M and C-the game

        It was a strange feeling shaking Alexander's hand. The back was furry while his palm had soft pads that felt oddly like a dog's. His claws seemed like someone brushing quill-tips on my arm. He greeted me in a very dog like manor. Giddy and extremely happy. "Dad," Alex asked, "can we play soccer? Joshua doesn't have to start working until tomorrow." I thought he was joking. I loved that sport nearly as much as dogsledding.
        "It's fine by me. It might evan help Joshua become more used to us," Eric said.
        "Yes, I'll take a game, Alexander," I said.
        "Call me Alex."
        "Call me Josh."
        On the way to the field I asked a question after Alex bragged that he was the best soccer player on this island (and the world if he ever got off the island). "Alex, just how do you control a soccer ball? I mean, your foot has no arch (like mine), so how are you supposed to maneuver the ball?" I was wondering more and more about werewolves.
        Alex took a moment to think as we passed some other buildings and a small clinic before he finally said, "I guess I control the ball by which claws hit the ball. If it hit the middle two it would go forward, the middle and a side would change direction." Eric who accompanied us to the field, smiled in a strange doggish way.
        The soccer field was a grassy, roughly mowed, cheap imitation of a field with a couple net-less goals at each end. Even the balls were in bad condition wrapped in duct tape and half deflated. Apparently this was the main recreational activity on the island. It seemed that there were forty or so younger werewolves playing at least five games. Alex introduced me to some of his werewolf peers and we separated into teams. Alex and I were placed on opposite sides.
        Everyone on my team groaned about not having Alexander on our team. I thought that Alex must be a wonderful soccer player to inspire such agony over not having him.
        Alexander was good. He was so good that he could weave in and out of my team almost playfully. I was the closest match and found myself in many situations where I had to out smart him. I had to defend the goal from his shots and make failing attempts to out run him on the field. I did quite good if I could get the ball far away from Alex. My team got the ball several times, but if Alex got it our team had to work hard just to defend ourselves. My team was losing.
        It was a long, hard game, but near the end we caught up. My team only needed one point to tie. I had the ball and was moving fast, straight to the goal. I made it to the goal many times before, but Alex blocked it every time. I was panting like crazy. I kept shooting marvelous kicks at the goal that all seamed perfectly aimed. Alex blocked all of them with the deft precision of a machine.
        I kicked and kicked hard. I sent the ball flying. When it seemed there was nothing Alex could do, he jumped and snapped his mouth open as he made contact, punting the ball back in the game; exactly like Snow had done with me the millions of times I've played with him. The ball went back to the other team and it took a while to get the ball back.
        When I did get it back I devoted every ounce of energy I had left to kick my final shot. It went barreling to the goal as I landed on my back forcing the wind out of me. Alex jumped kicking the ball from the air, sending it right back to my exhausted body. It landed, deflated. Four deep gashes lay in the ball where Alex's claws had dug in. For a split second I thought I saw my head replace the ball. The horribly gouged face had wide horror filled eyes that gazed blankly into my own. I quickly shook off the thought. I did not want my fears to resurface.
        "Great, Alexander, that's the third ball you've wrecked this week," someone yelled.
        "At least we finished the game this time," another said.
        I stumbled up; it was a wonderful game. Intense and hard.
        An army officer and Dr. Johnson came up clapping. "Bravo, bravo," they cheered. The army officer congratulated me. "You're the closest to ever score on Alexander since kindergarten." He was a big man. He seemed to have an air of honor around him.
        "Thanks, Mr...?" I began.
        "Kris Cooper. And you must be Joshua."
        "Yes. Thanks, Mr. Cooper. Alex is quite a good soccer player." I said respectfully.
        "Do you mind if I talk to Eric for awhile? There has been some," he stopped, "problems at Cave Isle. Probably just dragons playing jokes," he said.
        "Sure," I replied as the wind began to pick up.
        "Alexander, the wind is getting heavy and damp, probably a storm. I suggest you boys head straight for home now," Eric said.
        Alex began to lead me onto a road but cocked his ears back. "I can't hear them, the wind is blocking the sound," Alex said, "Come on, follow me."

*         *         *

        Eric was correct, according to Alex we were close when it started to rain. Lightning began dancing around us as the torrential rain seemed to worsen. A small apartment complex stood in front of us. I thought it inconvenient for the apartments to be half a mile away from the soccer field. Men and werewolves were rushing around us. Alex ran to a door with a number five on it like he was racing a bullet. I tried to go as fast as Alex, but he was faster than me, yet again. I walked in after him, just in time for him to drop to all fours and shake himself dry in a very dog like manor soaking me quite thoroughly again.
        "Alexander," a stern, slurred voice yelled making Alex straighten up. I looked around to see a lady werewolf with what appeared to be Alex's younger brother. Both were grayish with blue cat-shaped eyes.
        "Mom, look who arrived today." Alex said, knowing it would get him out of trouble.
        I jumped into the conversation, "Hi, I'm Joshua, and you must be Mrs. Wolff." She wore a royal blue dress and looked good for a werewolf.
        "Come in and dry off." That is exactly what I did. I went in and dried off 'properly'. Luckily my luggage happened to be there. I looked around and saw that it was a simple apartment. Not all too fancy furnishings and a picture here or there. There was a small electric piano which had scratched up keys.
        Alex's younger brother jumped in front of me portraying the playful bow. He was on all fours and on his elbows wagging his tail. My dogs have done this before when they wanted to play. I was realizing how dog like werewolves really were.
        "Wanna play?" he asked, all giddy.
        "Maybe if you tell me your name," I said as Alex walked up beside me.
        "Why don't we take him to our room, Aaron," Alex said. Immediately Aaron jumped back onto his hind legs and rushed down the hallway. Their room was small and the walls were plastered with posters of video games, other places like Alaska and Idaho in the winter, and most especially of soccer. There was a bunk bed in the corner. "It's not much," Alex said, "and we share the room."
        "I like it, this is a big room," I said. To be honest my own bed room was considerably larger.
        Aaron rushed to a closet and pulled out the board game Risk. We took a minute going over rules and setting up. It turned out Aaron was the best. But he didn't notice Alex was only going after me, and I him. After this game, Alex took me to the dinner table and we played a game of chess. Apparently, I had the upper hand in this game. Piece after piece I took. Alex kept one lip half raised slightly and growled each time I moved closer to victory. Ignoring the intimidation I moved into a pre-checkmate spot. I was wrong about the idea of werewolves before I met Eric. So far they are more like people should be, kinder and more considerate.