#sllakjsdfn I keep getting behind on my prompts sorry everyone

[thelastspeecher]

NaNoWriMo ‘17 Day 12 - Wild Woman

Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08 Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16 Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24 Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30

Summary: Stan comes across a werewolf in the forest.  Inspiration from here.   Word count: 1918

Part 2

               Splash!

               Stan looked to the left, startled.  Nothing was there.  He was still the only person sitting by the stream.

               Probably just a fish.  Stan scowled at his fishing rod.  But if it was a fish, why the hell haven’t I caught one yet?  He had decided to take a break from helping Ford out with his research, and try to catch some fish in the stream he’d spotted last week.  I deserve a break.  I also deserve to catch some fish.  Where’d they all go?  He sighed and reeled in his line.  Maybe there aren’t any.  Figures that I’d find the only stream that doesn’t have any-

               “Pfft!”  Stan’s head whipped around.  He gaped at the sight of a completely nude woman, climbing out of the stream, sputtering.  She collapsed onto the bank across from where Stan was sitting and closed her eyes.  

               “What the fuck?” Stan whispered.  The woman’s eyes snapped open.  A crimson flush spread across her face.  She and Stan stared at each other in silence for several moments.  “Uh…you okay, lady?”

               “That’s a loaded question,” the woman said carefully.  Stan frowned.

               “Not really.  What, did you escape from a mob hit?”  He shook his head.  “Nah, that can’t be right.  There’s no way there’s a mob here in Gravity Falls.”

               “Gravity Falls,” the woman repeated.  “Where- uh- which state is Gravity Falls in?”

               “Oregon.”

               “Sweet sarsaparilla.”  The woman sat up.  “How on Earth did I- hey!”  Stan’s gaze had traveled south of her face.  “Eyes up here, sir!” she snarled.  

               “I mean, it’s not like I can see much.  You’ve got so much mud caked on you, it’s like you’re wearing clothes.”

               “But I’m not, so stop it,” the woman said firmly.

               “Fine.  But seriously, lady, are you all right?”

               “…No.”  The woman groaned and put her head in her hands.  “I remember what happened, I just- I have no clue how I ended up so far from home.”

               “Sounds like you don’t really remember what happened, then.”  The woman glared at him.  “Okay, geez, chill.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “Maybe…maybe tell me your name?”

               “Angie.  And yours?”

               “Stan.  My brother’s got a place not far from here.  If you want, I could take you there, get you some clothes, a shower.” Stan’s stomach rumbled.  “And food.  I mean, I’m hungry.  In the state you’re in, you’ve gotta be starving.”

               “Hungry like the wolf,” Angie deadpanned.  

               Kinda weird way to say it, but whatever.

               “You’ll have to come over here.  His house is on this side of the stream,” Stan informed her.  Angie bit her lip, clearly hesitant to follow a stranger somewhere.  She let out a sigh after a minute.

               “Okay.”  She crossed the stream, but stumbled on the bank while she tried to climb up.

               “Here.”  Stan held out a hand.  Angie took it with visible relief.  He pulled her up.  “Um…you look cold.”

               “I’m covered in mud ‘n water, but not much else.  What do you expect?” she asked, shivering violently.  “Which way’s yer brother’s house?”

               “That way,” Stan said, pointing.  Angie turned around.  Stan eyed her figure.  “But, uh, if you’re cold, I guess you could take my jacket.  Don’t really need it right now anyways.”

               “Really?”

               “Yeah.  It needs to be washed, though, just so you know.”  Stan slid off his jacket and handed it to the shivering woman.

               “So do I.”

               “Heh.”  Angie zipped Stan’s jacket up.  It was exceedingly large on her; it nearly reached her knees.  “Hey, bonus, you’re not flashing the entire forest anymore. Or maybe that’s a downside.”

               “Definitely a bonus,” Angie said.  She hugged her arms close to her chest.  “It was this way, ya said?”

               “Yep.”  

               “And is it just a straight shot there?”

               “Yep.  Let’s go.” Stan grabbed his fishing rod and tacklebox, then the two of them set off, Stan close behind Angie.

----- 

               Stan hummed to himself as he made lunch.  

               Nothin’ like good old-fashioned scrambled meat.  There was a small cough behind him.  He turned.

               “Those clothes all right?” he asked Angie.  She nodded silently.  Freshly showered and wearing some clean clothes, she looked more human than she had in the forest.  “They were the closest thing to your size I could find.  Looks like they’re still too big, though.  You’re a lot smaller without all the mud and twigs and leaves.”

               “Beggars can’t be choosers,” Angie said idly.  “It’s better ‘n prancin’ ‘round in my birthday suit.”  She looked down at her feet.  “Thank you, again.  Ya didn’t have to help me like ya did.”

               “I know,” Stan said with a shrug.  “I coulda just pointed you in the direction of the road, sent you on your way.”

               “Why didn’t you?”

               “I know what it’s like to end up in a strange place, with jack shit.  It sucked.  I coulda used someone to give me clothes or let me shower or whatever. And I can’t really leave a pretty girl with a nice ass like yours alone in the woods.”

               “Lord,” Angie mumbled, rolling her eyes, but still cracking a tiny smile. Stan eyed her.  

               “I also know what it’s like to be targeted by the mob.”

               “It wasn’t a mob hit.”

               “Dammit.  I was hopin’ you’d cave in if it said it like that,” Stan muttered.  He grunted.  “Go ahead and take a seat at the table.”  

               “Mmkay.”  Angie sat down at the table and gazed around the kitchen with interest.  “What does yer brother do?”

               “Research.”

               “Oh, he’s a scientist?”

               “Yup.”

               “And you help him with his research?”

               “In a way.  I’m muscle. Help him carry things, or fight off monsters and stuff like that.  The person that helps him with his actual research is his assistant.  Skinny, twig-like guy.  He’s the person who owns the clothes you’re wearing,” Stan said, nodding at her.  She pursed her lips.

               “Don’t seem like he’s got much of a sense of fashion, then.”

               “Oh, hell no.  You should see the clothes I passed up for that.  Ugly-ass green splotches, bell bottoms.  I mean, I don’t care about fashion, but I do care about how messed up his style is,” Stan said passionately.  Angie giggled.  Stan stared at her.  

               Fuck.  That was cute.

               “Where’s yer brother and his assistant right now, then?” Angie asked. Stan looked back at the stove.

               “Fuck if I know,” Stan mumbled.  The front door opened.

               “Stanley?” a voice called.

               “In the kitchen!” Stan shouted back.

               “All right, we’ll come meet you, then,” Ford said.  Stan glanced at Angie.  She had picked up a plastic spoon, and was staring at it with unbridled interest.  

               Sweet Moses, please tell me she knows what a spoon is.

               “Oh, uh, just so you know, we have a guest,” Stan said loudly.  

               “What?  Stanley, don’t invite people over without consulting me first,” Ford said grumpily, walking into the kitchen.  He sighed upon seeing Angie.  “What on Earth is going on here?”

               “Found her in the woods,” Stan said.  

               “You found her in the woods?  Stanley, she could be any number of dangerous magical creature!” Ford said angrily.

               “Or she could be some girl who got lost and needed help,” Stan ground out.

               “Stanford, be reasonable,” another voice said.  “Stanley’s got good intuition.  Now, mind gettin’ out of the way so’s I can see our guest?”

               “Very well.”  Ford stood to the side.  “You’ll be angry too, once you see that Stan dressed her in your clothes.”  A silence fell.  Stan looked over at Angie.  She was staring slack-jawed at Ford’s assistant.  Stan frowned, looking back and forth between the two.  His eyes widened.

               “Holy fuck.”

               “Angie?” Fiddleford squeaked.  The plastic spoon Angie was holding fell from her hands.  She nodded silently.  “Lordy!  You’ve been missin’ fer three months!  Where have ya been?”

               “Places,” Angie mumbled.  She looked down at the shirt she was wearing.  “Should’ve known these were yer clothes.  Yer the only person who likes shirts as awful as this.”

               “Do we have to discuss fashion now?” Fiddleford asked, sitting at the table next to her.  She eyed him warily.  “Angie, we were so worried!  The baby of the fam’ly, just up and disappearin’?  Ma ‘n Pa were apoplectic.”

               “Wait, Fiddleford, this is the missing sister you’ve told me about?” Ford asked.  Fiddleford nodded.  Ford stared at Stan.  “And Stanley just so happened to find her in the woods?”

               “Don’t say I never did anything for you, Fiddlenerd,” Stan said. Fiddleford didn’t respond, instead continuing to stare at his sister.  She leaned away from him, her eyes wide.  “Okay, dude, chill out.  You’re scaring her.”

               “Don’t tell me how to act ‘round my sister,” Fiddleford snapped.  Stan rolled his eyes.  Fiddleford abruptly reached out to take one of Angie’s hands.  She let out a small shriek and fell off her chair.

               “D-don’t,” Angie stammered.  “Don’t move so fast.”

               “Wha- sis, what’s wrong?” Fiddleford asked.

               “Fiddlenerd, I found her in the woods, naked and covered in mud.  She looked fuckin’ feral,” Stan informed him.

               “Feral?  Naked? My baby sister?”

               “Yep,” Stan said with a nod.  “But she insists it wasn’t a mob hit.”

               “Of course it weren’t,” Fiddleford said firmly.  “Angie, what happened?”

               “Don’t wan’ talk about it,” Angie mumbled, still on the floor where she had fallen.  

               “We should give ya a checkup.  I’ll find ya a doctor,” Fiddleford said.  

               “I can take her vitals,” Ford suggested.  Angie eyed him suspiciously.  “It won’t substitute for a proper doctor’s visit, but it should let us know whether to take you to the hospital right away or not.”

               “Okay,” Angie said reluctantly.  She climbed onto her chair again.  Ford sat down next to her.  She held out her wrist.  “Fer my pulse.”

               “Of course.”  Ford rested his fingers against her wrist.  He frowned.  “Very rapid heartrate.  And your skin feels warm.”

               “I just showered.”

               “Still.  If you continue to feel warm, we should take your temperature.”  Ford fished around in his pockets and pulled out a small flashlight. “I’ll check for a concussion.”  He shone the light in her eyes.  She blinked.  “Stop blinking.”

               “My eyes don’t like the light.”

               “Hmm.”  Ford frowned at her.  “Would you mind rolling up your sleeves?”  Angie seemed confused, but did as she was told.  Ford nodded silently.  “As I suspected.  Fiddleford, look.”

               “Lord!” Fiddleford gasped, staring at a large bite mark on Angie’s forearm.  “What happened?”

               “I suspect she was bitten by a werewolf.  That would explain her disappearance; initial transformations can last months until the individual is sufficiently shocked enough to turn human again.  It would also explain the reports we’ve been hearing of a large wolf.”  Ford shone the light in Angie’s eyes again.  She grimaced.  “Werewolves have eyes sensitive to light, and their eyes will glimmer in a distinctive way. The rapid heartrate and high temperature are also signs of lycanthropy.”

               “Angie, is this true?” Fiddleford asked, aghast.

               “I doubt she recalls anything of her time as a wolf-” Ford started.

               “It’s true,” Angie interrupted.  She looked down.  “It’s true.”

               “Damn.  I was way off,” Stan said.  Angie pulled her sleeves down again.  “What made you turn back human?”

               “I fell in that stream, tryin’ to catch a fish,” Angie mumbled.

               “Okay, I get why you didn’t wanna tell me the truth,” Stan conceded.

               “Yer all just acceptin’ this?” Angie asked.  “I- I just confirmed that I’m a werewolf.”

               “We’ve seen stranger things in the woods here,” Ford said.  Stan nodded.

               “So far, though,” Stan said, “I think I like stumbling across a naked woman the most.”