Bearskin, Part Five
Bearskin, Part One
Bearskin, Part Two
Bearskin, Part Three
Bearksin, Part Four
Thomas stretched out on the porch front and sighed. Kocoum had been gone for hours, the sun already beginning to dip into the horizon, and he lacked any inkling to when he would return. If at all.
From Kocoum's responses alone, he knew that he was talking to John. He was surprised that John would even alert Kocoum; Whenever in the company of the two, Thomas always felt a mutual loathing simmering underneath a layer of tolerance between them. He didn't think Kocoum would permit John to be in his family, but then again Pocahontas had ways to get what she wanted.
The spirit, long having changed back into her beauteous form, had not said a word since Kocoum left. She sat perched upon porch railing, staring down at him with eyes black as pitch and her tiny mouth pressed into a thin line. Her fingers, peeking out beneath curtains of hair, gripped the wood.
Thomas raised his head at the sound of a truck driving up the path. The spirit turned her head sharply in the direction of the sound, her face scrunching up before leaping off the banister and bounding off into the forest. All clues to her presence vanished before the truck stopped at the side of the house.
Thomas was already at the base of the steps waiting when Kocoum emerged from the car. He made a start for the truck, only to stop when he noticed that Kocoum wasn't standing as tall as he always did. There was a slight droop in his shoulders, and there was a distinct oddness about the way his brow furrowed, something that was reserved only when his cousin was in trouble. Thomas had seen it once, when Pocahontas went into early labor with Samuel while he and Kocoum were helping her around the house. Although Thomas alerted John as soon as they arrived at the hospital, his best friend was on the opposite side of the hemisphere on a business trip. For twelve hours, Thomas had the honor of sitting in the lobby with Kocoum, too worried for Pocahontas to leave and too frightened of what he would do to him if he did. Thankfully, the child had arrived healthy by the end of it and Thomas remained quite intact. Kocoum made a move away from the cabin, towards the forest, before stopping and shaking his head. He walked past Thomas and into the house, shutting the door behind him.
Thomas growled and pawed at the door. When Kocoum made no move to open it, he curled up at the top of the steps, grumbling all the while. Another night with little progress, if any at all.
Sometime later in the night, a small lamp glowed from behind one of the cabin's windows.
###
Thomas expected the spirit to be at his side in the morning, gleefully reminding him that it was the third day. That is, if he counted the night she transformed him. Thomas wasn't sure what she had in store for him once--if she won; she flitted between cannibalism and making him her plaything. She was already exercising her ability to do the latter now.
What he didn't expect, was the spirit to be nowhere in sight and Kocoum scratching him behind the ear, rousing him. Thomas resisted scooting closer to the woodsman for more of that disarming, warm, wonderful, and completely damning touch and sniffed at the plate in his hands. Kocoum set the meal down in front of him, berries and apples, and a large dollop of peanut butter.
Thomas' nose wrinkled at the spread. He never liked peanut butter, and always ended up trading his lunches with John during their childhood. He didn't like how it felt going down, all lumpy and sticky on the bread. He chose to eat around it and once finished, padded towards the door, scratching at it lightly with his claws while looking back at Kocoum. The woodsman frowned a little. Not in his usual disapproving manner that Thomas had grown accustomed to, but in a way that allowed a touch of curiosity to slip through the stony demeanor.
Thomas held his breath. Did he figure it out? While Kocoum was no Pocahontas, Thomas knew that Kocoum was wood-savvy enough to know that bears do not behave in this manner. Even if the older man didn't, the oddity of a bear cub hanging around his cabin in the middle of winter should have clued him onto something. He sat in front of the door, waiting.
Kocoum let out a short huff and stood. Shouldering his rifle and checking the large knife strapped to his leg, Kocoum headed off into the forest.
Thomas remained at the door, grunting at Kocoum's retreating figure and shifting from paw to paw. When Kocoum didn't stop, he grunted again, louder, even going as far as to slam his fore paws on the front step. He had to make him understand now. He didn't have another day.
Kocoum sighed as he paused in the middle of the snow, shoulders drooping as he rubbed one of his temples and muttering. He cast an annoyed look at Thomas before turning back and disappearing into the forest.
Thomas growled in frustration and ran after Kocoum. He'd make it clear to him. He just didn't know how.
Bearskin, Part Two
Bearskin, Part Three
Bearksin, Part Four
Thomas stretched out on the porch front and sighed. Kocoum had been gone for hours, the sun already beginning to dip into the horizon, and he lacked any inkling to when he would return. If at all.
From Kocoum's responses alone, he knew that he was talking to John. He was surprised that John would even alert Kocoum; Whenever in the company of the two, Thomas always felt a mutual loathing simmering underneath a layer of tolerance between them. He didn't think Kocoum would permit John to be in his family, but then again Pocahontas had ways to get what she wanted.
The spirit, long having changed back into her beauteous form, had not said a word since Kocoum left. She sat perched upon porch railing, staring down at him with eyes black as pitch and her tiny mouth pressed into a thin line. Her fingers, peeking out beneath curtains of hair, gripped the wood.
Thomas raised his head at the sound of a truck driving up the path. The spirit turned her head sharply in the direction of the sound, her face scrunching up before leaping off the banister and bounding off into the forest. All clues to her presence vanished before the truck stopped at the side of the house.
Thomas was already at the base of the steps waiting when Kocoum emerged from the car. He made a start for the truck, only to stop when he noticed that Kocoum wasn't standing as tall as he always did. There was a slight droop in his shoulders, and there was a distinct oddness about the way his brow furrowed, something that was reserved only when his cousin was in trouble. Thomas had seen it once, when Pocahontas went into early labor with Samuel while he and Kocoum were helping her around the house. Although Thomas alerted John as soon as they arrived at the hospital, his best friend was on the opposite side of the hemisphere on a business trip. For twelve hours, Thomas had the honor of sitting in the lobby with Kocoum, too worried for Pocahontas to leave and too frightened of what he would do to him if he did. Thankfully, the child had arrived healthy by the end of it and Thomas remained quite intact. Kocoum made a move away from the cabin, towards the forest, before stopping and shaking his head. He walked past Thomas and into the house, shutting the door behind him.
Thomas growled and pawed at the door. When Kocoum made no move to open it, he curled up at the top of the steps, grumbling all the while. Another night with little progress, if any at all.
Sometime later in the night, a small lamp glowed from behind one of the cabin's windows.
###
Thomas expected the spirit to be at his side in the morning, gleefully reminding him that it was the third day. That is, if he counted the night she transformed him. Thomas wasn't sure what she had in store for him once--if she won; she flitted between cannibalism and making him her plaything. She was already exercising her ability to do the latter now.
What he didn't expect, was the spirit to be nowhere in sight and Kocoum scratching him behind the ear, rousing him. Thomas resisted scooting closer to the woodsman for more of that disarming, warm, wonderful, and completely damning touch and sniffed at the plate in his hands. Kocoum set the meal down in front of him, berries and apples, and a large dollop of peanut butter.
Thomas' nose wrinkled at the spread. He never liked peanut butter, and always ended up trading his lunches with John during their childhood. He didn't like how it felt going down, all lumpy and sticky on the bread. He chose to eat around it and once finished, padded towards the door, scratching at it lightly with his claws while looking back at Kocoum. The woodsman frowned a little. Not in his usual disapproving manner that Thomas had grown accustomed to, but in a way that allowed a touch of curiosity to slip through the stony demeanor.
Thomas held his breath. Did he figure it out? While Kocoum was no Pocahontas, Thomas knew that Kocoum was wood-savvy enough to know that bears do not behave in this manner. Even if the older man didn't, the oddity of a bear cub hanging around his cabin in the middle of winter should have clued him onto something. He sat in front of the door, waiting.
Kocoum let out a short huff and stood. Shouldering his rifle and checking the large knife strapped to his leg, Kocoum headed off into the forest.
Thomas remained at the door, grunting at Kocoum's retreating figure and shifting from paw to paw. When Kocoum didn't stop, he grunted again, louder, even going as far as to slam his fore paws on the front step. He had to make him understand now. He didn't have another day.
Kocoum sighed as he paused in the middle of the snow, shoulders drooping as he rubbed one of his temples and muttering. He cast an annoyed look at Thomas before turning back and disappearing into the forest.
Thomas growled in frustration and ran after Kocoum. He'd make it clear to him. He just didn't know how.