Posting from my LJ, ertonine, at the same time. Got the idea from the Grimm Kinkmeme over there, and enjoying filling it. Just thought it might be easier to follow here. I'll upload what i got today and tomorrow.
Monroe shivered in the cold pacific north fall, shaking some of the dew that had taken a liking to his fur. He groaned as he stretched, having just risen from his bed of dead leaves behind a bush in the woods. Not exactly the Ritz Carlton or even a cardboard box in an alley, but it had to do. He'd been hiding in his wolf form for more than a month now, trying to keep off the vessen radar so to speak. He'd had to leave his poor little house, locked up tight, and his poor yellow beetle and everything else he liked behind until some of the heat died down. Rather than leave Portland all together, he hoped that spending his time away would get any unwanted attention to leave. Unfortunately, the times he'd returned and sniffed around he kept detecting scents of those he wanted to avoid, and they weren't fading with age. That meant they were still eager to find him.
Giving a rumbling sigh through his jowls, he moved through the woods and sniffed out a few mushrooms and roots to eat. It was a chilly day, but his fur kept him well insulated. Thin rays of sunlight lit his way as he picked among the forest floor and dug in the soft earth. He was starving after a month of scavenging, and a full wolf's digestive system protested to the vegetarian diet. He was thinner than when he'd first come to be survivor man, and was getting weaker. It wasn't good if he was found in this state, he wouldn't be a match for an aggressor.
A rustle nearby drew his attention and he quickly turned to look. A brown rabbit paused nearby, regarding him as he stared at it. The temptation to give chase and eat it was great, but he resisted. Even if he was on wolf form restriction till further notice, he was still a weirder blutbad. The fluffy tailed little morsel hopped ran away before he could change his mind. He kept wandering the woods to take his mind off how hungry he really was.
Suddenly in the distance he could smell blood. The wolf instincts in him wanted him running towards it, and his resistance broke the tiniest that he followed the trail. If something was wounded or dead, it wasn't exactly killing it. It might be more merciful.
As he got closer though, the scent of another blutbad had his hackles rising. He didn't recognize the scent, but it was definitely blutbad in origin. It wasn't weak, but not strong enough to lead him to believe the creature was nearby. Though he knew he should turn back, he kept walking cautiously forward. More scents wafted over to him, people, gunpowder, leather…and death.
He kept behind a nearby tree but peeked out. Somehow, blutbad instinct perhaps, his eyes were first drawn to the red. The red of blood and the red of a hoodie. A young girl was lying just to the side of the jogging path, her throat torn open. Part of him was sympathetic, the other was hungry. But there were people gathered around the body. Police he realized. Wonderful, some stupid blutbad let his kill be found by the police. It was still fresh too he realized.
Ears twitching, he could vaguely hear a song playing on something. An iPod he supposed. It was a familiar song and he almost tried humming along. A wolf's throat wasn't equipped for humming tunes though.
One officer walked over, gingerly picking the mp3 player up and looking it over before turning it off with a press of his gloved finger and bagging it. "Looks like that attack a while ago. The one they said was a bobcat," he said.
"Bobcats don't wear boots," the other said, and Monroe took a closer look at him. Not as tall as him when he's a human, but sturdy looking with fluffy black hair and boyish good looks. Something about him was…off though. The wolf didn't know what it could be, he looked normal enough, but it made him uncomfortable.
"Holy shit!" Monroe jumped at the yell, turning to see another crime scene investigator staring at him. He could taste the fear radiating off him. "I-I think I know what did it! A big ass wolf!"
My ass is not big, Monroe thought. He backed up quickly though as more people came around. He was weak from hunger so dealing with a full grown man would be difficult. A group would be impossible.
"Damn," the black man that found the mp3 player said. "Never seen a wolf like that before." He reached toward his gun and Monroe tensed further. He needed a break to run for it, but how could he do that and not get shot like a dog, excuse the expression.
The boyish cop put a hand on his coworker's shoulder. "Don't do anything rash, Hank," he said.
"You see the size of that thing? It's probably what attacked that girl!"
Monroe sniffed at being called a thing, but was far more worried about being blamed for a murder he sure as hell didn't commit. But he couldn't exactly change back right in front of them to proclaim his innocence. He'd be naked as a jay bird for one, and they might still shoot for another. Not to mention what the vessen community may do to him for breaching that particular protocol.
The boyish one still kept a hand on the trigger happy one's shoulder. "He's not growling or flashing teeth. And though he's filthy, I don't see any blood on him."
Oh thank the old gods, he's an observant one!
"He might be someone's pet that got off his leash or something. Some kind of designer dog or mutt. Maybe part wolf."
He let go of the man's shoulder and took a couple of careful steps forward before kneeling down. "Hey boy, you friendly?" he said in a slightly higher voice, as if coaxing a scared animal. The tone hurt his ears.
Okay, observant but still somehow an idiot. Monroe was tempted to growl, but didn't want to tempt the people with the shiny guns. Instead he backed away more.
"It's okay, I won't hurt you."
Not taking the chance, copper. Though weak from hunger and dirty from the woods, Monroe was still a blutbad and therefore above your average wolf. Turning, he took off into the woods at a run. He heard the man cry out but kept running, heading up the hill towards a residential area. Maybe he could lose them among the housing.
What he didn't count on was coming out right on a street, and right as a hummer—gas-guzzling behemoths of earthly destruction that they were—coming right for him. The breaks squealed but they were too late. He yelped as it hit hard, sending him skidding across asphalt and tumbling head over tail. Vaguely he heard someone coming up the hill and yelling before things went dark.
Monroe came too somewhere that was not a street or a forest floor. It felt more like the back seat of a car with an old towel between part of his body and the upholstery. The towel smelled like sweat. Groaning a bit, he tried to look around. He was indeed in some kind of SUV, the back seats folded down for extra space and lying on his side. The car was moving. He couldn't have been out long because it was still daylight out.
"Whoa, you're awake!"
Eyes widened a bit and he turned his head enough to vaguely make out the man behind the wheel. It was the boyish detective from before. Monroe was grateful that he was still in his wolf form or things would've been more than awkward. But he'd only revert back if he was killed or seriously injured. He might have a slight concussion, but blutbad were tough even weakened. He could already feel his wounds healing at a rate slower than his normal "miraculous", but faster than the average man or best.
"Don't worry, buddy, we're almost there. I'll get you some help."
I'm not your buddy, he thought, but only managed a huff. He still couldn't move well. Sitting up would be difficult. Walking would be a no go for a while.
The car pulled up somewhere and parked and the man got out of the car. A few minutes later, he returned with a young boy in scrubs and opened the back hatch. "Wow, you weren't kidding…he's huge! Like the size of a bear!"
Monroe wanted to laugh.
"Not quite that big I think, but he is impressive," Nick chuckled. "He's heavy too, so brace yourself." Monroe groaned as he grabbed the towel under him and dragged his body to the edge. The boy helped him manhandle the canine onto a gurney like structure that was a bit small for him, but wheeled him quickly inside.
The scent of animals and antiseptic assaulted him and he honestly wished the car had killed him. He took me to a goddamn vet's! He could hear a symphony of yips and barks and meows from cages in the facility. He had a feeling from the number of sounds that it wasn't just a vet, it might be the actual Oregon Human Society.
He was pushed into another room and heard a woman's gasp.
"Oh my god, Nick! That's a wolf!"
Thank you, Obvious Woman. Mind telling Captain Good Samaritan?
"You sure? He wasn't threatening." Monroe felt a slight wound to his ego at that.
"Wolves are only threatening when threatened or protecting their territory, Nick. They're more afraid of us than we are of them."
Wolves maybe. Blutbaden, no. I'm just too damn hungry to try and deal with you people.
"Well, he ran for a residential area and got hit by a car. If he is a dog with a worried owner, I'd like to find out and get him home."
There was hesitation before the woman came into view, and Monroe groaned a bit. She was hot, it was true, but dammit did she have to have red hair? Lucky for her he was too sore to act on his instincts at all. Her fingers were nicely gentle though as she examined him. She pulled back his jowls and he dutifully resisted biting her fingers. At this point, playing the docile domesticated doggy was his best bet on surviving this humiliating encounter and not getting euthanized.
The boy in the scrubs gave a surprised "woo". "Thos are some nasty looking teeth. Great shape though."
Monroe felt his ego slightly bolstered again. He did take good care of his teeth, thank you, even with a month of mostly being a wolf. The woman didn't comment, continuing to gently poke and prod him. He whined a bit when she touched his side and she frowned, running a hand over him. "Hmmm…how hard did the car hit him?"
"Pretty hard. He went flying."
I went skidding, not flying.
"I think he might have some cracked ribs, but I don't feel any breaks. He must be pretty tough."
The man grinned a bit. "More damage to the car than him. The guy driving was pissed, wanted to hold the dog responsible, but I threatened him with speeding in a residential area and he backed off."
Monroe felt a small touch of gratitude. The woman smiled as well. "You just love helping the weak and down trodden, don't you?"
"I got a superman complex, I know."
She hummed in agreement and picked up something from a tray. A thermometer…
Oh shit! He thought, with a touch of irony. Monroe tried to get up then, whining and bucking his still sore body. The woman backed up immediately, but the man quickly walked forward and set his hands on him, rubbing gently over his back. That shouldn't have felt as good as it did, but he did feel some pleasurable shudders and calmed.
"It's okay," he said soothingly. "I think he's been to a vet before," he joked.
"Yeah, I guess so. Just hold him still."
Monroe whined again, but between his hit and run and his still gnawing hunger he couldn't really fight as the thermometer got very familiar with him.
"That's a good boy," the man said, scratching behind his ears and dammit, that was actually pretty good feeling.
"He's a bit warm, but not alarming. He's a pretty thin though," the red head continued. "You may have a point about being someone's pet. If he got off the leash and hadn't figured out how to get food, he's probably pretty weak and tired."
No, I'm just a vegetarian. Not as easy as you might think in the wild if you're not a small grass eater.
The man didn't let go as he kept rubbing over Monroe's head. Monroe closed his eyes, annoyed with how he was reacting a bit to involuntarily like a pet. "Think he's chipped?"
The woman picked up a scanning device and ran it over the back of Monroes neck till it beeped in a negative way. She sighed. "No. I wish people would do that more often, so much easier to return their dogs."
"I know, I've heard the soap box before," he teased.
Oooh, she's your girlfriend, Monroe realized. Trying to get brownie points by showing off your sensitive side tending to a wounded animal? Good plan, Casanova!
He tensed when a needle was suddenly stuck in him, trying to shift away. The human was surprisingly strong though, holding him firmly in a headlock. "I'm giving him some sub-cu fluids, they should help with any dehydration. Now for blood." His eyes widened and he struggled a little more, but the needle went in once more, this time drawing fluid out. She ran some quick tests with it. "Well, he's heartworm negative so that's good. His fur and skin look healthy despite being pretty dirty. No fleas or ticks that I can see. Get him on the scale." The men listened and lifted Monroe as gently as they could to set him on the scale on the floor. She hummed as the number came up. "Given his size, he should be at least fifteen to twenty pounds heavier…"
Damn, didn't know I was that far gone…
"I'd like to get him something to eat, but the main problem is I don't think we have a free kennel quite big enough. And until I know he reacts around other animals, I don't want to risk giving him a roommate."
Monroe wished he could say just let him go, maybe return to his house and take his chances with his hunters.
"Well…how about I take him home?" the boyish cop said. "We could take care of him."
The girl looked at him like he was nuts and Monroe had to agree. "Nick, he's huge!"
"Our house isn't some one room apartment. And it's got a nice yard. Plus we don't have any other animals right now."
"I just want to make sure he gets a fair chance. I don't think he's a bad animal, or he could've attacked us. You can put him on the website for anyone who might be looking for him and when he's healthy and the waiting period is up, he can go back up for adoption."
"Nick, he still might be dangerous! If he's thin or lived in the wild too long, he might be a resource guarder and take your hand off near food."
Monroe tried not to take offense to that, though admitted he was damn hungry. Biting the hand that fed him was getting more tempting.
"Jules, he's got nowhere else to go right now." Monroe felt hands at his face, smooshing his cheeks, and taking a hand off suddenly sounded like a good plan. "Look at this face. This proud, noble, sweet face. How can you say no?" He didn't feel proud, noble or sweet at the treatment but resisted turning around and tackling the man who's strange sent still tickled his nose. He should really get a medal.
The woman looked at him with pity, though for his condition or her boyfriend's treatment he wasn't sure. "Fine," she finally said. "If he's putting up with you, he's probably more even tempered than I give him credit for. But we aren't keeping him!" She said sternly.
The man-Nick, his name was apparently- smiled happily and Monroe resisted groaning again.
Wonderful…I'm someone's pet!