Chapter Text
Cheery was really regretting signing herself up for this. A friend in human shape was all well and good, but where she came from, you just didn’t approach a werewolf at that time of the month unless you had extra limbs you could afford to lose.
She’d only gotten here because of that conversation with Carrot…
***
“Captain? I need to give Angua something. But I haven’t seen her at the Watch House yet…”
“Oh, yes,” said Carrot. “She’s got the next couple of shifts off duty to, um, recover. She’ll be at her lodgings in Elm Street. Ask our newest recruit if he’ll accompany you there, he lives—er, he resides there too.” He added, as if she hadn't understood, "The zombie."
“Thanks. I’ll go find him,” said Cheery.
As she turned to go, Carrot added, with the air of one commenting on the weather: “It’s the first night of full moon, so she might not be terribly talkative.”
Cheery’s jaw dropped. “OH.”
“Yes?” Carrot said pleasantly.
“But, um… won’t that mean… she’s… well, you know… What do I do if I show up and she’s…?”
“Just treat her like a person, Cheery,” Carrot said patiently. “Talk to her like she understands everything you’re saying, because she does. And be respectful. Give her space if she wants it.”
“Er. Okay. Only… how will I know if she wants it?”
“You’ll know,” Carrot said simply.
Cheery felt stupid then, but she was very invested in getting information that could help her avoid becoming a chew toy later. “Er… I’m not sure exactly… What do you mean? I mean,” and here she faltered as she passed the sign that marked Too Afraid To Ask It, but she plunged on nevertheless: “Will she get… mad?”
Carrot just looked at her in his Carrot way. “Cheery, she won’t hurt you. I’m very sure of that. And she communicates very well.”
How? Does she bark once to say “yes”? she wondered, before pushing away the insensitive thought and nodding.
“But actually,” Carrot added, “there’s one thing you should know. If she sort of… growls at you… don’t worry. That’s just her way of saying she wants to Change and you should give her privacy until she’s done that. She doesn’t like anybody watching.”
He paused and seemed to reconsider for a moment.
“Well, actually, that’s not the only reason she might growl, of course, but I’d certainly consider it the most likely reason under the circumstances. I don’t get involved much myself around this time.”
“Oh. Okay. Um, thanks,” Cheery said meekly. Part of her badly wanted to ask Carrot if he could deliver some items, and maybe take a message, but something in his earnest face made it impossible to ask that; she couldn’t bear to let him think her such a coward…
Carrot smiled at her. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see a friend.”
***
All right, so maybe it wasn’t the most reassuring advice I could have gotten overall…
Cheery felt more and more nervous as they approached their destination. She couldn’t focus on whatever her companion—John Somebody—was chattering about as they proceeded down Elm Street. He’d only been sworn in to the Watch that day, and she gathered he was very keen on it. Protecting and serving the good[1] citizens of Ankh-Morpork and all that.
She’ll be glad to see a friend, Cheery told herself again, trying to force belief.
John unlocked the front door and ushered Cheery in. “Angua’s is all the way to the right,” he said.
“Thanks. I’ve, uh, been here before.”
“Oh, all right. Er…” John looked at her, finally seeming to register her discomfort. “You know, her bark’s a lot worse than her bite.”
“Right,” said Cheery, squirming inwardly. She knew that was meant to make her feel better, but as a dwarf, all she could think of was that she knew EXACTLY how bad a werewolf’s bite was—bad enough to, say, rip out a throat, like she’d always heard had happened to her second cousin. And it was Angua’s family who’d done that...
“And I mean that literally, like, one time I had to bang on the door and tell her to keep it down because she was howling fit to wake the undead. But she hushed up right away. Very considerate neighbor for the most part. She can’t help the shedding.”
“That’s…good to know.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” said John. “If you need anything, Mrs. Cake is usually around.”
Well, it’s nice to know there will probably be SOMEONE alive to hear me scream… Cheery thought as she faced Angua’s closed door. It seemed to have been modified with an extra-long curved handle, presumably so that it could be opened by someone without hands. Interesting, she thought. (Dwarfs appreciated clever engineering.)
Unfortunately, she also couldn’t help but notice a suspicious scratch in the wood. Claws that could gouge that long and deep could probably disembowel her...
She told herself she was being way too overdramatic. Angua was still her friend, right? Who’d saved her life only yesterday?
But her fingers felt for the silver spoon she’d snuck into her pocket before coming over. Just to make sure it was still there. In case of emergency.
“Angua?” she called. “It’s Cheery. Can I come in?”
No one responded. But, as she strained her ears as hard as she could, she heard soft padding and clicking sounds from within the room.
Of course, you idiot, she scolded herself. It’s not like she’d be able to ANSWER your question.
She steeled herself and reached out, slowly, to open the door ...
Just treat her like a person, Cheery chanted to herself. An extra-hairy person.
Just as her fingers brushed the handle, the door swung open from the other side with a creak.
A wolf stood inside.
Every thought Cheery had been trying to think and remember fled for cover.
This was not a hairy person. Not even remotely close. It was a wolf. A werewolf. Ninety-odd predatory pounds of muscle and sinew and hair and teeth…
But almost as soon as she’d glimpsed it, the wolf withdrew, backing further into the semidarkness away from the open door.
Cheery tried to remember what breathing normally felt like.
A small but yammering part of her wanted to toss the things she’d brought into the room like so many dog biscuits, say her piece as quickly as possible, and bolt. She’d seen Angua in her wolf shape twice now and hadn’t screamed or thrown up or died…yet, and that was enough. Why keep pushing her luck?
She watched as the wolf sat down with her head turned away from the door, body crouched slightly, eyes fixed on a spot underneath the bed. Her bushy golden tail was curled neatly around her paws. Somehow, the effect made her look just a bit smaller and less threatening.
Treat her like a person, Carrot commanded inside her head.
Cheery stepped forward.
“Hello,” she said. “I, uh… I brought you that ointment I promised you. For your mouth.”
Eyes met hers briefly before the wolf averted hers again. Angua’s eyes. Human eyes in a golden-furred face…
“You should dab it on twice a day,” Cheery said. “It tastes bad—well, I assume it does—but it’ll help. Dwarfs use it for burns when there are mining accidents… explosions and so forth.”[2]
The wolf didn’t even flick an ear. She was apparently still finding the underside of the bed more worth study than Cheery’s face.
One down. “And I wanted to return the, uh, the mascara you loaned me awhile ago. You were right, it’s not for me. But I’m so glad you let me try it.”
It felt to Cheery like she was being ignored, though in the gloom—there were no candles lit—she couldn’t be absolutely certain. She glanced back at the door, which was still ajar.
She took another deep, steadying breath, trying to conjure up Angua’s face as she had come to know it. “And I needed to say…thank you. For everything.”
The wolf’s eyes met hers again.
This should have been the hardest part to say, but somehow it felt easier. Maybe it was that she felt on a roll now, or maybe it was just easier to talk to something—someone—that couldn’t really talk back right now. Even if that someone felt intimidating and unfamiliar to her in this shape.
“I mean… You were the first one to welcome me here. You’ve been so kind and helped me with so many things. And that means a lot to me.”
She paused, suddenly conscious of how long she’d been standing there, stiffly. If this was talking to a real person, even a linguistically challenged one, then it was a conversation. And people stood at attention for Watch officers and for presentations, not for conversations.
She lowered herself slowly to sit on the floor. And kept talking over her hammering heart, which was trying to warn her that making herself look even more vulnerable and edible was a bad idea, damn it.
“And then yesterday you saved my life, even though it meant that you got hurt—and I’m sorry about that again, by the way,” she added, wincing internally even as she remembered the offending silver chain mail. It had burned Angua’s mouth when the werewolf rescued Cheery. With any luck, Angua wouldn’t notice Cheery was still wearing it.
The wolf moved.
“And I—I…” Cheery stuttered, losing her train of thought momentarily as she watched Angua lower herself slowly, ever so slowly, til she was lying on the floor facing Cheery. She rested her head on her front paws. Not readying a lunge—more like preparing for a full-body lounge. Her ears were pricked up, though. Cheery wondered if that was a good sign.
She forged ahead.
“I realized I never thanked you properly before. And yesterday I didn’t really react well… Everything happened so fast,” said Cheery.
Angua blinked, slowly, in a way that almost reminded Cheery of a cat. From this angle, Cheery could see the blistering around her muzzle.
“So, um, I’m sorry about that. About yesterday. And I just wanted you to know…”
Cheery shut up before she began looping all the way back to the beginning. She knew she had a tendency to babble when she was nervous, at least once she’d gotten her words rolling.
There was a soft thump.
Cheery stared at Angua, not quite sure whether to believe her eyes. Again she saw Angua’s tail strike the floor slowly with a thump. And again: thump.
Was that meant to be some kind of… werewolf applause?
“Er…” said Cheery, lost for words again.
She looked around for somewhere to set down the mascara and the jar of ointment. Angua’s room was not a particularly messy place—you could easily see the floor[3]—but it wasn’t winning awards for strict tidiness right at the moment either.[4] There was a chair with a pile of clothes on it. A big solid wardrobe, which a dwarf definitely couldn’t reach the top of. And something that hadn’t been there the last time she was here: a large dog basket in the corner which, on closer inspection, looked as though it might have been recently vacated. A half-full bowl of water and a brush sat next to it.
Cheery settled for placing her items on the floor near the basket, and hoped that wouldn’t cause any offense.
She rose and started to say the magic words, “Well, I should probably get—” but broke off abruptly as the wolf got to her feet.
Angua looked at her intently and made a sound that was—well, honestly, it was a growl, but a polite one. It was like she had a little growl stuck in her throat and was trying to dislodge it as quickly and quietly as possible.
“Oh,” said Cheery. “Er… You want to Change? Should I leave?” She was so glad Carrot had forewarned her. Some sounds should just not be left open to audience interpretation, and a werewolf’s growl was one of them.
Angua shook her head slowly, deliberately. She raised one front paw and pointed in the direction of the still-open door.
“Oh. Yes, I’ll get the door. And I’ll just… turn around til you’re done…?”
It is not at all a pleasant experience to turn your back on something that could sever your head from the rest of you, but Cheery obediently went to close the door—which had the same kind of modified handle as the outside.
She stood awkwardly studying the wall, trying to both listen and not-listen to the sounds of movement behind her. Even growing up in Uberwald—werewolf central—she’d never actually seen a werewolf Change before. But she’d heard rumors. It could drive some people mad. And it could drive the WEREWOLF even madder, at least if that werewolf didn’t like to be watched…
By now, everybody in the Watch knew that one of the fastest ways to get on Angua’s bad side was to threaten her privacy. There had been one new human recruit a bit ago who’d thought it would be funny to steal Angua’s uniform while she was out in "plain clothes." (Cheery hadn’t fully grasped the significance when the story made its muttered way around the Watch, since she hadn’t known then about her friend being a werewolf. She'd just assumed Angua had gotten picked on for being, well, a woman, and she'd hoped it wouldn't become a trend.)
It hadn't. The recruit had been fired on the spot—shockingly, he’d been clever enough to think up the prank, but not clever enough to realize a werewolf could sniff out who’d hidden her clothes in about thirty seconds. Cheery had gotten used to Commander Vimes yelling like that, but that incident was the first time she’d actually heard Carrot raise his voice.
There was a calendar on the wall nearest the door. Cheery studied it, squinting. It had a few neat entries for the usual kinds of things—appointments and holidays and such—but the most prominent, plainly visible in shiny red ink, were entries marking the monthly phases of the moon. And on today’s date, next to the red full-moon doodle…
BE KIND TO YOURSELF, Angua had written in all capital letters.
Not “Don’t savage anybody,” Cheery thought. Not even “Be kind to others.”
Be kind to yourself…
She snapped back out of her thoughts as she heard a little cough come from behind her. She turned to see Angua sitting on her bed, human again, wearing a simple shift and a carefully blank expression. Even in the relative darkness, Cheery could see the burns around her mouth looked a lot worse than yesterday—angry pink patches of skin, blistering in places. She could only imagine what the inside of Angua’s mouth looked and felt like.
“Hi,” said Cheery. “Oooh… those burns look really nasty, I’m so sorry…”
Angua only shrugged. “Wolves’re tough. If we weren’t, we’d never survive. I’ll be fine.” The tone was casual, but the words themselves were pronounced with some difficulty. She paused. “Thanks f’ the ointment.”
“Of course.”
“Sorry I… can’t talk much. Hurts 'oo talk,” Angua said, slurring. “Human skin’s more sensitive. And…” She glanced through the window at the night sky outside. Cheery copied her anxiously. The moon was behind heavy cloud cover at the moment, but who knew how long that would last.
“Oh, that’s okay. We can talk another time…”
“But thanks f’ coming over. And ’m glad I could help with…everything.”
Cheery nodded, then hesitated. BE KIND TO YOURSELF was still echoing in her mind.
“Do you… need anything else?” she asked. “Like… well, if it hurts to eat, I could bring you some soup or something. I mean, nothing too hot, obviously…” And no silver spoons…
Angua sort of smiled, but it turned into a grimace. “No, s’okay,” she said.
“Or would you…” Part of Cheery couldn’t believe she was about to suggest this, but she’d already started the sentence and now she had to see it through. “Would you ever want me to come visit you sometime? During full moon? I mean, since you’re usually off duty and everything… And Carrot told me he doesn’t really get involved…so I guess I’m saying, if you ever want company, I’d be glad to…”
Angua’s expression changed. It still looked sort of blank, but it was somehow a very different kind of blank.
“It’s really up to you,” Cheery said, suddenly starting to worry she might have said too much, gone too far.
“I think I should Change back now,” Angua said carefully.
Cheery took a half step back. “Oh. Right.”
“But…”
Cheery waited. She had the feeling Angua had started that sentence without knowing how to finish it, too.
“I’ll try and let you know. Sometimes ’m busy. Sometimes I… wander. But maybe sometime… We’ll see.”
Cheery nodded. “Sure. Just let me know. I’ll see you… next week?”
Angua looked away, staring out the window again. There was a long pause.
“Right,” said Angua after a minute, sounding distant.
There was something here she’d trodden on, something big, something sort of looming in the air like an invisible elephant, but Cheery didn’t know what it was. “Is there something wrong?” she asked feebly, not sure if she even wanted to know the answer, but knowing she still needed to ask the question.
Angua gave her another smile-wince. “Nothing at all.”
“Okay…” Cheery didn’t believe that. She braced herself to probe further.
“Turn around,” Angua said suddenly, her eyes on the window again.
Cheery had never obeyed so fast. There was a quick rustle behind her, and then the sound of something with mass dropping onto all fours. It had only been a matter of seconds. She felt goosebumps spring up on her neck and arms. Could she turn around? Did she dare? Her fingers unconsciously found her pocket, although she couldn’t imagine now what meaningful defense she’d be able to put up using a spoon. Why hadn’t she looked harder for a knife, or even a fork?
The golden wolf walked past with her head down, well out of arm’s reach, heading for the basket on the floor. Cheery relaxed, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, as she watched Angua curl up inside it. With her tail wrapped around her and her fur fluffed up a little, she looked almost... cute, Cheery thought.
Angua looked at her and twitched her ears briefly, then put her head on her front paws with a sigh. It was a clear dismissal. But Cheery couldn’t ignore the compulsion to smooth over the awkward moment, end things on a better note.
“You know, I’ve always loved your hair,” she told Angua. “Do you think maybe sometime you could teach me some things about how you do that? Dwarfs don’t really know anything about ‘hair care.’ Beard care, sure, but that’s different…”
Angua raised her head and met her eyes. She dipped her head once.
Cheery smiled. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re a good friend.”
The wolf blinked.
“Have a good night, then,” Cherry said, and then corrected herself, “well, morning, by this point. I hope you, er, feel better soon. And let me know… if you need anything. Honestly.” She headed out the door, closing it behind her.
Something deep inside her unclenched. And it wasn’t because she’d “escaped” unscathed. It was something else.
Be kind to yourself…
She paused. Out here in the hallway she could just barely hear a sound from Angua’s room.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
[1] And bad, and ugly…
[2] This meant the medicine was very potent, because any treatment for injuries sustained in a mining accident had the uphill battle of proving there was anything left of a dwarf worth treating. Cheery knew this the hard way, having lost a brother to such an accident.
[3] Unlike, say, in Nobby’s room, which was far more like a den and somehow managed to warp anything unfortunate enough to cross the threshold into something Nobby-fied.
[4] It was also rather excessively brown. Brown floor, brown wardrobe, brown painting on the brown wall, etc., etc.