The wolf must have been really hungry because he had nearly finished the first pack of bacon by the time I got him to the bathroom. I blessed the forethought that had told me to bring two more packs and set to work.
I needed to get the paw washed and dressed and I needed to do it quickly. The sun was rising higher by the minute and I was fading quickly. I could feel the need to sleep pressing down on me, dragging at my eyelids like lead weights. God, I was tired.
I splashed some cold water in my face as I ran some in the sink, which helped to wake me up a little. Then I found a washcloth (navy blue, what else) and got it wet before turning back to the wolf.
He looked at me warily when I approached him with the cloth but I spoke soothingly and—more importantly—opened the second pack of bacon. It was a tricky situation but by the time he had finished the second pack, I had managed to clean the wounds and ascertain that the bones seemed to be intact. That was a relief—I was so tired by now I was yawning continuously and there was no way I could take him out to a vet to get it set if it had been broken.
Stumbling with weariness, I got the first aid kit out of the closet, and came back to the wolf, who had finished pack two and was looking longingly at pack three of the precooked bacon.
“You’re going to have a stomach ache tomorrow,” I predicted as I opened the last pack with a yawn. “But if it keeps you quiet while I work, I guess you can have some more.” I dug the roll of gauze out of the kit and got started dressing the wound.
My eyes were nearly closing as I finished winding the gauze around the wolf’s massive paw and secured it in place with a little tape.
“Okay now,” I told him sternly. “I’m going to let you back outside but don’t chew on that. Be…” I yawned. “Be a good boy—all right?”
He whined softly and I had the idea that somehow he understood. Well, goody for me—I could apparently now speak wolf language. The thought struck me as funny and I giggled foolishly. Have you ever been so tired it was like you were drunk? That was me just then. Dawn was past and the morning was well advanced—I was so sleepy I could barely stand up from the floor where I had been sitting to treat the wolf’s injuries.
In fact, I couldn’t stand. When I finally got to my feet, I swayed alarmingly. I’m sure I would have fallen if the wolf hadn’t come up beside me and put his back just under my seeking hand. I threaded my fingers through his fur as though he was a Seeing Eye dog and I was blind.
“C’mon, boy,” I mumbled, staggering out of the bathroom. “Time to go…outside.”
I had every intention of taking him back to the kitchen door and letting him out. After all, I was about to be dead to the world—there was no telling how much damage the animal might do while I was asleep. Plus, I couldn’t keep a wild wolf in Victor’s house without his permission.
“C’mon,” I mumbled again and started to lead the wolf to the kitchen. Only, I soon found I was no longer the one leading. The wolf pressed against my legs, guiding me toward the bed.
“Hey, no,” I protested with another bone-cracking yawn. “Can’t…can’t let you stay. Have to go outside now…boy.”
I started for the kitchen again but again the wolf cut me off. He pressed hard against me, herding me as though I was a stupid sheep going the wrong way.
Finally I gave up.
“All right, you win,” I muttered, allowing him to push me to the king sized bed. The sides seemed higher than I remembered. I tried for almost a minute to climb in before I felt the wolf’s furry head nudging me in the bottom, giving me a boost.
“Thanks, boy,” I whispered, collapsing on my side. “Good boy. Such a good…boy.”
My eyes were already closing but to my surprise, the wolf came around the bed and hopped up, taking the other side.
“Hey now,” I protested, trying to sit up and failing. “You can’t…can’t do that. Fur on…the sheets. Victor will be…pissed.”
But the wolf wasn’t budging. And at this point, neither was I. I barely had strength to roll over, let alone try to push him off the bed. With a sigh, I gave up. Let him stay—there was nothing I could do about it now.
My eyes closed but I was cold. Marshalling my flagging strength, I tried for a minute to get under the covers but I couldn’t…they were tucked in too tightly. Whoever had taught Victor to make a bed must have been into hospital corners.
With a little moan, I curled in on myself, trying to tuck my arms and legs into the white t-shirt I still wore and gather a little warmth. Cold…so cold. It was the story of my undead life. Ever since I had been turned, I could never seem to get warm enough, no matter what I did.