Serpent's Stockholm Syndrome (Based on The Company of Wolves)

In a modest little cottage buried deep in the foliage of the woods, a man who wasn't a man and a little blonde girl laid snuggled together on a rug by the fireside. While the man was covered in a coat of warm fur, the girl lay beside him, shivering and naked. A few others (who, like the man, weren't really people) lounged about on the furniture, now ruined from its excessive use by the residents contained within. Like the furniture, the rest of the cottage’s interior was dirty and dilapidated, with trails of muddy paw prints streaked across the stained wood floors. A raven perched on the windowsill, squawking when it observed movement from one of the creatures inside.

Eventually the young woman stirred from her slumber, wiggling her small frame out of the grasp of her sometimes-lover. No sooner had she done so did the wolf-man also wake up to see her heading towards the door. He let out a growl of warning.

“Relax. I’m just going outside to look for something to eat.”

He nodded in understanding and watched her departure from the window.

The raven squawked loader, this time successful in waking up the other werewolves. It flew from the sill and followed the young woman down the road. Noticing their companion by the window, a few of the wolves sauntered over to him.

“Did your whore leave at the crack of dawn again?” one of them scoffed.

“She needed to go look for something to eat. I do not eat the things she does, so there’s no point in going with her on her search. Besides, we have a hunt to get on with later in the day. There was no need to tell her no,” he replied.

“Don’t try to act like you’re in control, boy. You’re more whipped than a farmer’s hound, and you know it,” one of the others said.

“I am not ‘whipped.’ Her life is in my hands, I can do with it as I please. If I tell her to stay put, she stays put. If I tell her to do something for me, she does so. If I tell her to bend over and offer herself to me, she asks me ‘How far should I bend?’ How can you tell me I’m not in control of her when everything else says otherwise?” he snarled back.

“Because it doesn’t,” the first one replied, “She may do those things for you, but how often has she refused you? More than once, I can tell you that. She argues with you and you let her. Does a pet argue with its master in such a way? No, it does not. And that’s all she is, brother. She’s not one of us, and she doesn’t follow our rules. For all you know, when she leaves our company to go search for food, she may be out there looking for a huntsman to come and slaughter us all. She’s cunning, and she manipulates you to get what she wants. She’s a snake, coiled and waiting to strike. How many times will it take for you to realize you should have eaten her long ago?”

The man was silent as he continued to stare out the window.

“Here’s the deal,” the third one piped up, “ We've been talking, and we've all agreed that you might as well eat it already. It’s not one of us, it doesn't belong. We already have too many mouths to feed. When we go on the hunt today, you will stay behind. Wait for your pet, and when it returns, devour it. Gobble up every last bit of it—we don’t care how, just as long as you get rid of it so we never have to see it again. Do you understand?”

He hesitated before he spoke.

“I understand. I've let her push me around far too much, and to keep her around is a danger to our company. I will take care of it as soon as she returns, though I can tell you she will be missed.”

                                                              ~oOo~

The wolf sat at the fire side and placed another log into the burning pile. He would surprise her, he thought, when she walks through the door. He’ll grab her and throw her right into the fire, charred and crisped for eating. The other wolves had left for their hunt for what seemed like hours ago, but that was only because he was half-dreading what was to come. He sighed as he remembered the long nights they spent together, sharing pleasure and pain and sometimes secrets into the small hours of the night.

At that moment the girl opened the door and came inside, closing the frost and cutting winds behind her. She turned around to see the wolf-man staring at her with a startled look on his face, her grandmother’s herbs and spices set in neat little rows on the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He got to his feet and adjusted himself. There was no use in lying, he thought. It wouldn't make any difference.

“What does it look like? I’m going to eat you, of course,” he replied with a stony expression.

“This is about what the other wolves were telling you, isn't it?” her voice was cruel in their accusations, “Saying that I tricked you? That I used you?” she spat. “I heard you talking to them while I was outside. I wasn't that far away from the house. I’m not stupid like they think I am.”

“You’re a liability to the company. You seduced me…and you liked it. I’m not going to let you do it again,” he stated coldly.

She smiled then, and her smile did not match her eyes, which were brimming with contempt and disgust—and this is what unnerved him most.

“You really think I’m the one using you?” she scoffed. “I wasn't the one who stalked you through the woods. Granted I was attracted at first, but when I learned what you were…” Although she hadn't finished her sentence, the implications said it all.

“I didn't eat your kin,” she continued, “I wasn't the one who surrounded you with my starving pack and left you with no other option. Seduce you? You ate my grandmother, and then you got laid. How could I possibly…? How could I possibly enjoy such a thing…?”

She was shaking now, and although she tried to stop herself from doing so, she couldn't bring herself to contain her contempt any longer.

“I hate you. I hate you for that. My grandmother was important to us, and every day I live in fear that you’ll change your mind and do the same to me. I haven’t seen my family for months. I've brushed your coat and listened to your complaining. About your secret desires and your greatest fears. I have always been there, since the day we met. I was there for you during times you couldn't even trust your own pack. And this is what I get? At the slightest suggestion all of a sudden I’m nothing but a light snack and a fuck-toy for you to play with. So go ahead and eat me you son of a bitch. I hope I only make you hungrier with my tiny body, and that my splintered bones cut open your greedy stomach and your blackened heart.”

She waited for a reply, glaring daggers at him; but instead the wolf looked down at his feet, his face hidden from view.

 “Well? What do you have to say to that?” she demanded.

“I say I should have eaten you a long time ago, back when you were fresh and well-fed,” he growled, but then stopped himself. He paused to look at her in contemplative silence. “Do you really feel that way?”

 “I do,” she nodded.

“I regret to say I thought otherwise,” he replied.

“Well then you thought wrong. So what now?” she asked, feeling awkward.

“Do you really want your freedom?”

“I…I do,” she replied, this time looking away.

“Then take it. Get as far away from here as you can, as soon as you can. Go back to your family,” he told her.

“Good. Thank you.” She turned to leave, but then stopped. “I won’t tell them about this place. You know, what happened here. Just don’t come to our village. Otherwise I will tell them, and well…you know the rest. You know where it is?”

“I do. I’ll be sure to avoid it,” he agreed.

“Okay then. Goodbye, Mr. Wolf.” With that final farewell, and with nothing to take on her journey home, the girl wasted no time in fleeing the little cottage, naked and starving through the mud and the melting snow, the sharp wind cutting at her skin as she stumbled down the trail as fast as she could. Not even once did she turn to look back.

The wolf watched her go, silently debating on going after her—but for what purpose, he wasn't sure—until she was out of sight beyond the horizon. A raven squawked at the windowsill, announcing the return of the pack, and the wolf stood in silence as he stroked the raven’s oily feathered head, over and over again.