Saturday, November 08, 2008

The Warmth of a Wolf


Felicia stepped across the lawn, her tread so light it hardly impacted the sharp spikes of frosted grass. Harold’s, by contrast, looked like the blundering footfalls of an ogre. He looked up, mild surprise showing at the sheen of fur across her features.

“What are you doing out here? She’ll catch her death of cold.”

Harold looked down at the baby nestled against his jumper. “I was showing her the frost on the hawthorn hedge,” he said. He lifted his daughter to see. “Aren’t they pretty? The way the frost outlines every red berry? Like drops of blood preserved in ice.”

“Harold, she’s freezing.” Felicia had hold of one of Lucy’s tiny hands. “Give her to me.”

She nestled the child against her chest where wolf fur trapped layers of warm air. Lucy’s face returned from white cold to a healthy pink in moments. “There,” said Felicia. “She’s so beautiful I could just eat her up.”

Harold coughed. “Which I always thought a quaint phrase but it's a bit worrying when a werewolf says it,” he said. “Shall we go back inside? My slippers are soaking wet.”


aims said...

Ah yes - it does mean something totally different when a werewolf says it.

Brings to mind Terry Pratchett's Rim World series with the female werewolf who is always losing her clothes when she changes.

I love it.

DJ Kirkby said...

Beautiful photo, beautiful excerpt.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Thanks DJ, but I can't take credit for the photo - Ron posted it on the LJ community 'museteasers'.

Aims: Good call on Angua. Felicia has the advantage of modern fabrics.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Here's the original photo:

aims said...

Ah! You are right on the ball Rachel with Angua's name. Great minds think alike - which could mean you and Terry Pratchett or you and me or ......

Leatherdykeuk said...

I do read Pratchett:) I used to write Pratchett fanfic too.