#fitchbach

        “A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world.”

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It had been a long day.

Even though she was not a child anymore, and neither was he, they liked to have sleepovers. Robin would provide popcorn and a bag of candy (usually the chocolate kind, since they agreed to that taste), toting such goodies under one arm and waltzing to his home. They were wonderful days, cooking, playing video games, even just hanging around and browsing the web together. Sometimes his dog would push a toy her way, begging for playtime.

That dog knew what she was. Robin was sure of it. Chica looked like a dopey mutt, wagging her tail constantly, getting faster anytime somebody cooed her name or waved a stuffed toy in her face. But the wolf child knew better. Dogs knew better. 

She didn’t know how Mark would act if he knew what she was. But she was going to relish these summer nights, laughing until her stomach ached and tears squeezed from blues. 

He had a guest room, converted into an office space for things besides his videos. The duvet was welcoming, if a little dusty. But it would remain dusty. She always preferred to sleep on the floor beside Mark’s bed, in the darkness. The dog was nearby, in her own bed. But they had agreed after the one night Robin had slept over that she could stay near him, if it meant one would be closer to the other should nightmares occur. 

On this such night, she did something different. She didn’t say a word to the sleeping man about her anxiety, or the hellish nightmare she had endured. It was very late, their own fault for staying up late playing video games. Breathing slowly, the wolf gently approached the bedside to gaze upon his sleeping back. Weird, yes, but she felt like speaking to something that couldn’t hear.

In the dark of the room, she could hear Chica move a little, nails scratching the floor as a leg shifted. It made the wolf jump, but she didn’t make a sound. Silently, her wolf form glossed over human features, stopping so only her ears, tail and claw-like appendages were present. If Mark were able to see in the deep darkness of the late night room, he would see a girl’s face alive with nightmare eyes, sharp and shimmering from the faint light of the window seam.

“Mark,” Her voice was softer than a whisper, not pulling any cords to form that raspy feeling one gets from whispering. “Mark, I wish I could tell you. What I am. Who I am. But you’ve done so much for me already. I can’t ask you to accept this wretched form of mine.”

Her body swayed to the left, to the right, balancing weight as she tried not to fidget. Her mind was buzzing. What if she were caught? That would be too terrible a sin, for he appeared so peaceful there.

“You made me feel like a human. Like I have friends, a place to laugh and cry. I don’t want to leave you alone, but how can I stay if I hide who I am?” She waited. Nothing. His breathing was still soft. Deep. Maybe he was dreaming, dreaming of things only imaginative, beautiful people can.

“Maybe one day, you’ll see me for what I am. And I pray to every higher power that you welcome me just the same as you did that day I made a fool of myself. So let me say this while I can.”

The wolf child smiled, kneeling beside the bed. She reached out and found the light touch of soot colored hair, and dare not give any pressure to awaken the creature. She just looked down at the man who had become one of her best friends. Her face softened, and returned to a human looking guise once more. Before she left and laid upon the floor again, she smiled and whispered, perhaps a little louder than she intended to.