Part IV

"This seriously SUCKS!" Branwen said as she clumsily tried to knit herself a better pair of shoes out of badly-wound string with two knitting needles made out of twigs.

Lumpy was grazing nearby and he looked up at his weird human friend for a second, then went back to cropping dandelions. Branwen had built a little lean-to near the stream with branches and birch-bark tied together with LumpyStringo . She was sitting in the shade near her cookfire, fighting with her woolen slippers. The last night, she had scared off a zombie and a skeleton that had been carrying a bow. Branwen thought that if the SKELETONS on this planet could come up with bows and arrows, she could bloody-well make a pair of decent slippers.

While she fought with her knitting, Branwen contemplated what she knew about her new home. So far she knew that there were sheep, cows, pigs and chickens (one chicken was currently roasting over her fire.) She had seen zombies and skeletons at night, something off in the distance with multiple sets of red, glowing eyes that made a nasty screeching noise, and something that randomly exploded off in the distance. Branwen hadn't gone to investigate the explosions yet. It could be other humans... the zombies and skeletons had to come from somewhere!

She had made a serviceable spear out of a long stick and a sharpened rock, a very clumsy axe and a shovel so far. The tools were enough to help her make her safe-ish little shelter, kill herself a chicken and keep herself warm with firewood.

"This really isn't going to be enough," Branwen told Lumpy, who looked like he had the mange, but didn't seem to care. "Eventually the monsters will realize how easy it is to knock down my house, and I'm lunch."

She looked at her pathetic stash of potentially useful items: she had found some charred bones in the woods near her lean-to, a few arrows the skeletons had left behind (but no bows... dang) some nice smooth stones, a good stack of firewood, some more flint, the feathers from her chicken, and a dwindling supply of LumpyStringo .

"I can't live like this!" Branwen yelled to no-one in particular. "I miss my cable TV! I miss my internet!"

From close by, Branwen heard something whine. Lumpy snorted in alarm, and ran off into the trees. Branwen looked near the stream and saw a bedraggled-looking wolf cub. He looked pretty rough. He was looking at Branwen's chicken and drooling.

"Where the heck did YOU come from, little guy?" Branwen asked. She tore a wing off the roasting bird. "Ouch! Hot hot hot!" she yelled, tossing the wing from hand to hand until it cooled. The cub whined again and pulled himself a little closer to the fire, eyeing the chicken wing.

"Come here, you can have it," Branwen coaxed. She held the wing out, down near the ground. The scent of it must have been overwhelming to the poor little wolf. He inched closer still, afraid that Branwen would hurt him. Eventually, hunger overcame caution, and the wolf cub took the chicken out of Branwen's hand and allowed her to cautiously pet him while he crunched the chicken bones.

With food in his belly, the wolf was a little braver. He wagged his tail, and stared longingly at the rest of the chicken. He was afraid of the fire though, and wouldn't go closer.

"No way," Branwen told him. "You'll have to share. That's MY lunch too." Branwen lifted the stick that spitted the chicken and took it away from the fire to let it cool a bit. She tore off bits of meat, and shared them with the wolf.

Both of them ate until they were stuffed. The wolf cub had obviously decided to adopt Branwen and was lounging against her hip, keeping warm. His tail thumped the ground happily as Branwen scratched his head. "Well, I guess YOU need a name now. 'Lumpy' is taken. How about Spooky?"

Spooky didn't care. He had found a new pack-mate and he was well-fed. He just sighed contentedly and fell asleep.