Wolves

Lobo is getting a hearty warm breakfast in bed, delivered by his dad himself!

He’s never been the type for affection. For as long as he can remember nothing good ever came out of it and this morning wouldn’t be any different.

With a soft knock on the door the white wolf shot awake and an immediate cold sweat made him already regret sleeping at home for the night. A moment passed with nothing happening, the wolf sat up trying to stay as calm as he could with knowing who was at the door. “I’m coming in.” A dark and hollow voice, with no emotion apparent in it. “Sure…” The wolf gave as an answer, knowing the person outside wouldn’t take too kindly to letting him stay there.

The door swung open with the same softness the knock had before, slowly from behind it a small tray of food poked out accompanied with a dark grey ear. It twitched once before the large grey wolf entered the room. His expression shifted from curious astonishment to a gentle smile quickly in a way to lift the mood in the room, but all it did was drive home the sense of uneasiness in the young wolf.

“I thought to celebrate your stay here with some breakfast in bed, What do you think? Are you hungry?” The grey wolf, who was only in a dress shirt and pants, handed him the tray carrying a large plate of well cooked and presented breakfast food. He was probably just getting dressed for the day when he noticed that his son was at home, or so Lobo thought. Hesitantly he reached out to take the tray and set it on his lap.

“ …sure.”

The meek tone of the wolf was a complete change to what we had grown to know, without all the anger and visceral in his voice, still it was underlined by hate and disgust, even if just slightly.

He looked at the meal before him, it looked good, freshly made scrambled eggs with some greens, laid on top of slices of bread, on the side a generous amount of sweetly baked goods and he even went the extra mile and added the chocolate dip. The wolf had to swallow at the sight, but not because he was hungry, no, this was way too suspicious. He didn’t trust any of it, none of it, something was wrong. Why would he go the extra mile and make this good of a breakfast?

As soon as his dad sat down on the bed next to him he knew something was up. He didn’t look at him even if he knew that his dad wanted him to, still stuck on the breakfast when he felt a slightly damp thumb brush his cheeks in a means to clean it.

“Don’t you think it’s nice to have a warm welcoming home that greets you with a good cooking?” His thumb stops and waits for a response. “I do.” With it being a lacklustre answer that he didn’t quite want to hear he accepts it anyways and sighs deeply. “Son, you know I just wish you’d take more care of yourself.” That was when he looked up to meet his eyes, looking to see if he genuinely meant it, but instead he was met with eyes that only showed disappointment looking down on him, as they usually were. The dad's mouth opened and closed as he was mulling over which words to say, he didn’t look like he wanted to continue the talk, like he felt he just had to, it all left quite the sting in the wolf’s chest and his cheek as he pulled on his fur a little too harshly.

“Well… I hope Horner’s churros are of your taste, he made them as a very special order for us, you should appreciate that.” Horner? Why would that guy make something like this? Muerte’s head began to spin a little with this, was this just a coincidence? And which of them knew what? Was it Horner sending the warning or was it his own father? Even as his father pets his cheek to end the conversation he can’t quite lay the thoughts to rest. To his luck the large grey wolf didn’t press any further as he saw the young one’s stumped face and he got up to leave anyway.

Muerte’s relief that he decided to leave didn’t stay for too long as he still lingered in the room, standing with his back to him for just a moment too long. He turned with a slight click of his tongue, as if he was still thinking about something. “I’ve heard…” He stopped again, something seemed to bother him quite a bit and Muerte felt more uneasiness in the unknown of what it could be.

“Hmm… If I remember correctly, you quite disliked cats, didn’t you?” His eyes landed on the white wolf again, making his heart beat with utter panic as they did. Shit, what did he know now? He couldn’t waste a single beat and he couldn’t show a single sign of his true feelings, he couldn’t let him know.

“Always hated those fuckers, why?” He snarls without wasting another second and digs into his food as further means of distraction and his dad sneers. “Language, my boy.” Still he laughed a little when he continued his walk out of the room, “Then I’m sure whatever I heard must have been some kind of joke, surely you wouldn't do something that ludicrous.”

The door closed behind him and immediately Muerte felt the food stuck in his throat, wanting to puke it back out. Feeling like frustration wrangled with the feeling of panic inside of him, every muscle in his body was tight, a cold shiver went down his neck with the thought of what his dad could have meant with those words. The fork was slammed back onto the tray, the heavy frustration heaved his hands to his head. Anger seeped out of his exhale, trying hard to calm back down as he sucked air back into his lungs. As always he got this play of false and pretentious affection only to hide that disgusting nature of the man. Whatever he knew now would not be good for Muerte and he had to figure out what it was quickly.

His paw moved over to reach his phone, immediately he tried to think of anyone who was supposed to keep an eye on Jack Horner, he knew somebody would know what was going on over there. His thumb scrolled over the name Puss in Boots and he stopped for a moment, never had he thought about texting or calling him and this wouldn’t be the time to make him either. He scrolled on and immediately called the next number he knew would be around the fucking bakery.