Old Dogs
by Bernice
The ancient wizard
shuffles along, back still strong, but long hair almost pure white, grizzled strands
escaping from the grease that keeps the rest in place. He leans heavily on his walking
stick, easy prey and vulnerable, and nearly knocks himself off balance with the vigorous
waving of a rolled up Daily Prophet.
Get off me, you stupid animal! he snaps at the wolf that bites at his
slippers, lusting for blood. Get off before I give you a good solid walloping!
The wolf doesnt bother to cringe, he knows that old man would never really be able
to hurt him. He howls and tries again to savage the old man, trying to take a bite out of
his calves.
The old man takes a swing with his paper, nearly hitting the wolf on the nose.
Fires of ages, and the thousand year old desire for the taste of human flesh flows through
the wolfs veins, and he leaps, trying to pin the old man to the ground, trying to
rip out his throat.
The newspaper comes down with a thump on the wolfs snout, and he yelps, falling
back.
You stupid werewolf! the old man complains. You nearly had me over! I
dont know why you bother. You havent got any teeth left, and if you leap like
that again youre going to dislocate your hip! Thats it. I dont care if
it does make you constipated, next month youre taking your potion, you stupid old
man.
Remus gives up and goes to lie in front of the fire. Its a nicer fire for an old
werewolf than the fire in his blood, and soon his old friend comes and joins him, with a
glass of scotch and a bowl of water, and a scratch behind the ears. |