059: Food, The Werewolf Chronicles
Title: Preparations
Author: luthienberen aka Jadwiga
'Claimer The original characters, the fictional town Storm and plot are mine so please do not steal them!
Character: Alexander Finch
Warnings: Homosexual character, werewolves, horror.
Beta: rae_fa
Prompt: 059: Food
Word count: 2, 552
Feedback: Welcome! Constructive criticism also appreciated!
Rating: R (no under 17s) overall.
Notes: This chapter takes place during the same day as Chapter Thirteen, except it concentrates primarily on Michael’s day. This is part of a series of chapters, which can be can either be found via the community’s tag system or fictionpress.
Summary: Michael prepares to meet Fenway.
Chapter Fourteen: Preparations
24th October, Monday (same day)
5:30 am
Michael crouched on the floor of his bedroom as he readied his backpack. Outside it was cold and dark, the stars a pale gleam in the shrouded heavens. Night still governed the land and only the faintest trace of a lighter blue suggested the coming dawn.
Inside, the Mountie was busy organising his belongings for what promised to be a long and arduous day. Clad only in fluffy socks, trousers and a shirt, Michael was being as quiet as a mouse for he did not wish to rouse Alexander, for the teacher did not have to be up for over another hour.
This consideration for Alexander’s well-being was all the Mountie could spare for the fascinating man. His mind had no time to linger on the strange weekend he had spent with Alexander - a weekend of good conversation and evolving interest in the intriguing redhead.
Rocking back onto his heels Michael felt satisfaction warm his being. He had everything packed away securely bar food and drink. Now all that remained was to finish dressing, sneak downstairs and grab some breakfast and ready some provisions for the day - and the hour was already growing late.
Seizing his tie from the bed Michael began to fiddle with the material when there was a knock on his bedroom door. He blinked. Surely he hadn’t disturbed Alexander?
Confused, and a little wary, he crossed silently to his bedroom door and opened it to find a rather tousled Alexander. Fine red hair fell into green-grey eyes as the smaller man stifled a yawn and said: “Morning Michael. Preparing to leave already?”
Incredulous though apologetic, Michael quickly replied, “Yes, I’m sorry if I woke you. I was attempting to be quiet.”
Alexander’s lips twitched. “No need to apologise Michael, I was awake anyway. Probably nervous with returning to work for the first time since my … ah … ‘episode’.”
“Still, you should return to bed. I know you aren’t a morning person and there is no need for you to get up for at least another an forty-five minutes.”
The smile, which broke out on Alexander’s face, caused Michael’s hands to sweat.
“I may not be a morning person but that doesn’t mean I am rude or a neglectful host. I’ll prepare some breakfast and bundle up some food.”
“Food?”
This time the beautiful redhead actually laughed and cocked his head in the direction behind his shoulder. “You have a rather full backpack on the floor and a heavy winter coat on the bed. Either you intend to camp outside RCMP town headquarters, or sit in your car or, just maybe, travel somewhere. I assumed that you were too sensible to do the first two - was I wrong?”
Trying to ignore how fascinating and intriguing he found the way Alexander’s hair brushed pale cheeks, and his eyes sparkled like mischievous stars, Michael focused on answering Alexander’s question.
“No you’re not incorrect, though such perceptiveness and cheekiness can only get you into trouble. And yes, I would be grateful for a hot breakfast and some rations if isn’t too much bother.”
“None whatsoever. I enjoy cooking and I am protective of my kitchen I must admit. Oh, would you like a thermos?”
“Yes, with coffee please.”
It was Michael’s turn to laugh at the sour expression that snaked across Alexander’s face. “I knew that would brighten up your morning.” He received a scowl for his trouble.
“How I can live with a man with such appalling taste is beyond my comprehension. My mother did warn me against such men but I seem unable to listen to advice from either parent.”
/Curious statement,/ thought Michael. /Why did he say ‘either’ parent? And not simply ‘my mother’? Interesting choice of words…/
“Your mother loves tea as much as you do?”
“Like a true Englishwoman. Thankfully, I inherited this love while my brothers inherited a perverse joy for coffee from our father. Very well, I’ll go downstairs now to start on breakfast. See you in a bit?”
“Definitely. And thank you.”
A warm smile was his reward. “No problem Michael, none at all.”
Michael watched Alexander descend the staircase, curiosity at Alexander’s odd choice of words burning inside him.
----------------
---------
In the kitchen Alexander leant his head against a kitchen cabinet, trying to shake off his sleepiness. His sleep had been restful until he had awoken for no reason in what seemed the middle of the night. Yet when he had twisted his head on the pillow to peer at his bedside clock it read four-thirty ay-em in an eerie red glow.
For the next half hour he had lain still as a rock, listening to the various sounds of the creaking house. All his senses had been on the alert, his entire body taut and ready to leap on the smallest bit of input his senses received. So, when his sensitive ears had heard Michael’s breathing change from that of deep sleep to a state of wakefulness, he had frozen.
“Meow!”
Blinking, Alexander raised his head from the cabinet and smiled as he saw two balls of fur rub against his legs, winding their sinuous bodies around them. Chuckling, he bent down to pick his huge ginger tom, Hephaistion, up. Cradling the purring bundle the werewolf whispered softly: “You’re not afraid of me anymore are you big bully huh? I’m just another predator you’ve grown acclimatised to right?”
Scratching under the chin Alexander relaxed as his senses drank in the comforting pheromones his cats were presenting like a banquet.
“Both your noses are used to my changed scent hmmm? No more need to worry that I’m an alien fiend going to eat you?”
Putting Hephaistion back on the floor Alexander hastily grabbed their pouches and their food bowls. Even as he attempted to shut down his heightened awareness - taste and smell - he unfortunately opened his mouth to protest when his female cat, Olympias, reared on her hind legs to swat with a delicate paw at his preparations.
The overpowering smell of cat food flooded his taste buds and nostrils making Alexander choke. His mind fled to earlier, when his taut body had realised that Michael was awake.
His mouth parted to let his tongue dart out to sample the scents carried on the disturbed airwaves, while his eyelids fluttered shut to better to conjure up an image of what was happening in the room further down the hall.
At last, unable to stand the medley of scents and sounds that bathed him, or the sensation of hot sheets against flushed skin Alexander rose with the intention of checking on Michael.
His first sight of the man: dark hair not yet combed, tie half done, was intoxicating and the conversation that followed seemed like a dream. In the middle of that dream had come the odd odour of Michael sweating and his eyes losing focus, like clouds passing over deep brown pools.
“Meowrrroool!”
His cats’ angry objections at his sudden paralysis jerked him from his memory and he sighed. “Very well lovelies, here is your breakfast.”
Arranging their bowls carefully at their usual spot he stroked his little queen, (as Alexander sometimes referred to Olympias), and then washed his hands, ruminating over the last few seconds.
“It was definitely a dream. Michael is not interested in me. It was simple coincidence and my mind sensing what it wished to sense. Right. That’s it - remember, Michael is dangerous.”
Alexander groaned and shook his head. “Brilliant, now I’m talking out loud to myself. At this rate I will be shut up in an insane asylum.”
Firmly pushing recriminations from his mind Alexander pulled milk, butter and eggs from the fridge. He would rustle up a batch of piping hot pancakes and steaming coffee for Michael, and while the Mountie ate he would create a fine set of provisions, (not forgetting his own lunch).
As his hunger intensified Alexander discreetly popped into his mouth the other item he had withdrawn from the fridge - the last lump of raw pork mince.
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---------
6:15 am
Michael looked up from the pile of pancakes he was currently decimating. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Alexander didn’t even pause in his preparations. “Once I’ve finished preparing your rations for the day. I still have the left-over batter for my breakfast, which won’t take long to cook.”
“Alright then.”
Gulping almost too hot coffee, Michael felt the brown liquid slide down his throat to blend with his food and successfully heat him from the inside out. His eyes traced his friend’s movements as the lithe man padded around the kitchen, picking up various items in slender fingers, delicate hands creating his meals for the day.
Everything about Alexander exuded refinement and a gentleness that was refreshing and encouraging after witnessing so much savagery and death - /and I’m about to see some more/, Michael thought grimly. /Those animals didn’t kill themselves and neither did the poor innocent camper./
Michael’s gaze did not waver from Alexander even as his mind rested briefly on his mission. He had not yet packed one important file, compiled by him, as he wished to have that near to hand and not buried amongst the other materials he had carefully inserted and ordered in his backpack.
The file contained the photograph depicting the blurred image of something, and the old man’s drawing. He would have to pay the old man a visit soon, but first he desired to drop by Mr. Fenway, the local trapper and engage his opinion and expertise.
Such a visit would potentially devour the entirety of Monday hence all the provisions including essential materials for coping in the now freezing outdoors.
Recalled to the present by the clatter of Alexander’s cutlery as he readied his own plate for a serving of pancakes, Michael drained the last of his coffee and stood. “Have you finished Alexander?”
Again with that smile, bright as the sun, and which caused his chest to constrict. “Yes, just let me fetch one more bag … Ah! Here you are. Enough for two meals - lunch and dinner if necessary, and plenty of ‘snacks’ to keep the fires burning inside so you keep on going!”
Michael blinked. “Damn Alexander, you certainly prepare for all occasions. Not one thermos, not two, but three?”
White cheeks flushed a delightful pink. “Well, I thought two for that horrid drink known as ‘coffee’ and one containing thick tomato soup with rice. I always have soup ‘waiting in the wings’ as it were,” Alexander added at his startled exclamation. “I find it is superb for filling one up, is relaxing for queasy stomachs and of course, is tasty, so I always brew up a large pot full every week - or twice a week depending on how much is eaten.”
“I didn’t notice you heat up―”
“You were busy circling the solar system from your vacant expression, plus, microwaves truly are useful critters. Anything else?”
“No thank you Alexander. This is more than I expected. Thank you.”
Grey-green eyes shone a little. “You’re welcome.”
Nodding in gratefulness Michael cautiously carried his armful of supplies to his room - watchful for tricky felines. Yet even as he snapped close his bag he wondered at Alexander’s actions. For though the handsome man dripped intelligence, gentleness and friendliness, there was dark tinge to his interactions.
Well versed in human nature, Michael noticed the almost undetectable aura of anxiety that permeated Alexander’s form, as well as the hint of something not quite right that lingered on Alexander like a particularly bad perfume.
He did not think it was serious or that Alexander was evil, but there was something peculiar about him that underscored Michael’s growing attraction to the man.
/There, you’ve admitted to yourself that you are attracted to Alexander. Now what? Continue with your job that’s what/
But as he hefted his backpack over his shoulder Michael smiled wanly. /I wish it were so easy./
The Mountie knew that suppressing his developing feelings for Alexander would be more difficult than simply saying so.
----------------
---------
When Michael stepped outside, the air was cold and still. His breath curled into a fine mist before his face, dissipating slowly back into the atmosphere.
The night sky was clear and the stars shone all the more brightly. Yet already they were beginning to fade as patches of sky were brushed with the first strokes of daylight, turning the heavens a blue-grey.
Alexander stood on the doorstep observing in silence as he loaded his car and checked that the vehicle was in excellent working order before he departed. Reassured, Michael Neil returned to say goodbye to Alexander who was hugging his arms across his body in attempt to ward off the icy air.
“I’ll be back this evening or tonight depending on what I find or don’t find as the case may be. Any concerns just ring through to Inspector Fey.”
Then the infuriating redhead smiled again. /How many smiles can a man take?/
“I’ll be fine Michael. I’ll be at school today surrounded by people, and if I feel unwell when I return home I can always call Doctor Thomas. Don’t worry about me, instead save your thoughts for yourself - you’re the one who is taking a ‘stroll’ through the countryside.”
“I will. ‘Bye.”
“Goodbye and good luck.”
Waving a hand Michael walked to his car and slid in. His last view of the enigmatic redhead was of a raised hand and bright eyes flickering in the lamplight.
----------------
---------
Alexander watched Michael go with a mixture of relief and dread. Relief to be left alone to deal with his growing hunger, and dread at what Michael might learn from Fenway.
As the car rear lights disappeared around a bend Alexander retreated inside, anxious to prepare himself for the coming day. He wished to visit Father Jacques before he needed to be at work, so he couldn’t afford to linger.
Yet, as he saw to his tasks the werewolf wondered how long it would take Michael to find his way to Fenway’s, and whether he would actually like the trapper who had the potential to be a very dangerous ally - and enemy - to him.
----------------
---------
A pale and miserable dawn had broken over the land by the time Michael reached Fenway’s house.
It had taken Michael half an hour to reach his destination, for although he had planned the route the night before, the poor condition of the ‘roads’ coupled with the difficultly of travelling the distance in the semi-darkness, had caused his journey to be slow and explorative.
Now, as he climbed out of his car he surveyed the wooden building, noting that it was a two-storey construction with a ground floor and a first floor. It very likely also had a cellar.
Even as he hauled out his backpack the front door was opening to reveal a tall figure gripping a rifle.
Walking towards the man who he assumed was Fenway, Michael held up a hand and introduced himself. “Good morning! My name is Inspector Neil. I’m here to see Mr. Fenway.”
The man relaxed as he not only noted his uniform but also recognised the name. “Morning Inspector.” Holding out his hand to shake, the rough looking fellow said, “I’m Fenway.”
----------------
---------
Author: luthienberen aka Jadwiga
'Claimer The original characters, the fictional town Storm and plot are mine so please do not steal them!
Character: Alexander Finch
Warnings: Homosexual character, werewolves, horror.
Beta: rae_fa
Prompt: 059: Food
Word count: 2, 552
Feedback: Welcome! Constructive criticism also appreciated!
Rating: R (no under 17s) overall.
Notes: This chapter takes place during the same day as Chapter Thirteen, except it concentrates primarily on Michael’s day. This is part of a series of chapters, which can be can either be found via the community’s tag system or fictionpress.
Summary: Michael prepares to meet Fenway.
Chapter Fourteen: Preparations
24th October, Monday (same day)
5:30 am
Michael crouched on the floor of his bedroom as he readied his backpack. Outside it was cold and dark, the stars a pale gleam in the shrouded heavens. Night still governed the land and only the faintest trace of a lighter blue suggested the coming dawn.
Inside, the Mountie was busy organising his belongings for what promised to be a long and arduous day. Clad only in fluffy socks, trousers and a shirt, Michael was being as quiet as a mouse for he did not wish to rouse Alexander, for the teacher did not have to be up for over another hour.
This consideration for Alexander’s well-being was all the Mountie could spare for the fascinating man. His mind had no time to linger on the strange weekend he had spent with Alexander - a weekend of good conversation and evolving interest in the intriguing redhead.
Rocking back onto his heels Michael felt satisfaction warm his being. He had everything packed away securely bar food and drink. Now all that remained was to finish dressing, sneak downstairs and grab some breakfast and ready some provisions for the day - and the hour was already growing late.
Seizing his tie from the bed Michael began to fiddle with the material when there was a knock on his bedroom door. He blinked. Surely he hadn’t disturbed Alexander?
Confused, and a little wary, he crossed silently to his bedroom door and opened it to find a rather tousled Alexander. Fine red hair fell into green-grey eyes as the smaller man stifled a yawn and said: “Morning Michael. Preparing to leave already?”
Incredulous though apologetic, Michael quickly replied, “Yes, I’m sorry if I woke you. I was attempting to be quiet.”
Alexander’s lips twitched. “No need to apologise Michael, I was awake anyway. Probably nervous with returning to work for the first time since my … ah … ‘episode’.”
“Still, you should return to bed. I know you aren’t a morning person and there is no need for you to get up for at least another an forty-five minutes.”
The smile, which broke out on Alexander’s face, caused Michael’s hands to sweat.
“I may not be a morning person but that doesn’t mean I am rude or a neglectful host. I’ll prepare some breakfast and bundle up some food.”
“Food?”
This time the beautiful redhead actually laughed and cocked his head in the direction behind his shoulder. “You have a rather full backpack on the floor and a heavy winter coat on the bed. Either you intend to camp outside RCMP town headquarters, or sit in your car or, just maybe, travel somewhere. I assumed that you were too sensible to do the first two - was I wrong?”
Trying to ignore how fascinating and intriguing he found the way Alexander’s hair brushed pale cheeks, and his eyes sparkled like mischievous stars, Michael focused on answering Alexander’s question.
“No you’re not incorrect, though such perceptiveness and cheekiness can only get you into trouble. And yes, I would be grateful for a hot breakfast and some rations if isn’t too much bother.”
“None whatsoever. I enjoy cooking and I am protective of my kitchen I must admit. Oh, would you like a thermos?”
“Yes, with coffee please.”
It was Michael’s turn to laugh at the sour expression that snaked across Alexander’s face. “I knew that would brighten up your morning.” He received a scowl for his trouble.
“How I can live with a man with such appalling taste is beyond my comprehension. My mother did warn me against such men but I seem unable to listen to advice from either parent.”
/Curious statement,/ thought Michael. /Why did he say ‘either’ parent? And not simply ‘my mother’? Interesting choice of words…/
“Your mother loves tea as much as you do?”
“Like a true Englishwoman. Thankfully, I inherited this love while my brothers inherited a perverse joy for coffee from our father. Very well, I’ll go downstairs now to start on breakfast. See you in a bit?”
“Definitely. And thank you.”
A warm smile was his reward. “No problem Michael, none at all.”
Michael watched Alexander descend the staircase, curiosity at Alexander’s odd choice of words burning inside him.
----------------
---------
In the kitchen Alexander leant his head against a kitchen cabinet, trying to shake off his sleepiness. His sleep had been restful until he had awoken for no reason in what seemed the middle of the night. Yet when he had twisted his head on the pillow to peer at his bedside clock it read four-thirty ay-em in an eerie red glow.
For the next half hour he had lain still as a rock, listening to the various sounds of the creaking house. All his senses had been on the alert, his entire body taut and ready to leap on the smallest bit of input his senses received. So, when his sensitive ears had heard Michael’s breathing change from that of deep sleep to a state of wakefulness, he had frozen.
“Meow!”
Blinking, Alexander raised his head from the cabinet and smiled as he saw two balls of fur rub against his legs, winding their sinuous bodies around them. Chuckling, he bent down to pick his huge ginger tom, Hephaistion, up. Cradling the purring bundle the werewolf whispered softly: “You’re not afraid of me anymore are you big bully huh? I’m just another predator you’ve grown acclimatised to right?”
Scratching under the chin Alexander relaxed as his senses drank in the comforting pheromones his cats were presenting like a banquet.
“Both your noses are used to my changed scent hmmm? No more need to worry that I’m an alien fiend going to eat you?”
Putting Hephaistion back on the floor Alexander hastily grabbed their pouches and their food bowls. Even as he attempted to shut down his heightened awareness - taste and smell - he unfortunately opened his mouth to protest when his female cat, Olympias, reared on her hind legs to swat with a delicate paw at his preparations.
The overpowering smell of cat food flooded his taste buds and nostrils making Alexander choke. His mind fled to earlier, when his taut body had realised that Michael was awake.
His mouth parted to let his tongue dart out to sample the scents carried on the disturbed airwaves, while his eyelids fluttered shut to better to conjure up an image of what was happening in the room further down the hall.
At last, unable to stand the medley of scents and sounds that bathed him, or the sensation of hot sheets against flushed skin Alexander rose with the intention of checking on Michael.
His first sight of the man: dark hair not yet combed, tie half done, was intoxicating and the conversation that followed seemed like a dream. In the middle of that dream had come the odd odour of Michael sweating and his eyes losing focus, like clouds passing over deep brown pools.
“Meowrrroool!”
His cats’ angry objections at his sudden paralysis jerked him from his memory and he sighed. “Very well lovelies, here is your breakfast.”
Arranging their bowls carefully at their usual spot he stroked his little queen, (as Alexander sometimes referred to Olympias), and then washed his hands, ruminating over the last few seconds.
“It was definitely a dream. Michael is not interested in me. It was simple coincidence and my mind sensing what it wished to sense. Right. That’s it - remember, Michael is dangerous.”
Alexander groaned and shook his head. “Brilliant, now I’m talking out loud to myself. At this rate I will be shut up in an insane asylum.”
Firmly pushing recriminations from his mind Alexander pulled milk, butter and eggs from the fridge. He would rustle up a batch of piping hot pancakes and steaming coffee for Michael, and while the Mountie ate he would create a fine set of provisions, (not forgetting his own lunch).
As his hunger intensified Alexander discreetly popped into his mouth the other item he had withdrawn from the fridge - the last lump of raw pork mince.
----------------
---------
6:15 am
Michael looked up from the pile of pancakes he was currently decimating. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Alexander didn’t even pause in his preparations. “Once I’ve finished preparing your rations for the day. I still have the left-over batter for my breakfast, which won’t take long to cook.”
“Alright then.”
Gulping almost too hot coffee, Michael felt the brown liquid slide down his throat to blend with his food and successfully heat him from the inside out. His eyes traced his friend’s movements as the lithe man padded around the kitchen, picking up various items in slender fingers, delicate hands creating his meals for the day.
Everything about Alexander exuded refinement and a gentleness that was refreshing and encouraging after witnessing so much savagery and death - /and I’m about to see some more/, Michael thought grimly. /Those animals didn’t kill themselves and neither did the poor innocent camper./
Michael’s gaze did not waver from Alexander even as his mind rested briefly on his mission. He had not yet packed one important file, compiled by him, as he wished to have that near to hand and not buried amongst the other materials he had carefully inserted and ordered in his backpack.
The file contained the photograph depicting the blurred image of something, and the old man’s drawing. He would have to pay the old man a visit soon, but first he desired to drop by Mr. Fenway, the local trapper and engage his opinion and expertise.
Such a visit would potentially devour the entirety of Monday hence all the provisions including essential materials for coping in the now freezing outdoors.
Recalled to the present by the clatter of Alexander’s cutlery as he readied his own plate for a serving of pancakes, Michael drained the last of his coffee and stood. “Have you finished Alexander?”
Again with that smile, bright as the sun, and which caused his chest to constrict. “Yes, just let me fetch one more bag … Ah! Here you are. Enough for two meals - lunch and dinner if necessary, and plenty of ‘snacks’ to keep the fires burning inside so you keep on going!”
Michael blinked. “Damn Alexander, you certainly prepare for all occasions. Not one thermos, not two, but three?”
White cheeks flushed a delightful pink. “Well, I thought two for that horrid drink known as ‘coffee’ and one containing thick tomato soup with rice. I always have soup ‘waiting in the wings’ as it were,” Alexander added at his startled exclamation. “I find it is superb for filling one up, is relaxing for queasy stomachs and of course, is tasty, so I always brew up a large pot full every week - or twice a week depending on how much is eaten.”
“I didn’t notice you heat up―”
“You were busy circling the solar system from your vacant expression, plus, microwaves truly are useful critters. Anything else?”
“No thank you Alexander. This is more than I expected. Thank you.”
Grey-green eyes shone a little. “You’re welcome.”
Nodding in gratefulness Michael cautiously carried his armful of supplies to his room - watchful for tricky felines. Yet even as he snapped close his bag he wondered at Alexander’s actions. For though the handsome man dripped intelligence, gentleness and friendliness, there was dark tinge to his interactions.
Well versed in human nature, Michael noticed the almost undetectable aura of anxiety that permeated Alexander’s form, as well as the hint of something not quite right that lingered on Alexander like a particularly bad perfume.
He did not think it was serious or that Alexander was evil, but there was something peculiar about him that underscored Michael’s growing attraction to the man.
/There, you’ve admitted to yourself that you are attracted to Alexander. Now what? Continue with your job that’s what/
But as he hefted his backpack over his shoulder Michael smiled wanly. /I wish it were so easy./
The Mountie knew that suppressing his developing feelings for Alexander would be more difficult than simply saying so.
----------------
---------
When Michael stepped outside, the air was cold and still. His breath curled into a fine mist before his face, dissipating slowly back into the atmosphere.
The night sky was clear and the stars shone all the more brightly. Yet already they were beginning to fade as patches of sky were brushed with the first strokes of daylight, turning the heavens a blue-grey.
Alexander stood on the doorstep observing in silence as he loaded his car and checked that the vehicle was in excellent working order before he departed. Reassured, Michael Neil returned to say goodbye to Alexander who was hugging his arms across his body in attempt to ward off the icy air.
“I’ll be back this evening or tonight depending on what I find or don’t find as the case may be. Any concerns just ring through to Inspector Fey.”
Then the infuriating redhead smiled again. /How many smiles can a man take?/
“I’ll be fine Michael. I’ll be at school today surrounded by people, and if I feel unwell when I return home I can always call Doctor Thomas. Don’t worry about me, instead save your thoughts for yourself - you’re the one who is taking a ‘stroll’ through the countryside.”
“I will. ‘Bye.”
“Goodbye and good luck.”
Waving a hand Michael walked to his car and slid in. His last view of the enigmatic redhead was of a raised hand and bright eyes flickering in the lamplight.
----------------
---------
Alexander watched Michael go with a mixture of relief and dread. Relief to be left alone to deal with his growing hunger, and dread at what Michael might learn from Fenway.
As the car rear lights disappeared around a bend Alexander retreated inside, anxious to prepare himself for the coming day. He wished to visit Father Jacques before he needed to be at work, so he couldn’t afford to linger.
Yet, as he saw to his tasks the werewolf wondered how long it would take Michael to find his way to Fenway’s, and whether he would actually like the trapper who had the potential to be a very dangerous ally - and enemy - to him.
----------------
---------
A pale and miserable dawn had broken over the land by the time Michael reached Fenway’s house.
It had taken Michael half an hour to reach his destination, for although he had planned the route the night before, the poor condition of the ‘roads’ coupled with the difficultly of travelling the distance in the semi-darkness, had caused his journey to be slow and explorative.
Now, as he climbed out of his car he surveyed the wooden building, noting that it was a two-storey construction with a ground floor and a first floor. It very likely also had a cellar.
Even as he hauled out his backpack the front door was opening to reveal a tall figure gripping a rifle.
Walking towards the man who he assumed was Fenway, Michael held up a hand and introduced himself. “Good morning! My name is Inspector Neil. I’m here to see Mr. Fenway.”
The man relaxed as he not only noted his uniform but also recognised the name. “Morning Inspector.” Holding out his hand to shake, the rough looking fellow said, “I’m Fenway.”
----------------
---------