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Josh’s tail has been flicking him for the last fifteen minutes.
Usually it’s cute. Usually, he finds it hilarious when Josh can’t help his instincts to wag when he’s happy and excited.
But this isn’t excited wagging, it’s anxious.
And it’s tickling him.
Oliver shifts slightly, reaching down to catch the bushy, silvery-blonde tail before it can hit his thighs again.
"Josh," he says. He doesn't even look up from his book. "If you don’t control your appendage, I’m going to bite it. You don’t want that to happen."
Josh stops his anxious rummaging through his bag. His ears pin down, tail twitching once more in Oliver's grip before falling still.
"Sorry," he mutters, though he doesn't sound particularly repentant. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "Full moon jitters. I’ve got too much energy right now."
"We’ll leave soon, then you can get your zoomies out.”
Josh groans. “Don’t call it that. You make it sound like I’m a dog.”
Oliver raises a brow. “You literally turn into one once a month. You magically poof into a big wolf and have to run around and chew on things all night. You like pup cups. If that’s not dog behavior, I don’t know what is.”
"I don’t just chew on things," Josh grumbles. He slumps down, leaning his shoulder right against Oliver’s knee. "I chase things too."
"You chewed my ferns when you first moved in. Three of them. Including the pots."
"Oh my god, that was one time because the reserve was closed and I had to stay home for the full moon. And I apologized. Also I bought you a lot more than three afterwards.”
Oliver finally sets his book down on the cushion, dog-earing his page.
Josh’s wolf ears are still pinned flat in embarrassment, but his blue eyes look up at Oliver with that puppy-dog helplessness that usually lets him get away with just about anything.
Oliver lets out a long sigh at that. He releases Josh’s tail to instead bury his fingers right into the soft hair behind his ears.
Josh’s eyes flutter shut. A low, rumble vibrates right into Oliver’s knee, his tail gives a single thump against him.
"Alright," Oliver murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of the fluffy ear. "Come on. If we leave now, we’ll beat the traffic."
Josh lets out a satisfied huff, turning his head just enough to press his cheek against Oliver’s knuckles. "Fine. But I'm choosing the radio station on the drive."
"Absolutely not. You have terrible taste in music when you're like this. I refuse to listen to early 2000s pop for an hour straight."
…
The paved access road ends at a big wooden gate, marked only by a green sign with a silver paw print and a stylized crescent moon.
The universal symbol for designated regional reserves, Oliver notes.
Beyond it, the forest stretches out into acres and acres of protected, unlit wilderness.
The air vibrates with distant howls, the occasional rustle of heavy underbrush, and the distinct, warm scent of nature and dozens of other canines gathering under the rising moon.
Oliver pulls the car into a gravel parking slot near the edge of the tree line.
The moment he cuts the engine, Josh is already moving, unbuckling his seatbelt with impatient fingers.
"Stay within the north sector," Oliver tells him, unbuckling his own belt and turning in his seat to face him. "I’m not spending my night navigating the entire south because you got distracted chasing a rabbit."
"I know the boundaries, Oliver," Josh says, stepping out onto the gravel. He gives a full-body shake, bouncing on his heels. "Are you coming out now, or are you going to sit in the air conditioning for a little while?"
Oliver shrugs. “I’ll see. But you go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”
Josh smiles at that. Then, he channels his magic, rubbing his hands together as a gentle blue poof transforms him.
Now, a massive wolf stands on all fours. His thick coat catches the moonlight, his eyes locking onto Oliver’s own through the windshield.
He lets out a low, huffy bark, his tail giving eager shakes against the grass before he turns and bolts into the shadows, his massive paws kicking up dirt as he bounds towards the creek.
Oliver watches the wolfy blur disappear into the trees. He the steps out of the driver's side, locking the car.
Both vampires and werewolves—including all other supernatural creatures—all revolve around the same type of magic in which they transform and get their special abilities from.
However, for vampires, transforming is less of a big, magical poof and more like a little squeak of a spark.
And for Oliver, he doesn’t turn into a massive blood-sucking bat, no.
He’s a fruit bat, specifically, a spectacled flying fox.
In typical vampire lore, the pop culture assumption is always that every creature of the night is a ravenous thing, hunting in the dark.
The reality is far more… interesting and fluffy, he’d say.
A vampire’s instincts, abilities, and diet are dictated entirely by the bat species their magic connects to.
Pure vampiric blood-drinkers—the ones who rely heavily on blood, whether donated bags or feeding off humans and animals to survive—derive their forms from vampire bats.
Oliver, however, got the frugivore gene.
He doesn’t need blood, plain as that— and he’s not dead, no matter what Hollywood says.
His diet basically consists of sugary fruits, berries, nectar, and syrups. Even fruit-flavored things.
It’s why their refrigerator looks less like a gothic lair and more like a smoothie shop.
It also means his scent leans fresher. Something more sweet, sometimes tart depending on the fruit he’s eaten, rather than the metallic scent of blood.
With a little hum of his magic, Oliver transforms.
His clothing vanishes into whatever magical pocket dimension stores it during a shift— no one knows, and he’s pretty sure no one wants to know.
It leaves behind a tiny, dark spectacled flying fox. His small brown fur, dark eyes, and large, delicate wing membranes catch the cool night air as he launches off the top of the car.
Oliver starts to click, using his echolocation to map the canopy and the areas below it, soaring above the trees.
He likes flying.
He likes the wind blowing through his fur, all the unique smells of the forest.
Down below, the reserve is alive with movement, a few other wolves from nearby packs are loping through the brush, their howls echoing.
Oliver’s eyes catch a bright blur weaving through the trees down by the water.
He swoops low through the branches, letting out a tiny chirp as he dives toward the creek bed.
Josh freezes near the water’s edge, his ears swiveling around. He drops onto his front elbows, his tail wagging hard.
"You came," he says, his big teeth in a wide grin.
Oliver hovers right in front of Josh’s snout, doing a fluttering loop before landing right on top of Josh's head. “I did.”
“So what do we want to do first?”
Oliver chirps. "Hold still for a second, I’m fixing myself. I don’t want to fall off when you start moving.” He adjusts his claws, hooking them securely into Josh’s fur, right between his ears.
Josh lets out an amused huff that vibrates all the way up through his skull, tickling Oliver’s feet. "Where are we going? Up towards the north ridge, or down along the water?"
Oliver emits a series of soft, rapid chatters, mapping the terrain ahead.
The sound waves bounce off the damp rocks of the creek bed, the branches of the spruce trees, and a group of wolves trotting through the brush about a quarter mile to the east.
"The creek," he decides. "It’s quiet, and there’s wild blackberry bushes near the bend."
"Works for me.” Josh takes off at a smooth, trotting pace,
He moves with surprising agility for a wolf his size, weaving around fallen logs and slick river stones with easy grace. Oliver sways a little with the motion, but his claws hold tight.
Down by the river bend, the water reflects the bright silver face of the full moon above.
Josh slows to a walk, stepping right up to the edge of the creek to lap at the water.
Oliver takes the opportunity to launch himself off Josh's head, flying up into the branches of a wild bramble hanging over the riverbank.
He hooks his hind feet over a sturdy twig, flipping upside down. He eyes a cluster of ripe, plump blackberries growing near the top of the bush.
Josh lifts his head from the water, watching as Oliver uses his sharp thumb claws to neatly pick the berry, and pull it up to his mouth.
Oliver nibbles at the blackberry. The juice is tart and sweet, bursting with flavor. He lets out a contented squeak as he finishes off the fruit.
He turns right side up, examining himself.
He’s sticky, his chest splattered with the dark juice.
He's really got to learn how to do this more efficiently, he always gets so dirty on full moon nights.
He sighs, raising a wing to try and groom his chest clean before flying back down.
But before he can even start, Josh shoves his snout at him, balancing his heavy paws against the trunk of the bramble.
"Josh, what are you—"
Without warning, Josh opens his mouth and gives one massive, sweeping swipe of his wet tongue right across Oliver’s entire front, taking the berry juice, the branch, and Oliver’s entire body with it.
The juice is cleaned, but in its place, is slobber.
All over him.
His fur sticks up in wild, spiky tufts. Damp tufts. Which means his clothes are probably going to smell like dog for multiple washes after this.
“There,” Josh says. “Fixed it.”
“You licked me.”
Josh gives a shrug. “I lick you all the time—“
“Not my entire body! I’m covered in your saliva!” Oliver pauses, taking a deep breath in. “You know what? It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just what comes with being an animal. I’m just going to take a really, really long shower when we get home.”
Josh's tail wags against the dirt. "See? Problem solved. It’s efficient."
"It’s most certainly not," Oliver tells him, giving his body a vigorous shake that does absolutely nothing to fix his wet fur. He glares down at Josh. "It’s somehow even more sticky."
Josh lets out a doggy noise, setting his paws back to the ground. He lowers his head, making himself accessible again. "Okay, I’m sorry, maybe I could have gone a little softer on it. But are you coming back up, or are you going to pout on that branch until your fur dries?"
"I am not pouting.” Oliver launches off the branch, dropping down to land squarely between Josh's ears again.
Josh turns back towards the path along the water.