Hiding in Plain Sight

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Wally loved the Night of Spirits. It was a dusk-to-dawn carnival of music and lights and drinking and Wally wasn’t really in to any of those things normally. But this was a festival, it was fun, and Wally got to dress up, or dress down, as it were.

When else could Wally go outside and mingle with everyone in town wearing fuzzy dog ears on his head, wagging a furry tail behind him as he moved through the crowd, rubbing against people in the crowded streets? With those and the fur on his forearms and calves, the grey animal pelt belted around his waist, Wally didn’t need anything else because he looked the part of the werewolf and nobody expected werewolves to wear pants.

Not that almost anyone wore pants on the Night of Spirits—everyone was dressed up in some costume, which usually entailed a little clothing as people could get away with. Some very drunk and confident people even found they could get away with none when they tried hard enough, though Wally would need to have some drinks before he got that confident too. For now, the animal pelt—which was just a small fox fur, its head directly in the center of Wally’s pelvis, covering only the bare minimum for public decency—was his friend.

Ideally, Wally would find someone to be his replacement friend for the night, and then he could do his favourite party trick of opening the fox’s mouth to reveal the prize inside.

Wally danced for a while with two guys dressed as old-time warriors in leather thongs, nipple piercings and war paint, but they got distracted by someone much more confident than Wally in green body paint. Then he shared a drink with someone in a cape of feathers, but the guy fell asleep before Wally could ask for a look under the cape.

Rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, Wally wasn’t discouraged. There were plenty of people here having fun.

“Nice ears!”

Wally turned, grinning toothily at the guy who’d approached him, a dark-haired guy who also had wolf ears on his head, though his were obviously held on by the string tied around his chin. He also wore fur on his arms and legs, some on his chest and around his waist, a limp tail sticking out at the back of his pelt.

“Thanks,” Wally told him, grinning. The guy had gone full werewolf for his look, he even had fake paws on his feet and a dog nose on his face. “I like your nose.”

That got him a grin. “How are they staying on? How’d you get them to look so real?” The guy pressed closer to Wally, sharing his space.

They looked so real because Wally wasn’t dressed up. The Night of Spirits was the one night when he didn’t have to dress up, in fact. Dress up as a human. “Family secret,” he said, letting his fangs show.

“Aw, come on,” they guy said, patting Wally’s chest. Wally resisted the urge to lay back on his belly with his arms and legs in the air, asking for more rubs. “Us werewolves have to stick together!”

He even howled for good measure.

Wally howled with him—instinct—and then laughed. “Tell you what,” he said, putting an arm around his new friend and pulling him towards the nearest bar. “Buy me some drinks and I’ll think about it.”

Wally loved the Night of Spirits.



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