4. Raul

4

RAUL

B lood, sweat, and tears.

Wait. No blood. It had been an almost everyday occurrence in my first couple of years at work. Power tools saved my skin. Literally.

Tears? Nope. Even though we had all shed some in that workshop, for non-work-related reasons.

It was just tons of sweat. That's what you get when you deal with iron, aluminum, and other metals. Building and fixing motorcycles has been our passion all our lives. Putting parts together, checking their compatibility, seeking the best possible color combinations… It could take us weeks or even months at a time, but the rewards were fantastic. When a customer left happy, we were all happy. Despite our differences, this was the one thing we all shared.

I went into the bathroom to take a shower and wash the filth off while thinking about what I would do next. I could visit the human as Sam suggested. I know where her home is. I could stand outside for a moment, thank her, and then be on my way. It was the safest option; yet it sounded bad. Why? Because it sounded impersonal. An empty-handed man, expressing his gratitude for a minute, then he takes off and never looks back. Pathetic.

Cheapness was not among my—many—failings. What would she have to remember that visit? Words? Words can be void of everything. Mine would be full of emotion. I needed something to demonstrate that emotion. As I wiped the water off my body, an idea flashed in my head. Flowers. They might wither at some point, but they would stay in her house for a few days, to remind her that I wasn't some kind of hollow prick. Afterward, she could do whatever she wanted with them.

As the sun descended behind the hills, I strolled into my bedroom. I began to dress mixed feelings came over me. I did wish to see her again. Any man in his right mind loves to lay eyes on a woman as beautiful as her. But that sense of anticipation was dulled by sadness. This would probably be the last time I'd get to enjoy the wonderful sight of her. Anything else was too dangerous, for her and me.

However, as I rolled down the sleeves of my t-shirt, something caught my eye. It was the sun's reflection on an exceedingly small surface. Within seconds, a hand emerged from the top branches of a cedar tree. It swayed in the air and then plunged back down into the foliage. Slivers of fear sliced through my stomach. None of my kind would ever do that. We didn't need trees to locate one another. Our noses were more than enough for the job. Only a human would climb a tree, and that human would pay the price for their nosiness. There was too much risk in letting them look around. They could spot one of us shifting, which would spell disaster for everybody. No one was allowed to witness a transformation.

I spun in the direction of my door, fear spurring me on. They didn't know this, but whoever was up in that tree, they were gambling with their lives. Death would not be swift. It would be slow. Agonizing. Horrific. No gunshot would bring it upon. Jaws, claws, and teeth would tear apart flesh and crush bones like trodden twigs in the middle of the summer.

Bypassing my front yard, I crossed the forest border. A powerful gust of wind rustled through the trees, causing their leaves to shake over me. Several strides later, it wafted the scent of the intruder right through my nostrils. It was the female. She wasn't alone. The familiar smell of sweet caramel is joined by the distinct scent of ripe strawberry. Sprinting across the muddy forest floor, I caught their voices in the air.

"There he is! I told you we'd find him today. Have mercy, baby… Ooh, he looks so hot in that t-shirt! I could just rip it right off of him!"

"Damn it, Stacy! Focus on the problem! We're trapped up here, and all you have to say is how hot he is?"

I smiled to myself, as I hurtled past a balsam fir tree. The sound of a branch snapping off compelled me to look up. My brunette savior was in the air, arms splayed out to the side, her back to me. When the branch smashed into the bottom of the trunk, I threw my arms forward. The richness of her scent reminded me of the night before as her weight shoved me down. I bent my knees to withstand it, wondering if I had caught a human being or a 5'6" piece of candy. I rolled her in my arms so she could face me, unable to stop smiling.

"You!" she exclaimed, her heaving chest trying to distract me.

"Me? What about me?" I teased; my right arm wrapped around her legs. "And what were you doing up in that tree?"

"Looking for eagles' nests," Stacy blurted out. "There are none up here."

"Right," I laughed, easing down the brunette. "Eagles' nests. You won't find any of those around here. Eagles prefer higher ground."

"My thoughts exactly," Stacy said, hopping off a low-hanging branch.

I barely glance at the other woman, unable to take my eyes off of the woman in my arms. Our eyes meet and her cheeks flush a soft pink color.

"Uh, hi, yeah, uhm, my name's Monica. Monica Greenwell," she says, her beautiful voice breathless. Finally, I had my savior's name. "You might have guessed, after I, uh, cared for you, but yeah, I'm a doctor. And that's my friend Stacy Lawrence."

The wide smile on my face is far from forced. My one concern was that it might be too wolfish. I set Monica back onto her feet, letting my fingers linger at her waist, reluctant to break contact.

"I'm Raul." I introduced myself, tipping my head down. "Raul Crawford. It's good to meet you."

"Wait a minute," Monica muttered, her gaze sliding down to my neck. Leaning forward, her eyes widened in disbelief. Before I knew it, she had gripped the collar of my t-shirt. "This…" She whispered. "It can't be. I mean, last night, you had two puncture wounds more than an inch in diameter. Today, they're almost gone."

"More than an inch?" I scoffed. "No, Dr. Greenwell. I'm afraid you got it all wrong. You see, it wasn't some animal that did that to me. It was a friend's German Sheppard. They've got big teeth, but they're not that big."

"Maybe, but still…" She breathed in and looked back up at me. "You've healed extremely fast. I'm not sure that's even possible."

"Come on, Mon. You heard the man," Stacy interjected, taking her friend by the hand. "Take care, Mr. Crawford. And stay away from any vicious dogs. We all saw what they can do to you."

"Wait…"

"Bye!" Stacy chirped, waving back at me as she dragged Monica away. I still had some questions for both of them. For instance, how in the world had they ended up in the forest? What had prompted them to climb trees, instead of walking around in Dawson? Nevertheless, while they disappeared into the wilderness, I decided not to push my luck, or theirs for that matter. They were leaving. They were moving away from the clutches of death, unaware of how close they had come to being torn to pieces. That was a far better development than satisfying my curiosity, for now.