Short Stories and poems

Feral Human Herd Report

A Report on the Wrangler Herd by John Wolfe

Report:
Well, it’s Official. In accordance of the Wrangler Herd’s customs, me and the one known as Roberta Wrangler are Mates. This is a very fancy way to say that she’s my Sex Slave, and no other werewolf is going to have sex with her without my permission. That being said, she’s very smart, much like her Sire, and she possesses her Dame’s temperament at times – best to not let her know what she really is, if I wish to keep my reproductive organs. That being said, as for children, I can always adopt, and as for her, my family knows how to breed mares without needing a buck around, although they can make things easier.

Actual:
John watched as Roberta read over the relevant section on the laws of marriage.

“So, while vampires and werewolves can marry each other, neither one can marry a human, not even a so-called Domesticated one?” Roberta asked.

“I think it’s to keep farmers from marrying their slaves, pets, and livestock, who might otherwise gain control over the farm,” said John. “Sucks, but it’s the law.”

“There is another way,” said Roberta. “Officially, I could be listed as your Sex Slave, but unofficially, we could marry in accordance to Wrangler Customs.”

“How do we do that?” John asked.

Roberta grinned. “You know that tree on the hill by the stream that we enjoy having sex under?”

John nodded, a smile coming to his face.

“Bring me a bouquet of daffodils and a deer that you killed with a knife, and it will make my mother more open to allowing us to marry, after we got back to the herd,” said Roberta. “The bigger question is; how do we have children?”

“Well, we still have plenty of genetic material from when my family used to run the farm,” said John. “You know how we use it to help out those that want to have children, but have issues. As it is, my father has had a particular buck’s genetic material that he’d like to use to add to your line.”

“Whom did he wish to use?” Roberta asked.

“William 2109.”

Report:
William 2109, Prime Grade, Breeder and Herd Leader of the Wolfe Family Farm Herd. There were many words that father used to describe this buck, who came from a well-bred line. Well behaved, tasty, and even protective of him on occasion. He was killed by a bear when closing the gate one night. He died in father’s arms, the bear getting away. Genetic material was recovered, and is saved for special mares. Father had him for breakfast, burying his bones in the family pet cemetery.

Actual:
“I don’t like it,” said Bella. “Using the genetic material of a man that’s been dead longer than you’ve been alive. Is it even viable?”

“My father says that it is,” said John. “He’s been saving it for a special mare, and he believes that your daughter is special enough to use it on.”

“I don’t like the idea of my daughter being bred like livestock,” said Bella. She then sighed. “Still, without your father, I wouldn’t have had my daughter. Although, without him around, I might have had more children with my John!”

John chuckled nervously. “Father has told me about your first meeting, out in the woods.”

Bella grinned. “Tell me – his shoulder still bothers him, right?”

“It does in the winter,” said John. “Especially where your knife entered the bone.”

The elderly feral pulled out a knife from a sheath that hung around her neck, and looked at the blade. “I can still pull it off – don’t let my age fool you, pup. There’s over fifty kills that I can remember, and a few I probably forgot, as some were in groups.”

Report:
Bella Wrangler, she is a D-Grade, maybe F-Grade by now, but she might have been a B-Grade, or higher, in her youth. Her father was the prior herd leader. John succeeded him when that buck turned it over to him. After John was captured and claimed by my father, Bella led in his place. Best ways to describe Bella are to say that she’s Highly Protective and Extremely Dangerous. Trust is not easy to get where she’s concerned, a very precious commodity, not to be squandered. There are unofficial claims that she has killed several dozen werewolves and vampires – although official reports show that these victims were killed by accidents, wild non-human animals, and by murder via in-fighting with other members of their groups. Coincidentally, John Wrangler, aka John 3160, also allegedly killed several dozen vampires and werewolves, and they too have officially been explained as accidents, feral animal kills, or murder through in-fighting among poachers. This information makes me wonder if they were just that clever at killing, or if there’s something else going on – either way, not my business.

Actual:
John sat under a tree, a small campfire burning nicely, the leg of deer roasting. The rest had been taken to the camp. He’d been very careful with the skinning, gutting, and butchering, so that nothing would go to waste.

“She’s thinking about it,” said Roberta, as she sat down. “Both us being Mates, and me having the offspring of this William your father cared about.”

“Father saw him like a big brother,” said John. “I suppose it’s sentimentality to want that line to continue, especially if it was mixed with that of your father’s.”

“He likes talking about my father whenever he’s here,” said Roberta.

“Your father saved his life, repeatedly,” said John. “Sometimes the relationship between Master and Livestock, or Pets, or Slaves, can be very complicated. Then there’s the effects of the Taming Process that father used on him. Despite the way that your father reacted around him, harsh, abrasive, prone to making threats, while he never actually lashed out at him, barring a few accidents, my father is all but convinced that he pulled off quite the long con, so that he could free the Wolfe Family Farm herd.”

Roberta chuckled. “And it was – to frame Marcus Fang for the theft of the herd,” she said. “And your father was in on that part of the con.”

John chuckled. “Ten billion dollars was one hell of an insurance payout, as the herd was never recovered.”

Report:
John 3160, aka John Wrangler, born John Smith, Leader of the Wrangler Herd, and Wolf Family Farm Herd, was also a Breeder and Protector, not to mention Prime Grade. Born as part of a small herd of wanderers, he and his mother were illegally captured by those later to be found working for Marcus Fang, at an illegal blood production facility. The mother was braindeaded, and he was about to go through the process himself when the father broke into the place, and freed him, only to be mortally wounded. Thus, the father told John to escape, and set the place on fire, burning the place to the ground, ruining over a million dollars in blackmarket human meat. He would later join the Wrangler Herd, when he saved the herd leader’s daughter from a violent loner that had wanted to use force to join the herd. Said daughter was Bella. John was eventually caught by my father, while initially trying to distract him from the herd, only for both of them to work together to deal with a bear. John was seriously injured during the confrontation – my father claimed him as a result, and had him, and his kin listed as Protected. Unable to run afterwards, John used a stick to get around. He was able to protect the herd with this stick. He would also breed with females of his choosing, having a fondness for those of the lesser grades, as he wanted to make sure that their lines would continue, even encouraging other high grade livestock to breed with them on occasion. Killed during a successful rustling attempt, John saved my father one last time, when his body was used to fuel my father’s healing factor, after Marcus stabbed him in the heart, giving my father the strength to protect himself from his would-be murderer. Sadly, the herd was never recovered, with more evidence implicating Marcus and his wife in a number of other crimes. Despite the insurance payout, father lost the will to farm humans, not that I blame him – losing five thousand livestock in one night would do that to anyone. He eventually set up the Wolf Family Park, which is a sanctuary for Feral Human herds; no hunting allowed, with the first herd invited being that of the Wrangler. Initially, Bella didn’t trust the one that had taken her Mate, but my father had something that was valuable to her – John’s genetic material, and thus the means to have his children. He also had enough from various bucks to help any mare that wanted to have a child, yet lacked a mate for whatever reason. In return, they’d give him those that were exceptionally violent, and would have been killed by the herd anyways, and sometimes those that were already dying from illness would offer themselves to him, not to mention my mother and older siblings, to say nothing about myself when I was capable of swallowing a human.

Actual:
Roberta looked out, down past the other side of the creek. “That loner, Micha, still wants to join.”

John spat. “All that one does is steal stuff from others, and cause fights. He’s been kicked away from at least a dozen other herds and packs. I’m surprised you haven’t tied him up and offered him to us yet.”

“He hasn’t done anything worth killing him for, yet,” said Roberta. “Maybe he’ll actually wise up, and bring in a deer, or the heart of a bear, or some dangerous enemy’s head.”

“Hopefully not a vampire or werewolf,” said John. “That leads to a whole lot of questions.”

Report:
Loners are wanderers that travel alone, separate from any herd. Some were kicked out for misdeeds not worth killing them over. Some are soul survivors of their herds, for one reason or another. Others voluntarily left their herd, and wish to join another, due to the possibility that sometimes members of a herd might all be kin, and too much of that might lead to undesirable results. To join a herd, a loner must prove themselves to not be too much of a burden – hunting, gathering, foraging, fishing, and then bringing in their catch or harvest, can show that one can be productive. Killing a bear, and bringing in their heart can prove that you are not going to run from a fight if there is danger. Bringing in the head of an enemy shows that you’re willing to protect the herd. Rescuing a member from trouble tends to be a surefire way to join the herd. Bringing in nice gifts will let you be tolerated, as with Bella and daffodils, for they remind her of my namesake. That being said, there are some that try to join through force – such folk normally don’t get a second chance.

Actual:
John’s stomach made a grumbling sound. He looked at Roberta sheepishly.

Roberta rolled her eyes. “I know that isn’t from hunger.”

John carefully stood up. “Sorry, but the wild boar from last night is still trying to root its way through me.”

Roberta chuckled. “I thought that you liked pork.”

“I do, but this one doesn’t like me,” John said, as he hurried away.

“Well, hurry back,” she yelled. “This leg’s about done.”



John found a spot, dropped his pants, squatted, and was in the process of releasing the wild boar when he heard a sound that caused the rest of the pig to squeal its way out of its former resting place, onto the cold hard dirt.

The sound was Roberta yelling, “Get the Hell away from me Micha!”

Quickly cleaning his ass, and pulling his pants up, among other things, John rushed back to the fire, to encounter Micha attempting to corner Roberta, but she kept the fire between them, the loner not willing to just jump it or something.

Rushing up, John grabbed Micha, and pulled him back, spinning him around. “Leave her alone!” He shoved them down the hill. He looked at Roberta. “What did he try to do?”

“He thought that he could make me his mate, without my permission,” said Roberta. “Look at him.”

John looked down at Micha. The loner was wearing nothing, save for a necklace with a knife on it. His body was also ready to mate. The werewolf spat. “Micha, get the hell out of my family’s park. This place is no longer safe for you – if you’re still here in three hours, I’ll hunt you down, and eat you.”

“Your rules forbid hunting here,” Micha said, as he stood up.

“I can make exceptions for nuisance animals,” said John. “You’ve been stealing from, and fighting with, members of the other herds that use this place as a sanctuary, and now you’ve tried to rape the daughter of a herd leader. If her mother had caught you, you’d be dead. In fact, you are dead – all the herds will be told, and if they ever catch you, they’ll do whatever they want to you, including tying you up and delivering you to me and my family. Get out of here – now!”

Micha growled and walked away.

John turned to look at Roberta. “He’s lucky your mother wasn’t here – she wouldn’t have been so nice.”

Roberta was about to nod, when her eyes widened in fear.

John turned just enough, that a knife blade went into his shoulder, instead of his lungs, not that it did anything to stop the enraged Feral known as Micha.

“I’m going to claim your head, and use it to get myself a place in a herd!” Marcus yelled, as he stabbed John again.

Report:
Micha was the sort of loner that was kicked out of every herd he’d tried to join. He was always stealing and causing fights – nothing worth killing him over though. My banishment of him for attempted rape would have been lenient compared to what others would have done – he’d of been served to us on a platter. His attempting to kill me though, crossed plenty of lines – he wasn’t going to be leaving the park alive. Also, anyone who says that humans are weak creatures has never fought an enraged Feral that’s more than willing to kill them. They are a difficult creature to kill, as they will fight with anything they can use. Being stabbed in the shoulder doesn’t help either.

Actual:
John stumbled, trying to deal with the extra weight upon his shoulders. He fell, landing in the fire. A howl escaped his mouth, as the flames burned his skin and fur.

There was a yell, as more weight landed on him, followed by a scream of pain. That extra weight was gone a moment later, as John stood up, as well as some from Micha, who seemed to be using just one arm to hang on.

John slammed his head back, and heard the crunch of bone. Micha fell off of him.

John turned, and looked at the Feral, their face now covered in blood, from a fractured nose. He looked at Roberta. She had a bloody knife in her hand.

“I got him in the lung,” she said. “I’m pretty sure of it.” She looked at him. “You’re hurt.”

John looked at his chest and shoulder. “Nothing that a few pounds of meat won’t fix.” He looked at Micha. “Looks like he’ll end up being that meat. Get your mother, and the rest, plus any of the other herd leaders or their representatives – they’ll want to know that this troublemaker is about to be turned into shit.”

Report:
When banishment isn’t a good enough punishment, death might be the punishment used. Micha’s attempt to murder me warranted said punishment. Ferals can be pretty creative when it comes to execution. Sometimes a hanging will do, if there’s time. Tied to a tree, covered in deer blood, or some such thing, to attract predators is another. Here, at the Park, we have our own form of execution.

Actual:
Within the hour, the herd leaders, or their representatives, were gathered. Robert had showed up as well, his truck containing the other Wolfe family members. The aging werewolf looked his son over. The younger werewolf was topless, his chest fur gone, and his shoulder had blood on it.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m going to need a new uniform,” said John. “Between the blood and the burns, there was no saving the shirt – not enough thread or bleach.”

Robert chuckled. “At least you still have your sense of humor.” He then looked over at Micha. The troublemaker had deer hide wrapped around his chest, to prevent him from bleeding to death. They were also bound hand and foot by more deer hide. He walked over to them.

“We gave you shelter here in the park – no one would hunt, eat, or drain you while you were here,” said Robert. “We could even get you any necessary supplies – food, water, medical treatment. You might have been able to join a herd, or formed one. However, you’ve done nothing but cause trouble since you came here – fighting and stealing. Now, you upped it to the attempted rape of Roberta Wrangler, for which, the Protection of the Park was revoked from you, by my son John, and thus were to be banished. However, not content to be allowed to merely leave with your life, you tried to murder him. Now, I don’t know if you could have killed my son, but Roberta made sure that you couldn’t, when she jumped in to help him. In any case Micha, you’ve crossed a serious line, and any herd would see to it that you were executed for it. That being said, I am a fair sort.” He picked up the knife that Micha had owned, cut his restraints, allowed him to stand, and passed him the knife. “Start running Micha – it’s been a while since my family has hunted for keeps. If you leave, you get to live, at least for a while. Otherwise, it’s down some Wolfe’s gullet and into their stomach. Go!”

At this, Micha took off running, in fear, as the rest of the Wolfes got out of the truck.

Robert looked at John. “Can you hunt?”

“My legs are still good, and I’ve had some venison to deal with the important parts,” said John.

“Good,” said Robert. “Because I think he’s had enough of a head start.”

Report:
Despite having a bad lung, and a messed up face, Micha was despite to live, so he ran. My siblings, my parents, and some of my older nieces and nephews, not to mention myself, ran off to hunt him down, with some assistance from members of the herds, that let us know if he went by them. We know the park woods well – we grew up there, and even grew up with the feral humans that liked to live there. We would play games, like Fun Hunts and such, to say nothing about hunting non-human game for food. Micha was new to the park, barely arrived three months prior. It didn’t take us long to catch up with him. My family and the ferals let me settle things between us. To be fair, he put up a fight, was reasonably good with his knife and my shoulder was still sore. Also, to be fair, he was an A+ Grade. Of course, due to my injuries, and the fact that he was in my stomach, my stomach went into overdrive, quickly digesting him – he screamed rather loudly as he died, and my injuries healed up. Of course, as with a Rapid Digest pill, I then had to deal with the fertilizer-about-to-come. On the plus side, there were plenty of trees.

Actual:
With a final groan, John pushed out what was left of Micha’s remains. Cleaning himself and standing up, he saw what was left of the skull, and spat on it. If it had been someone worth caring about, he’d of dug a hole to do his business in, filled in said hole, and left a marker to remember them. Micha though, he wasn’t worth remembering as anything more than a footnote in a report. More than likely, some scavenger would take the bigger bones. He walked away from the waste.

“You done with him?” Roberta asked. She was alone, the others already left.

“Shit’s where he belongs,” said John. “Hopefully he doesn’t stick around long.”

“Especially on your ass,” Roberta said, with a smirk.

“I used toilet paper,” said John.

“Maybe in a few hours we can have some fun, once your belly is safe enough to be in,” whispered Roberta.

John grinned. “You know that I like the feeling you give me when you’re in me,” he said. “Although, that reminds me of something that I read a little while back – have you heard about the report discussing the alleged human subspecies known as Homo Familiaris?”

Roberta spat. “The idea of a healthy human that wants to get eaten and digested, or drained to death – I find that to be utterly ridiculous. I doubt any human likes the idea of being eaten to die in some predator’s guts – as much as the thought of being inside of you excites me, I don’t fancy dying. Anyone trying to eat me as a meal before my time is going to end up dead themselves.”

“That’s just the thing; the report seems to indicate that being sexually excited about the idea of being eaten, or drained, is the main splitting point,” said John. “The report seems to indicate that it’s a genetic mutation that occurs in lines that have been Slave, Pet, and/or Livestock for many generations, ten or more, to say nothing about those qualified as Domesticated. But, that’s where the problem lies – while your mother clearly doesn’t get sexually excited at the idea of being eaten, your father did. That also goes for your full-blood siblings, and the half-siblings that were as a result of my father using your father’s genetic material on feral females. That’s saying nothing about the half-siblings from the time he was a Prime Grade Breeder. Most of your half-siblings, regardless of their mother’s prior status as Livestock or Feral get sexually excited about the idea, to say nothing about during Stomach Baths.”

Roberta looked at him. “My father was a Feral though, to say nothing about being Dangerous. Him being a Familiaris, that doesn’t sound plausible.”

“I have to agree with you there,” said John. “But, as I’ve said, the mutation happens in lines that have been Slaves, Pets, and Livestock for generations, as well as the Domesticated. Yet, your father was a Feral, through and through – no prior claims for those of his line. Your grandsire, he burned down an illegal blood production facility. Your granddame, she was the daughter of a herd leader herself.”

“Explains part of father’s taste in women,” said Roberta. “Still, there is the fact that he mated with a lot of females that were of a lower grade. Got at least sixty half-siblings that way.”

“He mated with a number of them, and actually encouraged other higher grade males to do the same, as well as the reverse, in convincing higher grade mares to mate with lower grade bucks,” said John. “He did it to save their lines from just ending as dog food, or pig feed, or fertilizer in a few cases. He couldn’t save all of them, so he made sure that they had children. Then of course, there was his Grand Escape – easily five thousand livestock, all walking out, with very little violence. Of course, we don’t exactly mention that sort of thing in the records.”

“Especially since it was basically insurance fraud, to say nothing about the killing of Marcus Fang,” said Roberta. She rubbed her chin. “That being said, testimony from father indicates that my grandsire was scarred, missing an eye even. I know that escaped Slaves, Pets, and Livestock tend to scar themselves to remove their ‘Property of’ marks. Could that be the reason he was scarred? Do some owners place marks on say the eyelid or something?”

John pulled out his smartphone. “Always did like the fact that we set up Wi-Fi around the park.”

Roberta chuckled. “Useful for the park visitors and those of us you’ve passed phones out to.”

“Useful for contacting others in the event of poachers and troublemakers,” John said, with a chuckle. Then, if a werewolf could go pale, John’s fur would have turned white. He looked at Roberta. “There’s only one family that branded their humans like that within the last eighty or so years around here.” He spat.

“Who is it?” Roberta asked.

“Seems hate of the Fang clan runs in your family,” said John. “Samuel Fang, uncle to one Marcus Fang, decided to get into the human meat industry. He bought a number of Livestock humans, whose lines had been owned for generations, some just shy of being considered Domesticated. Humans born under his ownership were marked on the eyelid. The farm’s herd leader was of the 10th generation, and knew that his children, that he had with 10th generation mares, would be seen as Domesticated, and thus Free. However, it seems that Samuel didn’t care for this practice, especially since the first such child was a Prime Grade male. Fifteen years later, that herd leader tried to help their then fifteen year old son to escape. Samuel found them in the process of the escape. The herd leader got the son over the fence, told them to run, and not look back. That herd leader killed Samuel and a number of his farmhands, before he was brought down. Apparently, his last words before he was executed were, ‘My son was to be given Freedom, so I gave it to him.’ Seems that giving their lives for their loved ones runs in your family.”

“What was this herd leader’s name?” Roberta asked.

“Their name was John,” said John. “On the plus side, since this was before the days of registering bloodlines in a database, we can’t be too sure that this particular murderous livestock is your great-grandsire.”

Report:
Domestication is a process that has been going on for thousands of years. Sometimes the humans kept and bred in captivity, as Slaves, Pets, and Livestock developed certain mutations from their wild kin that made them more compliant, not to mention tastier. Recent reports claim that there’s an additional gene involved, one that makes them desire to be eaten or drained, even getting sexually excited at the thought. There is even a claim that they are actually a subspecies, a so-called Homo Familiaris. However, Roberta Wrangler, born of strictly Feral parents, seems to have this sort of sexual excitement during the Fun Stomach Baths we have, where I hold her inside me for a while, before I let her out around ten minutes later. Her own siblings, full and half, tend to share this behavior. Oddly enough, her sire, despite being a Feral, and Dangerous, seemed to have this behavior, according to my father. Makes one wonder how such a trait could show up in a Feral population. Of course, it’s possible that one of John’s ancestors might have been a Slave, Pet, or Livestock that escaped somehow, either under their own power, or through the assistance – intentional or accidental – of another. Such things have occurred throughout history. Perhaps they were adopted by a Feral herd, who taught them their ways of surviving. Clearly, they were lucky enough to breed with, or be bred by, a member of this herd. How this resulted in John, who, as previously mentioned was Dangerous to the point that even my father had to be careful around him, is perplexing. Perhaps a form of Atavism was at play. Perhaps sexual excitement while being eaten isn’t a liability for alleged Feralized Familiaris, if they avoid being eaten. Maybe being Dangerous is something that both a H. Sapiens and a H. Familiaris can learn, either via being taught it, or being placed in a situation where being forced to survive means that the living get to reproduce, and the dead become lunch. In my own personal observations, I’ve noticed that Slaves, Pets, and Livestock that are treated well are more willing to do as their Master says, as opposed to those that are mistreated, who might resort to violence. This is regardless of Grade, Gender, or number of Generation the line has been Domesticated.

Actual:
“Well, regardless of if you’re a Sapiens, or this Familiaris, you’re the Feral for me,” said John.

Roberta chuckled. “Good to know. Let’s get back to the camp – I’m fairly sure mother will allow you to be my Mate now, to say nothing about carrying a child of this William your father has been talking about.”

“We’re pretty good at storing genetic material for a long time,” said John. “Fifty or more years actually.”

“If it’s well taken care of, of course,” said Roberta. “I’ve had more than a few siblings, both full and half, since I was born, you know.”

John nodded. “I know.”



A little while later, the two of them were in a cave, one with a mattress set up. Between the two of them, Roberta was good and ready to be inseminated, and John made sure that the genetic sample was good and ready, not to mention at a comfortable temperature. The two of them shared a loving kiss, as John carefully pushed the inseminator into Roberta, releasing the material at a rate similar to a human penis, as he used it to pleasure his love, much like a dildo, or something of a similar size and shape. Sure, there were males of William’s line around, and one of them could have been used for an in-person mating, but Roberta and John wanted to have this moment to themselves. If this didn’t work, then they’d get help from one of William’s sons, or grandsons.

They slowly released each other. “Think it will work?” Roberta asked.

“We’ll know within a few weeks,” said John, as he removed the now empty inseminator, placing it into a bucket. “I’m glad we’ve been practicing.”

Roberta smiled. “Me too.”

“Of course, we’ll have to wait a bit before we do it ourselves again,” said John. “Father doesn’t have too much of William’s genetic material left, and I don’t want to ruin what he gave me.”

Roberta chuckled. “Yes, and we still have a few hours before your belly is safe enough to hop in.”

“Understood, my love,” said John. He gave her a gentle kiss.

“If you can, see if you can set up a meeting with the one that wrote that report,” said Rebecca. “I think that they are flawed in their belief as to what makes a Homo Familiaris.”

“What do you think it is?” John asked.

“The willingness to die to protect those we care about,” said Roberta. “My father was willing to die to free the herd, his father was willing to die to rescue him, his father to free him, and I was willing to die to protect you from Micha.”

“He didn’t touch you,” said John.

“He could have,” said Roberta. “He could have, but I didn’t care. Insofar as I’m concerned, you’re part of my herd.”

John chuckled. “That’s good to know, my fearsome feral.”



Meanwhile, Bella was by her own fire. She heard footsteps approaching. “Hello, Robert.”

“Nice to meet you, Bella,” the werewolf said, as he sat next to her. “Fire’s nice and warm.”

Bella looked towards the cave that her daughter and Robert’s son were in. “I still don’t like it, but he fought to protect her.”

“Love is the funniest force of them all,” said Robert, as he looked towards the cave as well. “It’s second only to hate.” He looked at Bella. “I remember that you were willing to burn down my home, while he was in it.”

“He was dying, and knew it,” said Bella. The elderly feral looked at him. “I don’t regret stabbing you in the shoulder when we next met.”

“I don’t blame you,” said the werewolf. “I took him from you, and your family.” He sighed. “Have you forgiven me for what I did?”

Bella looked at the fire. “I don’t hate you for it. You’ve tried to make it up to me – half a dozen children, with my own self, plus some more with the help of others, to say nothing about the others you’ve helped that wanted to carry a child of his. You’ve helped the herd a lot. You even took down the main fence, and let us stay in the barn during the harsher parts of winter.”

“It was built to hold over five thousand,” said Robert. “Need to get some use out of it. Everything still works.”

“To be honest, things have been getting worse for me, with winter being the least of my worries,” said Bella. “You got the paperwork from the doctor, right?”

Robert pulled out a sheet of paper, passing it to her. “Let me know if you need any help figuring it out.”

“Not my first time trying to figure out big words,” said Bella.

Robert was silent as Bella read the report.

The elderly feral set the paperwork down.

“How bad is it?” Robert asked.

“Cancer’s gotten worse,” said Bella. “A year, if that.”

“We could do it after the baby is born,” said Robert. “Are you going to tell them?”

Bella chuckled, as she handed the paper back. “I don’t want to ruin their joy just yet. Later on, perhaps, when it’s more obvious, I’ll let them know. The joy of parenthood was something I treasured with John. I want them to enjoy it, and not worry about me.”

Robert smiled. “I can respect that.”

“John better have those flowers ready for me,” said Bella.

“Knowing him, he’s causing trouble in the afterlife,” said Robert.

“Sounds like him, but he still needs those flowers,” said Bella.



Report:
Life and Death – a juxtaposition of sorts – on the day I ate Micha, I also bred Roberta, who was born and raised as a feral, with the genetic material of a male that never knew what life as a feral was like. A few weeks later, we found out that Bella had cancer, and on that day, we also found out that Roberta was expecting twins. There was both joy and sadness on that day. Still, Bella told us that she’d fight to see her grandchildren before her time came. Knowing her, she will. A new herd leader has been picked – Tobias, John’s eldest. Already, he’s proven himself to be quite the leader. He’s his father’s son for sure – more than a few would-be poachers have found that one out – luckily for said poachers; they’ve all been turned in alive, as we don’t need any unnecessary deaths. Although given their injuries, I feel that Tobias merely held back. Never upset that one. Currently, Roberta and I have been working on figuring out names. John sounds like a good male name, with Bella being a good female name, as they ought to be kept in the family for sure. I’ve also been looking into adopting – bound to be a cub or two that wouldn’t mind having a father that spends most of their days among feral humans.

Actual:
Robert looked at the recent report his son had wrote. “Right amount of truth and lies,” the elder werewolf said.

“I thought so,” said John.

“Better be,” said Roberta. “I helped him write it.”

Robert chuckled as he listened to the pair. He placed the report in a folder. “Well, one bit of good news – that researcher that wrote the article on Homo Familiaris will be in the area in a few months. Personally, I think it ought to be Homo Sapiens Familiaris, but I can see why some shorten it. Anyways, she’ll be attending a party dedicated to the discussion of this so-called subspecies.”

“Good,” said Roberta. “I want to explain to her that Homo Familiaris isn’t as eager to be eaten or drained as she thinks.”

“I just wonder who all will show up,” said John.

“Worry later,” said Roberta, as she grabbed his arm. “Now, come on – I want to have a Stomach Bath before suppertime.”

John let himself be dragged towards his room.

Robert chuckled, as he watched the pair practically vanish.

Julia walked over to him, with a set of envelopes. “Here are our invitations to that party, and we can bring a plus one, and perhaps our best behaved slave, pet, or, if we still had them, livestock.”

“That will be useful,” said Robert. “Especially the part about bringing along a well-behaved human.”