Two-Faced Views

Run, run, run. 

Every wheezing breath and burning muscles aided me with swinging arms and legs going back and forth at such a speed I almost felt like I was hovering on the grassy frown with naturally silent steps instead of running on it.

The ever-looming presence of that—that creature felt hot on my heels, darkness jumping from midnight-covered trees to trees.

Outside my own accord, I glance back, my vision momentarily blocked by my whitetail seemingly grey in the night before switching to reveal a silver tip that looked like it was suggesting closer and closer—

And arrow.

I duck, so quickly that I didn’t track my next steps, stinging pain shot up my foot. I cry out as everything turns into a spiral of black, green leaves, night grass, and…mud. The filthy wet dirt was cool, both somewhat breaking my fall and at the very same time, deciding it would be nice to have me taste it.

Jesus, can’t I take a break? Not only am I falling mouth-first into the mud, I’m being framed and chased by those creatures? So-called authorities in the human world—what are they called? FBI? Police? 

Then turning into monsters for this side. Two-face’s are terrifying things.

While trying to clear my blurred night vision, I hastily reach for the emergency weapons in my boots, fluffy ears shifting atop my head to hear and sound fall of grass or brush of clothing in tree bark—

There.

I send it flying in one practiced, fluid technique, not letting the Two-Face get a chance to present its presence or pounce.

All I saw were two sockets where eyes should be, the lids dripping and mixing, like a gooey yet thick cage for nonexistent eyes. Unless the eyes are the prisoners deep in the mind, seeing into your soul. Slicing it with my knife must have broken it out of its fake human disguise.

I scramble up. Stumbling once when trying to speed off again. I just right into action however when hearing a grotesquely loud, venomous hiss and clicking. Yeah…don’t want to meet that buddy’s buddies.

I bolt once more, loud in-mortal screeches following in my wake, my steps, my every ache in my knees, and freaking mud all over me. I hold onto the hope that some of my scents are covered from the mud, but that doesn’t matter if they already have seen me.

Doesn’t help that I’m also…a little lost. The fall took me off-kilter, going with my sense of direction of where I could about and find home.

Now I’m just running to survive, maybe I can find shelter, a cave, a high tree…or maybe today is my death day. 

I grit my teeth, chasing the fear away for only a moment—

One second I’m in the flat completes sorta normal classic getting chased in a forest scenery, and the next, a force is tugging at my stomach, the trees ripples around me. 

I trip over my own feet, pinwheeling my arms until I regain my balance, righting my tilted vision.

I blink. Once. Twice.

Where the heck am I?

Pure confusion coils in my mind. I look around to see I’m in—a meadow. Sure, meadows can be pretty occurring in forests, but…

I look behind me to only endless green grass and flowers. Fresh night air fills my nostrils, I could smell the faint trace of the lovely cool citrus scent of blossoms and rotten ones of some pollen. It makes me wrinkle my nose at the mix.

There are no trees.

My heart rate speeds up, panic starting to seize me before I shake my head and do the all traditional inhale and exhale through the nose then the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In the nose, out the mouth. In. Out.

“Okay…I’m okay.” False yet true on my tongue. I am out of immediate danger if the Two-Face, but I’m also in the middle of nowhere. Against my will, my memory flashes to the scene, and I shudder, tail swaying in unease.

I slowly look forward again and do a double-take. A small building and rather cute building with a few sets of windows, a smoking chimney, a porch with a rocking chair, and a reefed door are presented to me.

A cottage.

A cottage has just poofed into existence out of nowhere, I refuse to think of the possibility that I missed it, a great deal of magic or stardust has to be out in to do such a feat. ears atop my head twitch to any sort of sound, amplifying to the music of the meadow. A cool breeze against the smallest rustle of petals against one another. The swaying grass. Even the cottage itself with its rocking chair and among chimneys with smoke rising to a white-lit moon illuminating the night sky and the ground.

Nothing. Just…a silent night of swaying blooms. That at least was something else kind of comforting to note, I’m still in the same time (assuming) I was before. 

Now…here’s my choice.

I can either explore the meadow for a way to get home, staying away from the cottage with the risk of getting caught by the Two-Face’s who are trying to kill me for looking like the actual murderer. Or—

I glance at the cottage, emitting comfort and promised possible sleep. 

I can stay here for one day. Rejuvenate, mentally and physically prepare while waiting patiently for the Two-Face’s to finally leave. That’s another question. How come I got here, but not them? Did I pass into an invisible border? Or did I teleport?

I gnaw at my lip at this confusing situation of if’s or not’s, should or should I not. Until I finally did what I always do when I can’t make up my mind.

I follow my gut.

It’s best to lay low and get some rest, if they're out there in a way if I can first figure out how to get out of here, then I would be energized enough to possibly, possibly outrun them. The thought of sprinting like that again sent an unexpected wave of exhaustion through me, my mud-covered limbs suddenly weighing me down. 

Yeah. It would probably be better to rest and actually be able to run instead of outright collapsing from sheer fear of the Two-Face’s and tiredness. Not only would it be painful physically, but definitely a blow to my pride more than admitting I need rest.

Without even realizing it, my feet silently start walking toward the cottage, I could feel the warmth radiating from the pace compared to the slick sweat, mud, and grass all over me doing fairly little to protect me from the night chill. The leather on my body weighed me down more than anything now. I would take off the armrest at least, but at this point, I’m doing my best not to close my eyes and collapse on the… rather comfy-looking flowers right now.

I shake my head, blinking when I realize I’m in front of the wooden steps of the cottage, anyone with the right mind would probably idly walk away from a lit house and smoking chimney.

But I’m not exactly sane at the moment. Let alone a 100% a person.

Grabbing the railing, I practically haul myself up the steps, making my way to the porch. I don’t pay mind to the decoration of the ledge, only tenderly walking forward and placing my hand on the knob with a pull to realize—

It’s locked. Of course, it is. Kalisa, what are you even thinking? Of course, no one, not even some stranger who’s probably in this house right now, is gonna make anything easier for you. I’m not sure why it would make sense to unlock your door when you literally live in the middle of nowhere, but hey, I suppose this person has their priorities straight. 

“Gotta freaking work for everything I want, gosh dangit.” My ears flatten against my head in frustration. With a heavy sigh, I decide to go with the second entrance that came to my immediate mind.

The windows. At least one of them can’t be locked…hopefully. Maybe. Slightly small chance, but better than nothing, and I’d prefer not to sleep outside. 

For the most part.

I glance at the windows next to me, covered by curtains on the other side, a silent promise of the warmth of the inside. My eyes view the glass, trying to see if there is any opening—

There. Right at the bottom, there's a latch, thank goodness, a sash window. One of the easiest to get in—NOT that I’ve ever, ever broken into a house before.

That’s just absurd.

I quickly go over to the windows, crouching just a bit and placing my dry muddy hand, which somewhat astonishingly almost matches the color of my skin, palm up at the bottom slit. In one quick action, my nails extend into claws under the window seal, and I force the thing upward with a ‘thunk’. 

A silent snicker escapes my lips, mouth curving as I fluidly hop over the ledge, the curtains. I try my best not to worry about getting the mud on the material even though it’s dry (It probably would be a good idea to take off my shoes outside, but oh well), and settle on the ground.

I could rob the place; take maybe one or two trinkets off the mahogany shelves, or maybe one of the intricate-looking paintings hanging on the nicely tan walls, maybe even with enough muscle and with my broke-butt, the couch.

The couch. You know what. Skrew looking for a bed.

I don’t think, I just walking, stumbling a little sure. Maybe knocking something over, but I don’t check. My body plops with a ‘puff’ onto the plush material and I sigh, grabbing one of the colorful pillows and snuggling into it, tail curling in bliss as I let my consciousness…

slip…into black.

….

“Hm. Well, you slept quite nicely, huh?”

I blink, crusty eyed, and stare at the blurred face. His voice was monotonous, almost bored, and I blink once more when I notice…are those…

Wolf ears?

I jump high from my laying position and land myself in the corner of the room so fast, I almost got whiplash. With wide eyes and fast breathing, I pound an accusatory finger at the stranger—wolf stranger, my tail on high alert, and puffed, “What are you doing in my room?!”

“I think I should be the one asking that question since this is my home after all.”

His home? Wait. I blink, suddenly a flood of last night's memories comes rushing back and I almost gasp. I’m not back at my home, in my small yet cozy bed but now a sorry excuse for the one- a couch-in here.

I slept on a stranger's couch. A wolf stranger's couch. And he’s home.

Hairy Fudge balls.

Werewolves in my community are notorious for their ravenous rage and bloodthirst. Raiding cat-acomes and meefwa villages left and right, eating them alive. And the leaders…The two species have broken history and old blooded rivalry is yet to be eased. 

I could practically hear my father as he spoke, ‘Think twice before going out in a full moonlit night.’

And this is my first time seeing one in person, and he completely debunks about all of them. He’s not attacking me, eating the flesh from my bones, or even looks the least bit ferocious. No hostility at all in his gaze, just…boredom.

My ears twitch before I slide my hand over the fluff to see if they're actually there, if he could see them.

Goodness, I have a strange feeling about all this.

“Are you a werewolf…?” I ask slowly, still pressing myself against the corner, tail swaying in front of me in warning and unease while the rest of me quickly recomposed.

He blinks, looking down to his tail, then grabbing the sharp ears atop his head to pull over his eyes exaggeratedly before letting go, giving a small wobble when snapped back into place, “This may be a bit of a shock…but I think I am.”

The subtle sarcasm in his tone has my eye and tail twitching in agitation. I really despise being patronized, I didn’t work my butt off with weapons and fitness just to be teased. But I can’t show my hand now, not until I get some information, “Answer me, hybrid.” I hiss.

He lifts his hands in a universal sign of ‘Yeesh, gurl, calm down’, eyes half-lidded and twinkling with…something. The emotion given away is revealed in his next words being a drawl of amusement, “That’s fairly hypocritical, is it?” He motions with a hand at my coiled tail and ears flat in my head.

So the werewolf isn’t blind and I’m not going crazy. I think. I only stare dumbly at him, almost expecting him to suddenly growl or—or something, perhaps he just doesn’t know?

If he doesn’t…I can use that to my advantage.

“Who are you and why are you here?”

“I feel I should be the one to question that to you.”

“Shut. Up.”

“….we’ll that’s rude, don’t you have manners?”

My hands start shaking as I try to control my anger, this guy is infuriating. I’m almost tempted to pounce him just to see him get as angered as me and fight back, but I keep calm…as calm as I generally am, which admittedly, is not much.

His eyes widen just a fraction, “Oh! Wow, I have quite the audacity to say such a thing when I didn’t even invite you for breakfast.” He shakes his head, bowing it as if ashamed of himself while mumbling, “Lance, how idiotic of you…” 

I only blink as he speaks to himself before addressing me again with tan, lean arms languidly crossed, fluffy brown tail swaying and a soft frown under dark shadowed green eyes, “Please excuse me, would you like to chat over some pancakes and coffee?”

….What the heck?

Before I could say anything, he just shuffles out, comfy robes and scuffling shoes leaving with him without a word.

I just stand there for a second, taking it all in. How I got framed for killing someone. How my species' moral enemy did not attack me. How I barely escaped from Two-Face’s last night by some hidden barrier. How I slept in a werewolf’s bed after breaking into his house.

And how he’s so calm about the fact that a meefwa broke into his house in his perspective is even weirder.

Yet for some reason…a part of me believes that he’s trustworthy. So I slowly peel myself from the wall and start walking through the door to hear what my new companion has to say.