2. Yuri in the woods
Chapter two
Yuri in the woods
I stared at the trees as they waved over my head menacingly. Their magic leaves dropped from the branches, threatening me. Autumn was coming. Great. I hated the colder months. Cold-blooded beast like me? With nothing to keep my scaley ass warm in the winter, it was going to be a rough couple months again. I did this to myself every winter. I would stock up on firewood and regret not having enough blankets or jackets or stew.
I groaned in discontent as I swatted the fallen leaf from my leathery muzzle. My claws scratched across the top of my scales, and I ended up digging them in further to hit an itch. It’s hard being covered in tough hide; forehead scratches just don’t feel the same.
The thick forest around me swayed harder, a gust of wind pushing the underbrush aside. A thunderstorm brewed over my head. “Better batten down the hatches, Yuri.”
I started with the shutters. They whined on rusty hinges as I tried my best not to break them off the wooden frames. I used bungee cords to hold them in place, since they liked to fly open without warning. Side effects of living in a magical forest, I guess. I worked around the cabin in quick succession, ensuring all the shutters were locked. The back door took no time to jam into place. I left the front door for last.
There was still the matter of dinner—and probably breakfast. I didn’t keep much in the house, as it was always me. Just me. Only me. Doesn’t take much to feed an old gator like me. Besides, I can always just munch on a slow deer if needed. However, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of a bloody meal for the third night in a row. “Don’t want to be caught with empty cupboards.”
I grabbed up my wallet and a handful of bags of jerky to trade.
The sky darkened quickly as I trudged through the woods. Town wasn’t too far off. Once I made it to my truck I kept hidden in a wooden garage off the road, I could call my grocery store hook-up and get something bagged to go. The tiny town had a single grocery store, and I knew one of the managers there. Well, a long time ago, we used to be friends.
Rain hit the top of my head mere seconds before I flung open the wooden doors. My rusty pick-up, reliable but ugly, stood waiting for me. I ducked inside before every inch of me was drenched. Mindful of my tail, I slid behind the driver seat and cranked her on. The keys were always in the truck. She roared to life, rumbling beneath me.
I grabbed the phone I left on the dashboard, thankful it still had some juice. That meant I didn’t have to wait to call Tim. I plugged the brick of technology in and dialed while I crept out of the tree line. The wheels hit the gravel with a lurch. Not a single car in sight—typical.
“Hey Tim,” I grumbled the second he picked up.
“Hey Yuri, you need some groceries? Been a hot minute.”
“Yeah, on my way now. Don’t want to get caught on the bad side of this storm without anything in the cupboards. I’ve got at least twelve pounds of jerky and the twenty you gave me last time.”
“Sure, what you need this time? Thinking about adding some vegetables into that diet of yours?” Tim’s teasing didn’t land him any points as I huffed into the receiver. His light chuckles died off with an awkward, “Err, I’ll just grab the usual. Uh, how about chocolate cake? We’ve got a BOGO on this cake.”
I bit back a retort that would end up with me empty-handed. Tim was a nice enough guy. We grew apart for obvious reasons, but he did try, and I appreciated the effort to make it feel like real interaction. So, I didn’t bite his head off for cutesy bullshit like do you want some cake , and he did me the great honor of grocery shopping for me.
“What kind of chocolate cake?”
I can’t eat cake.
“It’s triple chocolate: chocolate cake, chocolate icing, and chocolate ganache.”
I glared at the winding road, rain pelting the windshield .
“What the fuck is ganache?”
“I got no earthly idea, but Joanne in the bakery has been selling everything with ganache on it like hot cakes, so it has gotta be good.” Tim trailed off, likely staring at the cakes in question, trying to figure out whatever ganache was. I rolled my eyes. Same ole Tim. Older…not wiser.
“Fine, but a small one.” I was likely going to have to throw it out. I can’t eat cake, and I definitely can’t eat chocolate. However, for some reason, as I gripped the steering wheel with one clawed hand and held my phone against the side of my head with the other, I needed the cake. So, I ordered it along with other meats and vegetables, and I even let Tim convince me to buy a pack of strawberries.
I’d at least try them. Begrudgingly.