Lake Lewisia #508

[scrubjayspeaks]

He tugged the slightly-excessive-for-the-weather scarf back up around his neck to again hide the patch of bruising and faint tooth marks extending from his jawline to his nape, and he pointedly ignored his mother seething in the driver’s seat. “It’s not like she broke the skin,” he eventually said with as much mulish resentment as any teenager had ever mustered. “I’ve told you and your girlfriend before,” his mother replied with equal annoyance, “no werewolfism until you’re eighteen and living someplace of your own, where I won’t have to vacuum up your shed fur.”

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LL#508