There was blood on my pillow. For that matter, there was blood in my mouth; It tasted like copper. I don't usually notice the taste of blood, but this caught me somewhat by surprise.
I got up, gargled some water, and carefully probed my mouth with my tongue. As far as I could tell, nothing hurt, and no more blood was coming out. Maybe I cut myself early in my sleep.
I got up properly, fully enjoying the freshly risen sun which was busy spraying it's yellow rays through the forest canopy. There was a fresh campfire pit just visible from my home, choking out the last of the smoke from the chipped wood. When I looked closer, there was a spit, and most of the corpse of a rabbit, medium-rare, still sitting on the spit.
Goddamnit. That explained it. Must've been a full moon last night. I had to clean this up before the other wolves found out.
The rest of the WOLVES? Hahahaha it's a Werehuman?
Yep, that was the intention :p If you're familiar with the great sci-fi writer, Ursula K. Le Guin, she wrote a similar story called "Le Loup Garou", where the main character was the wolf-wife of a werewolf who finds out her husband's secret. It might've instead been a story from one of her students, though, not her, now that I think of it.
A quick search tells me that the story is apparently titled "The Wife's Story", not "Le Loup Garou". I'm not sure where I'm pulling that title from.
I'll seek it out. Sounds intriguing. I like twists on myths as much as I like myths. :D Thanks.
There was blood on my pillow.