All copyright and property of Owen Quinn
Trapped in the creature’s flesh nipping grip, the Xereban winced and turned his head in disgust as some of the wolfman’s drool dangled close to his lips. He could feel the hair on his flesh, short and bristly like a clothes brush.
“I can feel you tremble though your faux visage remains passive. You have a look in your eyes of an innocent lamb seeing the jaws of the predator for the inevitable first and final time.”
The wolfman let out a low growl as it narrowed its eyes in intense curiosity examining its prey. Varran noted how beautiful the mixed colours in his pupils were reminding him of the Mertillian Nebula five thousand light years away from his dead homeworld of Xereba.
“If you’d be so kind, what’s a Xereban please?” Varran asked innocently his voice steady.
The white haired wolf glared at him for a second then growled louder putting its lupine snout closer to Varran’s. Are those human tear ducts, he thought given the wolfman’s face was at such close range. Humans are the only species on the Earth that shed tears he knew. Varran wondered if the wolfman ever stared in the mirror and was moved to tears by the intangible shadow of the human he could no longer see? Did he howl at all at the moon in frustration as he watched the rest of the world continue onwards in train track routine and normality? Were the nightmares of a wolfman those of a 9 to 5 human’s gratitude to the universe for a good day?
“Just because I look like an animal,” growled the creature, “do not for one moment think that my intellect is on par with a mule. The one and only thing keeping you alive is your brain right now. Now, move, you have work to do.”
The Time Warriors and Beyond 