I know where you're coming from
Scott tells Owen that Ren's a werewolf
“Ren’s a werewolf.”
Owen stopped in his tracks, turning around and looking directly at Scott. “...Excuse me?”
Scott continued walking. “I said,” he glanced back at Owen. “Ren’s a werewolf.”
“Very funny. Werewolves aren’t real.” The lumberjack cleared a patch of brush out of their path with his axe.
“Now, I’m not going to tell you what to do, Owen,” he turned around, finally stopping his path. “But I’d probably listen to the six-hundred-year-old vampire with you on what is and isn’t real.”
He sighed. “Fine, I’ll humor you. Ren’s a werewolf. Why does that matter exactly? It’s not like we exactly have an issue with the occult.”
Scott frowned. “Did your sire not teach you anything?”
Owen narrowed his eyes at Scott. “No, he died before he could.” his voice was colder than before, and clearly wasn’t pleased at the subject.
Scott knew the feeling.
“Right. Well, there’s this whole ancestral blood feud spanding back generations between werewolvles and vampires. I don’t think anyone knows what actually started it, but it’s strong enough to subconsciously effect both vampires and werewolves. Some think it was a curse, some think it’s just war and territorial disputes.”
“And what do you think?”
He paused. “Territorial disputes.” Scott glanced back at Owen before continuing to walk through the woods. “You know wolves, lumberjack. You know how overprotective they are of their pack.”
“So you think he’s going to be an issue.” Owen sped up slightly before falling back into step with him. “Because he likes the people of Oakhurst.”
“Like a herding dog with a flock of sheep.” he confirmed. “It’s going to be tough, but we can be tougher.”
The two of them continued walking, the overcast sky blocked out by the heavy foliage of the forest. It was easier to have these types of conversations out here, away from the prying ears of Oakhurst. Both of them had roommates, so privacy wasn’t exactly…abundant in present time.
Eventually, they reached the river that separated the current woods from the Dead Woods, their pale leaves and destaurated bark a stark contrast on their surroundings.
As Scott made it onto the first stepping stone in the river, he heard Owen behind him.
“Hold on—how do you know Ren’s a werewolf.”
Shit.
He paused before moving to the next stone, trying to be careful as to not drench himself. “Werewolves are sensitive to iron. And his lower canines are too sharp to be human.”
And his blood was far too ambrosial to just be human.
“And how do you know how sharp his canines are, exactly?”
Scott turned around to frown at Owen. “It’s obvious if you look at him.”
“Then why hasn’t Avid started accusing him of being a vampire due to “having fangs”?” he arched an eyebrow, using visible air quotes.
Stupid cursed tongue.
“Because Avid is an irrational madman. Accurate, but irrational. He only sees what he wants to see.”
They continued across the river. To Scott’s disappointment, the edges of his cloak had still gotten drenched by the river, weighing it down by the time the reached the other side.
“There’s something you aren’t telling me.” Owen finally said after a minute, stepping onto the gravely shore. “Did something happen when you and Ren went for tea?”
Scott furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn’t told Owen about that.
“How’d you know about that?”
“I was in earshot when you both talked about it.” he shrugged. “Did something happen?”
Yes.
“We had tea. Very mediocre tea.”
His blood was better.
Owen’s eyes scanned his face. “I may be a fledgling or whatever you like to call it, but I’m not daft, Scott. Why are you being so ca-” he cut himself off before starting to laugh.
Abnormally hard.
Scott frowned again. “Why are you laughing.”
“I’m sorry– just that–” he managed to get out between laughs, before starting to calm down. “You two snogged, didn’t you? That’s why you know how sharp his teeth are.”
“Wh- no?” he sputtered “Why would that be what comes to your mind?”
“See, your reaction right there is why.” Owen let out another laugh. “Six hundred years, and you’d think you’d have a better poker face than that.”
“Oh, shut up.”
