Advrik loved to cook, and for that, there was no denying. Eating out was fine, assuming it was at a local joint and not some fast food chain, but the wolf would always prefer to cater his meal on any given day, rationing out his leftovers for the week, saving him money in the long run.
Then there were the special occasions. Holidays, birthdays, self-appointed celebrations that the wolf would cobble together expansive, thematic meals for, akin to his Autumn Celebration every September, which was a meal based around the coming of the season of bounty consisting of a meaty stew, biscuits and a pumpkin cheesecake. The holidays were another matter altogether; Thanksgiving and Christmas were hectic times for the wolf, even during his lonesome days back home, when he’d cook a big meal just for himself.
Nowadays, however, he had a whole group of friends to feed, all in similar situations in that they were new to town and had no family nearby to spend the holiday with. They were, in essence, his pack. His family. These were the thoughts running through his mind that clear, cold autumn day as he and his partner, Brigid the Fox, tracked a renegade Turken through the backwoods of a nearby farm.
A thematic monster hunt! How about that, just in time for Thanksgiving. And the farmer said that he could keep the bird, too, assuming the resulting fight didn’t damage the carcass too much.
That morning had started like most on Brickhedge. The coffee was brewed while Advrik bathed. When he opened Side Quests* his motto was always “No work before a good wash and some caffeine!” and he has stuck to that motto for the most part. His work email would remain unchecked until he had his first cup of coffee, minimal cream, and two pumps of lavender-flavored syrup.
Brigid had messaged him, as did Desmond, about some potential job leads and a few tweaks he’d made to the website. Desmond worked on commission for the wolf, handling the backend of the website as well as reconnaissance for potential jobs, typically done so from behind the counter at Toh’s Beans.
When the work email inbox was finally looked at, he’d seen a submission from a local farmer about a renegade monster that had broken free from its enclosure and had been terrorizing the farm for the past week. A quick phone call to the included number later, and a verbal contract was made.
ME: Hey Brigs, wanna go on a monster hunt with me today?
BRIGID: You’ve got some weird ideas for dates, but sure. Let me tell Eligh, and I’ll meet you at your place.
The fox arrived forty minutes later, her long black hair up in its usual braid. The black and pink plaid scarf wrapped around her neck. She wore a vest over a long sleeve shirt and a pair of leggings that nicely accentuated the vixen’s curves as she performed a little spin for her partner, stopping with her back towards him, showing her ass and the panty line underneath the thin, tight fabric. She winked and pulled her shirt down to cover the stalk of her tail and butt at the same time. Only for your eyes, she’d said with a wink.
God, how he loved her way of teasing the wolf just right. She was perfect in every way.
They talked about their week together, filling one another in on the happenings that went on when the other wasn’t around, laughing and bonding while they sipped at their spiced sweet potato coffees from Toh’s, served with a smile by the cat himself.
Eligh, Brigid mentioned, was running errands for the mayor today and didn’t really need her tagging along with him on work-themed tasks, so she had been more than eager to join the wolf in the hunt for a savage Turken.
Upon arriving at Oldhill Farm, they met with the farmer. A kindly old turkey by the name of Thomas. He described that he had been raising prized Turken for the farm family’s dinner on Thanksgiving, but the monster bird had grown so wildly out of control that his containment measures weren’t adequate enough to keep up with the monster’s rapid growth in size and strength. One day, the Turken went berserk and trampled the other smaller Turken monsters in its enclosure, then proceeded to destroy everything in its path as it gobbled and roared its way across the pasture, headed for the thick treeline that stood on the outer reaches of the farmer’s property.
“Aye, yeah, I can still hear ‘em, doing that weird gobble-roar thing them Turkens do during matin’ season. Poor dumb sumbitch trampled all his mates in his rage,” The old turkey glanced at Brigid, who was biting back a snicker, “Pardon my French, young lady.” She held a hand and shook her head, wanting to return his swear with one of her own, but they were here on business.
After a long trek across the pasture, an energetic discussion over when it’s proper to start putting up Christmas decorations (which Advrik won), and close to an hour later, the pair arrived at the treeline. Evidence of the monster’s rampage was abundant, as trees were knocked down, clawed, and pecked at, the ground torn up, and carcasses of other farm monsters strewn about. The freezing temperatures had mercifully kept the decay at a minimum, but subfreezing weather couldn’t mask the gore and mayhem that the poor creatures had experienced at the talons and beak of the rampaging monster.
“Did you see the tears in the farmer’s eyes when he told us about the Turken’s history? He must have really cared for the thing.”
“I did,” Brigid replied, “But that makes the whole aspect of raising the fucking thing strictly for food kind of weird, doesn’t it? Shouldn’t be getting attached to a monster you intend to eat, you know?”
The wolf’s reply was cut short as a colossal figure exploded from the treeline further down the way. Dirt, debris scaley feathers alike flew into the air in a straight-line trajectory as the massive monster came to a screeching halt across the rich farmland soil. It blinked its huge eyes, cocked its head which caused its waddles to bounce like a giant bright red nutsack hanging from its chin. It gobbled as it scratched at the ground, signaling that it was about to charge the duo.
“Well, you found your mark, wolf.” Brigid summoned her pair of twin daggers, flat ends facing upward to the sky. They were slick, with slender handles and just enough of a guard to stop another blade from sliding far enough down to cut into her hands.
“Sure did,” Advrik raised a hand and then moved it in a diagonal arc across his body, the blade of his own choosing appearing within his hand in a puff of blue-white sparks. The sword itself was similar to a katana, the guard resembling a wolf’s head that spewed the blue metal blade from its mouth, running a little more than two feet from the handle to its pointed edge.
“That flourish wasn’t necessary at all, you show-off,” She smiled, looking the wolf in the eye.
An hour later, the fox and wolf reunited with the farmer at the steps of his farmhouse. A few tears in their clothing and some minor burns were the only blemishes they had to show for their efforts.
“I reckon he’s dead?”
Advrik nodded. “Yes, sir, and if it makes you feel any better, it was a quick, painless death.”
The turkey eyed the wolf for a second, realizing that his fondness for the monster had, at some point, been made apparent. “Ah, well, thank you, son. Young lady. Gaben was a fine Turken. Raised him since he was a tiny Turken hatchling. I’d initially intended to have him for Thanksgiving dinner, but the damned monster showed so much intelligence that I became attached to him as he grew. He’d been almost like a son to me, I swear on my tailfeathers.”
Brigid’s ears twitched as she listened to the turkey prattle on about the supposed son the turkey had, apparently, intended to eat for the holidays.
“About a month ago, while I was evaluating him, I had a change of heart and was just going to keep him around as a sort of trophy among my flocks, but monster raising, you see, there are limits to the age and size one is allowed to grow before they kind of develop that monstrous mindset. Aye, I should’ve known better. I did know better, I was just too damned attached to him, is all.”
The turkey would eventually offer his heartfelt gratitude to the pair of canines, along with the payment and a promise to have a crew retrieve the carcass, process it, and have it delivered by Thanksgiving.
There was a brief silence between the fox and wolf as they buckled themselves to their seats in Advrik’s old Camry. Clearly, the events of the day weighed on both of their minds.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Brigid finally asked, shifting her body to face him and sending a waft of the amber-lavender perfume she wore right into Advrik’s face.
He nodded. “Yeah, once I realized that there was something else going on, that the thing had become a pet at some point, I didn’t want to make it suffer in a long, drawn-out fight. A quick one and done was the only way.” He then shrugged and hung his head,
“I get that, but my question is, how in the fuck did you pull that stunt off? You were all glowing and red and shit. What was that technique? I’ve never seen a beast move that fast before.”
He sighed and turned on the engine. “That, my dear Brigid, is a secret I am not quite ready to divulge just yet.”
“Cocksucker.” She barked, topping it off with a smile.
He smiled back, taking her hand in his and squeezing it, melting against the feel of her paw pads against his own.
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