Wendigo attacks shouldn’t be taken lightly.

I sigh and look away as you take your half-mauled bra off to reveal your scratched and wounded back; the aftermath of a fight with a wendigo.

It doesn’t help that you’re my best friend, my best friend that I’m unfortunately in love with, that is now bare-torso in front of me, and it takes everything in me to not look at your breasts.

I sigh and shake my head, dabbing some rubbing alcohol on a particularly deep scratch. “You okay..?” I ask softly.