Riding the Red Ch. 08

Acting instinctively, Adrienne ducked behind the couch as a grey blur flew into the room. Cold air blew around her head, as snow swirled through the broken window. Looking around in confusion, she realized that something had come through the window. She stood up just in time to be knocked down by a wall. Only, it wasn't a wall. It was Lucas. "Stay down," he snarled in her ear.

Still dazed, she managed a nod. There was a low rumbling in the room, like the sound of an oncoming train. Adrienne's panicked mind tried to categorize the sound. Ice trickled down her spine as she finally recognized it. Growling.

Lucas used his foot to shove one of the dining room chairs across the room. A huge, grey thing leapt on it, snarling and snapping. Lucas used the moment of distraction to leap off of Adrienne, and grab the shovel that he had brought in from the kitchen.

A shaggy, grey head turned in their direction, and Adrienne realized with a start of alarm that the luminescent gold eyes were focused on her. Lucas growled loudly, and jumped to the other side of the couch. He banged the shovel noisily against the floor, redirecting the animal's attention away from Adrienne. "Wolf!" she thought.

It was huge, almost half again as big as any wolf that Adrienne had ever seen behind the safety of zoo bars. All of it was bunched into lean, rangy muscle under the thick, shining fur. If she hadn't have been scared out of her mind, she would have admired it. Its front was crouched low to the ground, paws splayed, with its hindquarters in the air, fluffy tail fluidly moved back and forth as it studied Lucas. Without turning to her, Lucas asked, "Can you make it to the front door?"

"Yes," she answered uncertain of what he planned to do. With the crazy snow, she knew that she wasn't going to go far if she ran.

"I need you to open it, and then get out of the way."

"Not leaving you," she said, her voice a bit firmer.

He didn't move, but she could have sworn that she sensed that he was pleased. "I'm not asking you to leave, I'm asking you to stay out of the way. I'm not stupid enough to try to take on this thing by myself."

Despite the situation she grinned, and then paled as the wolf swung its head toward her.

Lucas banged the shovel against the floor, bringing the wolf's attention back to him. "Okay. I'm going to distract it. You slowly—slowly--move for the door. If you run, if you turn your back, you'll look like prey, got it?"

"Understood," she asserted. It was surreal. They were currently trapped in a room entirely too small for so much wolf, and yet she was rapidly losing her fear. Lucas was practically radiating a sense of calm assurance, and she felt, with growing confidence, that they maybe they could manage to gain the upper hand on this thing. She slowly moved backwards, keeping her eyes on the wolf. She had just made it past the couch when she bumped into an end table, knocking over the lamp. The wolf's head swung back toward her and it tensed its muscles for a leap.

Lucas tried thumping the shovel again, but it paid him no heed.

Adrienne felt her throat involuntarily close as she stared into those golden eyes. She felt she was paralyzed, and she couldn't seem to get her thoughts coherent enough to remind her body to move.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Both Adrienne and the wolf turned toward Lucas. He was stamping his feet and shaking the shovel about. Adrienne's eyebrows rose at his display of movement. Was this some sort of atavistic battle cry?

"Oooonce I was a boogie singeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer..."

...

The hell?

"Playing in a rock and roll baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand! I never had no probleeeeeeeeeeeeeems! Burnin' down the one night staaaaaaaaaaands..."

That was no warrior's yawp, Adrienne realized with dawning incredulity. Lucas was...singing.

"And everything around meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee got to startin' feelin' so loooooooooooooow that I decided quicklyyyyyyyyyyyyy to disco down and check out the shoooooooooooooow!"

Or, at least doing an approximation thereof.

"...Yeah they was dancin' and singin' and moooovin' to the grooooovin' and just when it hit me, somebody turned around and shouted PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC WHIIIIIIIIIIITE BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!"

At this point, Lucas was red-facedly bellowing at the top of his lungs, and combining that with that was a sort of weird, shovel waving, boot stomping dance.

If one could call what he was doing "dancing". Doubtful.

Adrienne almost forgot to keep moving for the door. The wolf had stopped growling and was looking at Lucas with an expression akin to disbelief.

"PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC RIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT! PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC WHITE BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!" By this time, Adrienne had made it to the door. She slowly slid her back up the wood, and groped until she found the locks.

"LAY DOWN AND BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGIE AND PLAYTHATFUNKYMUSICTILLYOUDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE!"

Adrienne threw open the door and lunged into the hallway. She wasn't quick enough, however and, seemingly without any in-between movement, the wolf was sailing over the couch, straight for her. She didn't even have time to cover her head. The wolf landed on the other side of the couch and pivoted, a mere few feet from leaping on her--

--when Lucas' body slammed into its flank, knocking it to the other side of the room. Adrienne hadn't even seen him move.

Lucas and the wolf tangled in a flashing, snarling black and grey mass of fur and cloth. They rolled around on the floor, knocking over bookcases, end tables, and chairs.

Adrienne scurried away in horror. She could see the white flashes of the wolf's teeth and hear the snapping of its jaws. All of a sudden, she heard Lucas' bellow, and she saw a bright flash of scarlet splatter on the warm wood floor. Not thinking, she scrambled for the shovel and grabbed it, swinging back toward the melee. A cold calm overtook her and she relaxed, tracking the wolf's body as she moved forward. She raised the shovel over her head and brought it down as hard as she could.

At the last moment, she saw Lucas' head turn toward her. Faster than she could see, both Lucas and the wolf were out from under her. She jerked up her head, and there he was, right arm streaming blood, with one broad hand buried deeply in the wolf's ruff and the other wrapped firmly around its hind legs, at the ankles. Heaving backward, he flung the wolf out the front door, slammed it shut, and re-bolted it. They stared at each other for a moment.

"The window!" Adrienne exclaimed, and they ran to it. The wolf could be heard floundering in the snow around the front of the house.

"On the back porch, there's some plywood—go!" Lucas barked.

Adrienne ran, quickly located the wood behind the neat stack of firewood, and brought it to him. He pressed it to the hole where the window had been. It covered the erstwhile window, with a few inches around on each side.

"Under the kitchen sink, there's a toolbox--"

Adrienne was already going for it before he could finish his sentence. She brought it back, and knelt to open it. Lucas held out his hand, but she ignored him, fished out the hammer and some nails, and got to work nailing the board to the wall while he held it. After a few moments, she was done.

The room was silent except for the soft dripping noise of the blood sliding down his arm into the ever widening pool on the floor. She was about to mention it when Lucas said, "We're going to need to fill the gaps around the wood with something, so that the cold doesn't come inside." They looked around, both racking their minds for something. "I...bought a newspaper the last time that I was in town," he said finally.

"That will do, until and unless we can think of something better. I don't suppose you have any spray foam insulation, do you?" she asked. He stared blankly at her gently waving on his feet. "So...no, then. Alright, where's your newspaper?"

"It was on the table beside the couch. Now..." he gestured vaguely to the disorder.

Adrienne turned and looked at the room. It was in complete disarray. It didn't look like anything was broken beyond repair, but it would take a while to clean the mess. She walked around the couch, eyes searching, and spied a grey corner sticking out from under the couch. She walked over and eased it from its hiding place. Fortunately, it was the newspaper. She began tearing it into strips and twisting them into snakes. Then, she and Lucas packed the snakes as tightly as they could around any gaps between the plywood and the wall.

When they had finished, they just stood there, staring at the wood for a moment. Adrienne could feel a knee-weakening sense of relief come over her. She turned to Lucas and saw that his skin was looking grey. He stumbled a little, and her eyes shot to the bright crimson flag on his arm. She moved toward him, and caught him around the waist just as his knees gave up the fight.

"C'est d'ccord—tu es bien," she crooned, unconsciously slipping into the soft, comforting French of her childhood. "Viens-tu avec moi, mon petit. Tu es en securite." She half dragged him into his room, and onto his bed.

He groaned, while she pulled off his boots, and then gave an odd, high-pitched whine when she put her hand on his forehead to comfort him.

"Help me," she implored, as she tried to take off his flannel shirt. He lifted his torso from the bed just long enough for her to whisk the shirt away from his body, and then collapsed back against the mattress. She wrapped the shirt around his bleeding forearm. "Hold this here as tightly as you can, comprends?" she asked. He nodded, and applied pressure to the wound. "Je reviendrai dans un instant," she promised.

She flew to her bathroom, and pulled everything that she could find that remotely looked like a first aid item from her cabinet. Then she ran into the kitchen, filled and a bowl with bottled water, and washed her hands.

When she returned to Lucas room, he was on his side, in the fetal position. She climbed behind him, and rolled him over to her, setting his arm in her lap. The hot, metallic scent of blood assaulted her nose as she unwrapped his shirt and put it in her lap. She looked up at his face for reassurance, but his eyes were closed, and pain etched the lines beside his mouth even deeper. She bit her lip nervously, but then shook herself. There was no use being delicate about it. He was obviously in no state to help himself, so she had to do it for him.

She opened a packet of tightly woven cloths, and dipped them into the water. Slowly and gently, she began to clean the blood from his arm. It looked like four deep scratches as opposed to a bite. She sighed gratefully. At least they wouldn't have to worry about any broken bones. The claw marks bit through the skin, and stopped just short of tearing into the muscle. That was good, too. Lucas would have a scar, but there wouldn't be any muscle damage. Unless the arm went septic.

Adrienne shook her head. She wasn't going to think about that. Once she had cleaned away all of the extraneous blood, she was gratified to see that he wasn't bleeding any more. Unfortunately, cleaning away all of that blood confirmed what she had been afraid that she was going to have to do. She was going to have to stitch the wounds closed. Adrienne set her jaw.

"Lucas," she said softly, stroking the hair from his forehead. "I'm going to have to stitch shut your arm." His eyelids fluttered open and he looked at her. His eyes were golden beacons in the bruised skin around them. They shone with pain, but they were clear. He nodded.

She sterilized the suture needle with iodine, threaded it, took the needle driver and got to work making the U-shaped sutures needed to close the red gashes gaping like hungry mouths. When she was finished, she felt tension that she hadn't even known was there leave both of their bodies. She wiped away the excess seeping blood with a fresh cloth, and then applied antibiotic ointment to the entire area and covered it with gauze. She taped it to his skin with medical tape, and then tenderly laid his arm on the bed.

She took everything to his bathroom, and threw the bloody shirt in his hamper. Then she went into the kitchen, and cleaned the bloody bowl. She looked into the cabinets, until she found some Ibuprofen.

Bringing it and a glass of orange juice to Lucas, she stroked his cheek until he opened his eyes. His skin was clammy and his pupils had dilated until the black almost eclipsed the gold. "Here, take these," she said, holding her hand to his mouth. He opened his mouth, and she eased in the pills, and then lifted his head so that he could drink the water. "A little more," she coaxed, and he finished the glass. "Bon...bon," she crooned softly.

When he had put his head back against the pillows, she asked, "Lucas, mightn't the wolf come in through one of the other windows?"

He weakly shook his head. "I won the fight," he rasped. "I am...Alpha..." He closed his eyes, too pained to say more.

Adrienne considered this, and then nodded. It jibed with what little she knew of wolf-pack hierarchical rules. She went back to her room, pulled the quilts from the bed, and returned to Lucas' room, she pulled the covers over him. She briefly considered going into the living room to battle the disarray, but wearily discarded that notion.

Instead, she climbed into Lucas' bed, curled her body around his, put her arm protectively around his waist, and buried her nose in the curls at the back of his neck. Inhaling his loamy-piny-spicy scent, she closed her eyes, finally allowing feelings to wash over her again. When they threatened to overwhelm her, she fought them back, and slowly began to rock Lucas. Softly, softly, she sang him a sweet lullaby, until they both fell still.

****************

When she awoke, it was hours later. The room was mostly dark, and silent, except for Lucas' soft, even breathing. Adrienne pressed her lips to the back of Lucas' neck, and was gratified to feel that he was warm. Not feverish, but no longer cold and clammy. She slipped out of bed and headed toward the living room. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the mess. It wasn't really so bad, it had just been overwhelming after all that had happened. She looked at the pool of blood slowly coagulating on the floor. She'd start there.

An hour. and a lot of scrubbing later, the living room was, if not as good as new, then not as bad as it had seemed at first. Much of the furniture had scratch marks, but those could be easily taken care of with some sandpaper and stain. Fortunately, all of Lucas' furniture was made of good, heavy wood, so there were no chips, or cracks. All of the books were back on the shelves, though future readers might conjecture as to the identity of the small brown splotches on some of the pages.

Sadly, one of the lamps didn't make it. Secretly, Adrienne was pleased. It had been an ugly lamp, anyway.

She went to the kitchen, figuring that now was the time to finish the stew. When she lifted the lid, the rich, brown-smelling steam wafted to her face, and she could see the thick gravy bubbling around the sides of the crock pot. She added a packet of frozen peas, and turned the pot down to "warm", leaving the residual heat to thaw them.

Finished with that, she washed her hands, filled two bowls with water, one for washing, and one for rinsing, and brought it, along with some hand soap, to Lucas' room. He was still sleeping, which worried her, but when she put her hand to his skin, it felt normal. She checked his heartbeat. Normal. She undid the dressing, and saw with satisfaction that, though the wounds were lymphing, there was no undue redness or swelling. He appeared to be healing very nicely. She set to work gently cleaning the skin around the wounds, and then applied more ointment, and changed the dressing.

When she was done, she took the rinse water, and gently washed his face. He opened his eyes.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he responded hoarsely.

"Welcome back. You're alright," she comforted, stroking his bristly cheek.

He grinned weakly. He swallowed hard, and she ran to pour another glass of juice for him. After he had downed it, he lay back against the pillows and weakly teased, "Are you a doctor? I need a proper medical diagnosis from a real doctor." She blushed scarlet. He looked at his dressing and sniffed. Moved his arm experimentally. "It seems as if you did the right things. Doesn't feel infected. Smells clean. Does it require stitches?"

She looked away. "I...already did that."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well," he said finally. "What a brave little Toaster."

She turned back to him in mock surprise. "Why Lucas! Was that a pop-culture reference that sprang from your very own lips?"

He grinned drily. "I did have a mother, you know."

Adrienne leaned forward to rub his chest. Smiling, she asked, "More importantly, "Play that Funky Music White Boy?!"

He snorted. "It was all that I could think of, at the moment. Hey, it worked, didn't it, you ungrateful urchin?"

She laughed at him, and then patted his chest. "Are you hungry?"

He groaned. "No, for once."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that you're going to have to eat something. With that sort of blood loss, we're going to have to ensure that you have plenty of nourishment to fuel the healing process."

"Slave-driver," he murmured under his breath, as she slipped from the room.

She turned around, and walked backwards. "Whh-tsh."

Once she reached the kitchen, she paused. The stew was done, but what would she do for bread? Adrienne looked around for a moment, nonplussed. Brightening, she put some coconut oil into a skillet to heat. Then she opened the cabinets and grabbed some cornmeal, flour, and raisins, and mixed them with milk, baking soda, salt, baking powder, and an egg.

Pouring little golden rounds into the rippling oil, she watched carefully, to ensure that they wouldn't burn. When little bubbles appeared in the cakes, she flipped them and watched them rise. She filled a bowl with stew, put it on a plate, and slid a few of the sizzling cakes beside the bowl. Then she mixed a little honey and coconut butter, and plopped that on top to melt into the crispy cakes. She poured a glass of milk, grabbed a spoon, and headed back to Lucas' room.

She put the food down on the nightstand, and surveyed his bed. Not nearly enough pillows. She trundled back to her room, pulled all of her fluffy pillows from the bed, and went back to his room, plopping them down beside him. She moved over to him, and dropped an affectionate kiss on his forehead. "Dinner," she said softly. "Sit up, and I'll put some pillows behind your back." He groaned, but was obedient, and after she had arranged all of the pillows under him, she let him relax. "Can you feed yourself?" she asked.

"Not hungry," he mumbled.

"I don't recall asking you that," she said teasingly. "You don't want this?" she asked, waving the bowl under his nose.

It twitched. He opened one eye. "Well," he grumbled, "if you're going to be so insistent about it."

She slid beside him and held the bowl and plate while he slowly ate. "Hm," she said, when he was sopping up the last of the gravy with the last bite of corncake. "I thought that you weren't hungry."

He looked up at her with meltingly amber eyes. "Well...I didn't want to be rude."

She smiled and rubbed his flat stomach. "Good boy," she said simply.

"Where's yours?" he queried.

"I'll eat while I'm putting away everything. Now that you've seen fit to go lose a few pints of blood, I guess that I'll have to be the one to do the dishes for a while."

He gave a ghost of a grin. "Anything to get out of chores," he said softly. His eyes were starting to drift closed, but then popped back open. "And it wasn't pints of blood." "Whatever," she said, waving her hand. "You didn't have to clean it, you just lost it. What do you know?"