I waited a distance away, hidden from Dean by some bushes while I dropped my pack, shifted, and pulled the dress over my head. Dean was nearly blue with cold, but I hadn’t been able to bring more clothes. I needed to get him back home where he could warm up. Fortunately, his path had been more winding than straight, and we weren’t terribly far away from my place.
I stepped on a stick, letting its crack serve as a warning of my approach, and he jumped at the snap. It wasn’t as if I could call out.
“Jillian!” He faced me then, suddenly aware of his nudity, cupped both hands over his crotch. “I tried to shift, but I couldn’t.”
He’d be a lot warmer if he had. I could, of course, but that wouldn’t do him much good, or would it? Lifting a finger, in the universal wait-a-minute signal, I watched for acknowledgement.
“Yes?”
I undressed again, let the pack fall from my shoulder, and quickly donned my fur. Then I picked up the long T-shirt in my mouth and brought it to his feet. I followed with the pack holding the pants and waited while he put the clothing on. He was so much taller than me that what had been a dress, on him merely looked like a shirt that hung a bit long. It would be much more ideal for him to be able to shift, but getting him inside by a fire was more important, so we tossed our head and took a few steps toward home. I waited for him to catch up then led the way. I only hoped he hadn’t done himself any harm with his adventures. His skin was scratched and marked by branches and other prickly things, and his feet were probably in worse shape.
We’d deal with it when we were in a safer spot.
Halfway home, voices sounded nearby and I ducked into some brush, glad when he followed without asking why, and, once they became more distant, we started out again. I tried not to tell myself just how happy I was that Dean hadn’t disappeared. Because we were friends. And I cared about his well-being.
No other reason.