It took me far longer than was dignified, standing on my hind legs, pawing at the damn thing until it finally caught, then trying to get my furry ass out of the way so that the door could swing inward.
And then found a giant badger sitting in the hallway looking like a fur beanbag with a head making huffing noises that I was pretty sure were laughter. I stared at him—Elliot, obviously. I’d never realized that when badgers sit, they’reround. Just… a fluffy ball with a vaguely stripey head. I got closer so that I could actually see him.
Up close, his face was honestly kinda cute. Small, rounded ears, a black nose, a white stripe that started an inch or so back from the shiny black and ran up and over the top of his head straight down the middle. More white and dark stripes framing his face with longer grey fur forming a kind of ruff around the outside of his almost non-existent neck.
The rest of him was just fluff.
And then he uncoiled, short dark-furred legs emerging and raising his almost corgi-like body so that he could trot-waddledown the hall toward the living room. I followed him, loping along at an easy pace.
Elliot was clearly smarter than me, and had looped a rope around the handle of the sliding patio door, a rope he caught with his teeth and used to pull the door open so he could waddle-fall down the few stairs to the grass outside.
I followed, noticing that there was another rope out here, too. Either he hadn’t had the ropes on here before, or I hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice them. I wondered which it was. But I was going to be helpful, since I didn’t have to stand on my hind legs to reach the rope, so I grabbed it in my teeth and pulled.
It wasn’t as smooth as when Elliot had done it, but I figured it out much more quickly than I had trying to turn a doorknob with paws, and I hauled the door closed with a couple of tugs.
Elliot waited, then led us both out into the woods, his fluffy tail swishing jauntily behind him.
7
Elliot Crane
Where are you?
Seth Mays
Renting a carpet steamer.
After I’d talkedhim into shifting, we’d gone out into the woods and been caught in a rainstorm that can only be called ‘torrential.’
We’d gotten absolutely soaked, and then we were so covered in mud that there was no possible way for us tonotget it all over the house. Elliot’s rueful face this morning as he looked at the carpet had been enough to send me out in search of a carpet steamer.
What for?
Have you ever tried to get that much mud out of a carpet?
Maybe not that much mud.
Trust me. You need a steamer.
He hadn’t said anything in response, so I rented the steamer, bought a bunch of pet-rated carpet cleaner and a scrubbing brush, winced a little at the bill, and assured the woman at the counter that I would be bringing it back within 24 hours because I definitely didn’t want to pay either the late or replacement fees.
Elliot was sitting at the kitchen island when I got back to the house, having left the steamer and its equipment—and manual—in the living room. There were muddy paw-prints leading to both the guest bathroom and Elliot’s room, but I figured I should probably start where the mud was the thickest.
He looked up when I walked in. “Hey. You didn’t need to do that.”
I shrugged. “I’m the reason we were out in the mud.”
Elliot made a face I couldn’t read. “Mom hated it when I got mud on her carpet,” he said softly. “Val and I did once. I think I was twelve or so. I wanted to go out and shift, and Val came with me.” He looked up, and a small half-smile flitted across his lips. “He always came with me, when we were kids.”
I felt an odd flash of jealousy—not because I thought Elliot was in love with Hart or anything, because that wasn’t the impression I got. But because Elliot had let Hart in. Because Hart knew him well enough to know everything there was to know about him, and I barely knew anything at all.
I desperately wanted to. I got drips and drabs, breadcrumbs that I was slowly putting together to get a sense of the whole loaf. Like how his mom hated mud on the floor. How Hart and he had been inseparable. How he knew how to cook. How he loved chocolate and liked country music.
I wanted to know more. His birthday. His favorite color. His favorite food. His favorite movie. The places he wanted to visit before he died. Whether he was a dog person or a cat person.
I opened my mouth, but he kept going, so I shut it again.
“We came in, and Val took his shoes off, because that was the rule, but I was in fur.” His lips quirked again. “I got halfway across the living room before Dad grabbed me and threw me in the bathtub.”
