just watched him. Cautious and careful. He dipped the cloth in the water, bringing it back to my skin. Back and forth. Rubbing the cloth up and down my arms. Back and forth. Back and forth. The blackish brown dirt lifting off my skin. His hand came to grasp my arm. I I winced, but he held my arm gently, rubbing off the dirt. Then the other one. Slowly. Gently. Then he slipped the rag under my shirt, quickly getting the dirt off my stomach. I gasped and pulled back, but he still had a grip on my arm, and he pulled me back toward him. My heartbeat sped up, but I didn't fight back. I was scared. But he was gentle. He wiped my chest, then moving to my back. I froze. Unmoving. Then he moved the cloth away, touching my shoulder.
"It's okay. It's all done. It's alright."
I just curled in on myself, looking at him. He kept stroking my shoulder reassuringly. I kept looking into those deep, kind, blue eyes. Then I froze as he brought one hand up to brush a strand of hair from my face. Gentle. Caring. Then he ran his fingers through my hair, brushing out the long strands. His hand was warm, and his touch was gentle. He was so kind. His home was so warm. I couldn't turn away, even if I tried. Even if I wanted to. I couldn't. I sighed, relaxing into his soft touch. I closed my eyes. Sitting there, feeling him run his fingers through my long, matted hair.
I felt him move his hand from my shoulder to my back, rubbing circles on it. I gasped lightly. I had only felt kind touch as a child, and now, with him. And it felt so nice. He had me wrapped around his little finger. He could grab me. He could do God knows what to me. He could kill me, if he wanted. And I was so willing to accept his kindness. Knowing full well he could harm me.
'He will be my killer someday... I know it... I have to leave...'
But I didn't leave. I just sat. But I felt his hand on my side, lifting me up. I stood up and so did he, staring at me for a few seconds. I was scared. Afraid. And shy. And very wary. But willing. And he knew that. But he didn't know just how needy I was. He pulled me a bit, and I took the hint. I started slowly walking with him, he walked slowly, making sure I was comfortable. I just looked at him as he led me into the next room. A little wooden dresser, an unlit candle, a glass of water on a side table, and a bed for two, covered in animal skins and soft sheets.
'Oh god. No, he couldn't...' But he did.
He let go of me, and I stood there as he went to one side, lifting up the covers on the side opposite. Waiting there. My eyes went wide, and I looked him, fear within me.
"I- I can't."
"Yes you can."
He answered reassuringly.
"I'm scared..."
I said, quietly.
He sighed and stood up straight.
"Do you believe I wish to hurt you?"
"...no..."
"I have only done good for you so far, correct?"
"...yes..."
"Then you should not be afraid of me."
I just looked at him. Before I looked back to myself, I was all dirty and I had leaves in my hair.
He said,
"don't worry. I won't mind."
I looked back to him, and slowly, carefully, I walked over to the side of the bed. I touched the sheets, as if testing it. But he remained patient. I slowly sat down, picking up the edges of the sheets.
I was hesitant, and one last thought of,
'run! You can still leave!' Crossed my mind, before I denied it, and slowly picked my legs up and slid them under the blankets, pulling the sheets up to cover me.
My eyes fell on him, and he was still standing there, smiling gently at me. Reassuringly. I bit my lip, from nervousness, and turned around, curling myself inward a little, facing away from him. I felt the bed dip on the opposite side, he was climbing into the bed. The movement ceased, and there was silence, before I felt his hand on my shoulder. I gasped, but the touch was comforting. I felt him getting closer to me, reaching his one hand to my stomach, and the other one to join the first. I felt his clothes against my back, he pressed up against me, and I gasped yet again. But he rubbed circles on my stomach, comforting me. I was so easily manipulated, and I cursed myself for that. But it felt so nice. So warm. He nuzzled his head at my neck, I could feel his breath on my skin. I groaned and he hummed in approval, embracing me tighter. He stopped moving, letting me relax, I did, letting myself go limp and enjoy the sweet warmth. I was so tired, and his embrace was so good. I had to fight sleep, my eyelids becoming heavy. But I finally surrendered, closing my eyes and letting sleep take me.
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I slinked back to my home. It was the end of the day, I was exhausted. A day full of running and hunting. I crawled back inside my den, a small hole in the earth beneath an oak tree. A comforting, familiar sight. The sun had already gone down, the last light making the sky rosy pink. I had to get to sleep. Before anything else could happen. I curled myself up in a ball, the late fall winds cold and bitter. I closed my eyes, and thought of nothing. Concentrating on the sound of the howling winds. And soon, I was fast asleep.
"Loki!" I woke of to the sound of my name. I listened for a second. Then again, heard through the wind, "Loki!" I quickly came out of my hole, standing up and looking toward his house. He was standing in the doorway. His eyes had fallen on me. I looked at him, telling myself,
'if you have one thread of bobcat in you, you'll run, you'll run so far, and you won't look back.'
Another part of me longed for the warmth. For the food, the water, the shelter, and the kindness. The softness. The sweetness. I longed for him. And over all of the screaming of my old self, one voice was heard above all the others that were telling me to run.
It simply said, "go."
And I started running. I ran toward him and I didn't stop until I was standing before his doorstep. I was breathing harder, looking at him. Then I realized in horror, I had come. I came when he called. I complied. He called me and I came. I'm attached to him. He had me wrapped around his little finger. And knowing that killed me. And truthfully, too. One day, it actually would. Tears prickled at my eyes, I was fearing for my life. But I wanted so badly to go inside. To be taken care of. To be his. He looked at me as he held the door open, stepping aside. Giving me the choice. He always gave me the choice. And I chose him. And this time was no different.
I walked up and into his house. I saw the familiar warmth of the fire. That couch that was so soft and comforting. I slowly walked over to it, thinking. I was going to die in the cold somewhere. But I tried to put it out of my mind. I was here now. And even though I could leave, I wouldn't. I sat down on the couch, knowing what to do now. He came over, sitting down next to me. I stared into blank space. Waiting. He sat for a minute, before asking,
"May I?"
I said "yes" so quickly I surprised even myself. I guess I was waiting for him to ask.
He looked at me, and hesitantly he reached his arm around me and touched my shoulder, pulling me a little closer to him. Leaning in closer and comforting me, taking my hand in his. I didn't look at him. I just stared into the fire, feeling his warmth, and his gentle touch. And feeling so guilty for loving it. I loved it all. For so long I had ached for someone else. To help me or make things easier, like a mate. Or someone to talk to. Someone to warm me. All these years in this forest were so lonely, I could only speak to myself and the wind. And now, after so many cold nights, I was warm. And I can't help that I look forward to this every day. I can't help that I want the warmth, and the kindness. And the love. No one had cared about me ever since my mother died when I was thirteen. And now, Thomas was so kind to me. He was so sweet, so caring, so gentle. But I knew it wouldn't last. And I could barely look him in the eyes, because all I could think of was the face of my killer staring back at me.
He was holding me close to him right now. Holding my hand. Until he let go of it. He began to slowly trail his hand up my chest and neck, then caressing the side of my face, and turning my head toward him. I let him hold my head and gently control my movements, as he held me steady, and just looked at me. I was a little nervous, but he took his hand from my shoulder, and touched my back, rubbing circles on it. I relaxed as he looked into my eyes. Then he leaned in closer, his eyes fluttering shut, as he pressed his lips to mine. I was confused, and a little scared, but I closed my eyes as well. And then the feeling was, pleasant. I couldn't describe it. My chest felt light and my muscles were relaxed. I sighed and he pulled me a bit closer, as he kept his lips against mine. Then I felt him slowly pull away.
I opened my eyes as he did his. I just looked at him, with this tired, pleased, and yet confused expression on my face. He took a second before he asked,
"was that too far?"
I responded after a moment,
"no..."
He asked again, looking very hesitant, and unsure,
"did you like it?"
I took a second to think about it. It was confusing, and I didn't see the purpose of it. But it felt good. I felt very warm. And very cared for. I felt... Light. It was pleasant, and gentle. Very sweet.
I responded, "yes."
He smiled a little, before becoming more serious. He asked,
"Loki, do you trust me?"
I said after a moment, "yes."
I did trust him. He was kind. For now. And for now, yes, I found myself trusting him. He asked,
"how much do you trust me?"
"I don't-"
"do you believe that I wouldn't hurt you? That I wouldn't do anything to do you harm?"
I thought about it. I knew this wouldn't last. None of it. And it was my horrible decision to stay. But as of this moment, this sweet, sweet moment, I believe, truly, that he could never do anything to hurt me. And it killed me to know it wouldn't last.
"Yes, I do."
He looked down to my clothes and said,
"Loki, your clothes, are they bothering you?"
I didn't understand the purpose of the question, so I told the truth.
"They are scratchy, they are ripped, and they are too small, but they keep me warm. And that's what matters."
"Loki, you know I just want to make you more comfortable, right?"
"Yes."
He asked, sincerity in his voice,
"well, would you like to take them off?"
I looked down at myself, crossing my arms over my stomach. And after a minute, I just said,
"well, it's just, I would feel to vulnerable."
"Don't worry. We are well protected. And I would never hurt you. Remember?"
That was true. And it would be far more comfortable. I replied,
"I just, I wouldn't be comfortable with taking them off."
"I could do it for you."
He offered to do this for me. To make me comfortable, and to help me. I couldn't resist. I wanted his help, and his love, so, so bad. I couldn't turn it down.
"Okay." I said.
He smiled and said,
"alright, let's go to the bedroom, shall we? It would be easier then."
I nodded and we stood up, walking into the other room. He patted the bed, motioning for me to sit down next to him. I walked over, sitting down on it, swinging my legs onto the bed.
He smiled and said,
"arms up."
I raised my arms in the air, and he easily pulled off the shirt, exposing my skin to the colder air. Still warm, but cooler than I was. I shivered in the sudden temperature change. I put my arms down, and he traced his hands down to my pants. He undid the button, easily pulling them off me. I felt so exposed. But I was somewhat comfortable. I felt safe. He looked down to himself and asked,
"do you mind if I do the same?"
I shook my head, I didn't really care either way. He began undressing himself, pulling his shirt over his head and pulling off his pants. I couldn't help but stare. He was so clean, and he looked so, so, perfect. He was attractive, I admit. He just had that look about him. He looked back to me, and smiled, and so did I, grateful to be back in his gaze. He reached his hand to caress my neck, getting closer to me. He used the other to run down my sides, feeling my dips and curves. His hands were soft and warm, it felt very nice. I sighed in content, the touch was so sweet, I wanted more of it. Luckily for me, he pulled down the sheets, and he gently pulled me down to the bed.
I collapsed and let him run his hands over me after he pulled up the blanket, and I was enveloped in softness and warmth. He gently caressed me, feeling my body, running his hands over me, and I brought my arms around him and began to do the same. Well, I attempted, at least. I let my hands wander over him, touching the soft skin on his chest, running my hands down his sides and over his hips, before he pulled my hands away and got on top of me, gently resting enough of his weight to keep me down. And I let him do it. I wasn't worried. His movements, his actions, they all relaxed me, they taught me to trust him, to let him do what he wanted with me.
I was the puppet, and he had the strings. I was willing to accept anything from him. He nuzzled his head in my neck, kissing at it gently, then moving to my face, pressing kisses to my cheeks and on my face, smothering me with sweet kisses. I laughed a little and said,
"Tom, quit it, that tickles!"
He pulled back to look me in the eyes, and smiled, saying,
"oh, but you're so beautiful. I can't help it."
While holding onto my hand. I felt my cheeks heating up, and I said,
"Tom, you don't mean that."
"But I do. I think you're very pretty."
I smiled involuntarily, he made my heart so happy. That was the thought capacity I had. I was giddy, he was cuddling me, and I felt so loved. He rolled over to the side of me, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to him. He intertwined his legs with mine, making sure to comfort me. He held me close like that for a long while. And it felt so nice. Sleep was even more eager to pull me under. I didn't fight it. I was content. I felt safe. So when sleep came to pull me under, I let it take me, and transport me peacefully into dreamland.
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I was back late. The sun was down and the sky was already fairly dark. The moon shining down onto the creatures of the night. I caught view of my small home, and of his. I was hesitant for a moment. But then I made my decision. I ran for his house. I wanted to see him.
I ran until I was at his doorstep. I stepped up, standing right before his door. I waited a moment, eager to get back to him. But nothing came. I wasn't familiar with this. I didn't know what to do.
I looked down and saw that knob he used to open it. I tried turning it, but it wouldn't turn. I tried both ways. Nothing. I fiddled with it, but it didn't turn. I got a little worried. I looked in his windows. I saw the light shining through a crack in the curtains. He was there. He must have been.
I tried tapping on the door. With one finger. Then I tried gently wrapping at it with my knuckles. I waited a moment. Nothing. I tried banging it with one of my fists. No. I was staring to get nervous.
"Tom?" I called before I banged my fist into the door twice.
"Tom?!" I said, doing it with more urgency. I was starting to panic, the thoughts I tried so hard to suppress coming back to fill my mind with fear. I did it again three times
"Tom?!?!" Nothing.
I tried the knob, frantically, it didn't work. My heartbeat was getting faster, the loneliness felt crippling. I tried smacking at it with my open hand.
"Tom!!!"
Nothing.
Oh god.
No.
I tried with both hands, now frantically hitting at the door, praying for him to notice me. Tears came to my eyes as I tried, in desperation, to run all the way around the small house, but there was no visible entrance. I ran back to the front, a tear had sprung from my eye. I tried frantically hitting at the door,
"TOM!!!"
More tears came, I couldn't stop them. I kept hitting at it and I didn't stop.
"TOM! If you can hear me, PLEASE let me in!!!"
Nothing.
"Tom, I'm begging you, PLEASE, OH GOD, OPEN THE DOOR!!"
Then the horrid thought prevailed. What if he was just inside. Locking the door. Wanting me to leave. Turning me away. I could no longer suppress these thoughts as I panicked and feared for my life.
"TOM!!! PLEASE!!!"
I said, sobbing.
"TOM!!!"
Nothing.
My heart sank and my chest was clenching up along with my throat as I started sobbing.
"TOM, PLEASE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!!"
He didn't answer. Oh God. I was going to die.
I was going to be killed. Or starve.
I'm helpless. I am having a much harder time hunting, with little success.
If he isn't feeding me, I'll die.
No.
No.
"OH GOD TOM, MERCY, PLEASE!!!"
I was full on sobbing and hitting at the door with everything I had, yelling, screaming,
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE, PLEASE DON'T LET ME DIE!!!"
I was going to die. Oh god, oh god, OH GOD!!!
I can't die! No, I can't! I don't want to die!!!
"TOM, PLEASE, I NEED YOU!!!"
I kept shouting,
"I NEED YOU!" Over and over again as I fell to the ground, crying on the doorstep.
"I NEED YOU, I NEED YOU I NEED YOU, I... I need... I..."
I let my tears fall and my heavy sobs and sadness overtake me. And as one last effort, I said,
"TOM, PLEASE, IF YOU LOVE ME, PLEASE DON'T LET ME DIE OUT HERE!!!
Please... Please don't... Please don't let me die... Tom..."
I was sobbing. My life was now limited to a few weeks or a few days. I was going to die. And I could do nothing about it. I loved him. And I was foolish to think he loved me. He doesn't care. The sweetness. The kindness. It was a cruel trick. He doesn't love me... He doesn't... He's letting me die... And I still somehow love him...
Just then the door swung open. Tom had a very worried look on his face. He practically screamed,
"Loki!!!"
He got his arms around me and decided that I didn't need to walk in. He picked me up in his arms, the door swinging shut behind him. He quickly laid me down on the couch, beginning to inspect me.
"Loki, are you hurt?! Were you attacked?! What happened?!?!"
I was still sobbing, and I weakly wrapped my arms around him, wanting to feel him again. I needed his warmth. I needed him. So, so much. He sat down on the sofa and quickly complied, pulling me up and letting me rest on him. I was weakly hanging onto him, him holding me up. He was rubbing circles on my back, saying,
"sh, sh, hush now, it's alright Loki. You're safe, everything's okay."
He was cooing softly to me, as if he was comforting a small child. But it worked. My tears and sobs slowed, until I was just hugging him tightly, my breathing sometimes broken up into gasps, the sobs still having an effect on me. He was holding me tightly, and rubbing my back, assuring me everything was alright. And that I was safe now. He pulled my head away so that we could look at each other as he caressed the side of my face. He used his thumb to wipe away some of my tears. Then he said,
"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you. When I finally did I couldn't find the bloody key."
I nodded in understanding. Then after a moment, he looked at me with this concerned look on his face.
"Loki. I heard what you were saying."
I nodded my head a little, and he said,
"do you want to tell me what that was about?"
I took a second before I said it.
"Thomas, I... I've heard stories. When I was young. About how some of us would go with the humans. Would trust them. And they let them in, and showed them warmth. And sometimes, showed them love. And they became dependent of them for life. But in the end, the human would always decide they did not want them. And they were cast away from their human. And without the human, they didn't know how to live like they used to. So most of died from starvation, crying, in the cold, pleading for help and mercy. But no one would help, it was their fault they went to the human. And every time it happened. They would die."
Tom was looking at me, with this stunned and yet sad expression on his face. "I just thought that, if I kept staying, then I'd die. And every time, I didn't want to leave, because..."
I paused for a moment, a few tears collecting back in my eyes.
"Because... You were so kind... And sweet... And gentle, and caring and loving and... And, I hadn't felt gentle touch since I was a child. Since my mother died when I was thirteen. No one showed any care for me. Until you..."
He kept looking at me, with interest, and with feeling. He was sad, but he was listening.
"And... Thomas... I really thought you loved me... And in your kindness, and your embrace... And the way you hold me... I just... I fell in love with you. You make me feel so good. And so loved.
And I...
I love you."
I just looked into his eyes. And then he said,
"Loki. I... I do love you. At first I was only fascinated with you. I thought you beautiful, and I wanted to get close to you. But then, the way you looked at me, with those innocent eyes. And your willingness, and your rare but sweet smile. I fell in love with you. And I wanted to love you like I wanted. So I was gentle, and I tried. And I only thought you liked the feeling of the warmth, and the kissing. I didn't know you loved me. I thought you only loved what I had and what I did."
And I replied,
"no, I love YOU. I tried to stop thinking about you, but I couldn't."
He smiled and said, the smile dropping from his face,
"oh, Loki, if only I had told you sooner."
"Oh, Tom."
"No, not that."
I looked at him, confused. And not knowing what he meant in the slightest. He took a deep breath, and said it.
"It's just that... I was waiting for the right time to tell you, once you liked it here even better. But... I want to keep you. I want you to be mine, so you can live here, with me. I just wanted to take care of you, but you left every morning, so I was going to wait until you spent more time here. I just... I wanted to care for you. And I still do."
A tear fell from my eyes. Tom loves me. And he wants to keep me. He wants me to live here. With him. And this warmth. And this happiness. HE wants ME. And he really loves me...
I cried,
"oh Gods Thomas!!!"
I fell forward and hugged him so tight, saying,
"yes, yes, oh yes yes yes, a thousand times, yes!"
He returned the tight embrace. He said, "oh, God, Loki, I love you so much!" We just wanted to hold each other. That was all both of us wanted. Just to sit there and hold each other. Relishing in that happiness. Feeling the other's love. We loved each other, it was real, and we both knew it. So we held each other. For a very long time. Until I fell asleep on the sofa, in his arms. I was ready to stay with him. Until the very end. And I was happy. I was content. I was truly, finally, loved.