Marisol stirs awake to a warm, furry mass surrounding the entire length of her body. It turned out to be Cedric’s massive wolf curled quietly around her and fear would be the only logical reaction, but her wolf seemed completely content with the abrupt cuddling session, if the satisfied purrs that came at intervals were anything to go by.
She is struck with bewilderment, immediately going over the last of her memories, or at least trying to understand the turn of events that could’ve led to them in the least expected position she could’ve thought. How did she end up here? Why was she still in the hidden castle, and why was this wolf — if it could even still be called that at such an unusual size — so out of its element by seeming so relaxed around her?
She tries to look outside and suppresses a yawn. What exactly was going on? At least it looked to be in a deep sleep, so that meant a lesser chance of getting attacked suddenly. She breathed out a relieved sigh at the discovery.
Examining Cedric’s sleeping wolf closely, Marisol can’t help but feel sympathy for it. Despite its intimidating appearance, the wolf bore the marks of its tumultuous existence: an infested and mangled fur, a plethora of scars that told of attacks with sharp weapons, untreated sores, and wounds that told the story of a creature that had endured much suffering.
Its vulnerable state stirs conflicting emotions within her. From the new angle she was presented with, the beast that haunted her dreams, giving her night after night of sleeplessness, seemed pitiable, and a sudden urge to extend a comforting touch tugged at her.
Her wolf urges her to stroke the creature’s fur, bring to it and assuage it so sadly looked to have never gotten, all while insisting that there was nothing to fear. Yet, a lingering sense of apprehension keeps Marisol from succumbing to the impulse.
Caution prevails, and after a few minutes of stiffly studying the creature, Marisol carefully untangles herself from the creature, slow and cautious, so as not to disturb its resting state. Having successfully done so, Marisol silently retreats to the pack house, returning to the familiarity of her room with questions swirling in her mind.
Marisol collapses on her bed, exhaustion washing over her. Her groggy memories suddenly sharpen her mind, seemingly working better without the fright of waking up next to the beastly wolf, and the events of the previous night flood back in.