@eromai
Full moons left him feeling ragged, but none the worse for wear. A few new scrapes on swollen knuckles, fingernails torn jagged, lingering strange tastes in his mouth that felt foreign on his human tongue. Returning home to his village after a full moon’s absence was usually a quiet affair that often went unnoticed. But there was a witcher about, and one who surely would find Bigby’s return a little more than peculiar.
He’d broken out of his restraints this time, his clothes likely gone with the wind. Clearly less of a state to be returning home in. But at least the rain might hinder the early risers who begin their day at first light. So he navigated downwind to the coast, where Aphrodite’s cottage sat quaintly upon a cliff, the little gaggle of swans tucked away under the eaves of her manger to wait out the downpour.
Bigby himself chose the shelter of Dite’s kitchen, sneaking in the back door to warmth himself by the hearth before rifling through her cupboards for some cheese and stale bread. The damned cat made her appearance first, mewling something wretched at him until he bent to offer her a pinch of cheese from his fingers.
“You’ll wake your mistress, you little savage,” he cooed at her, reaching for her soft ears. “Not too much, now. I’ve got to replace this later.”
