I hum. “You do stink.”
Briggs chuckles, shaking his head. “Trust me, I’m not the only one.”
“I have a werewolf nose, I know which of us smells worse.”
“You’re just used to your own scent.”
“Pretty sure I would know if I stink.”
Briggs laughs again, looking at me with softness in his light brown eyes. It makes my stomach do a funny flip inside of me. I shake my head at him, ignoring the weird feelings swirling around inside of me.
“Better to find somewhere before it all freezes over,” he says. “I think the snow will be coming soon. I can feel it in the air.”
“I’ve never seen snow before.”
Briggs looks at me in surprise. “Right, you were from California. It’s really pretty but it’ll also take your toes and fingers if you’re not careful. We need to find someplace where we can warm up with a fire or we’ll be fucked. We might not have zombies to contend with but frostbite doesn’t discriminate against the living and the undead.”
I nod my head in understanding. The prospect of getting free only to freeze to death isn’t appealing.
“Why’d they have so much beer? There’s nothing here but beer, beef jerky, and a deck of cards.”
Briggs laughs. “From what I know, which admittedly isn’t a lot, hunters enjoyed coming to places like this on the weekend. They’d get drunk with their buddies or just themselves and then call it a hunting trip.”
“That sounds--” I look around, trying to find the right word. Eventually I land on, “interesting.”
“It’s something alright. Personally, I would much rather come to a place like this by myself while enjoying a nice book and maybe a glass of wine.”
“A man of fine tastes,” I say with a small smile, trying to picture Briggs like that. I bet he’d be comfortable in a little hoodie with a pair of cute reading glasses. Maybe he’d sit on a porch swing, overlooking the forest. I can see it so clearly that it makes my chest ache. I miss when things were normal. I miss when things were easier.
I crawl into my sleeping bag, suddenly feeling a weight against my chest that I can’t quite shake. I turn my back to Briggs.
“Good night, Wade.”
“Good night, Briggs.”
I’m not sure how much time passes but as the night goes on, something wakes me up. It only takes a moment for me to place the sound.
Briggs is shivering. The air blowing into the little tree house is colder than it was when I went to sleep. I can feel the way my nose is freezing but being a werewolf, I run hotter than the average human.
Turning around, I can see Briggs doing his best to stay warm, curling up inside of his sleeping bag. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be enough.
“Briggs,” I say, my voice breaking from just waking up.
“Go back to sleep, Wade. I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” I say after clearing my throat. “Come on, I’ll keep you warm.”
“What?” Briggs pops his head through the top of his sleeping bag, looking over at me in the dark. “Are you serious?” His words come out choppy through chattering teeth.
“Yes. Get over here,” I say, unzipping my sleeping bag so it’ll be easy for him to crawl in.
“Wade,” he says but I cut him off.
“Shut up and get over here, Briggs.”
Briggs makes an amused noise before finally starting to move. His movement is stilted and shaky, like his limbs have grown too stiff. Was he planning on suffering in silence all night? What a dumbass.
I scoot over as much as I can as Briggs lays down beside me. He pulls the sleeping bag around himself. I reach around him, zipping it back up. I can zip the part over our heads as well but I wait a moment for him to settle first.
