#fuzzlying

“Of course you are, milord.” Carefully and completely ignoring him, Fuzz picked their way over a fallen log in their path, painfully aware of how unbalanced they were with Lying’s weight in their arms. Top heavy, and with parts of Lying sticking out past the reach of their torso, their ability to easily navigate obstacles was somewhat compromised, and even stepping over objects became an exercise in caution.

Lying’s eyes narrowed, something like a growl building in his chest. The noise vibrated against Fuzz’s ribs, a low thrum they felt in their lungs, in the pit of their stomach. “Are you mocking me, squire?” he asked, as they finally made it over the log and onto blessedly flat ground without falling over.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, milord,” said Fuzz, blandly, unable to help the corner of their mouth quirking up as Lying blew warm air against the side of their neck with an indignant huff.

They adjusted their grip yet again as the muscles in their arms protested loudly, careful not to catch his tail or the deep gash opened across one leg as they shifted the hand under his hindquarters. The arm around his midsection tightened a little as they did so, trying to stop him slipping to one side or the other and overbalancing the pair of them completely. If they both ended up in the dirt, Fuzz wasn’t entirely sure they’d have the energy to pick him back up.

Uncomfortably aware of the sun dipping towards the horizon and their steadily fading ability to carry Lying yet another step further, Fuzz took to looking for a place to rest. They easily tuned out Lying’s grumbling and whining in their ear, a skill honed through long practice, instead scanning their surroundings and hoping against hope for some sort of hut. Even an abandoned mineshaft would do, or a ruined castle, anything that they could make their home in for the night.

Luck was not entirely with them. There was no hut, but there was a cave – a shallow, scraped-out hole in the side of something that could generously be called a mountain, protected by a small overhang. It wasn’t exactly luxury, but it was a place for the night, protection from the elements and the creatures of the dark, and Fuzz stumbled gratefully toward it with aching arms.

The inside of the cave was faintly dusty, but sheltered from the wind. More importantly, it held the promise of rest, and a respite from Lying’s weight in their arms – a burden they bore gladly, but a burden nonetheless. “We can settle here for the night,” they said, exhaustion thick in their voice as they set Lying down as gently as they could manage on the bare stone. Rock was hardly the most comfortable sleeping surface, but it was clean, dry, and relatively smooth, so it would do. They’d both slept on worse. “Give your leg some time to heal.”

Lying stretched out as soon as he was released, carefully, unable to suppress a quiet yelp when his injured leg was jostled by the movement. “Are you telling me what to do, squire?” he asked, eyes faintly narrowed as he curled protectively in on himself to lick at the red gash across his hind leg. The bleeding had largely stopped, in part thanks to Fuzz’s ever-growing skill with a wand, but crimson blood was still smeared across the white-grey fur around the wound, clotting in unsightly clumps.

“Of course not, milord.” Fuzz couldn’t quite keep out the tired sarcasm that edged into their words, despite the fact that Lying’s expression was soft, teasing. Reaching up to the ceiling to try and stretch the ache out of their arms, they winced when something in their spine ground and then clicked, lips twisting in discomfort. “I wouldn’t dare presume to be so bold.”

Rolling their eyes – back carefully turned to Lying, though, not willing to risk a warning growl and a snap at their heels – they reached up and curled a hand around the moon amulet that hung around their neck. The points of the crescent moon dug dents into their palm as they mouthed their way through one, two, three, their form wavering and running like an oil painting in the rain beginning to fall just outside the mouth of the cave.

Between one breath and the next they slipped from human to wolf, paws and fur and parted jaws amidst the scattered pile of their armour on the floor. New skin settled over changed bones like an old coat, and Fuzz stretched luxuriously with the velvet-softness of it, paws pushed out in front and spine arched to raise their hindquarters up.

Lying scoffed quietly, distaste evident in the wrinkle of his muzzle. “Unnatural,” he said, coolly, licking around his mouth to try and clear the coppery taste of blood that lay thick on his tongue. Watching the transformation process made his eyes ache, the unpleasant magic it left behind leaving him with a distinct sense of unease that set his fur on end.

“This whole curse is unnatural,” retorted Fuzz, the noises of their words a low, rolling rumble in their chest. “I’m making the best of it that I can, milord.” The title came out with an edge, half-bared teeth and peeled-back lips, before they forced their hackles down and exhaled, tucking their tail between their legs.

Diplomatically ignoring the biting and distinctly disrespectful tone to the words, Lying sighed, setting his head atop his paws. The excitements of the day had left him tired, aching, and the steady throb of his leg seemed to drain what little energy he had left with every heartbeat. “True,” he murmured, jaws opening wide with a whining yawn, lips peeling back from serrated teeth to reveal the dark pink of his tongue and throat before his mouth closed with a click. “Very true.”

Huffing softly, Fuzz nudged their armour off to one side of the cave with their nose, clearing a little more space and ensuring the damp couldn’t reach. Most of it was battered and dented, some parts probably damaged beyond repair – but it was all they had between the two of them, and Fuzz was reluctant to let its condition worsen.

Beyond the mouth of the cave, the rain was coming down in earnest as the sun wavered on the horizon, heavy droplets falling faster and faster until the darkening sky seemed full of sheets of water. The drumming of it was loud enough to blot out other noise, the damp covering everything until the only scents in their scant few meters of warmth and dryness were storm clouds and rock and blood.

“Settle down, squire,” said Lying, softly, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils huge in the low light. Fuzz was a silhouette against the dying sun, head turned to the outside world and tail curled around their front paws. Lying could hear the too-fast beat of their heart even over the rain, though from exertion or anxiety he couldn’t be sure. “It’s getting dark.”

Fuzz tore their gaze away from the greying world, from the water like a curtain and the swollen clouds obscuring the glitter of the emerging night sky. They looked over their shoulder at Lying, blinking slowly in the growing darkness. “It is,” they agreed, after a long moment, dipping their head. Leaning forward to stretch once more, they whined quietly, reluctantly regaining their feet and crossing the scant space separating the two of them.

Pacing a small circle on the cave floor, they settled down against Lying’s side, chin resting on his shoulder. The smell of blood was stronger, here, thick copper in their nose – but so was the smell of Lying’s fur, a soft, familiar warmth that was more comforting than they would ever admit.

Lying raised his head from his paws to press his nose against the space behind Fuzz’s ear, nudging against their head until they relaxed against him, the thump of their heart slowing in their chest where it was pressed against his leg. “Sleep,” he said, licking over the patch of fur he’d mussed until it flattened,  settling his head back down on his paws with a small yawn.

“You sleep,” replied Fuzz, huffing out a soft sigh that ruffled the fur of Lying’s shoulder around their muzzle. “You’re the one with a wound to heal.” The scent of blood was in their nostrils again the moment they thought about it, heavy enough they could near taste it in the back of their throat – heavy enough their lip curled up to bare clenched teeth, something dark shining in liquid eyes at the mere memory of the day’s violence.

“You’re telling me what to do again,” murmured Lying, eyes already closed, breathing slowed until the rise and fall of his ribs was more tectonic movement than something biological. His breath stirred Fuzz’s fur with every exhale, a warm draft that didn’t seem to bother them in the slightest.