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Chapter Text

It was a good night to read, he thought. The wooden chair groaned underneath him as he finally let himself relax. Ferris hadn't bothered to take his boots off, instead just propping them up on the counter where he'd yanked his chair over to. It provided a perfect view of the trees flanking his property. The faint moonlight spread through the treeline leaving the land around his lodge skewed in moving shadows. Some would consider that unnerving. His old roommates back in the city had thought that the only time they ever visited. Always claiming that something was watching them from the woods. Ferris wasn't going to disagree about that, why would he? It was true. The forest was always teeming with eyes. They'd reached a mutual understanding a long time ago. First with his parents and now recently with him. He respected the woods and in return could reap the natural bounty of the land; only enough to keep himself hale and hearty. He admittedly wasn't the greatest of hunters so no need to push it. 

He'd much rather read, basking in the chaotic peace of the forest. Ferris grabbed one of the hardbacks he had left near the windowsill and spared a quick glance outside. The gentle sway of the trees in the wind greeted him as they would an old friend. He waved back before pulling the curtains closed. Autumn's biting chill had made itself known a month ago, all of which was seeping through the glass. Ferris hated reading in the cold. The scratchy feel of paper on dry, cool skin irritated him to no end. His father had always thought it odd. Ferris was willing to cut lumber till his hands were blistered and bleeding, but he would never touch a book without moisturizing his skin. He reflexively frowned at the thought. He was down to his last bottle: a gift from his mother when he had graduated. Cinnamon smelling lotion wasn't something he could easily find anywhere near Point Pleasant. For whatever reason. But even if he could, he would always associate the scent with her and his time returning from university. 

He shrugged it off and turned his attention to the book resting in his upturned lap. It was a high adventure fantasy novel. Something to do with an elf who used to live underground with a panther familiar. Ferris never paid much attention to what books he read on nights like this. Not that he'd read them out of sequence, he reminded himself, but he was prone to starting new series and abandoning the old at the drop of a hat. So far this one had been good enough to keep him occupied. Seemed a bit too long for his taste though. But no matter, it wasn't as if he had to tend to his parents anymore. They'd left him to his own devices a while ago so he truly had nothing better to do than read. The heavy spine proved as good of an anchor as any to keep him focusing on something other than that. He wondered what they'd think of him spending this much time absorbed in these silly little books. His mother would surely approve, right? Probably not the ones he kept under his bed though, he thought with a sly grin. 

~ ~ ~

He jolted awake at the sound of metal chains slamming into the ground, crunching through the dense floor of leaves outside. Ferris took a moment to steady himself as he flung his legs off the counter and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The unforgiving darkness outside told him all he needed to know. He hadn't been asleep for more than a few hours but he couldn't be bothered to find his phone. Those chains belonged to his larger bear traps. Usually they were just a token to ward off the less than friendly pack of wolves that had shown up recently. It wasn't as if he saw any bears here. But with the sharp rattling screaming at him to put an end to the damned thing, it sounded like it was more rambunctious than a wolf. Figures. The hunter kept a few slugs in a box lounging under his sink, and his double barrel was always posted on his bench. An old over-under he'd been given by his father on his eighteenth birthday. It worked well enough. His old man always said a tool should reflect the wielder. For him, it was practical, no flash and all function. 

The beaten flashlight he kept hung up by the back door out was swiped quickly as he barreled into the crisp air. He had already put on his medical mask, pure instinct after a year of forced repeated motions. The grinding of metal against itself was belting out into the forest as he found himself on his patio. A click of his flashlight revealed nothing. A dozen or so feet away, where the trap had been, was instead just an uprooted metal post. The metal had bent at an unnatural angle and it was pried up along with a few solid pounds of packed dirt. Something had hit the damn thing with speed, chains and all. Which means that rattling was coming from the actual forest proper. Normally Ferris would leave the woodland beasts to their own problems but the racket here was deafening. So with a sigh, he gently flicked his gun open and loaded two of his shells in. He'd be running into possibly a pack with only three slugs total. His father would laugh his ass off at that. But his father wasn't here now, was he? 

Ferris kept the gun slung in the crook of his elbow, chambers still exposed and open, as he pushed closer towards the sound. He desperately wished he could hear any other sound in the forest. Footsteps, barks, the awkward cries of frightened game, or honestly anything else other than that damn rattling. He couldn't even hear well the sounds of leaves crunching beneath his feet. It just meant he'd have to take things by sight. What a mess that was though. The long chain had been whipped about and seemingly cut large chunks out of the nearby trees as it trailed further into the forest. Whatever this thing was, it was strong and abnormally fast. Not strong or fast enough to keep itself from getting trapped though. It was either stupid or very, very desperate. Ferris wasn't sure which unnerved him more. Unnaturally large game was often spotted in the forests surrounding his home. For them to be especially stupid or desperate meant he was risking a lot in his approach. Better make this quick.

But he'd made a mistake. He knew it as soon as that rattling stopped, the sharp lack of sound cutting through the trees like a shockwave. There wasn't a tumultuous crack of the thing freeing itself, or of the chain snapping in two. No. That absence of anything told him something far worse. He was being watched. Ferris pulled his flannel jacket tighter to his chest to suppress the wave of chills crawling up his back. He refused to make any rash movements. No reason to give the animal a reason to gore him right here and there. But as he panned his light across the gouged trees, he couldn't fight the tremors. Especially when he saw it. Not an animal, no. Initially it was just a glow in his peripheral. A red light in the corner of his eye that, upon seeing, left him motionless. He was afraid to pivot his head further. He knew deep down that itn wasn't natural; and when it blinked, Ferris could have sworn his soul left his body for a brief moment. He wasn't just being watched. He was being observed. 

Ferris, with whatever remaining bits of courage left in his body, managed to force his whole body in the direction of the light. He kept his flashlight pointed down though on a patch of dirt at his feet. Nowhere near the glowing pair of lights no farther than a dozen yards away. They followed his movements, and it was their height that struck Ferris odd first. Ferris would consider himself average at a firm 5'10 but he was being dwarfed with relative ease. It was almost more than double his height. Looking down at him with unflinching fixation. Those lights, its eyes he guessed, were the only thing he could see of the beast. Truthfully Ferris would rather keep it that way. To him though it was becoming increasingly clear that this wasn't just a rogue bear slinging one of his old traps around. After all, there weren't bears here. There was however this....thing.

He was terrified to make a move to close his shotgun. Ferris wasn't sure if those eyes were staying still because of the chains he couldn't see or because it was waiting to strike. Would he have the opportunity to land a shot before it tore him in half? Images of the brutalized trees on his walk here were brought to mind and he decided against it. It wasn't worth the risk. So he did the first thing that came to mind. Something so incredibly stupid that his parents would have lectured him for the rest of his now admittedly short life. He decided to ask a question. 

"You stuck?"

He'd long since gotten used to speaking from behind his mask. Mostly just from talking to himself. It wasn't hard to accommodate for how it muffled his voice but people still tended to struggle with the accent. His words though were crystal clear, lingering in the air awaiting his fate like a blade held low against his neck. Those lights instead just widened at the sound. Was it as shocked as Ferris was that he spoke out? Well if it was, it didn't last long as its eyes starting flicking to something off to its right. His left. It was trying to get him to look at something. That level of intelligence only proved to unnerve him further. Lord above, this thing really wasn't natural. But since he was here, he couldn't really ignore the beast. So Ferris tentatively brought his flashlight up to generally where its eyes had been indicating. There, wrapped around a tree, was his long rusted chain caught on both itself and the triggered bear trap. 

A reflective and almost silky white liquid coated the jagged teeth of the trap. Guess that must've been the thing's blood. If Ferris started to let himself think about what that implied, he knew he'd panic. So he stuck to the facts. Blood, unnatural but still blood, coated the trap. Rusted chain stuck on both the trap and tree. Other end of the chain was feeding into the dark where only a few feet away was the creature itself. So it had freed itself from the trap only to unfortunately become caught in the metal chains. A strange series of events but he'd seen worse. He was seeing worse only a glance away. Which meant the beast was asking him for help. Shit. 

"Uh, sorry 'bout that. Ain't too sure how you got yourself all tussled up."

It just continued to shift its gaze between him and the tree. It was rushed, almost pleadingly so. Was it scared? Did it blame him for this? The weight of the open gun hanging on his elbow dug deep into the flannel sleeve below. There was really only one solution. Other than just killing the beast, that was, but Ferris didn't feel that was a good option for a multitude of reasons. The thing was clearly intelligent and, to some extent, understood what he was saying. Much smarter than any of the game he'd trapped and killed before. Then there was the fact that the thing was probably as unnatural as unnatural gets. Tall as a young tree and spewing blood so white you'd think it was paint. That's not even mentioning the crimson red brights beaming down on him. What was the chance he'd even win a fight with this thing one on one? Ferris wasn't a betting man. It was unbecoming of his family name, so that left him with the task at hand. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

"If you promise to not get scared now, I can probably bust that chain right off that tree. Gotta shoot the damn thing though, okay?"

Those eyes locked onto the gun on his arm for a few seconds, as if it was contemplating the risk like he had, before looking at him again. Those lights bobbed up and down the slightest amount before turning back to look at the tree. The damn thing had nodded. It did understand English. What in the hell was he dealing with? He wasn't going to let his nerves get the better of him though. After all, he was responsible for getting them both into this mess. He flicked the breach closed with practiced motions and took aim with the shotgun. Ferris tucked the flashlight against his neck and leaned into his shoulder to better line up the shot. He knew the slug could shatter those old chains well enough, but he wasn't keen on firing twice. The thought of getting the attention of more than one of these things out here left him far colder than he thought the weather capable of. 

The shot resounded up and around the canopy walls as the chain exploded into fiery bits of shrapnel. The kick sent his flashlight flying off his shoulder but otherwise his aim was true. The beast wasted no time in pulling the rest of the chain to itself. The sound of the metal slithering in the grass like a metallic python was unnerving but it at least meant his night was almost over. A large gust of wind nailed his side as he unshouldered his shotgun. It took all of his strength to just keep himself standing. When he looked up, he could have sworn he saw the outline of wings flying above the treetops. The illustrious gleam of the moon revealed only black as the figure took off in directions unknown. Ferris, for his part, stood there dumbfounded. Damn thing flew off with his chain. But, thinking about it as he retraced his steps back home, he'd rather it take the chain than his life. 

He didn't sleep much that night.

Chapter Text

Things had remained quiet for a week. A singular week in which he tried, and failed, to forget that peculiar sight in the woods. Ferris never told anyone about it and he highly doubted they'd believe him even if he did. He hardly understood it himself. But that week of samesong silence was relished. Maybe everything would truly go back to normal? He'd thought as much anyway as he stepped out onto his front porch one frigid Wednesday morning. Only to hear something wet squelch underneath his boot. Odd, there hadn't been any rain. But the metallic smell of dried blood that wafted up from his feet told him everything he needed to know. Staining his wooden deck was a not so small pile of dead rabbits, all in various displays of death. It didn't take a trained eye to recognize though that they weren't tossed about at random. No, they were arranged neatly in two columns of three. This was someone's crude idea of a gift. 

Ferris took a moment to inspect one of the rabbits closely, nudging it with his boot to check the wounds it died from. It was admittedly gruesome. Large scores trailed into deep and seeping puncture wounds. They reminded Ferris of the telltale signs of a bird's talons on smaller prey like mice. He'd never seen a weapon used by any sane hunter do something like this. It brought to mind a twisted thought that he couldn't quite seem to shake. Maybe this wasn't from a someone, but a something. That was completely ridiculous. He had built a rapport of sorts with the woodlands around his lodge as was the Clandon tradition. Despite that though he had never received gifts from the wildlife. Nor had his father before him or his father's father. The lodge had belonged to the Clandons for at least several generations and while there were countless stories of strange game, that was as incredulous as the tales got. 

But there had been that animal a week prior, right? Not an animal, no. That didn't do its monstrous nature justice. It had been intelligent enough to understand English so was the concept of gift giving so beyond it? Ferris had technically freed it. From his own trap, but he doubted the thing was worried about the semantics. Nothing else in his mind could explain whatever the hell was sitting on the porch. His mother had always liked for him to keep an open mind with things. This was probably nothing like what she meant but now was not the time to be picky choosey. Besides, if he didn't do something soon, the wooden boards would be truly stained. It took but a moment to roll up the sleeves of his warm flannel; finally time to get his hands dirty. He didn't have time to tend to them now, so he simply just hauled the partially gored rabbits to his shed to be dressed later. He needed to stop in town to pick up a few things and arriving there covered in blood was unbecoming of a man. 

Besides, the townsfolk already had enough thoughts to chew on about him to begin with. He wasn't the type to give a damn about what people saw him as. The local wildman, the crazed loner, and the queer cityboy among many other things. But he did have a sense of pride for his family name. Getting himself arrested under suspicion of being a bloodied psychopath would taint whatever little good remained from his parent's influence. So the least he could do was maintain appearances. He had cash to spend and they had goods to sell; that was as far as his interactions with them would go. Not like he didn't have friends. A bitter smile broke his stoic silence resulting in an annoyed huff. He had acquaintances. None in Point Pleasant but he did know a few guys who he was friendly enough with. The type of friend to not flinch if he approached. Mostly fellow graduates from the same program he'd been in. Great lot of judgmental bastards, they were.

~ ~ ~

It had only been a few days since his trip into town before the second "gift" showed up at his doorstep. Completely unannounced and without a single sound to accompany it. It was the smell that once again tipped him off, this time being the revolting aroma of fish. No note with it, no message, no real anything other than the neatly organized pile of indiscriminate fish. Ferris wasn't the fishing sort, truthfully. He despised the smell but didn't begrudge the taste. So he uttered out a quiet thanks into the cold autumn air and went back inside to fetch himself a basket. He had purchased a crude wicker basket while out in the town under the assumption that those rabbits weren't going to be the only thing showing up at his door. Ferris let out a pleased snort at being right. It helped to expect the unexpected when it came to strange creatures presenting soiled gifts. He felt himself stop at the words he just thought to himself. The hell did that even mean?

But that basket would continue to prove its worth as the weeks continued on. At random intervals and at random times he would receive the strangest collections of gifts on his front porch. Sometimes it was local game gored and bloodied up. Other times it was strange and shiny bits of metal. Mostly just scrap by the looks of things. Rusty bumpers off wrecked cars, lids to charcoal grills, and once even the sullied head of a woodsman's axe. It had been coated in that same pearly white blood that had dried and flaked off his now abandoned bear trap. Ferris didn't bother to think of what happened to the man that swung the axe, instead only that this proved his assumption that the creature from that night was responsible for this barrage of curiosities. He'd be wrong if he said he wasn't grateful. He truthfully hadn't needed to go hunting since it all began and the bits and pieces he couldn't use sold for a fair penny. 

Each time, he'd thank the wind with a sincere smile hidden behind his medical mask. Nature deserved his respect more than most of his peers. His voice would carry out into the dense trees abroad; and as if the woodlands were listening to him, they'd shudder and wave back in solidarity. He felt at home surrounded by the wildlife of these woods. The time Ferris spent in the city had been fun and he never regretted a second of it. But despite that, there was a separate type of peace to be found in the Clandon Lodge. Even if that peace was marred by the existence of borderline supernatural creatures watching him from the treelines. Waiting for him to be preoccupied or asleep to drop off gifts deemed appropriate by a much wilder culture. He hadn't seen those red eyes again in the weeks that followed. Perhaps though that wasn't a bad thing. His parents would appreciate that he was keeping himself safe, surely. 

~ ~ ~

Whether he chose to believe it or not, it was his responsibility to keep his property safe. Mostly from errant hunters who couldn't give a damn about boundary lines. Ferris had been out collecting lumber for his antiquated furnace when shots rang out close behind him. The fluttering of birds accompanied his own yelp of surprise. The passive noises his forest normally made had silenced themselves completely. As if the trees themselves were afraid to breathe and be found by the trespasser. Ferris was having none of that. He felt his hands tighten on his double bit axe as he stalked out towards the shooter. There was so much ground to hunt in West Virginia, so why the hell did they have the gall to come here of all places? Ferris had been glad that his reputation kept most of the riffraff out. That however just meant that the few that showed up had no regard for consequences or the law. 

Ferris knew the forest well. Not as well as his father, truthfully, but enough that getting lost was of no consequence. It took him little time to find the man. It took him longer to keep his laughter to himself; the man was a certified idiot. He was swaddled in an oversized neon orange vest and clung to a rifle far too large for him. The man couldn't be any taller than 5'6 and his hunch led Ferris to think the man was borderline senile. But when the figure heard Ferris approach, he swung the rifle around with the reckless abandon of someone in their youth. Their face was splotched with red and their shit eating grin did him no favors in being presentable. The hunter knew what he was doing and was damn proud of it. Rude. Ferris knew it was his obligation to speak first. 

"Hey fella, not sure who gave you permission to be hunting 'round here."

The man spluttered at the notion of permission. So he was the entitled type then too? Ferris was raised to be courteous and respectful to strangers, but he knew too well that some folk could push his buttons more than others. Surely it wouldn't be that hard though with this kid.

"You know, the owner. He said I could just shoot around for target practice."

Ferris thought the man to be about nineteen. Far too old to be telling lies at any rate. Ferris just cocked an eyebrow at the filth the man was spewing in his direction and waited for the truth. But instead they both just stood there in silence. He wasn't comfortable with how the young man was haphazardly just swinging his rifle about. The idiot kept his damn finger on the trigger, had no one taught him basic safety? This needed to stop before the brat hurt either of them. Ferris buried the axe into the cracked dirt beneath his feet with a solid thud and succeeded in making the man jump. Good.

"Funny you should say that, I don't recall giving any permission to hunt in my forest. How 'bout you give me the gun and I'll leave it at that?"

The 'hunter's smile was wiped off his face in an instant. He looked as if he wanted to argue. But as he let his eyes trail over Ferris and flick over to the large axe within arm's reach, he huffed and lowered the barrel to the floor. Ferris wouldn't consider himself to be an intimidating man on purpose. He was built well enough even if he'd gained a bit of a pouch during his time at university. It was the mask though that seemed to put people on edge. That or his unwavering eye contact. It was just proper manners he had thought when he was a child but it seemed to make people squeamish. Good for cases like this. Ferris crossed over to the young man in a few effortless strides and gripped the side of the gun firmly. He kept his fingers wrapped around the bolt of the rifle. Didn't want the idiot to chamber another round and shoot something he shouldn't. More than he already had by the sounds of things. 

But when he went to pry the gun away, they wouldn't relinquish their own hold. Ferris was rightfully getting annoyed by this point. This young man, practically still a child, had come onto his property illegally to just 'shoot around'. With no proper training with gun safety. Now he was refusing to give up the rifle that was far too large for him? He really was a damned idiot. But as his scowl deepened and he let out an annoyed huff, he noticed the man's eyes. They were terrified. Tears were welling up at the sight of something just behind Ferris's shoulder. Ferris put his other hand on their arm and shook them gently. Was he having an episode? Ferris had a roommate like that for a semester. He'd get this lost look in his face and would just stare off to witness nightmares unseen by others. It made him dangerous to himself and was responsible for more than a few accidents. 

When Ferris went to push them back slightly though, it all fell apart. So much faster than he had expected. The man wrenched the rifle away from Ferris's grip with the strength of a man living off pure adrenaline and reflexively pocketed a shot with barely a second to aim. The barrel swung wide. The round clipped Ferris on the side of the head and sent him sprawling onto the ground. Oh fuck. He clutched his head and neck to check for wounds as he lost all sound to the deafening ringing of his ears. His hands came back bloodied. Oh fuck, but he needed to breathe. It was okay. It wasn't enough to be a serious wound. His neck felt fine, thank god, but something higher up was a mess. When a tiny bit of cartilage came off his face along with his mask and into his upturned hands, he noticed two things. First, his right earlobe was gone. Second, he was now throwing up from shock. All he could do was rip his flannel off and press it to his ear. Now just simply kneeling against a tree and emptying the contents of his breakfast all over the bark.

A shadow far larger than any bird passed over his shoulder and sped towards wherever the man had run off to. But Ferris couldn't will himself to care about whatever the hell that was. Probably just his shock. He needed to get back home and treat his ear. Ferris felt sick and desperately hoped that the ringing would stop. The pitch was just making him vomit more until all he had left was stomach acid. That absence gave him enough time to stumble his way back home. He'd be back for his axe eventually. Should've just used the damn thing to cut the man's hands off when he had the chance. 

~ ~ ~

He hissed at the pain, clamping his mouth down to bury the first expletive that came to mind. His mother never tolerated swearing in the lodge and Ferris tried his best to uphold that. The stinging from the peroxide on his open wound stung something fierce though. The first thing he'd done when he had gotten home was find a mirror. The braindead idiot with a gun outside had managed to shoot off a good chunk of his right earlobe. Ferris was practically ecstatic that it hadn't been any closer to his head. All things considered, that was a massive stroke of luck. To think that he could have easily died from what basically was a jumpy teenager with a gun worried him. He wasn't the biggest fan of getting johnny law involved but things were getting desperate. If they ever showed up again, he'd be ready. But for now he needed to focus on dressing the wound. 

The lodge's first aid kit was old but well stocked. Hunting accidents were an unfortunate necessity to be prepared for. The gauze and wraps were never in short supply so it wasn't hard to get himself treated up proper. A quick lookover in the mirror afterwards told him that it would hold, but he desperately needed to get down to a clinic to get things stitched up. His insurance was good enough to cover the bulk and it wasn't as if he was short on funds. His parents had seen to that. Ferris felt a pang in his chest at the notion: he was forced to clean up his wound alone. Hell, if he bled out here in his lodge no one would any the wiser. He had no one that cared enough to check by. The grimace with that made itself home. No point in pouting, he thought, as he closed up the kit and started out of the bathroom. His keys were probably buried under the local papers he'd picked up last Sunday. 

He was distracted from his search almost immediately by a tentative knock at the back door. Ferris let his eyes fly to the shotgun on the bench only a few feet away. Unloaded. If that bastard came back to apologize, he had another thing coming to him. Ferris pulled from his belt an old skinning knife he'd used since he was a teenager and approached the door. He took notice of his keys hanging off the rack next to his flashlight. At least he knew where they ended up. But a second tentative knock forced him to focus. He tightened his grip on the blade, mostly just to intimidate the man, and started shouting as he opened the door.

"You're about as dumb as a box of rocks, fel-"

His tongue slipped off his teeth in shock, leaving the rest of the sentence warping into a whimper. Oh. That wasn't the hunter. That wasn't the hunter at all. His knife clattered to the floor as he cautiously took a step back. The door swung open wide on its own, revealing the hunched form of something completely inhuman at his doorstep. It looked like an abstract drawing from a madman. Thick black fur adorned the creature's entire body, flanked by the red rimmed cloak of its wings neatly tucked around it. Its body was humanoid in shape and lithe in build. Relatively speaking, given that it easily dwarfed Ferris' own body. If that had been all, he would've run for his gun. Ferris barely managed to keep himself there long enough to see the rest. 

Despite all the monstrous abnormalities that made up the beast, it importantly had those eyes. A truly crimson glow like the downtown stoplights peering down at him curiously. This close he realized that there were no pupils or irises. Nothing but circular light. The fur on its face was a lighter grey, fading into the thick fur of its neck. It reminded Ferris of the plumage of happily fed birds when they nestled into themselves. It had no mouth, no nose, or any other identifying features outside of two easily recognizable antennae usually found on moths. Feathery and a shade resembling onyx. This was the beast that he had freed from his own trap. This was the beast that had been dropping off gifts for the past month. Even more recent than that was that this was whatever that strange shadow had been with the hunter. 

Ferris, under his rage and bluster, hoped the kid got away safely. Stupid as he was. But he had something much larger to worry about now. Ferris wasn't sure whether he should panic at the owl like talons buried into his patio's wooden deck or laugh at the absurd and dainty little wave it was giving him with a claw more than thrice the size of his own hands. He wanted to feel something other than all consuming fear. Even when hunched over it still struggled to keep its head underneath the doorframe. It just tilted itself at him slightly and flared its eyes, the perfectly red circles going wider before narrowing onto his ear. That same claw went from its wave to instead reach out and bury itself into the doorframe. The sharp points chipped away at the wood in what almost could be described as a nervous tick. The thing knocked on the door but was now hesitating to follow up. Why?

Ferris wasn't sure what the protocol was here. Normally he'd tell his guests to take off their shoes and let them inside. But the thing didn't even have shoes. It was still a guest though. A guest that could very easily cut him down where he stood, he thought. One look at the those clawed digits told him that it wasn't the chain that had torn chunks from those trees a month ago. Last time he checked, he was much softer than the wood his own lodge was made of. Squishy and so unremarkably mortal as the last hour had reminded him of. So was it still considered rude if he told it to stay outside? Better to see what it wanted first. Help avoid a confrontation resulting in his limbs being left scattered. Ferris was reminded of his own situation with a throb of pain from his ear, so he just shrugged and gestured inwards.

"Uh. Make yourself at home?"

It preened at the notion. This monster looked shockingly like an owl at that moment, head and neck sinking into its thick fur around its shoulders as it upended itself from the deck. The monster was surprisingly gentle however with the hardwood flooring inside the house. The clicking of talons on wood echoed through the empty home as it made its way inside the Clandon lodge. A beast was inside his home. The most dangerous creature he had ever encountered and he let it in. Ferris simply just shut the door behind them both and kicked the knife into a corner. Fat load of good that would do him. Lunging for a knife when the beast's back was turned was just asking to be eviscerated like those rabbits. He'd already lost enough bits for one day.  

He felt his breath hitch though as he turned his attention over to the creature. It's back was facing him as it poked at Ferris's vibrating phone on the coffee table. A telemarketer for sure. He however wasn't quite sure what to make of the colors assaulting his eyes at first. The wings it had wrapped around itself sported an absolutely stunning pattern. Resembling its moth brethren more and more, it seemed, the display was a series of symmetrical red eyes flowering out in-between swathes of grey and black. Splotches of vermillion wove in and out of the thick outline of its wings. From this distance though he couldn't even tell if it was made of fur or feathers. Perhaps, if the moth comparisons were apt, it was instead made of something totally different. He struggled to think of the term. Biology was never his strongsuit. 

At the sound of his odd breathing, the moth....thing swiveled its head back to face him. If it had been human, it would've snapped its own neck right then and there. He wasn't expecting that. Ferris didn't think it possible outside of with owls. So was this thing actually more owl or moth? Perhaps Ferris was approaching this with the wrong mindset. Who said anything about it even being naturally occurring? For all he knew, those searing red eyes of its could shoot lasers. After everything that had happened so far it didn't seem ridiculous to imagine. So he just waved off its gaze with a gesture to his ear and took great care in not flinching as he walked past it. He didn't want to seem jumpy. That was always a good way to put wildlife on edge. Calm and collected was the only way to approach this. 

He instinctually found himself pulling two old mugs out from the cupboard before he could stop himself. Old pottery mugs he had made when he was a kid. A quick glance back to the creature's lack of anything other than eyes told him this was a pointless gesture. But like himself, manners hadn't died out yet. He wasn't someone who drank much of anything. He tended to avoid spirits except when with friends and family during the holidays. So never. But he did have an unusual fondness for grape juice. His fridge was stocked with a minimum of three bottles at all times. Ferris frowned at the state of his food stock though, as he really should have gotten more food while he was out. All he had was some thawing beef and nothing to pair it with. That along with some leftovers from the night prior. But he had drinks to serve, so no point in being rude by delaying.

"Ya mind if I pour you a glass? Not sure what your, uh, kind likes but I'd be tickled pink if you said yes."

The creature had been passively observing the picture frames that lined the walls around the kitchen. The thing was shifting its height with each frame to seemingly ensure it was at eye level with the faces. It nodded simply at his words, not taking its gaze off of whatever it found so fascinating. Truth be told, Ferris was pleased that it said yes. It would be awkward otherwise and he did owe the damn creature a few weeks worth of exchange gifts. At the very least being friendly was the least he could do. Two poured mugs later, Ferris found himself pulling over the chair he always tended to lounge in late at night. He bit down the instinct to kick his feet up when he sunk into it. Monster or otherwise, there was a guest in the house. This was so strange. 

Ferris nursed his drink and watched the creature slowly wander the lodge. He was able to pick up a few things by observing its movements, but all those answers did were leave him with more questions. It was clearly very intelligent. Not just in the way it held itself either. Its surprisingly gentle claws trailed along furniture and picture frames as it made its way across the room. Taking great care to avoid knocking any furniture over with the wings it extended sporadically. Probably not used to being inside. The thing was taking in the meaning behind the pictures more than the images themselves. That wasn't something any random beastie could do on a whim. The context behind what photographs were was usually reserved to mankind only. Usually. So it clearly had interacted with people before. Hopefully not in the same way as it had with the former owner of the axehead a few weeks ago.

The silence was pleasant. Most of him was still terrified of the creature though. There really was no getting around the fact that this was a borderline cryptid. The closest thing he could think of comparing it to was his town's old stories of the Mothman. A flying moth creature that terrorized local families and served as a harbinger of disaster. It was such a huge thing in West Virginia that they even had a goofy little tourist trap in town to capitalize on the folklore around it. He could vaguely see the resemblance but things weren't exactly adding up. If the original Mothman was real, it would have died from age long ago. None of the sketches or newspaper clippings looked anything like what was hanging out in his living room. This was far more owl in this moth than what he'd expect a "mothman" to have. He wasn't even sure why he thought of it this way, but the beast here was, what? Gentle? Cute? 

It was a bit cute, sure. In a plush kind of way. Its unabashed curiosity of its surroundings reminded him of a toddler in a museum. Except this toddler was a nine foot winged monster covered head to talon in black fur. But when that same curious gaze was turned towards Ferris, he felt himself shift uncomfortably in his chair. It cocked its head into a curious gesture as if asking about why he was staring. Guess the time for idle observation had passed. Ferris nudged the other mug on the counter with his own and shot the thing a look practically shouting "sit the fuck down". If it was intelligent enough to understand English, then surely it could pick up that it was behaving a smidge strangely. To its credit, those red plates widened and it hurriedly approached a stool on the other side of the kitchen island. How the thing even managed to sit on it baffled the man. He needed to say something.

"So...thanks for the gifts?"

Smooth. It took a few moments for it to process his words, but afterwards it managed to make itself look almost sheepish? Its eyes narrowed to slits and focused on the mug of juice it was pushing around with its claws. A shrug was all it gave as a response. Another surprisingly human gesture. That was a good sign at least. Ferris wasn't going to be the only one awkwardly stumbling about this conversation. He felt a pang of sympathy for the beast. The stories of the townsfolk be damned, maybe there was more humanity here than meets the eye. Ferris thought of something he had been wanting to bring up for about a month now. Now was as good of a time as any to discuss it. Not like they had much else to chat about.

"Also, not that it'll help ya much, but I'm mighty sorry about that whole trap business. Wasn't trying to get you of all things, I swear it."

It tilted its head at the apology but did nothing else. Just as nonverbal as before. The beast clearly wasn't angry at him. Ferris doubted he would've been drowning in gifts if the monster wanted to gore him. But he'd been taught to own up for his own actions. After all, it was true. He had just been trying to scare some wolves away at the time. That did lead to things falling apart even if catching a cryptid had never been on his to-do list. He raised his mug to the beast and finished his juice. It just rumbled at the gesture. So it could make noise. Ferris noted to himself to rinse out both of their mugs later when the thing left. Thing. He couldn't just keep calling it thing in his head, did they have a name? It hadn't said anything so far. Could it even speak?

"I just realized I ain't too sure of your name, friend."

Well that was strange. Ferris swore he was imagining things, but the monster's eyes had flared at the word friend. He wasn't about to say that it was just part of the way he spoke. Revealing that felt wrong. Besides, was it necessarily incorrect to say that they were friends? Or at the very least the monster considered Ferris to be its friend. But as he was pondering their standing, the creature had instead stood up and starting scrounging around the kitchen. It was moving with determined purpose now as it overturned letters, blankets, and other miscellaneous bits and bobs. A stark contrast to the wanderlust of its previous exploration. Normally Ferris would tell his guests to keep to themselves if they were doing that. Those guests weren't usually giant moth-owl hybrids of tenacious size however. Nothing left to do but just patiently sit there and watch as this elegant creature inelegantly hurtled around his home in search of something. 

It did find what it was looking for eventually. A pen. A hilariously tiny pen when held in the beast's oversized claws, but one that was handled with relative ease. He was in for a show. Ferris offered a torn envelope as it quite literally flopped back down across from him. Its antennae swung low from the movement like two downturned levers. Ferris couldn't help but stare as the barely decipherable lines that were being scribbled onto the envelope slowly came together into readable English. The penmanship would be horrible for a human. This creature was definitely not human so it was one hell of a triumph. It clearly thought as much too as it smugly pushed the envelope across the counter back to where Ferris was sitting. Playfully spinning that pen around while he read the note. 

Hi! No name. You?

Hah! He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Surely it wasn't this. The little exclamation mark was cute, Ferris thought, as he wrapped his head around the concept of this thing knowing both oral and written English. It felt like he was talking to an alien. Aliens weren't so fuzzy and soft looking though if the media was anything to go by. Aliens probably wouldn't be so depressing. The lethal fuzzball before him had no name. How did it not have a name? What cruel bastard doesn't name their kid? He grimaced at the forced positivity in his voice as he replied.

"Well, a big hi back to you. The name's Ferris, it's a crying shame you don't know yours."

It shook its head, grabbed the envelope back, and began to scribble more looping and inelegant letters across the white surface. Ferris could read it from his seat this time. 

Hi Ferris. I remember, no name. Give?

Give? What, a name? Ferris held out a hand to stop it from passing the paper over before giving himself some time to think. What could he even say to that? It knew that it had no name. Surely there was some significance to that. Perhaps though its culture was much different from his own. His mother would surely baby the monster if she was here. Probably reach out to hold its hand and murmur how much of a shame it was that no one had cared enough to give it a name. She would've done what she felt was right even if it was culturally insensitive. But she wasn't here, in her place was Ferris. He wasn't the touchy feely sort. Life here had never afforded him that. It was becoming increasingly obvious that life had never afforded the monster the same luxury either. Funny. The name shouldn't have come to him as naturally as it did.

"I sure can, if ya'd like. Try Atlas on for size."

Atlas, with the world atop his shoulders. Never allowed to rest or come to his own. A bit presumptuous but fitting. Besides, Atlas moths were gorgeous. To punctuate the name, he pulled the envelope back to himself before gently reaching for the pen. The monster stiffened up as his hand grew closer to its but it eventually relinquished the pen from its oversized claws with a twirl. Its eyes never left his hand as he scribbled a bold ATLAS on the rest of the envelope. It certainly looked like an Atlas. The sound of water dripping onto paper pulled him away from his gentle observation of the beast. A few drops of something red had fallen onto his hand as well. Hm? Ferris brought a finger up to his ear and noticed that his bandage had soaked through. Shit. He needed to get this to a clinic as soon as possible. Heavy bleeding never failed to drop a stone in his gut. The creature's eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them before when he brought his eyes back up.

It, Atlas, was focused on the bloodied finger resting on the counter. Twitching claws had found their way atop the island, their long reach picking at the corners on both sides. The envelope had been completely ignored. He took a step back. Ferris guessed they'd just have to pick up this conversation later when he got all stitched up. A casual conversation with a literal monster. If he hadn't seen so many horror movies in university he would probably be losing his shit. But he kept that to himself. Better to seem friendly than shell-shocked. 

"Afraid that our little get-together's been cut short. You can look around if ya'd like. Just... I dunno, shut the door on your way out?"

It was still fixated on his blood soaked fingers. Either from concern or for some demented sense of hunger. Ferris didn't know how it thought. He instead tossed the pen onto the counter, offered a quick wave to the friendly moth creature sitting in his kitchen, and snagged his keys from their spot by the back door. Friendly moth creature. Good lord was that a strange thing to think. But he needed to do something about his ear first. If this wound got infected, he'd normally have never heard the end of it. Lucky for him then that only Atlas knew and it wasn't the talkative sort. 

Chapter Text

It was quiet, Ferris thought. His keys jingled into the empty air as they were hung on the nail; and with a sigh he fumbled about in the dark. The furniture had been the same his entire life so navigating wasn't an issue. He finally reached his favorite chair and softly eased himself down in contemplation. He was admittedly glad that Atlas hadn't loitered around. The nurses at the clinic thought it was shock that had him so quiet, but he knew better. They stitched up the wound in complete silence. Ferris hadn't been paying much attention to their work. Instead choosing to dwell more than he probably should've on what had happened at the lodge. He had already come to terms with the existence of monsters. Literal cryptids existed in his neck of the words. Fine, the world was a strange enough place as is. But the rest of the pieces weren't fitting together right at all. The hypothetical Mothman of his hometown had existed but it's more than likely that it was one of many. One of those many was now choosing to get strangely involved in Ferris's life instead of stay in hiding like it probably should've. So what gives?

Ferris wasn't supposed to be overthinking things. It wasn't healthy as his dad had told him numerous times. Stick to what you know and do what you can. But what did he actually know here and what could he actually do? The moth creature was friendly and a smidge lonely. It enjoyed giving gifts probably to repay Ferris for freeing it from the trap. It was now named Atlas, and it had seemed visibly concerned by his ear. There was a noticeable interest in human culture if its fascination with the family photos was anything to go off. Oh and he couldn't let himself forget that it could understand English well enough to write. All in all, it considered him a friend. Maybe that was the point. Ferris hmm'd to himself as he stood up from his chair and booked it to his shower. He was filthy. If he was going to stick to what he knew and do what he could, he needed to be presentable in town tomorrow. There were a few things he'd like to pick up from the local markets. But before his mind ran off with ideas, he stopped himself in front of his tiny bathroom mirror. 

The light had left him blinking, but he could gauge himself well enough. He must've lost more blood than he thought. The nurses had wiped his neck down but the right side of his face was still coated in a thin tinge of reddish hues. His normally tied back locks were a black canvas splattered with that same red, his tendency to run a hand through the bound hair the culprit. At least he'd gotten the sides recently shaved down. It was one of the few things that came home with him from his time at university. Ferris let his sharp eyes wander the rest of his features to see just how gnarly he'd been when walking into the clinic. Thin eyebrows always pulled down to a point, piercing blue accents in his already unwavering gaze. He couldn't wear a mask so his stubble was on display to everyone. It was an unfortunate reminder that he never inherited his father's ability to grow a beard. The rest of his lower face was soft. His previously cut jawline had padded out during the pandemic and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like the change. Ferris didn't like to seem intimidating. 

The medical masks he always tried to wear in public hid most of what would keep people at ease. They couldn't see his rare smiles or cheeky grins, instead just his relentless focus bearing down on them. That meant he scared them. What the townsfolk thought they knew of him was all negative. Generally speaking though he didn't give a damn about them. It did mean however that he was lonelier than he cared to admit. Something he seemed to share with this new moth friend of his. Ferris wasn't capable of changing the past. He knew this to be true, so his social life was a lost cause. But Atlas still had some hope. Even if it meant the one human it was interacting with was Ferris. He'd make damn sure to do everything in his nature to make it happy. After all, that's what his mom would tell him to do. A momma's boy through and through and he wouldn't fail it like he'd failed her. 

~ ~ ~

Things quickly fell back into place after that. As strange as it was to consider, the past month or so had become his new routine. Ferris still left his doorstep some days to find a strange menagerie of objects or dead creatures at his feet. He'd thank the empty air, usher off whatever his bounty of the day was, and continue on with the morning. It just so happened though that his morning chores had grown into an exchange of sorts. Ferris started to leave gifts of his own. Little personal snacks snuggly fit into tied plastic bags, usually nailed to the highest points of local trees that he could reach. It was all simple at the beginning. It wasn't as if he was trying to replicate what he'd been given. Ferris wasn't the huge gestures sort of man but he didn't want Atlas's effort to go unrewarded. The monster was clearly not going to stop anytime soon and there was only so much meat the man could shove into his freezer before feeling guilty. 

Truthfully, he wasn't even sure if Atlas would like the food he was stashing away in the trees. Locally sourced jerky, muffins, and tins of nuts were his usual go-to's. Who was supposed to know what a moth cryptid would even eat? But it was around that time when the first note had appeared. Ferris hadn't even noticed it initially. It wasn't among the viscera littering his porch every couple days so who could blame him? He'd accidentally stumbled into it when settling in for the night in his favorite chair. Kicking his feet up, he turned to look out the window above the counter only to notice something stuck to it. A single sheet of notebook paper practically glued to the glass from the outside. It was covered in some dried adhesive and it took some work to pry the page off without tearing it. Upon closer inspection once it had been freed, it was obvious that it had been written by Atlas. Large and inelegantly looping penmanship was scribbled over the front. No date or timestamp. Which made sense, given who this was from.

It simply stated Hi! Ear okay? Lots of prey to hunt, you like gifts?. Verbiage still short, concise, and taking up far too much page real estate. Ferris was unsure how the monster could be capable of helping with the wound. Thoughts of those wickedly sharp claws that could cover his chest with ease brought forth a whiff of anxiety, so he had pushed those thoughts aside in favor for the latter half of the letter. Ferris knew at that point that the monster was more than capable of being smug. It really wasn't hard to imagine the monster puffing itself up with pride like it had before in his doorway. The notion was kinda cute, in a strange way, and left the man contemplating how to even respond to the letter for a few days. But when Ferris left out his next gift, a small bag of spicy cashews, he included a little handwritten note of his own. It wasn't as if he was going to see Atlas in person again if their current dynamic was anything to go off of. This was simply their way of communicating now.

Communicate they sure did. By putting that small little note of his out, Ferris had opened the floodgates. Atlas was, as it turned out, very chatty. In its own way. Sheets of paper started to appear all over the outside of his homestead and the adjacent land where he tended to visit. His windows, car, and shed were some of the worst offenders. Ferris would find pages upon pages of just random topics with no sense of cohesion. It seemed that Atlas was just happy to have someone to talk to. If it made the monster's day, then who was he to judge? It was far easier to upkeep when compared to nailing bags of jerky to the tops of trees. So Ferris did the best he could to keep up with the whirlwind that was sweeping over his property. It took both of them at least a month before they started to have comprehensible conversations. It had initially just been them leaving their own random thoughts out in the open, to be discovered at an equally random point in time. Some notes weren't even found until much, much later. 

The topics themselves really were meaningless. The dynamic they had established didn't leave much room for questions as it was never guaranteed that the next note would be addressing something they might not have even found. So it was all just their personal thoughts. Harmless little insights into how they both saw the world. They tried to stick to a general theme for a while to establish some semblance of order before moving on. It was a serious struggle in the beginning. It had surprisingly learned what it already knew by stealing books from unaware campers. That wasn't enough though. The first gift Ferris had given Atlas after they started exchanging notes was an English dictionary. The monster was more than intelligent enough to put together its thoughts, it simply lacked the English words to describe it. That had been something Ferris spent more time than not helping it out with. It paid off in spades though as he learned more about it in the two months they'd been writing so far than he ever had with any of his former friends at university. 

Atlas was an idealist. Hopelessly optimistic about itself and mankind. Clearly an adult with plenty of stories of people it had seen before. None of those interactions had turned out well, it had lamented at one point during early November. Atlas desperately wanted to meet more people like Ferris who would rather help it than shoot it. He didn't have the heart to tell it that mankind would never be like that. Atlas was the last of its family in these woods. Their woods, it had said. They just never bothered to usurp the Clandons when they had built the lodge here so many generations ago. One of the only questions Ferris had asked was what happened to the rest of its family. It simply said they migrated to somewhere safer. He couldn't blame them for it. Ferris also discovered that they were roughly the same age. He wasn't quite sure what the average lifespan of a "mothman" was, but it was surely longer than a century. Ferris was only in his early twenties but that meant he was down a fifth of his life already.

They were nomadic in nature, Altas had described. Mostly carnivorous but it was fond of the cashews Ferris would bring. They liked collecting bits of metal as prizes from their hunts or conquests. Those conquests did include the rare fights it had with passerby's. The woodsman who lost his axe was not the only person it had killed since they started interacting, and it was completely unapologetic about that. This explained why so many people would disappear in the woods; another thing the locals blamed Ferris for. He didn't tell Atlas that though. He truthfully had no standing to judge it for its behavior. The idea of people attacking this seemingly sweet beast sent Ferris into a tailspin. Atlas only acted out of self defense. It was technically a monster from a completely separate culture, sure, but even humans shared their rules of protecting themselves. Ferris did take comfort in the fact though that Atlas refused to eat human flesh. The idea was just downright unnerving and he did thank it for its transparency. 

In return for the insight, Ferris told Atlas all about himself. How he was a university graduate with a bachelor's in business management. Something that he felt was completely useless, a degree he had gotten simply to appease his parents at the time. That had been something the monster wanted to hear all about. In its culture, family was the backbone of their entire lives. Ferris said what he felt comfortable with. His father had been a police officer for Point Pleasant before retiring early due to an injury. A very worldly man with his ear to the ground at all times. Practical and sensible, elements he instilled in his son at all times. His mother's time as a receptionist at a local hospital meant she was affable and very friendly. She had moved to West Virginia from the deep south and lovingly passed her sense of right and wrong to him. Along with his accent, Ferris admitted. She had met his father at the hospital when he had been admitted and their relationship took off from there.

Atlas took a vested interest in why Ferris lived alone in the lodge so far removed from humanity. He told parts of the truth: He'd been shunned by people too many times to count and wanted to live his life in peace. Ferris didn't disclose the exact reasons why people had hated him so much, but that was something he never revealed to anyone. Some of it was a decade old, and other parts were still far too fresh a wound to heal. The man did talk a lot about his genuine love of nature though. How he felt at night as he'd sit there reading. The occasional glance out the window into the dark oblivion the treeline held within itself, and the peace that would bring. Nature was his balm as it had been for his family for generations. Altas told him that it knew; that the forest and its inhabitants loved Ferris back. He hadn't been sure how to handle the implications, so he had switched topics. Their written conversations extended into the start of December before Ferris decided that things needed to change. 

He had unfortunately grown tired of having to hunt down whatever bits of conversation he was missing. Rainy days were cataclysmic for their progress. So on one crisp winter morning, he left out a note on his back patio. It was a simple request: Come inside. His mother's spare key was taped against it. He lacked whatever Atlas had been using to keep its own pages attached to the walls and trees, so Ferris mostly just used tape or nails. It was gaudy but it worked well enough. He spent the rest of that morning and afternoon cleaning up around the lodge. He had purchased from the market a set of handheld whiteboards. Usually used for school activities but no one batted an eye at him for that. Not while they were too busy avoiding his gaze or just avoiding him in general. Ferris, also still unsure if it even drank juice, got his hands on an oversized thermos. The mug he had left on the counter two months ago had vanished. It was probably serving the monster a lot better than it had him nowadays.

~ ~ ~

Ferris found himself being pulled from his sleep by a gentle knocking on a door. Somewhere. His ear ached and his chin was wet. It took him prying his face off the old leather couch to see that he'd slept hard enough to make a mess of things. He took a moment to gather his senses. Drool everywhere. He must've rolled onto his ear at some point as it was plagued by a dull throb. It had healed well enough, the nurses saw to that, but it was still sensitive to the touch. Shit. He didn't even remember passing out. The handheld whiteboards he'd purchased had been pushed from their spot on the couch and onto the floor. His father always said he couldn't handle the colder weather well enough. Always made him slow and tired. If his thick flannel and even thicker sweater vest overtop of it was any indication of just how desperately he tried to keep himself warm. Oh well. The knocking had picked back up and all Ferris had time to do was wipe the spit off his couch with a sleeve. Seemed that his guest had arrived at the patio after all.

He shuffled over to the back door and opened it without hesitation. Even if Ferris wasn't so ungodly exhausted from his cold induced nap, he wouldn't have second guessed himself with this. Atlas had quickly become the only true friend Ferris could ever call his own. Strange to think of building a friendship off gifts and notes alone. It swung open to reveal blindingly bright red eyes tucked into the impenetrable darkness of the outside. Only the partially blocked light from inside the house, seeping out of the doorway, illuminated bits and pieces of its form. It physically hadn't changed in the slightest since their last "get-together". Atlas was still just as mystifying as before. Not as terrifying, but the claws did give him pause. Something this time was different though. Ferris could notice the shift in its body language immediately. 

A hunter's life sometimes hinged on their ability to detect minute changes in how an animal was holding itself. The same could be said about humans too. It had saved himself earlier with the jumpy teenager with a gun after all. But here Ferris didn't feel threatened by what was off. Instead it felt as if he was the dangerous one. Atlas was making itself smaller. Not just by hunching more either, it was keeping its long claws tucked together and away from him. Ferris took a step to the side to let the lodge's doorway bathe the monster in its glow. What he was seeing was screaming submission. Its neck bent low and exposing the soft fur of its neck and chest. Even its large wings were being used to shield itself from the world. Ferris racked his brain trying to figure out if he'd said anything to put Atlas on edge. Nothing immediately came to mind.

That was odd.

"Something wrong, friend?"

At the mention of friend, it noticeably perked up. It lurched forward as if it wanted to touch him, but stopped just short. That was definitely odd. Had someone hurt it? The notion of someone taking an axe or a rifle to the beast again brought forth a feeling of rage that was unlike Ferris. The damn thing didn't deserve to be treated like a villain. It rightfully lived its life in fear of men like him. After all, outside of Ferris, who else had showed it any kindness? His mother's words ran through his head as he stared at this emotionally wounded monster before him. The silence dragged on for a few moments but that was all it took for him to make the decision. He wasn't a touchy feely kind of man, but that didn't mean he couldn't learn how to be. Not for himself, but for people who deserved far more than what life had given them. Or monsters, in this case. So Ferris, with grit burying down any visible nerves, held out his arms and gestured for Atlas to come closer.

Those red plates flared to a blinding intensity. Its claws nervously scratched at the fur on its arms, contemplating something, before deciding with more than a little enthusiasm to close the distance. As its long arms wrapped behind Ferris's body, all he could think about was just how warm it was. It was tentative with its movements and seemed afraid to hurt him. He, however, was having none of that. Ferris knew what it was like to be scared of how others saw him. That fear had driven him to completely change who he was when he was at university, and it took....well, it took a lot to bring him back to who he was. He buried his face into its dense furry chest and sank into its pine scented warmth. The fur was in remarkable condition, admittedly a lot cleaner than he thought the beast would be. But when Ferris went to pull away, it desperately held him there with its claws. Gentle enough to not put holes in his shirt, but the intention was clear. 

That changed the hug from a friendly embrace to something much more vulnerable. Something intimate. He buried that thought and focused on the beast. Ferris let one of his hands wander to its side only for Atlas to flinch. His hand pulled back wet, his fingers covered in a thick, congealed white goo. It was bleeding. Not enough to be seriously hurt, given the size of the beast, but enough to bleed. Someone had hurt it. Those absolute bastards. Ferris thought back to the notes he'd find plastered to his windows. How it desperately wanted to communicate with someone, anyone. To sit down with the local hunters and share its stories as they split the spoils from the game hunted that night. Atlas talked about its love of human culture more times than Ferris could actively remember. To think something like this was constantly setting itself up for failure. It wasn't Atlas's fault that mankind was so bigoted that they couldn't handle things different from them.

He swore under his breath as he pulled away from its body. He was willingly exposing himself to the cold air and the painfully narrow gaze of Atlas to prove a point. Ferris wrapped both of his hands around one of its long digits. Each hand had three long claws jutting out less than a foot. The man had seen them elegantly handle a pen so he knew well enough that they served well as fingers. Or the closest thing to fingers a monster like that could get. The claws were wickedly sharp, reminding him of the knives his mom would keep sharpened in the kitchen for family dinners. If Atlas pulled away, his palms would probably be torn open. But it did no such thing. It instead just narrowed its gaze further on the two sets of fingers wrapped around its singular one. He wasn't sure why he wanted to speak out. Maybe because he too had suffered so much for being different. That maybe he was the closest thing Atlas had to a friend. Or simply because he cared about the beast and its horrible penmanship.

"I'm so sorry. These people are out of their damn minds, I tell you. You deserve far better than the likes of 'em. How about we get you settled on my couch and I'll do my darndest to get that patched up for you?"

Without his mask, Ferris felt far too exposed to the world. But of the three times he knew Atlas had seen him, only one was with it on. So Ferris looked up into the monster's eyes and tried his best to give it a comforting smile. The most he could muster was a warm grin. He was far too uncomfortable with just how emotionally vulnerable everything was becoming. But he wasn't doing this for him. He was doing this for Atlas. That pitiful smile of his seemed to do wonders for the beast though as it fluffed up its neck and began nuzzling against Ferris's hair. The cat like tendency brought out a laugh from them both. Well, Ferris laughed. Atlas just reverberated and shook, those long antennae smacking into the doorframe with surprising weight. Ferris would take that as a resounding yes, so he gently let go of the claws, gestured the beast inside, gave the outside area a once over to make sure they weren't being watched, and bolted the door shut. Ferris might not be able to protect the monster from the horrors of humanity, but he would certainly do his best to shelter it. 

~ ~ ~

"Quit wiggling, you priss. Don't make me slap away those big honkin' claws of yours"

Ferris would truthfully do no such thing. If he did, they'd have much a much bigger bloodbath on their hands than the tiny little graze cutting through portion of its fur. But Atlas did not handle pain very well. Its fur was now all on edge, its eyes practically just glowing slits, and its claws were hovering around both of them desperately wanting to push Ferris away from its exposed wound. The wings it so casually sat on twitched and fluttered with the temptation. But it knew better than to do that. Ferris had barely suppressed his jump when it had sunk its talons into the plush rug in front of the couch, the points of the feet piercing the wood underneath. He hoped that was the extent of what it would do. The injury wasn't really much of anything. No new blood had emerged either. From the looks of things it seemed to be just a bullet grazing past. That was something Ferris imagined happened far more than necessary; the necessary amount being zero. Zilch. Nada. That didn't stop the town idiots from throwing their lives and bullets away. Fools. 

Atlas thankfully allowed him to finish cleaning the graze out with a disinfectant. Its fur was far too plush to put a wrap over, and they both certainly didn't want to shave the spot clean. Ferris was the first to admit that its coat was a joy to run his hands through. It was dense and exuded an unnatural sense of warmth. Like pulling a fluffy blanket out of a dryer just completing its cycle. Atlas didn't seem to mind that type of attention at the very least, simply just rumbling and watching his hands travel through its coat. Sometimes it would twitch one of its antennae and tilt its head as if it was curious about why Ferris thought it felt so nice. He just brushed it off and said he was checking for other injuries. That was a lie. His mom didn't raise a liar, but surely she would have forgiven him for something as innocent as this. But he eventually pulled away his hands as his work was finally done. He whistled appreciatively at his handiwork.

Ferris pieced the kit back together and brought it into the kitchen, taking the opportunity to grab one of his grape juice bottles from the fridge. Along with, of course, his mug and the oversized thermos he had purchased for the beast. It was a simple grey with an oversized plastic handle. The bottom was padded with a thin layer of rubber to serve as a coaster of sorts. That or protection in case the thing was dropped, although he doubt a fall would do much to the plastic exterior. He poured both of them drinks and offered Atlas the thermos with a worried smile. He really hoped the monster would like it. Things would probably get awkward if it didn't and Ferris wasn't sure if he could handle that right now. But Atlas took it into gracious "hands" and simply watched him with unabashed curiosity as he navigated around the mess of furniture scattered about his living room. He managed to find the whiteboards with relative ease.

He quickly demonstrated how to write and erase on the board with his own, before handing the spare to Atlas. Ferris sat across from the monster in his father's lazyboy with a grim sense of determination. He needed answers. Someone had shot at the damn thing. Someone had hurt Atlas. He rarely felt his protective nature flare up unless it was for the forest or his parents, so he wasn't quite sure how to juggle being both a kind host and wanting to wrap up this sweet monster in a web of gauze so dense bullets would bounce off. 

"I shouldn't be swearing, it ain't right in here, but what the hell happened? Folk don't tend to get all trigger happy 'round here unless it's with me."

Atlas placed the thermos down with unnecessary gentleness before quickly writing down a short response. It had gotten so much better with writing English over the past two months, but it brought a fair bit of warmth to Ferris's chest to see the improvement physically before him. He was proud of just how dedicated it was in improving itself. Even if that improvement was just to talk to Ferris more. Maybe especially because it was to talk to Ferris, he thought with a downturned smile. He hadn't had a friend like this in such a long time. Someone that gave a damn that wasn't family. It flipped the board over to him and tapped it with a claw.

I stopped by a lake and saw a fisherman. He shot at me before I could get out of the water.

A lake? Why did it need to stop by a lake? Was it trying to get him more fish? They had briefly discussed their preferred diets and Atlas had been devastated when it learned that Ferris didn't like how fish smelled. It had somehow gotten its sulking attitude across in the next note he had found. A monster sulking because a peer thought its gifts were smelly. 

"Atlas, c'mon. You know I think fish smells like rot."

It quickly erased the black lines with the eraser block before jotting down an even shorter answer. Once again, it spun the board around and tapped on it.

I wasn't fishing.

If it wasn't for fish, then for what? Maybe it was- The board spun again.

I wasn't thirsty either, before you ask.

Ferris let out an indignant huff at that, taking the opportunity to take a sip of his drink. The cool tart flavor washed over his nerves and kept him grounded. Their rapport felt better in person, he had to admit. He was sitting here and talking with a monster. Still hard to get his head around sometimes.

"If it ain't all that, then what made you take a dip with a fisherman? You know they aren't the tolerant sort."

Atlas's fur fluffed up again at the question and it quickly turned its gaze away from Ferris. Peering curiously at the rug it could very easily ruin with its talons. Was the beast embarrassed? It was, oh good lord. Ferris couldn't hide the laugh at the notion that the beast had something to actually be embarrassed about. The sound took Atlas by surprise as those discs sharply rose to his mouth and then his eyes. It tilted its head as he wiped a tear. Here he was, trying his damndest to be a good host and to not bungle up the whole evening and yet it was the monster that was so worried about being the embarrassment. Ferris knew many things about his race. Mankind had a penchant for judgement, violence, and a complete and total disregard for others. To him, he was the one to be ashamed. What did it have to be so flushed over? A secret love affair with a mermaid in the water perhaps? 

If mermaids even existed. The Mothman existed so who knew at this point? Ferris put up a hand to placate the strangely entranced beast. 

"My bad, my bad. It's just funny though. Not used to someone else being embarrassed for once, that's it."

It let out a pleasing hum as it blinked slowly at him, probably amused as well. Something had put it in a good mood. Atlas's claws idly trailed along the frame of the whiteboard, deep in thought. It shoulders suddenly set though as it turned its attention back to writing with a determined motion. Despite all that, it took a long time deliberating what to actually put down. Ferris knew he was in for something good when it sheepishly flipped the board. 

I wanted to be clean for when I saw you.

Oh. He knew the lack of dirt had been strange! So it had wanted to be clean before coming here tonight. Hmm. Wait. Atlas had told him that they didn't usually clean themselves unless for special occassions. There were some implications presented that Ferris chose to ignore for now. He instead nursed his drink to steady his voice, gesturing to Atlas to drink its own. It once again sat there deliberating. The antennae twitched back and forth before it settled its eyes on his. They narrowed and blinked into what could only be described as a sly wink. With a slow swipe, it pulled the now open thermos up to its face. But what happened next had Ferris spluttering out his own drink into the mug. The grey fur under its eyes split open from an undetectable seam several inches long, the left and right sides pulling apart to reveal a cavernous maw. Jagged teeth outlining the oval shaped mouth pulled back as it sank its abnormally large ashen tongue into the thermos's open lid. It pulsed and flexed as it audibly sucked in the juice like one would with a straw. Ferris felt his blood shoot downward as he stared in awe. Oh shit.

Brief memories of the books he kept stashed away came to mind, only making things worse. He spent no time in standing up and heading into the kitchen, quickly washing his hands with cool water to distract himself. The man pressed a wet hand to his face to focus. He could not be thinking like that right now. Atlas was his guest. A wounded monster who deserved far better than what humanity had given it so far. The last thing it needed was Ferris to get....distracted. They were friends! He turned his head around quickly to reassure Atlas that he simply had forgotten to wash his hands after dressing its wound only to see Atlas innocently sitting on the couch. Thermos resting closed on the coffee table as if nothing had touched it and the beast's legs crossed in front of it. It tilted its head with wide exploratory eyes before seeing something in Ferris. Clearly it saw whatever reaction it wanted as it fluffed up its fur and narrowed those glowing discs. Ferris could hear the rumble of its chest from across the lodge. This was borderline indecent!

But as he forced his eyes to look elsewhere in a heated flush, they landed on a package neatly placed on one of the kitchen stools. The next gift! He had almost completely forgotten about that. With this December supposed to be bringing in a harsh winter, he had wanted to get Atlas something to keep it warm. Now that Ferris had actually felt the warmth the monster exuded, it felt a bit pointless. Still though. A gift was a gift, and it would provide a wonderful distraction from whatever the hell had just happened. So he grabbed the package and tossed it towards Atlas. Ferris could hear the monster snatch it out of the air with the click of its claws. He found a nice spot in the nearby doorframe as he watched Atlas delicately peel back the thick packaging. It could have easily just ripped the thing to shreds if it wanted to. Did it think the shipping info was important? Surely not. But it shuddered to a stop as soon as it saw the contents.

Atlas unwound the spool of fabric with a single claw and brought it to its full length. It was a plaid scarf, the same orange and white pattern Ferris usually wore with his own flannels and sweaters. The material was just as thick too. He truthfully wanted to buy it for himself first but his worry for the beast won out. Unnecessary worry now thinking about it. But the almost breathless way it handled the scarf as it trailed one of its claws over the fabric made it worth it. This was the first gift Ferris had given Atlas that was actually worth something. It wasn't food or a dictionary to help with its grammar. This was something he thought it would just simply like to wear. The notion was silly, surely, but he just wanted the beast to be happy; and happy it clearly was as it nuzzled its face into the warm cloth. The vibrations hadn't stopped and if anything were somehow even louder. Atlas was nonverbal except with these beastly noises. 

But Ferris could hazard a guess on what this one meant. Atlas was content. After it wrapped the scarf around its already thick shoulders, the fabric practically getting absorbed into its own fur, it shakily began to write something on the whiteboard. The letters had regressed to their loopy and barely decipherable nature from two months ago. The message however was modern and fresh. It spun the board around and the claw rattled against it with nerves. Even though Ferris wasn't touching the monster, he felt warmer than he'd been all night. Good. It would be slow progress with trying to make amends for the failures of his kind, but Atlas's message brought with it a new renewed sense of determination. 

Thank you ♡

Chapter Text

Ferris wasn't quite sure yet how to feel about the change. The rapport he and Atlas had built up close to three months now was still there, sure. It had just become far more personal. Atlas had decided to completely forgo the notes in favor of using the whiteboards. Whiteboards which never left Ferris's house. It had told him that it was just more convenient. Whenever Atlas wanted to continue their ongoing conversations, it would simply just let itself in with the spare key. Admittedly there had been a few days of it knocking to an empty home before Ferris got the point across that he had given it the key for a reason. This all meant that Ferris, for better or worse, was almost never alone for long anymore. Not that he was complaining. Everything was shaping up into a stark contrast to the year of solitude he'd been living up to that point. Ferris knew that he trusted  the monster enough to let it come and go freely. That didn't shake off the strangely intimate feeling of their new arrangement however. 

Switching from the scattered pages allowed them to have coherent back and forth conversations. Atlas was ecstatic at that. There were so many questions rattling in its moth brain that sometimes Ferris would wake up to both whiteboards absolutely covered in prompts. Simple things again, mostly. Favorite hobbies, meals, thoughts on particular locals, and especially asking for instructions on how to use particular objects in the lodge. Ferris could answer all those easily enough. It had gotten to the point that he started leaving sticky notes around the scattered appliances with short instructions. While Atlas wasn't necessarily living there, it spent more than enough time loitering around. Sometimes it would bring in and clean off its so called prizes from recent hunts. In his living room, of course. Ferris had also caught it more than a handful of times just nestling up in a corner surrounded by blankets and old laundry. It would never answer why it kept doing that. But Ferris could handle all that, as strange as some of those things were. 

What Ferris couldn't handle, however, was the single question it consistently asked him every single day. In concept it shouldn't have been that hard to address. But truth be told, Ferris hadn't been asked it since he last had seen his parents. How are you today, Ferris? Atlas was persistent with that one too. On the nights where it would linger for a few hours, it would refuse to continue their chats any further until he answered with something other than "I'm fine". Because it somehow knew he wasn't. He almost never was as of late. Their new proximity seemed to give the monster some heightened sense for his mood. It knew well enough when to not pester him, and leapt at every opportunity to take advantage of a good mood swing. Those good days became less frequent as they got into December proper. Ferris hadn't told it why yet. If he could avoid it, it would stay that way. But Atlas was his friend and still worried about him just the same. 

The new swing of things was surprisingly more physical too. Not just in the sense that Atlas liked to quietly slink around the lodge while Ferris went about his day. It liked human touch. It specifically liked his touch. Atlas called it an obsession, something that plagued its entire family. It usually manifested in a different way per individual in its family. Ferris had made an out of pocket joke about lamps but it only confirmed that it had a relative that died that way. Accidentally burned itself alive trying to cultivate a small fire left by some campers in another part of West Virginia. Ferris felt like a complete asshole after that, so he never said anything about its fascination with him. It didn't really come up much anyway. Atlas tended to press up against him more often than not if they sat on the couch together, and sometimes it would ask if it could feel the squishy pads of his palms and fingers with its claws. 

Ferris wasn't really in a position to complain. Atlas was soothingly warm. A sharp contrast to the bone chilling temperatures that battered him whenever he left the lodge. So he let the fluffy monster do what it wanted. For the most part anyway. It had enough common sense to pick up whenever he was starting to become uncomfortable during those moments. It wasn't as if Ferris didn't enjoy the attention. It was actually the exact opposite. There was something indescribable about its presence that left calm. Happy, and even safe despite appearances. But how in the hell would he explain that in any realistic way? It was his guest. A frequent visitor to the Clandon lodge and the closest thing the man had to an actual friend. Atlas was someone who cared about him and Ferris wasn't about to ruin that with creepy thoughts and human impulses. So he just explained those moments as just wanting personal space. Atlas seemed none the wiser and would immediately relent. 

So their dynamic continued that way until the day finally arrived. Something Ferris had been dreading since the autumn wind had begun whistling through the trees. He just hoped he had the strength to get through the day with his sanity intact. Ferris desperately wanted to tell Atlas to stay away from the lodge, but he couldn't muster up the courage to do so. Saying that would require him to explain what was wrong. Ferris would have to reveal just how much of a failure he truly was to his family. He'd been avoiding telling the truth for so long already that he had dug himself too deep. So Ferris just silently prayed that he could have the day alone. Maybe Atlas would spend the day hunting down a particularly troublesome buck. It would show off the prize in his living room with that smug little wink and nestle into itself further. A tall ball of fluff preening overtop a bloody pile of hide and viscera. It was a warm thought quickly lost to the unforgiving sea of others. 

~ ~ ~

Ferris sighed at the calendar. December 20th, 2021. The month was already halfway through and gone. Another day closer to the sweet release of the year. Could be worse. He x'd through the date with a flourish before capping the black sharpie and throwing it at the cup on the nearby counter. It pinged off and flew into the sink with a disappointing thud. A swing and a miss. He never had his father's accuracy with such things. The man could nail the trash with an empty pop can from across the lodge. He had simply called it his police training. Ferris's mom would just call it him showing off and swat him across the head with the day's newspaper. Shit, speaking of which. He looked over to the corner of the island where the papers would normally be resting. Nothing. Had he gotten the newspaper for her? It had been a long time since he'd gotten her the Sunday's Best. Ferris turned his head briefly to the living room and shouted out his apologies. 

"Aw mom, I'm sorry. I'll pick up the papers tomorrow. Maybe I'll grab those baby cupcakes at the pumps you and dad like so much."

He made a mental note to head out later in the day. Ferris just needed to finish dinner for his folks and maybe clean up the kitchen. Excluding the sharpie, things were a bit of a wreck. He never inherited his mom's cleanliness while cooking. Simply making the food took all of his focus as it was. He turned an eye over to the chicken fillets searing in the family's cast iron. They'd been cooking for a while now but dad liked it cooked thoroughly. Always better to eat tough shit than to take one. Ferris let out a laugh at the crude saying. They always made sure mom wasn't nearby when he said it. She would be downright furious. A sizzling pop interrupted his thoughts and brought him back to reality. They'd cooked long enough. He already had the plates prepped on the table. It was an old and rickety fold up table they brought out for family meals. Ferris never kept it out since he never had more than one guest. There was a strange sense of comfort to be had from seeing it out and about again. 

Clicking the plastic tongs as he'd been taught so wisely, he moved the chicken over to the serving platter. The steamed broccoli and cornbread were already cooling next to it. Placed in carved wooden bowls his father had carved for the family before Ferris had been born. They always ate what his mom taught him. She would rule the kitchen with an iron fist. More like a wooden spoon, but he'd be found dead if he said that aloud. It was nice to be the one prepping the meals for once. It felt different from just feeding himself. His time at university pretty much deprived him of any actual cooking experiences. He and his dormmates lived off of instant pot meals and whatever they could shove into the microwave. It was a surprising variety of equally bland food that just left him begging his mom to stop by and bring him something actually worth eating. His friends at the time just called him a momma's boy. Damn right he was. A Clandon through and through. Ferris felt his face start to grow damp but he ignored it. His dad needed his pop first. 

Unhealthy sugary drinks were popular with his parents. The offbrand varieties especially. Dr. Wow was their personal favorite, calling it cheap and tasty. It couldn't compare to his grape juice, surely, but they worked well enough in a pinch. So he grabbed a chilled bottle of water for his mom and an off brand cola for his dad from the fridge. Ferris had made especially sure to keep it stocked for today. It felt strange to see his fridge actually holding food that wasn't related to whatever Atlas had brought by as a gift. As he shut the fridge door, he spent a moment to rest his forehead against the cool metal. What would his parents think about Atlas? Ignoring the fact that it was a monster of course. They were familiar with the legends of the Mothman. Everyone who spent even a day in the town knew. Mom was the tolerant sort though and her wisdom had been the guiding light Ferris was following for his interactions. Dad? He'd probably respect the creature's hunting prowess and unforgiveness with protecting itself.

Yeah. They'd get along just fine. His breathing hitched slightly at that. One big happy family. Oh well. Food and drinks laid out on the table? Check. Burners cooling and oven off? Done and dusted. Now all he had to do was get his parents into the kitchen. It was their favorite meal, after all. But before he could call out again to the living room, the doorknob leading to the back patio began to twist. The telltale sound of a key fitting into the slot, the click of the lock, and the door pushed open. Not now, please not now. Ferris couldn't fight the panic at the notion. He wanted, needed, to yell at Atlas to stay the fuck outside and to leave him alone just for today. Mom wouldn't approve of his language and dad would get pissy about yelling in the lodge. Something needed to be done. Atlas could not see them like this. It would ruin the tentative peace he'd so desperately tried to establish for today. Ferris could not fall apart now.

"Uh, no worries, I'll see who that is! Dinner's up in the kitchen now. Hope y'all enjoy it."

Ferris strode out of the kitchen, trying his best to not run. He booked it past his parents and to the hallway connected to the patio. The large mass of black fur was already stretching itself out, its head accidentally bumping into the log ceiling. Its eyes were closed. Probably enjoying the freedom of not having to hide its nature. He felt a bit bad for what he had to do next. Atlas noticeably jumped as Ferris stomped up to it, the resulting mess a flutter of wings and blaringly bright lights flaring up in his face. He gave it no time to recuperate as he grabbed onto its arm and began to forcefully drag it outside. Atlas surprisingly let itself be led out into the evening air. Well, only as far as the stairs leading down the patio. That's when it wormed its arm out of his grip and instead gently placed a set of claws on Ferris's shoulder. His hand was achingly cold in the exposed air now. He couldn't look it in the eye at that moment. It couldn't see his face like this. How could he even explain what was going on?

"I'm not mad at'cha. I just got my folks over for dinner and they'd probably flip their lids if they-"

Shit, that was absolutely the worst thing to say. Ferris knew so too as soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Atlas had narrowed its eyes in the very clear gesture of "Oh my god really", pulled its claws away, and immediately just vanished back into the door. As if it hadn't even stepped out. Silent bastard. Of course Atlas would do that. Its culture thrived off family. Atlas had made countless not too subtle mentions of wanting to meet his parents. Ferris would just brush it off. It quickly became a topic it learned to avoid as it always put him in a poor mood. This right here was exactly what he was afraid of happening. But of course it would show up at the worst time possible. He felt himself start to hyperventilate and took a moment to refocus himself. Maybe he could get by with simple introductions before having the rest of the night alone? He just needed to stay strong enough to get Atlas in and out. That was all. He could be strong, right? His father had raised him right after all. 

With a deep, steadying breath, he stepped back inside. Ferris made sure to readjust the mat and shut the door behind him. Atlas always left its key under it outside on the patio so it was common curtesy to ensure nothing was lost. Atlas thankfully hadn't gotten far. In fact, it was standing only a few feet into the living room. Staring straight at his parents with wide glowing plates. Its claws twitched at its side, one nervously thumbing through the fur on its leg. Ferris was surprised to see it so bashful now after having dashed like a bat out of hell. Was it too nervous to make introductions? That didn't matter much anyway. Ferris was the host, it was his duty to carry that out. That was proper etiquette. So he stepped beside Atlas and gestured to the living room before them both.

"Family's all here now, I 'spose. Maria and Rob Clandon. Mom, dad, meet Atlas. It's, uh, a friend."

Ferris could feel Atlas pivot its gaze over to his face. Those red lights grew brighter as it finally took in just how much of a mess he was. Ferris could only guess how bad he looked. But Ferris wouldn't let himself look back at Atlas. Instead he kept his eyes on the couch where his parents sat. Even as his knees grew weak and the tears streamed down, he stood strong for them. To make them proud. Sitting on their favorite cushions, wrapped in their favorite blankets, was a single urn. A crude piece of pottery he had made before they'd been cremated. They rightfully deserved better but he couldn't will himself to make the exchange. His mom would probably ask him to paint it something colorful. She'd then get into a friendly argument with his dad as he would want it to be made of lacquered wood. Untouched by paint or anything else. He had always liked things to be natural. The closer to the forest where he'd been raised, the better. 

So this was Ferris compromising. He wasn't skilled enough with his hands anyway to make anything like that out of wood. Hands that were, unfortunately, trembling in their gesture before him. Their dinner was growing cold. That wouldn't do at all. He went to go pick up the urn but found himself unable to move. Two long arms had snaked around him and tenderly wrapped around his chest. They were slowly and gently pulling back into the warm darkness that stood behind him. Black wings closed around his peripherals until he was shrouded in oblivion. The man held his breath as he stood on the knife's edge. He was admittedly afraid to much as shudder from the warmth coaxing his sorrows to the surface, desperately wanting to avoid falling apart. But it wasn't Ferris who broke first. A faint trembling wail echoed out against his back and left him transfixed beyond measure. It was the most fragile sound he had ever heard; like it would crumble to dust if not protected from the world by unflinching onyx curtains. Atlas was mourning.

He wasn't sure how long it had taken until he started sobbing too. His throat was left aching and his skin so irritatingly itchy that he wanted to peel it off. But he kept his hands by his sides tightened into fists. Nails had punctured his palms but the dull pain was soothing. Gave him something to focus on other than the heart rending sounds they were both making. Minutes stretched on before Ferris finally caught his breath long enough to find his ground. There was a sweet sense of relief that came from finally letting himself cry. He wasn't done, if the tightness in his chest was anything to go off of, but he wanted to take advantage of this moment. He owed Atlas the truth. His mom didn't raise a liar. Yet he had continued to spin falsehoods about his parents. Not just about that either. Why the townsfolk hated him so much and why he never had friends visit. Hell, even why he had no friends here at all. Ferris swallowed thickly. It took a few moments for his voice to unsubmerge itself from the depression that had overtaken it just moments ago. Then, and only for Atlas, he brought his sins bare.

"When the pandemic hit, I didn't give two hoots about things. Safety, masks, all that nonsense. Those back on the campus had drilled ideas into my head. Conspiracies I was too smart for but listened to 'cause I knew no better. I just wanted to fit in I guess. Know now that I was just pigheaded, but I ended up having to learn the hard way. Spent too much time in town around sick folk and brought it back home with me. Mom and dad....they were getting old. It took them in a few days. They died....they're dead 'cause of me."

The black cover above him parted just wide enough for Atlas to stick its head in, two crimson lights peering at him gently. He was bathed in their glow. Urging him to continue. So continue he did. 

"I spent the night they died like a flippin' madman. I was so stupid. Just yelling back and forth down the streets, blaming the world for taking my life away. Threw a few punches and got a little tipsy. A man I had beat called the cops and they brought the law down on me. Rightfully spent the night locked up. I ain't popular as is, mind you, so this just made it worse. I came back to town once more to get my parents cremated and then hid away here since. Became a bit of a hermit, I suppose."

As Ferris brought the story to a close, he could feel some unnoticed tension drain from his body. He had never told anyone about this. Not that he had anyone to tell. The relief was akin to pulling out a knife from a festering wound. It was painful and the bleeding needed to be addressed, but this was progress. More progress than he truly deserved. Ferris had been so hellbent on punishing himself. Keeping himself locked up in this lodge to be alone forever. Wearing those masks as a grim reminder each day of how much he had failed his parents. To never truly let himself enjoy the wonders outside of the forest again. The sole gravekeeper for a multigeneration graveyard. He still felt like changing none of this, but Ferris did feel marginally better as he unearthed his crimes against his family. And against Atlas, as well.

"I know I should've told ya, and you've got every right to be angry. Just let me fetch their dinner and I'll spill the rest."

Instead of letting him go, however, Atlas quickly retracted its head from the shelter surrounding Ferris. The sudden loss of its natural glow left Ferris surprisingly empty. He could feel himself being moved around slowly across the room. The man wasn't able to even ask where he was going before the light of the room assaulted his vulnerable eyes and he stumbled onto the lazyboy. The monster had scuttled off to the kitchen. Ferris was exhausted. He would've gotten up but he couldn't muster up the energy to climb out of the plush chair. That was the lie he told himself. His mom didn't raise a liar. His mom raised a failure though it seemed. No more tears. He could see his parent's urn staring back at him from its spot on the couch. The malformed shape remained unjudging. They wouldn't care if he cried, truth be told, but Atlas was here now. Ferris was its host. It was unbecoming of a host to spend the entire visitation time sobbing into gentle wings. 

"Friend, I told y-"

A whiteboard landed soundly on his legs, the marker gently bonking against his head. He spluttered out an embarrassing noise and caught it at the last second. Atlas, for its part, had placed the dinner platter onto the coffee table before settling next to the urn. The tender care it took to not disturb the pottery brought forth another wave of tears that Ferris quelled. No more crying. Ferris shot Atlas a weak glare for catching him off guard like that. It was too busy writing something down on its own whiteboard to notice. Figures. He wiped his own board down. They had been discussing the snow in their previous conversation. Ferris, unlike Atlas, despised the snow. Too cold for his own good. Atlas had taken great offense to that. Maybe he'd convince the beast to make a little snowmoth if it liked the weather so much. Silly, sure, but maybe they needed more silly in their lives. The telling sound of tapping brought Ferris's attention to his friend's whiteboard.

Please tell me all about your parents. I'm here, Ferris, and I'm not leaving. 

It tucked the whiteboard onto the floor and, satisfied with the arrangement of things, leaned forward towards Ferris. Its head resting on a clawed hand as its elbow dug into one of its knees. There was no getting out of this. His parents would surely appreciate the good company though and Ferris only had good stories to tell. They had raised a son who loved them desperately. It just hurt him so much to think that the one slight he had made towards them resulted in their deaths. That would haunt him as he deserved. But for now Ferris let himself sink into the endless landscape of his earlier home life. Times of hunting with his father, going through outdated comics with his mother, and jovial family dinners surrounded by company that was always pleased to have him around. Maybe it was a good thing though they weren't around to reveal just how embarrassing of a kid he used to be. The monster would have never let him live down those moments if his parents were still alive to tell it. Yeah, thinking about it, they would've loved Atlas. Fur and all.

~ ~ ~

"Love y'all. I miss....get some sleep"

Ferris gently closed the door to their bedroom, leaving their urn securely tucked into the bed. They all had stayed up later than they should've listening to him weave stories about his family. Not like they needed to hear any of that. His parents probably would've added their own little revisions on how it "actually happened". His mom especially had been notorious for that. No retelling was ever quite right until she said her fill. She knew how to be smarmy when the time called for it. Lovingly of course. His dad was no better with his own tall tales. Stories of career criminals brought down by him and him alone. Or, better yet Ferris had recalled, the exaggerated sizes of all the game he claimed he killed and yet left for the woods to consume. All so convenient. But the man had been so proud of himself that no one would dare call him out on it. He knew what he was doing though. He'd always pull Ferris into a tight hug and thank him for listening to what he described as the ramblings of an old man.

God did he miss them. But the night had been surprisingly bearable. Ferris had spent the past few months dreading the one year anniversary of their death. He'd seen it as an inevitable day of sorrow where he'd talk to their ashes and cry into his arms. He admittedly had done both of those things tonight. There was one stark contrast though to how he saw the day playing out and how it actually did. Ferris always thought he'd be alone in his grief. Suffering in silence as it was what he deserved. Atlas though had seen to changing that personally. For whatever reason, it held nothing against Ferris. Lying to it about the truth of his parents? It didn't care. Him being the reason why his mother and father were a pile of ashes in a shitty piece of pottery? Didn't bat a nonexistent eyelash. But it did care about things Ferris couldn't have expected. Not eating anything all day? Oh boy was it mad. Atlas forced him to eat the dinner he had cooked for his parents. Truth be told, it wasn't as if they'd eat it anyway.

Atlas sat there and listened. It had been practically hanging onto his every word as he told it everything he could fit in the five hours they'd stayed up. His throat was an absolute wreck by the end of the night. It had been a good thing that the man kept so many bottles of juice stashed about. There was a good chance he'd lose his voice in the morning. That didn't matter though. He and Atlas communicated through writing half the time anyway. Another unique attribute that defined his relationship with the monster. A dangerous thing with a depth pushing beyond what a typical friendship would define. Something that had undeniably...shifted after tonight. Today was not the day to question the meaning behind it though. So Ferris steadied himself and made his way to his own bedroom. Atlas had said it would just build a blanket nest in the living room. It wouldn't specify why but they both knew. Ferris wasn't used to people actually caring about his wellbeing. He would've flushed if his body had any strength left to care. 

His bedroom was spartan on purpose, if he had to be honest with himself. He'd stripped it of most of its defining features not long after their death. Another part of his penance. All that was left was an oak bookshelf spanning a wall and a decrepit bed. It wasn't even a bed really. Just an old futon that couldn't be brought up into an upright position anymore. The damn thing was buried in quilts to make sleeping on it tolerable. That and Ferris needed as much warmth as possible to sleep well. The winter season especially did wonders in killing his ability to rest well. The cord of his phone charger coiled around the floor from the opposite side of the room. He'd find his phone in the morning. The man just wanted to be unconscious. No dreams, no nightmares, no anything other than waking up on the 21st. Maybe he'd spend the day reading in his favorite chair by the window. His sanity could take the relaxation after the wildfire today had almost been. Might distract him from other things too.

Ferris didn't bother to strip from his clothes. It would just expose him to the cold. Instead he quickly nestled into the mound of blankets covering the world's most uncomfortable futon. Thick heavy quilts his grandparents had made more than two dozen years ago. It was an eye bleeding array of vibrant colors that Ferris used to think represented his personality. That was before he went to university. That was before he learned just how much disdain folks had for "colorful" personalities. The things he tried to change about himself to fit in almost stuck with him permanently. If his parents hadn't died when they did, well, Ferris shuddered to think of the man he would've become. Hiding one's self from the world around them was one thing. Suppressing your true nature was another. Poor Atlas. Its life was nothing but that. His mind was wandering again. Ferris just shook his head and turned over to his side. He tended to sleep facing the doorway and away from the freezing walls.

But in doing so, he noticed the peeping glow of Atlas's telltale eyes. Peeking around the doorframe. As if its giant wings and lanky form wasn't enough of a giveaway that it was watching him from the hallway. They locked eyes and it, realizing there was no escape, hunched through the hallway and stepped inside. Its gaze briefly wandered the empty room before settling on the mess of blankets Ferris was buried under. It probably looked like the nests it liked to build on occasion. Thinking about it, this was probably the first time Atlas had ever stepped into his room. He usually kept the door locked. A silly tradition his family upheld dating back three generations. But the monster wasn't interested in the room. It just stood there and awkwardly fidgeted with its claws. The whiteboards were back in the living room so it just hummed to itself quietly. Ferris couldn't sleep like this. He stifled a yawn with his hand as he propped himself up.

"Mm? Can't we do this 'nother time, friend?"

It surprisingly shook its head at the notion and took a step closer. Then another. Until it was looming overtop him from beside the bed. Ferris plopped himself back down onto his pillow and just waited. Its taloned feet clicked against the hardwood as it shifted its weight from one side to another. Atlas seemingly deliberated what to do for a moment. Tilting its head and grazing the ceiling with those onyx antennae. Apparently its answer to its own question was to just sit on the floor with its side pressed against the futon. A clawed hand hesitatingly reached over to Ferris and, when he didn't pull his head back, began to carefully comb through his hair. He'd forgotten to tie it up in the morning and just let it rest as is. It served well enough in covering his eyes earlier when they met at the patio. But here his guard was being peeled back by a monster so unfathomably dangerous at this distance. Dangerous to everyone but him. Ferris couldn't hide the shiver as its warm palm rested atop his scalp with unending gentleness. 

Atlas was still worried about him. The man was practically drowning in how sweet the monster was continuing to be. Consideration far exceeding anything he'd see anyone demonstrate to him before. Ferris felt something in his chest shift and it took him closing his eyes to hide the surge of....whatever that was coming to the surface. He couldn't keep hiding from those feelings forever. But something else was taking precedence first. Exhaustion. The warmth radiating off Atlas, along with its soothing grip on his head, threw Ferris face first into the sleep that had eluded him for so long now. He wanted to thank Atlas for caring so much about a random human sequestered away in the woods that didn't even belong to him. He wanted to thank it for spending so much of its time hunting for gifts to repay a simple act of kindness. He even wanted to admit to the other thoughts that had been blooming since wrapping its wound more than two weeks ago. But those words were nowhere to be found.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow. So instead he just let himself slip away there, basking in its warmth and the quiet hum reverberating through its claws and into his bones. Pain and sorrow melted away in Atlas's grasp and left Ferris as vulnerable as wet clay. But he trusted it to treat him well as he slept. Sinking into what would become the most peaceful night of sleep he had ever had in his entire life.

Chapter Text

"Shit"

Tomorrow came a lot faster than Ferris was ready for. Not as fast as the thoughts whirling about in his head though. He needed to stop himself from trying to catch up, he was practically pacing a hole through the floor. How long could he keep himself stashed away in his bedroom? Atlas didn't exactly wear clothes but it surely knew he didn't take an hour to get dressed. Ferris truthfully needed all the time he could get to prepare himself for this. To steel his mind and find words to describe something he'd never truly felt before Atlas. God above it was embarrassing enough to even admit to himself. He was absolutely terrified of how it would react to the same revelation. Would it find the concept humorous? A human falling for some forest cryptid almost twice his size? Or would it judge him harshly for how he felt? No, Atlas wasn't human. Atlas wasn't prone to the unprompted cruelty his own kind was in favor of. They were friends at the very least. Ferris was the host of the Clandon lodge and Atlas his guest. Besides, it wasn't as if it had talked about its sexuality much anyway so was it in a position to even cast judgement?

Did Atlas have a gender? It wasn't as if there were any visible bits. He felt himself flush at that. Again, embarrassing. Ferris had spent too much time reading his private collection of novels. But anatomy was far from being a priority. No, instead Ferris wanted to talk about how he was terrified. Not of Atlas or the fact that it was a monster. He was terrified of the depth of care he was drowning in. Terrified of the fact that he couldn't imagine his life without it now. Any inward reflection left him staggered and breathless. Ferris had been with other people before, sure. Mostly men in secret when he'd been in high school all those years ago. A few women while at university to maintain appearances. The usual state of affairs. But those had more so been casual hookups. Any attempt at actual romance was shot down by their respective families whether they knew it or not. The risk hadn't been worth it at the time. His own parents hadn't been upset when they found out he was gay though. 

They'd surprised him the next day with a sit-down dinner and talked him through how to pursue things safely. Her little boy was growing up, his mom had said. He wish he had their advice on what he was actually feeling here. Ferris knew enough to see that this was different. This had been built on a foundation of trust and mutual affection. Well, initially one-sided affection if Ferris let himself read too much into the gifts that had been left at his doorstep. He had warmed up to the monster though over time. It was only when they started exchanging notes though that a match was taken to the kindling. A fire had burnt away his guard while he mindlessly paid attention to anything else. Atlas was in all regards the most engaging person he had ever met. Monster. Most engaging monster he had ever met. It wasn't just the beast's personality that drew him in; along with that was the fact Atlas was just so unashamedly forthcoming with its thoughts and feelings. It would at the drop of a hat reveal whatever was troubling it.

Hell, it would look for any excuse to write on and on about whatever caught its interest that day. Its passion for life had not been snuffed out by the oppressing culture of humanity. Ferris wanted to thank its parents for that. The man had found himself especially smitten by how often that passion was directed towards him. How it cared about him especially. Not for superficial reasons like getting a good lay either. At least Ferris hoped not. Atlas spent countless tiny little moments of its lite to peer into his own. Watching him as he went about his day, inquiring about how he was feeling and what he was doing. The day prior was an excellent example of that. It didn't judge him in the slightest for his failures, instead fixating on how much pain he had been in. He'd known no one else in his life outside his family to do such a thing. But something else had happened yesterday that sealed his fate.

Ferris had woken up at one point during the night. It must've been when the humming had stopped. Those long claws had been trailing along his sleeping features with the care of something so desperately afraid of hurting what it was touching. Ferris trusted the monster with his life so he allowed himself a quick peek at that moment. He was confused by what Atlas was doing. What comfort could be provided to a sleeping man? He hadn't been willing to jump to any assumptions. But as Ferris had watched Atlas through cracked eyelids, he could think of no other reason. Those glowing plates had dimmed to the softest glow possible he'd ever seen. Almost as if it had been scared to wake him up with the light. But its eyes had not left his face. Unwavering and wholly fixated. Either it didn't notice Ferris staring or it simply didn't care as it had just simply continued the movements. 

Only the slightest tilt of its head told him that Atlas knew he was awake now. The tomorrow he'd promised himself almost arrived that instant. The safeguards Ferris had put up to protect himself from, well, feeling crumbled to dust at the sight. But his body had been too weary from the evening before. So he promised himself to make good on the flipping sensation in his gut as he fell back into its warm grasp. Sleep followed quickly. When he'd woken up in the morning after, it was gone. Something had been clanking about in the lodge's kitchen and Ferris knew that this was the only time he'd get to prepare himself. Which left him where he was now: pacing in his locked bedroom. Debating on just how to even approach the entire situation as a whole. It deserved to know the truth. If not because of the small chance that his feelings were reciprocated, he owed it to Atlas because it had done nothing wrong.

It strived to be as good of a friend as possible to the man and his inevitably awkward behavior needed to be explained. He could hide no longer. Ferris mustered up a small reserve of courage, tied his hair back with a band he'd been savagely stretching apart with his hands, and strode out of the door into the hallway. He had enough time to put together at least the basic introduction. Sure. The not so smooth lead-in to him confessing that he was in fact romantically interested in a cryptid. A moth-thing with fur so warm he could barely keep his palms away, and eyes both impossible to read and inhumanely expressive with their glow just for him. Ferris felt like a true degenerate for letting his mind wander to other things. That....unique mouth it had. That had certainly been a shock. Maybe it would serve him well if he didn't bring that up. Yeah, that was probably for the best anyway. Creeping on monster anatomy wasn't part of their relationship.  

Ferris's stride into the kitchen, all false fire and gusto, only for his thoughts to immediately be blown away into the wind at the sight before him. Wrapped up in a little cocoon of plaid blankets and its crimson highlighted winds was Atlas lounging in Ferris's favorite chair. Slender long legs kicked up onto the counter in a stunningly accurate recreation of all the evenings he personally had spent in that same position. Those stoplights of its were fixated on a thin novella resting carefully in-between its extended claws. Oh no. Ferris recognized that one. He would give his left arm to not. It was a new novella he'd bought recently; one about a young man's visit to a hotel managed by a mystifyingly handsome concierge who seemed to be in too many places at once to be human. It was a short story all about budding sexual tension between man and monster. Ferris felt the color leave his face as he shuddered to a standstill.

It had found the books under his bed. Quite literally the worst outcome possible. That wasn't a lie to himself either. His mom didn't raise a liar. Atlas didn't have to look at him to know what he was thinking, if the pleased growl it let out at his presence was anything to go off of. That bastard. He apologized mentally to his parents while contemplating just how he'd steal the book back from it. There was no feasible way to do it, so he just huffed and walked past towards the fridge. Fine. It clearly wanted to spend its morning reading smut. That just made his confession that much harder to struggle through. Or easier, depending. He needed to distract himself. He pried the door open and yanked out one of the remaining plastic bottles of juice. He'd tested his voice in the bedroom earlier mostly just to practice what he wanted to say. His throat was swollen and clearly irritated, but otherwise well enough to not stop him.

Because of course.

Ferris twisted off the cap and flicked over to Atlas, unable to hide the devilish grin as it bonked off one of those oversized paddle antennae. Atlas huffed but otherwise didn't move. Bullseye. He drank straight from the neck in celebration. No one was here to lecture him over it. Besides, the mugs were right next to where Atlas was sitting. Way too close. Ferris instead took a seat on one of the stools across the island. Atlas had its back to him as it was reading facing the window. That really was a loving homage to how he'd sit there. A bit confused in spirit but the gesture was sweet nonetheless. A few more swigs of the juice was all it took for his words to come back to the front of his thoughts. It was now or never. He was sweating. Why was he sweating? He normally froze his ass off in this weather even with the lodge's wood burner pumping head into the living room and kitchen. Shit. 

"So...You'd humor me for a sec, right? We need to talk."

That got its attention. Atlas turned its narrowly focused eyes to Ferris, its neck rotating to an unnatural degree. The pleased look it had was quickly replaced by concern by seeing how uncomfortable the man had become. All humor in the situation was lost. For whatever reason, it seemed to recoil into itself at whatever thoughts it was thinking. Upset. It shut the book (not even marking the page, a shame) and offered it across the table as a peace offering. Did Atlas think it had overstepped the boundaries they'd established? Ferris couldn't stop to ask. The words that he'd been mulling over for far longer than an evening began to tumble out of his mouth in a slurred rush; it was taking all his effort to simply make sense of it all.

"Friend, I ain't too sure why I'm doing this now. Most folk would tell me I'm sick in the head for being the way I am. Maybe they're right. But I never thought 'bout that when I'm around you. Mom always used to say I needed better friends. She was right, of course. She always was. But I'm starting to realize, as I'm knocking down these cobwebs, that she might've been talking about something else. Something like you, ya know? Not monsters. Obviously. Well I mean maybe? I'm not too sure now what she knew..."

He was starting to trail off. That didn't seem to matter much though. Atlas had sat there stock still for better part of half of his ramblings before lunging out of the chair. The movement was far from graceful, its wings knocking aside the blankets and wiped clean the countertops beside it. Atlas had rushed off into the living room probably to find the whiteboards. Figures. So Ferris just sat there with his head held between his hands. It was temping to apply pressure and try to crack his own skull like a melon but he relented. Instead he just kept his eyes on the wooden countertop of the island. As confessions went, that wasn't too bad. A bit ambiguous but hopefully it could read in-between the lines. Ferris was terrified what it would write back in response. It wasn't long before Atlas bumped into his shoulder; It sitting down beside him on a stool far too tiny for its lanky body left them both vibrating with nervous energy.

The cap of a marker rolled past his elbows slowly, accompanied by the sounds of several messages being written and hastily erased. The pattern continued on and on for minutes. God, Ferris just wanted to go back to sleep. That was, of course, until his vision was overtaken by the reflective white surface of the whiteboard. It had been placed neatly underneath his downturned head so he could read it without moving. But that didn't seem to help him much. Atlas's handwriting had become a scrambled mess. Wow. This was probably the worst it had ever been, even less legible than the envelope it had written upon all those months ago. In fact, a quick turned to the fridge proved just that. He'd pinned the damn thing up there as a pleasant reminder of how things had started. But here it took Ferris a few moments to straighten up and decipher whatever the hell it was supposed to say.

Atlas just kept its gaze fixated on the small gouges it was cutting into the island with a pointed digit. His mom would've beaten it with a spoon for that. Ferris wasn't his mom though. He wanted to turn and ask what it was spelling out when things finally clicked into place. While the penmanship was absolutely atrocious, the rough scribbles were identical to what it was etching into the wood. It was compulsively going over the spelling, it seemed. Anxious and so terribly afraid of making a mistake. A claw shaking so badly that it punctuated two words with the world's most crooked question mark. Ferris wanted to laugh. Instead, though, he found himself breathless.

Be mine?

For once, Ferris didn't act on the words of his mother. Certainly not his father. He did what he as an individual felt right. The lonely hunter who spent his time hiding out in long protected woods kept company only by his books. The damaged man who had befriended a monster on the whim of compassion and obligation. The friend who would without a second's hesitation burn the world to the ground if it meant protecting the sweetest thing he'd ever come to know. Ferris, all of those things, simply caught one of its claws in a steady hand and brought it just beneath the scarred wood. He used the incomprehensibly sharp point to etch out his own reply. Cemented in the history of the Clandon lodge forever. No longer was he the lone watchman for his parent's spirits. No longer was he the jaded young man deprived of a future. Ferris inscribed the first word of his new life, hopefully one of soon to be countless affirmations, and turned his attention to Atlas.

For in the wood was a simple Yes. But to them, it meant far more than the letters could even remotely describe. It left Atlas reeling. The trembling monster ran its other clawed appendage over the message. As if it needed to feel it for it to be true. Silly. The room was slowly overtaken by the supernatural glow of its eyes. His hand bounced up and down from his grip, the tremors threatening to tear the monster asunder. But he didn't pull his fingers away even as he felt small cuts form along his palm. Ferris could only imagine just how important this was to Atlas. A solitary monster living alone, a stark contrast to its family-centric culture. A beast whose love for humanity only brought it pain as everyone it met reacted in horror and anger. Everyone except Ferris. The man that it had, now obvious with hindsight, been courting for the past three months. It had been happy to simply have a friend. Now though? Ferris could only hazard a guess.

It didn't make a single sound. Instead Atlas turned its gaze to Ferris's face. Eyes closed to slits to prevent itself from blinding the man, but even the tiniest amount of light that escaped felt brighter than the sun. A scalding glow that felt capable of melting the thickest patches of ice that accumulated outside his lodge. Their lodge. Ferris forced his eyes open just to return the now unashamed look of longing. How long had it felt this way? Ferris felt himself smiling. The truest smile he could muster and the first to actually reach his eyes in such a long time. Atlas looked as if it was about to drop from the sight alone. He was getting much better at reading the beast, so he pushed his luck. Ferris scooted off the stool and pressed himself against its chest. Atlas's wings reflexively closed around them leaving him basking in the warm, crimson haze that perpetuated the safety of its shelter. He felt safe. Especially cozy. But most importantly, loved. Finally loved.

Neatly tucked between its skewed legs and nuzzled firmly into its neck fur, Ferris felt at home. It smelt once again of pine needles along with a twinge of something else. Ah, but of course. The recognizable musk of sweat. Probably from Atlas's unwashed blankets. He thought about apologizing but it probably preferred it that way. After all, Atlas wasn't the sneakiest type when it tried to steal used shirts to bring back to its nest back home in the forest. Ferris had thought it odd at the time. Guess he had his answer now. But as he ran a wandering hand across its upper chest and along its downturned neck, he got the answer to another question. A question he had been far too ashamed to ask once it came across his mind. Ferris, standing flush against its lower torso and waist, suddenly realized that it wasn't an it. It was a he. That was something he felt they'd be addressing very soon. Atlas was not staying quiet under the attention it was receiving. 

Ferris simply just let himself gaze up into the endless sea of red above him. Mere inches way from its face. His face. When that seam began to split, he laughed and covered it with a hand. Now wasn't the time. Not yet anyway. He'd much rather just soak in the moment. The wear and tear from yesterday would soon be catching up with him. But for now he just wanted to be happy. Brimming with the possibilities of this new future ahead of him. Relationships were funny that way, he thought. At least it had been that way when his parents had met. So Ferris punctuated the thought with a quick kiss on his furry forehead. They'd have all the time in the world to explore the way things would change. But it was the way things would stay the same that kept Ferris grounded. A life of notes, silly gifts, and red lights hidden away in what was generally just another quiet night in West Virginia. Quiet unless someone approached the lodge, at least.