Wendigos Aren't Supposed To Be Nice

Wess winced when Claire suggested to the wolves that Wesley would eat their children and their lovers. Animals didn't even appeal to him, and she was talking about him as if he hadn't just helped her, not once but twice. Wess had forgotten why he was nervous about people, but Claire was doing a good job of reminding him.

"Oh," Wesley said, not minding the wolves in the den, "I didn't fear them bothering me before. I could kill a wolf, even a whole pack of wolves if I had to. The Forbidden Forest has scarier things than wolves, Claire." Things like him, evidently.

He looked off, awkward, trying not to meet Claire's eyes. He didn't want her to now that she had hurt his feelings. Was this how it would always be? No matter how hard he tried, he'd never manage to get people to like him? He understood them not turning their backs on him; that made sense, but to disdain him? Even after he helped them.

Wesley wasn't typically aggressive or aggressively leaning, but he bared his teeth at Claire and the pack behind her. He had been nice and still they thought they could trample all over him, encroach on his territory, and even attack him. This wasn't a matter of dominance; it was one of decency.

"I want to be your friend Claire, or at least on good terms with you, but I won't be treated this way. I'm not just some piece of shit on your shoe. If this is how it's going to be, stay out of my territory, or I'll kill you."

Wess wanted to be angry at her suggesting she was all he could get. That she was all he would ever get. But she had said she was in love with him? Or that she hated him? Wesley was confused, and he didn't have a whole hell of a lot of time to think about it all before she was laughing (none too warmly) and closed the distance between them to hold two of his fingers.

She was so cold, and it hurt, but at the same time, Wess felt a heat building in his stomach that he hadn't felt since, shit, he couldn't remember how long. Sulkily, Wesley said, "I'm not moody. All you've done was insult me and hurt me and now, even as you try to stand up for me, you're insulting me. Claire, you're not a very nice girl." He frowned.

The Wendigo leaned down, so his face was in hers. He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Why do you want to be my friend, Claire? You don't even like me. Is it because you can't kill me? Is it because you're also desperate?"

"Maybe if you want people to stop backstabbing you, you have to stop backstabbing them?" Wesley said, motioning to his wounded back. It was barely a scratch on him, his skin was too thick for it to have done much damage, but the intent was what mattered.

Then she said... romantic? Why was she on about that? What did romance have to do with anything? Did Claire want to be with him? But she barely knew him! And she'd hated him all of their time together. "It isn't about romance, Claire! It's about decency. I made a mistake, I know. I'm bound by my hunger; I can never stop or... sate myself. You have to let things go. If you don't want me around, just say so, but don't take your anger out on me and only keep me around because you're lonely. I deserve better than that, and so do you."

Wess shook his head. "No, Claire, it isn't enough. I'm not one of your wolves. I won't be at your beck and call, and I'm not good to have in a fight. I'm really not." Wesley backed away too. "I have to go... eat. Hunt. When you truly want to talk and play nice, you can find him until then, have fun with your wolves."

With that, the Wendigo darted off into the trees and the night, fully intending to hunt. Claire would find the boar at the den later that night, just before morning struck.