Naber was alive, and Clara was so overcome with relief that she skipped every class without a second thought — the first time in her life she had ever done such a thing. To make amends for her nearly fatal mistake, she bought pork ribs, simmered them into a rich broth, and fed it to Naber spoonful by careful spoonful.
The guilt hadn't entirely left her. She kept worrying, in some irrational corner of her mind, that she had somehow misshapen Naber's skull, and so she laid it across her lap and parted the fur methodically, inspecting every inch. The little creature really did have extraordinary luck.
Clara was still in her sleep dress — a short thing that left a generous length of pale leg exposed. Naber sprawled across her thighs, hooked its claws into the hem of her skirt, and gnawed at the fabric contentedly.
She picked up her camera and replayed the footage she had taken of Naber the night before, laughing softly at the screen. Then she leaned back against the headboard and stretched, letting herself go fully horizontal against the mattress.
The sharp little claws tugged at the coral fleece hem with renewed interest. Naber pulled — and made a discovery. The skirt and the warm legs beneath it were, apparently, two separate things. It peered downward with great curiosity, then tucked its head in and crawled inside.
"Ah—" Clara felt it before she understood what was happening. Something small and warm was scrambling between her thighs, and she shrieked, dropping the camera and clamping both hands down on the fabric between her legs.
She hauled Naber out by the scruff, gave its bottom two light smacks, and held it up at eye level.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
"Whimper…" Naber wagged its tail without remorse, pink tongue lapping at her fingers in enthusiastic reconciliation.
When that failed to produce the desired thaw, it deployed its most reliable weapon — flipping onto its back, all four paws folded inward, small belly presented upward in an unambiguous petition for affection.
Clara rolled her eyes and poked it on the forehead. "I raise you, I feed you, and this is how you repay me."
Her gaze drifted downward, and she caught sight of something that made her snort. For all its boldness, the evidence of Naber's masculine ambition was — let's say — not yet proportionate to its confidence. She shook her head. Shameless creature, thinking about such things at this age.
"Whimper…" Naber continued to writhe across the bed, rolling from side to side in search of attention from any available angle.
"Fine, fine." Clara relented and rubbed its belly.
Naber hummed with satisfaction, squirming under her hand. Clara watched it preen and felt a small, wicked impulse rise in her — it had, after all, violated her person on two separate occasions now. What was that saying about returning the favour? Acting on a moment of pure mischief, she reached out and gave a certain chopstick-sized something on its underside an experimental pinch.
"Yelp—" Naber's cry was immediate. It spun and closed its teeth around her hand — but gently, barely any pressure, just the faint impression of small fangs against her skin.
Clara's face went scarlet.
She cleared her throat with great dignity. "Right. Well. Consider that a warning. Any more funny business and I'll have you neutered."
"Whimper…" Naber rolled onto its back again and presented its belly as though nothing had happened.
Clara turned onto her side and ignored it.
At noon she boiled two eggs for Naber, peeled them, and set them down. Naber ate both — and then, apparently finding the shells acceptable as a bonus course, crunched through those as well.
Clara changed, tucked Naber under her arm, and headed out to the veterinary clinic for vaccinations. Naber rode pressed against her chest, neck craning to take in the busy street below, legs churning with the clear intention of getting down and investigating on its own terms. Clara kept a firm grip. The traffic alone was enough to make her nervous.
The bus was crowded and airless. The confined space set Naber on edge immediately — ears rigid, body taut, a low growl building in its throat as it scanned the surrounding passengers with open suspicion. Clara stroked it steadily until, after some time, it settled.
The clinic was over an hour away. Clara winced at the price board but selected the most comprehensive vaccine package available. Better safe than sorry.
The vet pulled on his gloves and reached for Naber with practiced confidence. The moment his hands made contact, Naber's entire coat stood on end, claws extending, a sharp warning snarl rising from somewhere deep in its chest.
Wolves do not welcome the touch of strangers.
The vet, however, had spent his career handling animals that did not want to be handled. With two efficient movements he had Naber flipped onto its back, paws secured, and was proceeding with his examination. He checked the eyes. He pressed open the mouth. Then he paused, and looked up.
"Miss Wen, what breed is this?"
Clara blinked. "I — I'm not entirely sure. A friend gave it to me."
"It's an unusual animal." The vet turned his attention to the coat and the tail, his expression growing more thoughtful by the moment. "Something's not quite adding up."
"Is something wrong?" Clara's stomach tightened. "Is it sick?"
"No, no — nothing like that." He frowned. "It's just that it doesn't quite look like a dog. The ears stand fully upright — most breeds don't do that. The muzzle is long and tapered, the teeth are notably large and sharp, and the eyes have a distinctly oblique set to them…"
Clara felt the blood drain from her face. Every feature he was describing was textbook wolf. A vet who spent every day with animals would know exactly what those features meant — it was only a matter of time.
"I don't know much about dog breeds," she cut in quickly, before he could follow the thought any further. "My friend said it was a Husky."
The vet looked at Naber, then back at Clara. "There are similarities," he said slowly. "But this is not a Husky." He hesitated, as though weighing whether to say what he was thinking.
Then he said it anyway.
"Honestly? It looks rather like a wolf."