Sometimes a family isn’t a mom, a dad and a couple of kids. Sometimes a family is a dramatic thespian Batman duck, his himbo sidekick boyfriend, a spunky little orphan, and one of the neighbor’s kids that never seems to spend time at his own house.
“Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul.
Honey, make this easy.”
Chapter One: Leave It to the Land (AO3 Link)
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The sounds of multiple car doors opening and slamming shut wake someone from unconsciousness, a pained groan filling the air as they slowly join the realm of the living and alive.
“Looks like he finally woke up.”
“Better dump him quick.”
The voices seem to come from all around him, and his head spins as he opens his eyes to find many angry eyes glaring down at him. He can’t even cry out in pain as his many wounds are jostled when he’s pulled out of whatever cage or box they have him in, as he realizes a muzzle is placed securely around his snout, and he grunts as he’s dropped to the ground unceremoniously. He could smell pine trees and the rich, earthy scent that came with being in the woods, searching his memories desperately for why he was in this situation right now.
“Does she really want us to kill him? We’ve never done anything like that before…”
“If it’s what she wants, it’s what she gets…”
These words snap him out of his jumbled stream of thoughts, sending adrenaline coursing through his veins, then...
The transformation takes over.
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Drake yawns as he washes breakfast’s dishes in the kitchen, still not fully awake quite yet. Why he ever decided to become a farmer, who basically had to rise with the sun, was lost on him as drowsiness make his eyelids droop. A quick peek out the window showed the sun was just barely making it over the horizon, and he pauses in his washing to take a slow sip of his coffee in an effort to try and wake up a little more. A warm weight at his side makes him look down to find a sleepy Gosalyn hugging him around the waist.
“Do I have to go milk the cows, Dad?” she whines, Drake rolling his eyes fondly. They went through this same routine every morning, always with the same answer.
“You know your chores, Cupcake, you’re helping me out a lot by doing it.” he says, petting a hand through her soft curls. “Besides, Ginger never lets me near her, you’re the only one she trusts.”
Gosalyn lets out a long suffering sigh, rubbing her face into his side as she does so, making a big show of dragging her feet while she leaves, and he watches her go with a fond smile. Everyday he’s more and more thankful Gosalyn’s adoption process went smoothly, he didn’t know what he’d do without her in his life, and things were much less lonely on the farm now.
He goes back to washing pots and pans leisurely, going through his mental checklist of things he needed to get done today; that one fence needed to be fixed, the pigs needed to go to a new pasture, he needed to check and make sure the garden was coming along alright, when a sudden shriek pierces the quiet of the morning. He drops the plate he was washing with a shatter, he could distinguish Gosalyn’s voice from a crowd of thousands, and that was his daughter that just screamed.
Now wide awake, Drake bolts out of the house to the barn, heartbeat pounding in his throat, and he bursts through the heavy barn doors, finding Gosalyn frozen in fear right in front of him, and before he can ask what’s wrong he notices the trail of blood leading further into the building. Pushing Gosalyn behind him, he follows the trail, grabbing a shovel from off a nearby wall for protection as he goes.
The trail leads into one of the empty stalls at the end of the barn, and Drake holds the shovel above his head, ready to strike, as he peeks inside, only to promptly drop the shovel with a startled gasp at what he finds.
Cowering in the stall with wide, scared eyes, is what is, beyond a reasonable doubt, a Werewolf.
The werewolf flinches at the sound of the shovel clattering to the floor, a sad whine coming from his muzzled mouth, and though Drake is terrified he can’t help but feel sorry for him, those big yellow eyes gazing at him imploringly. He only feels worse when he takes in his appearance, his ruddy brown fur stained with dark blood from what appeared to be many wounds on his arms and chest, and one very nasty bullet hole in his left leg.
He moves his mouth to speak the little bit the muzzle allows, and grumbles out a weak, “Help… please…” before his eyes roll back into his head and he passes out, slumped over and clutching his side. Drake watches in disbelief as the stranger shifts back into what he assumed was his normal form, which was a slightly smaller dog, but Drake could tell that if they were standing side by side he would still be dwarfed by the much bigger man.
Getting over his initial shock, Drake shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, a new mental checklist forming in his head, all centered around making sure the werewolf lived.
“Gosalyn! Go bring me a bucket of water, some rags, and the first aid kit!” he shouts back at his daughter, who is still standing by the door frozen, and she snaps out of it at his words, running back towards the house. Drake slowly steps closer to the stranger, the one part of him devoted to rational thought screaming for him to run away, but a bigger part of him couldn’t stand to just let the werewolf die, so he forces himself to kneel by his side.
His chest was rising and falling in short, wheezing breaths, face screwed up in pain, and Drake carefully pulls one big arm down so the werewolf was laying on his back and not his side, and the duck hisses as he sees the many scratches, bites, and bruises littering his body.
“What happened to you…?” he wonders aloud, reaching up to brush his red hair away from his eyes, and as he looks at his resting face, he can’t help but find the stranger ruggedly handsome, and his cheeks warm. He knew werewolves existed, but had never met one, they weren’t too common nowadays, and he lets his hand trace around the soft fur of his face, just observing him.
“Here, Dad!” shouts Gosalyn from behind him suddenly, and he nearly jumps out of his skin, clutching a hand over his chest when his heart threatens to leap right out of it. After calming himself he takes the materials offered to him, warning Gos to stay back just in case, and gets to work cleaning up the injured stranger. After using up all of the rags and bandages and ending up with a bucket of water tinged red, Drake sits back to look at his handiwork.
The werewolf was now wrapped up and his wounds would hopefully stay free of infection, so he moves his body into the recovery position. He also slips off the muzzle from around his snout, wondering who would be so cruel as to put something like that on him, and sets it to the side. It was now up to the stranger to wake up, so Drake takes the time to clean the barn of all the blood he tracked around, and maybe see about getting him some food ready for when he woke up.
Now back with a plate of food and some water, Drake sets it down near him and grabs a stool so he could sit and keep an eye on the werewolf. As he watches him rest, he thinks about what events could have possibly lead up to this mysterious (handsome) stranger showing up on his farm of all places, looking like he’d been chewed up and spit out by someone much bigger and meaner than he.
Gosalyn joins him and sits on his lap, and he wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on her head.
“What are we gonna do when he wakes up?” Gosalyn asks, and Drake sighs as he’s been wondering the same thing himself.
“You know, Muffin, I really don’t know.” he admits, “I guess it’s up to him to see what happens next.”
He then sends Gosalyn off to do her chores despite her protests that she wanted to be there when he woke up, ‘It’s not everyday you get to meet a werewolf, Dad!’, leaving him alone with the man.
Rubbing a hand over his face over this morning’s sudden turn of events, Drake groans.
