Dog is My Copilot

Dog is My Copilot

Sure enough, a hairy beast matching the bumper sticker sat in the passenger seat. It might have been a wolf but for the goofy grin it gave Wilson as he passed on the right, turning onto the road heading out-of-town. Soon he’d be in the company of real wolves, albeit unnatural ones. The pack hunted together only on those special nights of the year. Nights when the full moon shone brightly over the meadow deep in the woods, far from the small California college. Wilson and his friends studied medieval literature. In fact, they majored in more arcane subjects for which the college granted no degree. They drew straws those nights, with the loser being the designated human left to guard the clothes they shed before turning.Wilson held a longer straw this night. He’d have his fun with Sheila, resplendent in furry flesh. They ran away from the pack on their own, enjoying the night privately–until they encountered the lost hikers, sharing the woods on winter break. That’s when the conflict began, when the pack tracked the mingled scents.



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