Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When one thinks of the word creature, something terrifying may come into their brain, that or maybe a slimy reptile, something with scales, or warm blood. Yet for others, maybe they feel the word creature could be paranormal. 

One wouldn’t know about the dangers until they come across said danger.

Standing in the cold, seeing the clotted blood drip from the holes of the hunted stag carcass. Why, she couldn’t control this, she couldn’t stop. A look of hunger is drawn on her face, she’s ravenous for more.

Leaning down to rip fat from the body, her knees crack. Snow clings to her fur as she scrapes at the wet ground. Sickly whines rise out of her throat. Tears, she knew she’d be vomiting by morning, leaving her starved for more flesh.

The visible breath surrounded her as she huffed. Her brain clicked in and out of reality in whips of light. Her vision was increased, she could see clearly, but her mind was clouded with thoughts of meat and intercourse. She drooled, she tried to repeat her name in her head, trying to bring herself back to the present as she dug her jaws deep into the stag body.

Fennec Larkspur. She growled her own name, holding her claws to her throat as she choked out a sorrowful hum. Fennec’s tears fell down and onto to carcas. 

She prayed that nobody would find her, she knew the state she would be in by the time the morning bloomed. 

Fennec had built herself a cabin at 19 teaching herself how to live in a world full of hurt. If she hadn’t built that cabin, she feared she would have just given up on life and chose to rot away, leaving her bones behind, melting into the dirt of the deep forest canopy. 

Her younger self would look at her now and cry, disappointment would fill her eyes. Of course nothing stays the same forever, and she grew up; not the way she wanted too, but she had to cope. 

The cabin layed low on a small piece of land, near the back only a few yards up crept the forest she prayed upon, lurking in, its where she hunted. 

Newspapers reported missing hikers or campers often in her forest, she lost count of how many times law came knocking at her cabin door, it hurt her ears. No evidence could ever be found, no bodies, only their bloodied equipment, paw prints were found, large paw prints, locals know about the werewolf that lurks in the forest, they are convinced by it. Yet no evidence leads back to Fennec. She was cunning, she knew how to hide.

The Wolf of Hancroft Forest, that’s what they labeled her as, a monster, that’s it. 

Fennec let out a pathetic grunt, clawing at the remaining meat. The sun began to rise, of course, she had to get back home, but the hunger only grew stronger as the sun illuminated the snow at her feet. She hissed, dragging the stag across the snowy plains, attempting to store it at the back of her cabin. Her brain still clouded from hunger, she still understood where home was, she understood the concept of emotion, yet she couldn’t grasp humanity.

As the sun grew, her strength faded, she was all skin and bones while human.

The pale grayish blue sky made itself visible soon enough. Deep cuts ran through her arms from her itching. Her bones snapped and cracked, she was far enough away from the rest of the town for her screams to be muted, thankfully. 

Almost like being burnt, felt her body twist into place, she thought it felt like being trampled by horses. Fur and dead skin fell from her body as she dragged the deer to its final destination, behind her cabin, facing the forest. She hid behind the wooden exterior, curling up and whimpering, unable to stop the pain that was always bound to happen. Fennec's lips curled back, breathless howls, the constant itch of her skin. 

Fennec leant against the outside of her cabin against the wood bringing her cracked bones to her flat, scarred chest. Her face tightened, shrinking, she slammed her head backwards, denting the wood. She opened her mouth to let out another jovial howl, yet nothing came out, her throat was shrinking. She refused at an attempt to move, her muscles spazzed on their own, grating against the snow dappled gravel underneath, her skin scraping as it transformed. A harsh ringing in her ears, piercing. It was barely over, the sun took its time rising. Until it hit the midpoint of the sky, she couldn’t be who she wanted. Not ever.

Like a dog on a leash, she yanked at her neck, nothing restrained her except her own fur falling off her skin. Needles, burrweed, knives, claws, all of the sharp sensations licked at her. Never growing accustomed to the feeling of her muscles spazzing, she shivered. Banging her mangled snout-like head against the wooden stairs that led up to the back door. Damned her bones, for they could never break with impact, only breaking with the rapeful transformation.

Within the hours of her painstakingly horrible descent into her human skin, she thought about the life the person who she’d never met could have lived if she had been careful of who she let into her bed while wandering the streets. 

Her mother, as told, was a two dollar whore that went and got herself knocked up by a regretful man. She passed away during childbirth and as devastated the father was, gave Fennec a name and sold her to a house that belonged to an inbred family that taught her how to speak. By the time she was 14 she ran away, afraid of hurting the people she grew up with, as strange as they were, they taught her skills. Fennec moved from multiple abandoned cabins to bear caves, making her own meals, bathing herself in river water, hunting on her own, and dealing with the fear of the moon. At 19 she managed to scrape up enough wet wood and build the cabin that she leant on and internally bled upon now. 

Her enhanced smell and sound still remained even after she shifted, giving her the burden of being a sound sensitive rabbit. Pathetic, she echoed the word in her mind as she crossed her arms to grab each side of her malnourished waist. 

She couldn’t deal with the pain of this.

The labyrinth of her bones finally began to rest, as they set, she felt calmer, her breathing steadied. The sky let off a blue color mixed with an orange hue, she felt like a painting, a painting with depth, emotion, abundance.  

Finally.

When she sat back up, her brain sloshed around like ice in wine, limbs wobbled. Fennec wasn’t necessarily weak, she had relatively present muscular arms that could easily be flexed. Her shaggy, awkwardly cut deep brown hair shed often, it would become damaged and wiry over time. She ran, or tried to, back into her cabin, her scarred nude body shivered in the winter's natural air that drifted through her cabin's jerry-built walls. 

She knew if she stayed out there any longer she’d freeze to death. Tripping over newspaper and beer bottles, she stumbled over to her room with her arms wrapped around herself, attempting to secure any warmth she could before grabbing new clothes. 

Knowing that in time, her body would deplete, it would sicken itself, start to destroy itself. Why can’t that time arrive sooner, how foolish she was to try and end her life early, she should have known that this was her punishment for being the one who lived instead of her poor whore of a mother. 

Each moon brought a new gash on her body. She remembers vigorously the night that brought two large gashes across her face. A cougar happened to catch her in the middle of her meal, and as much as nature repented her, she always fought back to resist. Fennec is constantly telling lies about her scar, just to make it seem less obvious than a failed hunting trip. 

After the incident she managed to stitch herself up, as much as she’d prefer bleeding out, she knew that the amount falling out wouldn’t be nearly enough to kill her. Her body was tough, thanks to her father, her bones were thick, yet the power of the moon caused them to break easily. 

The cougar reached a more unfortunate fate.

You dumb fool. 

Fennec told herself, wiping the blood from the bite marks across her arms. She had grown the terrible and unhealthy habit of biting her own limbs, a poor attempt to stop her from devouring innocent creatures. 

If I ate myself, the rabbits around me would find peace. 

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. 

Thoughts raced through her melted brain. 

Her elk skin coat with sheep fleece lining was favored after a successful hunt when she was younger. Her old family taught her sewing and field dressing at a young age. The talent of being skilled with sewing supplies tortured her. She managed to pick up taxidermy when she was nineteen, making a reasonable profit to survive a couple months until she had to start making mounts once more. Of course, the jacket was rough around the edges, a few cuts a tears, loose threat and tough tanned skin, but it made her feel even a little bit human

 She yanked the jacket off her bedpost, sliding it on soon after slipping into a green sweater. She managed to scrounge up dusty jeans on the floor along with a brown belt with a silver deer buckle. Breathing heavily, she ran to her stone fireplace, taking a quick glance at the photo of her mother in an oval chipped wooden frame. Fennec was bash at the fact she could see her like this. 

She threw a spare lit match into the fire, warming up as quick as she could. Falling to the floor in front of the fireplace, holding her hands near the flame. Fennec had every second of her life to think about consequences, yet she refused to think about actions, always running into war without a thought about who waited back home for her.

Although she wasn’t a soldier, she was still handed battles each day, headaches, growing pains, anger, the constant vomit, the need for more meat on her flesh on her teeth, starvation

Fennec reached into the pocket of her jeans as she stayed near the fire. Thank God, she thought, she pulled out a cigarette pack, A kingfisher silhouette labeled at the front. Fennec began digging around, shifting through a side table near her ripped up leather couch. A handcrafted deer antler lamp sat dimly lit

pulling out a rusty metal lighter. As she lit her cigarette, she shifted her finger over the engravings on the lighter, a rough etched picture of a brown bear carved in the side. She remembered when she was younger falling in love with this lighter, she spotted it while searching for a new field dressing knife in the local gunsmith in town not too long ago. 

She huffed out a soft cloud of smoke, feeling her body warm up from the growing flame. 

A small grin faded, knowing that she’ll have to repeat this horrid cycle in a few weeks when the full moon hits. 

Fennec stood up from her place on the wooden floor, taking the cigarette from her mouth. She wobbled to the small kitchen, searching. A beer, that’s what she wanted, she couldn’t get the life she wanted so the least she could ask for is alcohol poisoning. Anything to make her stop thinking clearly. She looked at the label of the amber colored bottle, Greedful Jackrabbit. It was the most common drink in New Hancroft, some people described it as tasting like poorly made moonshine that gave you a heavy feeling of doubt. Fennec enjoyed it just fine, she thought it tasted like rotting pomegranates, sour and ambrosial. It was just enough to get you drunk, a single bottle could make you at least stop thinking about your regrets. Beer that tastes like moonshine, Fennec thought. It was strange how something that appears to be one, can be secretly the other.

Fennec popped open the tab with the edge of the counter, slamming her palm down and catching the cap in her hand. She lifted the scratched up curtains leaning against the counter and peeking out the window, the forest laughed at her, its dense trees clenched against the fog. Who would even want to go camping there anyway? 

Her first sip of the drink was relieving, a whole-hearted sigh dropped out of her mouth. She remembered what they said about that forest, don’t let your eyes drop, always look ahead of what’s in front of you. She felt horrible, there it is, her dinner coming to say hello.

Fennec set her bottle down on the counter, wasting no time to accelerate and dash towards the door, holding her stomach with both her arms. Her body flung itself down the small stairs that stepped up to her front deck, a rough landing was all it took to push the minced venison out from her throat. Vomit poured out like rocks, having to fold herself like a toothpaste tube to empty herself fully. A stinging feeling in her throat itched at her. Its color, the smell, it irked Fennec's soul, the sound coming from her as the vomit fell harshly from her mouth rang loudly. 

Every moon that she turned, every sun that she lived, chopped up organs falling from her mouth was imminent. Maggots resided inside of her stomach, her weak and predatorial stomach. Breathing was war as she forced everything out of her. She’d give everything shed ever owned or loved to stop the aching, to stop the tears from hanging themselves against her canthus. She wasn’t strong enough for this. The field of few horses and many cattle stared at her, they knew what she was. Her farm. . .Her home, how it mocked her. Her ears rang from the amount she gave up, she was convinced she was dying every time this exact moment arrived. Death never came.

The squirming of the maggots in the bloody puddle of her liquid cries, bound to attract the horse flies that bothered her geldings. Fennec’s bleary eyesight distracted her from seeing just how much she gave up from her stomach. Of course, it was a tremendous amount.

Her coughing gently subsided as she stood up, wobbling while she wiped her mouth. Fennec's breath hitched in the cold, she zipped up her jacket, holding her waist. 

Stomping back inside like she didn’t almost vomit a lung, she stared around, looking for her gun belt. She owned a cattleman revolver that she finally got the license to carry around when she was younger, she eyed the cattleman revolver every time she went back into town for supplies to build her cabin. By the time she was finished, she bought the revolver. A prized possession, she never let it rust, always cleaning it immediately even with the smallest glimpse of a spec of dirt. It was the only thing she kept cleaner then herself.

Spotting her drink and her gun belt in her kitchen, snatching up her gun belt first, she slung it around her waist, tightening the strap and letting out a large burnt out sigh. Fennec took another sip of her beer, licking her teeth as the liquid slid down her throat. Fennec walked over to her front door once more, trying not to vomit this time. The door clicked open with a rusty creek and a slam from behind her. Another sigh. She thought if she went into town, taking her mind off the staggering headache that crept up on her, it would be better.

Fennec could see the town in the distance from her cabin, she stared at it from the window in her living room in her spare time, trying to spot any differences. The town hadn’t changed in years, yet the people in it grew, just not New Hancroft. She remembered dropping her cigarette in the sink while running outside to vomit, what a waste. Fennec pulled out another from her jeans, thankful remembering to slide the lighter in her back pocket. As she drew closer to the town she took a slow huff from her cigarette, it calmed her.

The terrain changed drastically, from farm-like dirt to a road with dusty streetlights. The town bustled with farm owners trying to bribe stalls for venison and wood. The blabbering men drunkenly trying to get hooker's attention, speaking of, there were only a few sex workers that lingered Hancroft. Fennec was surprised to find out that they sought out sex from anybody, including other women and older folk. Hancroft was a strictly conservative town, yet it didn’t stop those cheap whores. Her bones still ached from the shrinking, her shoulder blades spiked at her skin, sending shockwaves of pain down her back and neck. Fennec bit down slightly on her cigarette, it became a habit to chew on the end, it helped ease her hunger pains. 

A drunk night a few months ago lead her to figuring out the working girls took money from anyone. Not only did Fennec refuse to believe it happened, but going back the next morning to yell and harass the poor girl, slurring her words of a harsh hangover. Fennec hid in her cabin for the next few days after that incident.

The stores haven’t been renovated in decades, she knew the gunsmith was as old as one hundred years old. She stepped inside, its creaking wooden door alerted the scruffy man who worked at the counter, god knows how long he’s worked here.

“Fennec, you’re back.” His voice was warm. He wore large blue overalls over a thick sweatshirt that framed his heavy build. His beard was grey mixed with his brunette hair. Fennec always thought he smelled like citrus and smoke, she made sure she knew everyone’s scent. “Hey, Dave.” Fennec’s accent was nothing short of a surprise, she sounded how she looked, southern, deep, and rough. “Hey when are you gonna’ take care of those wolves in the forest?” Dave inquired. “I know damn well you do taxidermy, I’m sure a nice big wolf would do nicely for your walls.” 

“You know how I feel about shooting things I don’t eat Dave. Wolf meat is dangerous, especially when it's been eating everything in its darn path.” Fennec sighed, searching the shelves for more rifle ammunition, along with some gun oil. “And besides, it ain’t wolf huntin’ season yet, I ain’t gonna kill the hungry bastard illegally, might as well let animal control take care of it. Ah.” She exclaimed, finding what she was looking for.

”You’re a good shot, maybe next year in September we should go huntin’ together again.” Dave smiled, Fennec enjoyed his presence, “I’ll see if I’m still alive by then.”

Fennec set her items on the counter as Dave rang them up.

”You ever worried about that wolf comin’ to eat you? I mean you live right on the edge of that forest.” He always was concerned about Fennec, they both had a history of treating each other like family whenever she was younger, whenever she first started building her cabin. “If it does, I wouldn’t be mad. Can’t fight nature, Dave.” Fennec paused “Well, unless you got a gun and some solid bullets. “ She smiled, grabbing the cigarette from her mouth and blowing smoke from her nose. 

“You takin’ care of that mount?” Fennec pointed to the red stag mounted on a wall. She remembered making it for him whenever she first finished her cabin, as a thank you for helping her out.

When the two met, she was a scruffy eighteen year old who barely spoke, attempting to steal snacks from the break room in the same store they stood in now. Fennec hated him at first, just trying to survive, she hated growing attached to people, yet as Dave sheltered her and took care of her, she thought he was okay. No, Dave still doesn’t know about Fennec’s. . .sickness. She was sly and cunning, hiding every secret she’s ever kept safely away from this man. She had close calls with him asking where the scars she comes back with came from. I fell. A stray dog. Knife sharpening incident. All excuses that saved her from being abandoned, or shot, by someone who she truly cared about.

She hid away from the town until she was old enough to build her cabin, afraid to meet people. Dave agreed that it was better to keep her hidden, it brought in less questions. In return, Fennec wasn't the best with socializing.

 “He’s doing great, Laura named him Otis.” Fennec smirked, ”Otis, she’s pretty creative. That's a good name.” 

Dave's daughter was a young girl, toddler. The poor girl's mother passed away a few years ago. Thankfully just like Fennec, she was too young to know what it meant. “How is the little shit-stirrer, Growing good?” Dave nodded, a forced smile came across his face, it was clear he missed his wife. She remembered her vaguely, she didn’t see much of her. She was sweet and she smelled like apple pie, that’s all Fennec could remember of her. Her and Dave were always so kind to each other, they always welcomed Fennec, even though she was never fully acquainted with the wife. Fennec always heard Dave yapping about her, saying how she was the best thing that ever happened to him. Liver Cancer, poor woman. Yet, Fennec was their practice child, and Dave is still a damn good father to his daughter.

Dave was left to take care of Laura alone, he’s doing a fantastic job at it, sometimes letting her stick around in the gunsmith, with supervision of course, only on Saturdays. 

“Laura is doing great. Bright kid, she’s got her mothers eyes.” Daves smile wasn’t forced any more, a genuine smile, reminiscing his wife’s gaze.

Fennec grabbed the ammunition boxes and gun oil from the counter, folding her gun belt bag and sliding the two items inside. Pulling out a couple bills. “Take twenty.” She smiled, giving him way more than the price originally was. “See you later, Dave.” 

“Thanks Fennec! See you next week.” Dave called out as she walked out the door. 

She took a deep sniff of the cold air, holding her cigarette in her mouth again, nibbling on it. A lot of people knew Fennec, not for the best reasons but they knew that she lived closest to the forest and that she dedicated a whole year to building that cabin. She was also known for picking fights in bars, not going to church, and her taxidermy sales. Almost everybody who lived in New Hancroft went to church, Fennec thought it was a waste of time, and besides, she lost faith years ago.

Religion was intimidating to her, she couldn’t step foot in church, her body would burn and sizzle like firecrackers. She thought that religion was just people's way of coping for being alive, wishing she had that sort of naivety in her mind. 

Fennec wasn’t a mule to drag carts around, she refused to believe there was higher power. 

The chattering voices grew louder for a second when her thoughts died down, men and women complaining about the cold, snow scattered on the road, stall vendors arguing. She knew that everything had flaws.

By the time she was done begrudgingly making tracks in the snow along the sidewalk, she found herself at the front steps of Stag Head, a bar that usually stayed quiet, though she laughs at having been kicked out of there once or twice.

She had started a heated drunken argument with some poor bastard who was clearly only trying to get into her pants. The man had repeatedly called Fennec a faggot for having to reject him again and again. All while trying to push off from his friends attempting to lift up her shirt

She vividly remembered sitting up from her chair and throwing him to the ground, she had threatened him with her knife that she kept sheathed in a leather holster. 

His pals had drunkenly mocked Fennec of her body even after she had shown physical strength over the weeping animal under her. 

His friends didn't seem to be so clear headed. A yank down to the floor was all he needed to sober up. He grabbed Fennec's arm, trying to pull it off of his neck, the rest of the patrons stood from their seats, yet unmoving, meekly watching. They whispered concerned words. 

“C’mon, c’mon you fuckin’ pansy. You got ya’ tail in a twist?” Fennec adjusted her position to sit on top of the man, her weight perfectly aligned with his lungs. 

“Is this what you want? You wanna’ fuck me?” 

A harsh fist collided with the man's face, he felt his body decompose already. With one scarred hand wrapped around his neck and being crushed under the weight of how tall Fennec was. He felt his vision deplete. 

Another impact, a tooth broke from his groaning maw. 

The vibrating. There was no sound other than the repeated echo of his nose crushing inside his skull and the small gasps from other patrons. Fennec wasn’t thinking, how could she. Blinded by anger, she sat up, kicking his stomach. A sad amount of dark red liquid poured from his nose, palm marks already began brushing around the man's neck. 

A foolish chicken on a farm, vulnerable and weak, blaming itself for being born as prey.

It was until the kick to the stomach his friends wailed like coyotes, finally paying attention to the blood across Fennec's fists and face. 

This man had repeatedly prodded at her to make her get to this point, he had attempted to lift Fennec's coat up off her. His blonde buddy tried to grab her chest from the back. 

The wolf lifted the chicken from the ground, slamming his lower back against the bar's counter, his elbow hitting a half-full beer bottle, knocking it from its place on the surface. “Nothin’ to say now? C’mon, speak up.” 

Fennec never got his name, only the blood from his body scattered across her hands. Her face twisted in anger, her lip curled into a snarl. White knuckles clenched, sputtered with blood. Fennec's borderline bone-shattering grip nearly caused a black out in this man's mind.

Fennec took the still lit cigarette from her mouth, forcefully opening his broken jaw, shoving it down his throat. “Swallow.” Fennec leant in and whispered. Not that he had a choice, Fennec pushed the cigarette with her thumb down his esophagus. The man gagged, writhing around trying to pull himself away from her grasp. “You got poor gag reflexes, friend.” Fennec smirked. “You should practice with the way yer’ acting, faggot.” 

She ripped him from the bar counter, shoving him towards his stunned friends, his wobbling body collapsed into the blonde's hands. 

Fennec barely registered a shove to her back, the yelling of two bartenders, one she recognized to be Rosemary Frowler, she had fire in her soul. An Irish tongue in which she always spat insults at Fennec and her mischievous acts. 

“You get out right now you fucker! I don't want none of this here!” If Fennec hadn’t listened to her, she would have called the cops, justifiably. 

“If I catch yer’ fairy ass in here again, I’ll cut off that tiny boy of yours and force feed him to ya’.” Fennec wiped her nose, following the men dashing out the door shortly after, she knew where she wasn’t welcome. Dusting her jacket off. A few blood droplets from here and there. Nothing too serious, no cause for concern anyway. No blood concerned her until it was her own.

This tree refused to bend, she couldn’t break, she had to force herself to be strong. All the threats and spits she brings to the table all come crashing down later, hitting her as a horse's tail would. 

Guilt.

Rose was kind and always listened, but she hated Fennec's guts, for good reason. A few other fights had happened in and outside the bar. To her, Rosemary had the patience of an angel, but the attitude of a demon. Fennec's appearance was noted by strangers after being thrown out time after time, she was hard to miss, she grew more popular over time. 

Nobody approached her, everything was just as it was before she grew infamous. Only store owners usually stayed to minimal talk whenever she walked in. Fennec wasn’t entirely extroverted, she preferred a life of solidarity, but she was at least honest with herself. She didn't like the fact people feared her, looked at her strangely, she hated the change.

Something in her mind yelled at her, telling her that if she didn't fight she’d be beaten, beaten and killed. 

The small bell above the door rang. Rosemary's welcoming grin dropped abruptly as soon as she saw the tall bastard, “Absolutely not.” She grumbled, Fennec snickered, “Oh relax would ya?” 

“No, last time you were in here I was stuck mopping blood off the floor! You make messes everywhere you go, Fennec.” Those words stung.

Seeming how Fennec wouldn’t budge after she entered the warm light of the bar, she clenched her palms, letting out a large sigh. “I ain’t even done anythin’ yet, so, you can’t kick me out yet, sugar.” Rosemary grimaced. Fennec smiled like she wasn't a threat.

“Jackrabbit?” The bartender bitterly inquired. Fennec shook her head, “Whiskeys’ fine, darlin’.” She slumped down in a barstool chair. 

The Stag Head Bar always smelled nice, a single satisfying sniff and one would be overcome with the smell of cleaning supplies and cedar oak. The decor made the place look dim, its statement color was a deep burgundy. Deep innate brown wood lined the bar tables. The lighting always set low, it was perfect, she always found peace in this bar, aside from the times she nearly beat a few men to death. Photos of the owner's family hung on the shining wood. The stale cigarette dishes, empty bottles that Rose just moved to the side so that she could wipe down the shining deep red counter, the poorly done taxidermy on the wall, smooth concrete floors that were hard enough to clean, apologies to Rosemary. 

Rosemary slammed the empty glass down on the counter in front of Fennec, in a poor attempt to spook her, she didn’t budge. Ice was messily dumped into the glass, along with the worst whiskey choice ever. 

”How’s the farm?” She sternly asked solely on instinct after years searching for people to cough up their emotions and how they’re doing, she enjoyed hearing people out, yet didn’t care about how Fennec was or what she ever did, only concerned about whether she’d beat the hell out of some poor soul today. 

”How sweet,” Fennec licked her teeth. “Why don’t you come over and see how it's going yourself?” Fennec reached for the whisky to take a sip, letting out a mischievous snicker, but Rosemary snatched it back up, holding it just out of reach from Fennec's long grasp. 

“I Amn’t a queer.” Her gaze hardened, her accent brutally showing through. Fennec sighed, “I ain’t either.” 

“The hell you aren’t .” Rose spat back, returning her drink back down on the counter. Fennec let it slide.

The door slammed open, a black clothed woman stumbled through in panic. “Father! Good to see ya’ again.” Rosemary glared at Fennec one last time before turning her attention to the short individual. “Miss Frowler, hello.” Fennec took notice of her accent, it wasn’t southern for sure. The priest smiled warmly, her eyes lit up the room. “You usually don’t come down until later into the night, everything okay?” The priest nodded swiftly, out of breath.

”Sí, claro! Yes yes.” The priest sniffled, wiping something from her eyes, a button from her shirt was undone. The priest took a few deep breaths, walking up next to Fennec and tossing her leather purse on the table, sitting next to her. “Hello.” The priest smiled with her white teeth and dulled canines. “Father Verdant Shaw. I know you.” Fennec's voice startled Verdant. She glared at the rosary around Verdants neck, just staring at it irked her lungs. “Well I’d assume so, seeming how I’m the only priest in town. Unless you know another priest?” Verdant giggled. Fennec grinned, her tongue darting out swiftly to moisten her dried lips.

She looked at Rosemary, her smile faded. “Uhm,” She looked at the choices on the rack, nervous, “Coke?” Father Shaw smiled awkwardly, like she was going to get in trouble for asking for a non-alcoholic beverage. Rosemary nodded, bending down to retrieve her drink under the counter. Fennec took a quick glance as Miss Frowler bent down. 

Verdant seemed spooked, like a horse seeing its own reflection. Verdant’s demeanor, her height, her voice, her wide eyes, her scent, Fennec took note of it all. 

“Did something happen, Father?” Fennec leaned closer, looking at her up and down. Rosemary set down the coke much more gently then when she slammed the very breakable glass in front of Fennec. 

Verdant stopped her movements, so she wasn’t that great at hiding things. 

“Hm? No, I just ran here that’s all.” Verdant smelled of sweat, her face flushed and eyeshadow messy. Fennec thought her accent was entertaining. “Where’re you from?” Verdant smiled as she opened her coke can, taking a long sip. “I grew up in Valle Del Gorrión, Mexico. It's uh, a small town.” She swallowed some extra spit, itching her neck. “Came here to attend a seminary.” Fennec nodded, keeping her attention on Verdants neck as the priests scratched aimlessly. “I didn’t know they let women become priests.” Fennec turned to face forward. “It isn’t as common.” She took another sip of her drink, seemingly struggling to swallow. “What's your name, friend?” Verdant carefully asked.

“Fennec Larkspur.” Strange name. “Like the fox?” The priest smiled, warmed by her sweet name. “Well, Ms. Larkspur, I never see you at church, I’m usually great with faces.” Verdant stopped scratching her neck, resting her hand in between her thighs in an attempt to ground herself. “I ain’t a believer, Father. Lost my faith a while ago.” Fennec huffed smoke from her mouth, her cigarette drawing near its end. “I understand, well, I’m willing to be a lending ear if you need, Ms. Larkspur.” Fennec expected Verdant to force scripture onto her, surprised, she was relieved she didn't pry or ask any further questions.

Verdant paused, looking closer at Fennec. 

”Wait, are you the woman who attacked those men?” Verdant’s shoulders tightened.

”Calling them men would be rich of you, they acted small, so I shortened my temper for them to get to their level.” Fennec sniffed, shoving her cigarette butt into the dish just a few inches away from her drink. “Called me queer” Fennec snickered at the word, smiling into her drink when she spoke, as if prepared to laugh. “Pansies, whimpering like little children.” The priest's eyes broadened, “I see.” Not the biggest fan of violence. 

Verdant evaluated Fennec. She was tall, she couldn’t estimate her body’s weight due to it being hidden behind her heavy coat and green sweater. Her posture wasn’t lousy, but anyone could see the despondent hunch. Verdant took notice of her masculine scar tissue hands along with calloused fingertips and chipped nails. 

Her temper was clearly unforgiving, even from just this first interaction together she could tell this strange named individual was toughened by life's challenges.

As a priest, all she did was analyze others, it alleviate the boredom of the constant hunger to pray.

“Why ask? The newspaper mention me?” Verdant shook her head, Fennec's heavy voice leading her back to her mind, “There aren’t that many women with a nasty scar across their face in New Hancroft.”

”News travels fast.” Fennec snickered, her vulpine grin could clear a room of small school children.

“Well, they shouldn’t have said something like that to you.” Verdant quickened the last sip of her drink. “And you shouldn’t have resorted to violence, dear.” Concern? “I would hate to see you thrown in jail, lugar desagradable.” She was concerned? Fennec's eyes rested from their mean glare. “Oh. . .yes, course.” Fennec, awestruck. “Be careful. Your body is strong until it isn’t, niña.” 

Why? Why would you say that? How could you say that? 

This rabbit wasn’t fearful of this wolf, even after the knowledge of what she’s done to the chickens. The rabbit treated the wolf with equality.

No, she hid something.

Her scent. A Crucifix in her bag. Silver cross ring. Holy Water bottle in her right pocket, A red rosary. 

This was a Priest, it all came to her now. She’s a priest, she was too blinded to realize fully, her senses clear now.

“I don’t need your pity, Father.” Fennec's voice, a broken record. 

She snapped back at her, shielding herself. ”No pity, Ms. Larkspur. I’m only here to reassure you.” 

Dumb wolf, you need to run. Why are you staying put? Are you waiting to be domesticated?

How long can the wolf go before losing that little sense of humanity she has left. That minuscule bit of humanity.

You’re staring at her, afraid. 

“Are you alright, Fennec?” Verdant reached her hand out, resting it on Fennec's shoulder. Are you alright? The question lingers above them like crystallized fog. “Yeah, I’m fine, Father. Just got to thinkin’.” The cigarette's taste started to get to her throat, wincing, she snuffed it out against the ashtray that neighbored her whisky glass. 

“Just checking.” Verdant was kind, of course. “What about you, Fennec?” Oh, Verdant said her name so calmly. Her name said by others rang heavy, as if talking about a dictator. “Where are you from?” Verdant's hand drifted down to reassuringly rest on Fennecs much larger, red slits shaded by scars, hand. Why was she hold her hand? Was it for comfort? Fennec snuffed, yanking her hand away. She refused to believe that she wanted to keep it there. Fennec noted her light colored hair, just a few shades lighter then Fennecs deep brown rag, that must have been her father’s genes, her face was round. Her face. She was beautiful. “The hell?” Verdant recoiled back, “Lo siento, so sorry.” 

No you idiot. . .you dumb dog, why can’t you act normal?

”Not a touchy person, I’m sorry, I should have asked.” Fennec paused, she shouldn’t be sorry, it wasn't her fault at all. Verdant set both her hands back, she was merely trying to act comforting, she lowered her head. Fennec sighed, drawing smoke from her mouth, a short growl from her stomach forced her to relax “East Tennessee.” She turned her head away from the priest. 

Verdant nodded, lifting her head back up once more to smile. Verdant's eyes seemed so rabbit like, wide and brown with large black pupils. Fennec looked at the priests white collar, her gaze drifted down to her rosary, then soon, her twitching hands. 

Verdant pulled back her right sleeve, shucking her fleece lined coat against her shoulders. She glared at her watch with fear. “I. . .should get going, ahora.” Rosemary's attention was lifted by the sound of Verdants seat squeaking loudly as she lifted herself off. “You don’t gotta pay, Father.” Rosemary smiled, taking the coke can and throwing it inside a trash bin under the bars counter. “¡De ninguna manera! Debo pagar, ¡déjame!” Verdant complained, nor Rosemary or Fennec understood. “Let me pay, Rose, you are too kind to me.” The preacher smiled, ”let me pay for hers as well!” 

Such a short conversation.

Slamming down a few dollars, she smiled at Fennec, nodding her head. 

Beaten. 

“I’m not complaining over a free drink, thank you, Father Shaw.” She grinned. Though the lengthy woman didn't even bargain, she still felt grateful that Verdant paid for her whiskey without regret. 

“I hope to see you soon, Fennec Larkspur.”

What? Really? 

“Me too, Father.” She couldn’t have felt relieved to talk to a priest, she didn't know what she felt. Me too? 

She knew what the priest could do, a simple preach of catholic testament could burn her skin. 

A stabbing pain shot through her, similar to being shot. The headaches worsened. “Fuck. . .” She leant over her chair, holding her head.

”Don’t hurt yourself.” Rosemary snickered, laughing at her visible suffering. “Hush up, Irish trash.” She forced the words from her mouth, burning liquid ran through her throat. Rosemary wanted to detest, yet the sound of force coming from Fennec alerted her to stay quiet, she only coughed up a small scoff. 

The pains got worse every day, she was exhausted from all the cigarettes and drinking to dull the pain. Tobacco could ease her aching no problem, but when it got to the third cigarette of the day, she could barely even breath the musty winter air of the old town. 

She sat up, erecting her spine, twisting around to adjust, cracking her knuckles to relieve the tension. “Take care now.” Her tone was so clearly sardonic, yet Rosemary acted up. “You as well.” The two so passive aggressive towards each other even a tiger would back down from its spot as leader in its ambush.

Chapter Text

Second chapter coming soon