Trigger

11

“My mother spanked me for that one,” she added, laughing. “Can’t say I blame her.”

They carried on this way for hours, Stormy alternating between stories from her childhood and gentle humming, the creek widening beside them. It seemed like very little time had passed before Trigg noticed the sun lowering over the trees, the temperature dropping slowly but steadily.

He stopped when noticing a comfortable-looking clearing, a small space surrounded on all sides by trees. Stormy followed him in, remarking on how the day had gotten away from her.

“You’re right, Snowflake,” she said, setting the backpack against one of the trees, “this is a good place to stop for the night.”

Trigg looked at the backpack, thinking disdainfully of the processed MREs inside before beginning to walk deeper into the forest. He heard Stormy begin to follow and turned back.

Stay here, he thought, shooting her a look.

She tilted her head slightly before sitting, her back resting against the roots of a particularly large tree.

“Be careful,” she said

The man inside him scoffed in fake offense, secretly loving her concern for him. Would she still feel that way once he revealed himself to her?

He tried not to dwell too long on the thought, letting his wolf take charge as he crept quietly through the thick brush.

It didn’t take long to hear the nearby skittering of some smaller animal and only slightly longer to catch it. A short while later, he was back in their makeshift camp, two rabbits clutched tightly in his jaws.

This earned him another scratch behind the ears and a few “good boys” that he couldn’t help but love. He dropped the rabbits at Stormy’s feet, sitting back, his chest swelled with pride.

She looked at him quizzically before glancing back at the rabbits.

“Oh,” she said, “oh, right. I have to do this part, don’t I?”

The man inside him chuckled, watching her pick up their dinner with a calculating look on her face.

“Well, Snowflake …” she said, taking a small pocketknife from her boot, “I guess there’s a first time for everything. My dad used to clean fish. I guess it’s probably the same kinda thing here. Just more gross.” She sliced the skin with her blade.

Trigg was impressed, watching her dress the rabbits. For someone who had never skinned fresh game, she sure had a knack for it. And didn’t gag once. He was again struck by her capabilities.

After finding the matches in the backpack, she built a fire in the center of the clearing, and he sat beside her as she cooked their dinner over the flames. As she did, she regaled him with more tales from her life, funny anecdotes, and heartfelt memories. He was utterly captivated, feeling he could listen to her talk forever and never grow tired of it.

By the time they finished eating, night had fallen, and Trigg felt the air around them growing cold.

Stormy seemed to notice it as well as she reached for the backpack, pulling the thermal blanket free with a flourish. She patted the ground beside her as she settled onto the forest floor.

She certainly didn’t have to ask twice.

Trigg settled against her, allowing himself to truly breathe in her scent now that the day was finished. He’d have to focus again tomorrow, but tonight he could afford to let his mind wander, he reasoned.

Stormy twisted onto her side, draping an arm over him. Her heat washed across his fur, and he couldn’t think of a time in his life when he’d been quite so comfortable.

Her fingers rubbed softly against his chest, each movement sending a jolt of pleasure through him. He resisted the urge to howl in delight, raising his head to look back at her in the soft moonlight.

He planted a slobbery kiss on her cheek, and she smiled.

“Goodnight, Snowflake.”

To his horror, he didn’t mind the name one bit.

STORMY

Stormy drifted into slumber with the wolf by her side, feeling comforted and warm. It was like having a dog sleeping next to you at home, that sense of safety undefinable. But Stormy also felt there was something more to him as well, a strange connection that transcended the average pet and owner relationship.

When she awoke, she felt a pang of hunger. It was deep and unrelenting, so she got up, trying not to wake Snowflake. The wolf lay there without a movement, breathing softly. Stormy went into the woods, looking for something to eat besides the highly-processed food in their bag.

She came about a patch of berries, looking delicious and luscious. She plucked a handful of the vibrant pink fruit and opened her mouth to pop them all in at once.

The next thing she knew, she was on her back looking up at the tops of the conifers. She rolled her head to the side to see the white wolf jumping up and down on the berries spilled from her hands. He looked rather comical with the bright pink squishing under his paws.

No, the wolf communicated to her. Those are poisonous berries.

Stormy looked down at the potential food. She had a vague idea about what was safe and what wasn’t safe to eat, but she didn’t think twice about the berries. Her hunger had taken the reins of her mind at that point.

There was a part of her that felt embarrassed, but the wolf had a way of reassuring her.

Follow me, the wolf said. I will show you where we can eat safe ones.

Stormy nodded and followed Snowflake to a bush near their camp. The berries were a slightly different color, more indigo than a blinding pink. The wolf pointed at them with his snout.

These are fine, he said. You must be starving.

Stormy nodded.

“In every sense of the word,” she snarked.

She took a pile of berries into her mouth and moaned. The wolf hopped up and down, pleading with her to retrieve him some. She did so, letting him feed out of her hand.

Stormy gathered her belongings, and they continued to follow the creek. Stormy did feel an inclination of strangeness talking to this wolf while it spoke to her in her mind, but her intuition was strong enough to trust herself.

“I used to live near a place like this,” Stormy said.

Snowflake seemed to nod as he continued onward.

“I have always loved nature,” she confessed. “Everything in its abundance, living as rustic beings, is something I admire. I used to explore along a creek where we lived.”

Snowflake glanced back intermittently to catch her gaze.

“That’s where my empathy sprouted from,” she continued. “We didn’t have much money when I was young, but I found I could enrich my mind through helping those who needed it most, usually the animals in our hometown.”

Snowflake gave her an approving bark, encouraging her to continue.