Moonchild

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Jenny straightened her backpack irritably. The straps, half-soaked in sweat, were chafing her shoulders uncomfortably. She was one of the few students lucky—or not so lucky—enough to, by virtue of location, be coerced into walking to school almost every day. Privately, Jenny wished that her school (and her brother, for that matter) would actually consider defining anything over 100 degrees Fahrenheit as “extreme weather”; outside activity in this heat had to be detrimental to the heath. (Though really, she’d settle for just an air-conditioned car of her own instead.) The air was hot and oppressively humid; her hair had long since decided to drape and stick itself to anything in reach.

 

“Hey, Jenny,” a voice huffed suddenly from behind her, accompanied by an uneven rhythm of slap-soled shoes. She glanced over her shoulder to find Alex chugging his way up the cracked and weed-snagged sidewalk, the chubby rolls of fat around his middle seesawing from side to side as he jogged. Jenny repressed her chronic, unladylike twinge of revulsion towards the boy, instead shifting over to give him room to walk beside her.

 

“Hello.” Much as he seemed to enjoy attaching himself to her of an afternoon, Jenny was still less than comfortable around Alex. For better or for worse, however, her indifferent attitude never seemed to phase him. Perhaps he was just too thick to pick it up.

 

“How are you today?” He paused for only milliseconds before rattling on exuberantly, his voice quickly losing the distinction of words to her ears. Jenny had long since ceased to pay attention to the background noise named Alex at any point. In fact, it took an awkward, expectant silence of several seconds from him to attract her attention.

 

“…What?” Her voice was appropriately apologetic. “Sorry, did you ask me something?” Something about his manner unnerved her a bit today; she couldn’t once remember Alex ever actually waiting for an answer before. “Conversations” with him usually consisted of either consistent jabbering on Alex’s part (to the dismay or annoyance of the other party) or Alex daydreaming off in space while the other person attempted to take a turn at the monologue podium.

 

“Yes,” he replied sedately, his tone revealing nothing injured by her lack of attention. He was used to it, after all. “I asked if Simon had been acting oddly at all lately. Teresa’s worried about him, so she asked me to ask you if you know what’s up.”

 

“Uhh… not really, no.” Not that she’d be the first to know if he was anyway. Jenny and Simon had a long-standing policy of “don’t annoy me, I won’t annoy you” in their home. She appreciated him in a way, considering that he kept her fed and clothed and all… Her brother, almost and a decade and a half older than she was, had stepped in as her guardian a little less than two years ago, when a freak accident had removed their parents from the picture. Before that she had basically been an only child… the change of living arrangements had been sudden and awkward, but eventually she’d gotten used to living with Simon. Jenny avoided dwelling on her parents’ absence as much as possible; agitating memory lane brought only a terrible hopelessness, as if the incident was fresh and bleeding all over again.

 

But, although they did get along okay, Simon and Jenny were rarely together for more than an hour or two each day. Jenny stuck to her room after school; when he wasn’t doing schoolwork himself, Simon was usually working or, occasionally, out with Teresa. Jenny couldn’t claim any sort of positive relationship with that woman; to say “neutral” was being optimistic. She rather felt sorry for Alex, sometimes; even though Teresa was only (only!) his cousin, he did have to deal with her on a daily basis. At close quarters. Sharing the same meals. And the same house. The very idea made Jenny shudder involuntarily.

 

“Sure?” he quipped in reply, his manner both lightly joking and strangely serious. The slightly unsettled feeling that had passed over her with his first question returned two-fold at the word. Not only waiting once, but twice? Did Teresa threaten his life or something? The comment was only half-sarcastic.

 

“Yes,” she replied, almost defiantly. Now that she had pondered over it for a bit, Jenny wasn’t really sure if Simon had been acting oddly, or even differently—but she wasn’t going to say that. She maintained a stubborn silence for several moments before Alex shrugged in reply.

 

“That’s good, I guess. I only ask because…” and he was back in high form. Jenny paid attention for a minute or so, searching for any clues as to why he’d been so insistent—for him—about the question; it didn’t take her long to deduce that his monologue, as per usual, added up to very little. She wasn’t sure if any cousinly love could have played a part; she’d never actually seen Alex and Teresa together for any length of time—partially (well, mostly) due to her strong avoidance of the woman.

 

--

 

It hadn’t taken much to rid herself of Alex as they’d rounded the corner to her apartment building; he had his own things to do, after all.

 

“Simon?” she called softly as she slipped in the door, her tone innocently questioning. The rooms felt too still to hide another human; the lengthening silence attested to his obvious absence. 

 

Her thoughts drifted back to the encounter with Alex. I wonder what’s up. Something was, that was for sure. Alex Garrison did not pause for answers on any normal day. With a bit of reluctance, Jenny forced her mind to let the question go for the time being; she needed to actually concentrate on her homework if she wanted to get anything done halfway decently. And even aside from the school factor, Jenny was well aware that any work on her current project (a pencil sketch working from a snapshot of Simon) would be crap if she couldn’t focus.

 

“Hey.”

 

Shock and adrenaline flooded her system. Jenny was rocked back into a defensive position, fists raised and ready to kick butt by the time she realized it was only Simon. “Hi yourself.” Her hands dropped to her sides as she slowly relaxed again. Damn, he scared me.

 

“A wee bit jumpy, are we?” Her brother chuckled as he picked up the sketch she’d left out by her schoolbooks. His eyes lingered over it for several moments; Jenny was growing uncomfortable with the scrutiny by the time his eyes found her again.

 

“I sure hope your ogre here isn’t supposed to be me.”

 

“It’s not,” she replied offhandedly. The words weren’t so much a lie as a jest; the sketch’s subject was by this point obviously no one but Simon, considering the fact that yesterday she’d filled out the slightly bulbous end of his nose and detailed in the scar across its bridge.

 

Simon nodded; to an outsider, his detached manner was almost freakishly similar to his sister’s. “—Before I forget,” he interjected (as if the rampant conversation was actually capable of overriding his words), “You’ll have to get yourself dinner again tonight. I’m doing some stuff with Teresa this evening that’ll probably keep me out long past bedtime, so don’t wait up either.”

 

Jenny’s ears pricked in interest. “What kind of stuff?”

 

“She didn’t tell me, just that I should expect to be out late.” He half-grinned as if imagining sexual possibilities, absently scratching his ear—but unabashedly, Simon was lying his face off with only slight twinges of regret. She wouldn’t understand anyway.

 

“So if she isn’t telling you, exactly why are you bothering to go?” Had it been Jenny, she would’ve backed out at the first sign of anything suspicious. Or just of anything to do with Teresa, but it was long established that she and her brother tended to differ on that point.

 

“…Intriguement.” His reply was as wry as her question.

 

--

 

Intriguement, eh? Well, “intriguement” had certainly brought her farther than she would’ve thought possible. Questioning Simon had revealed that they planned to be at Teresa’s tonight—that is, if he was actually telling the truth. It hadn’t taken long for Jenny to pick up an anxious nervousness about his manner; throughout their conversation (or interrogation, to be more precise), Simon’s hands hadn’t once stopped fidgeting. Jenny hadn’t seen her brother fidget in years. And he’d been avoiding her eyes the whole time, too. He really is a bad liar if you know him.

 

 So she’d called at seven to check, fully prepared with a suitable excuse in case someone actually picked up the phone. No answer. She’d called again around eight. No answer. When the eight-thirty check also failed, Jenny had given up innocent pretenses and biked over to the Garrison’s to investigate. For whatever reason, she couldn’t help but think that something—something big—was being hidden from her. Alex didn’t ask questions. Simon didn’t avoid them.

 

Jenny didn’t like secrets.

 

She’d braked her bike a short ways from the house to find the rooms dark (despite the increasingly dim light of evening outside) but all the cars, even Simon’s, accounted for in the driveway. A strange arrangement in itself. The Garrison’s house, located in outer suburbia as it was, backed up to a patch of woods that extended into the nearby park; it was possible that they’d wandered into the streets or the trees on foot. Or maybe they were just in some inner room that didn’t have any windows… But the only place like that is the laundry room… Maybe they just went for a walk or something. Even as completely non-athletically motivated as they are. And even though Simon would never have bothered to lie about that.

 

Maybe they’re just sitting in the dark for some reason. Simon would kill her if she walked in on them like that… Hesitant and unsure, Jenny stashed her bike underneath a hedge between two houses before creeping closer to the Garrison’s back door. Now I’m actually hoping they’re not home…

 

The door was locked. Duh, Jenny. No matter; she already knew that the spare key was hidden under a nearby rock. Within a minute she was softly closing the door behind her and padding towards the kitchen.

 

The oppressive quiet was eerily similar to the hushed lull before her scare at Simon’s hands just hours before. A note tacked on the refrigerator caught her eye as she scanned the room: We both went back to work before you got home, Alex—you’ll have to find something with Teresa for dinner tonight. –Mom and Dad. It wasn’t dated.

 

I feel like the bogeyman’s going to get me. Jenny gave herself a sharp shake as she realized how childish and fearful her thoughts were turning. Not that that kept her from moving extremely stealthily as she searched the rest of the house. So where are they, if they didn’t take a car? It’s not like there’s any public transportation for them. And more particularly, where’s Alex? Teresa and Simon never would’ve invited him anywhere with them… I guess this means Simon really was lying. Aside from the growing anger of a betrayed sister, Jenny was thoroughly frustrated by the absentees’ refusal to explain themselves.

 

Jenny ended up in their backyard again a few minutes later, uncomfortable with intruding on another’s house. On the one hand, it felt like overkill to go combing the entire neighborhood for them—but on the other, “unfinished task” syndrome was really itching at her brain. Well… if I leave now, I’ll just spend the whole night wondering what the hell’s going on… but they could be anywhere, for God’s sake.

 

It was the sight of pale underbark shining under the growing moonlight that decided her. A symbol of some sort had been scratched into the side of the tree facing north—scratched in bluntly but deeply, and above all recently, for the tree’s wound was fresh and bleeding sap. The line was sinuous, curving thrice before ending in a fork pointing towards her left. A marker of some sort? But for what..? Just a path? She glanced to her left, following the line.

 

Nothing.

 

Frustrated, Jenny kicked irritably at the tree’s roots. So what the hell is it for? It’s pointing to plenty of trees, but as far as I can tell not a one has a symbol like that.

 

Her eyes turned to the ground. Okay, let’s forget the symbol. There’s obviously a path in here… A path she hadn’t noticed, standing at the back door.

 

--

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

A wolf howled in the distance. Long and abandoned and desperate, the sound sent a prickling shiver up Jenny’s spine that twitched uncomfortably at the top of her neck as she half-frantically searched for a sign, a symbol, anything that marked another’s passage through the silent, staring trees. She had already found a second tree engraved similarly to the first; though it had started as more of a diamond than a line, the second symbol had also ended in a fork pointing adamantly in the same direction as the first. Damp, earthen niches abandoned by freshly dislodged rocks along a traversed creekbed and a partial shoeprint on her path had assured Jenny that she wasn’t going completely nuts--at the time, anyway. Now she wasn’t so sure.

 

Dogs? But I’ve heard the neighborhood mutts howling up a storm, and not a one of them can rival that. Indeed, she could hear faint, yipping calls—probably from the neighborhood Yorkshire Terrier—ordering forest intruders away. Even if it was just a new stray, Jenny wasn’t sure if a dog capable of that kind of song was any less dangerous than a real wolf. Besides, the park was a little small for a pack, not to mention the fact that they had to be at least several hundred miles south of the carnivore’s typical range…

 

The howl sounded again, echoing through the trees as if it came from all sides at once; a cold, sinking touch of fear wormed its way to the pit of Jenny’s belly. The safest thing would obviously be high-tailing it out of here... But even if Simon isn’t here himself for whatever dubious reasons, something made those marks and left a trail. Something unusual. Something crazy. Something… unknown. Even scared half out of her wits, Jenny could feel the addictive pull of hidden secrets promising glory and knowing and magic to any who dared brave their challenges. The young invariably harbored fantasies that one day they too would chance upon a land of magic and mystery; most often such fancies died with time and age. Jenny’s, however, had clung to her fiercely, if in a different form, through books and roleplayed lives.

 

The absurdity of it all struck Jenny in a sudden flash of thought. I can just picture myself stumbling across one of those neo-pagan rites chock full of swaying femmes, scanty dress and chalky ancient pentagrams. Complete with a high quality sound system and haunting howling wolf recordings. The mystery suitably rationalized, her brain stepped in to take charge. Defensive measures needed if I’m to continue along my current path… Don’t want to be mauled by the mystery dog before I find the neo-pagans, after all.

 

Jenny was inspecting a dead, weather-hardened branch for battle-worthiness—just in case—when the howl rang down the slopes a third and final time, growing steadily in power as she scrambled to her feet in nervousness. Branch held high and warningly before her chest, her fingers clenched tightly to the wood as the blare went on and one and on, unbroken for a breath, thundering about her ears until her mind could hold no more—and then it ended sharply, leaving a deathly stillness in its wake that denied it’d ever been.

 

--

 

The first sound to reach her ears was faint, more insubstantial than a remembered wisp of dream. There was… a scuffling of some sort, a sense of silent violent movement in the distance. Lightly treading, like a leaf blown on the barest breeze, Jenny could feel herself being drawn forward, towards the noise—towards the third symbol shining starkly in the moonlight—towards the lure of a dream that would end all sense of mere ‘reality’…

 

Which transmuted to a nightmare with lightening, frightening clarity. Suddenly her eyes were open wide again and seeing, seeing the blood and the wolves and her brother with fear. There were two of them—two feral beasts with yellowed eyes glinting in faint moonlight, more real and deathly than her imagination had ever pictured. Angry teeth were shining from their gums as they inspected her for a moment of eternity; growls were rising and growing from their throats. Simon, a prone heap on the ground before them, did not react. The branch slipped from her lax fingers as Jenny viewed the clearing; it was all illuminated so well by soft and peaceful moonshine.

 

Then the left beast exploded into action, snarling for her throat with reddened fangs and frenzied, rabid eyes. The second followed within seconds. Jenny raised her hands instinctively, faltering for a moment as she realized the branch was gone—

 

The wolf hung in the air before her for that one, silent moment of shock; the shadow of every hair, the tiny fluctuating golden glints that formed the eyes, the pebbled, moistened skin across the nose—all were preserved impeccably as Jenny stared. 

 

And the canine bit her shoulder. She hung for a moment in limp shock, adrenaline softening the first blow; a slight turn of her head revealed the wolf’s jaw and burning eyes as teeth seared her tendons to bits. She was falling… falling backward on the air, as peacefully as those who give their will to death, or never see it coming in the first place.

 

And then came the sharp acidity of life and death in a fickle equilibrium. The burn of it radiated from her shoulder, ripping through her guts and intensifying as every second passed. Merciless, the needles pierced her brain and nerves until they broke and cried “no more”—only to be given yet more and more and more… Then the blessed blackness came and Jenny ceased to care. 

 

--

 

Silaria snarled into the night. Haksar! Idiot Haksar! The other wolf, eyes blank after the bloodlust, was sprawled a few yards away in a limp heap of scattered limbs. The new wolf, unnamed, had fallen near her brother. The smell of stalled life was hanging in the air.

 

Simon…Breathing raggedly in the in the moonbath, Silaria—known as Teresa in her human form—threw back her head and let loose a howl of startled grief. Gone! The lone sound was almost as pitiful as it was chilling.

 

The call died slowly. Uncertain, Silaria took a few steps towards Simon, lowering her snout to snuffle delicately at his hand. From the one side, he looked merely paralyzed (the eyes were wide and staring)—but a glance from the opposing view revealed the jagged edges of his flesh and the pinkish tissue shining out from underneath. The grass beneath her forepaws was slowly growing brown—and ugly color that precisely matched the soft russet of his hair. She lingered longest over that hair; he’d been planning to get it cut long before the loose curls had grown long enough to tuck behind his ears.

 

Her tongue reached out to touch the broken, bloody edge of his neck; her heart clenched a moment later as she found no blood name in the taste. Simon had died a human, through and through—his death at Haksar’s teeth had been too swift, too unexpected for the change to touch his blood.

 

With a soft whimper somehow akin to a held in sniffle, the grey-brown wolf retreated from the body. What would they do…? Grief over his death was warring with worry over the legal inquiries sure to occur the moment he was found dead.

 

Movement from her cousin Haksar distracted the wolf. In human form he was overweight and out of shape, but as a wolf he’d been quite strong enough to dismember Simon’s throat. Snarling again, she leapt onto the other wolf to snap and snarl into his face, waking him with a slap to the snout.

 

Haksar’s eyes turned black with confusion as he wriggled underneath his cousin, silently struggling to morph his throat back into something more fit for human speech. “Whhahor—“ Too rough to be intelligible. He tried again. “What’re you doing?” The low, rough voice was panicked and almost scared. Silaria did not do this sort of thing.

 

It took Silaria several long seconds to change her own throat. “Simon’s dead, you idiot! You killed him!” The sound was desperate, barely human.

 

Haksar suddenly noticed the metallic taste in his mouth. “But…” The plan had only been to change him, as part of the ritual. Going werewolf didn’t kill you. “I didn’t bite him… that hard… Did I?” He looked confused.

 

Silaria’s teeth flashed as she whacked his upright snout with the brunt edge of her own. “You killed him, you bastard!” she screeched, all sense of restraint evaporating in a split second of anger tinged with heartache. Her teeth itched to slash into Haksar, to dismember the veins pulsating under her paws. It would be so easy. The wolf’s mind was vibrating with a silent, wordless chant of fury.

 

The knock forced his sightline onto Simon, his snout throbbing lightly. Wolf eyes picked up the dark sheen of blood and matched it with the taste already staining his mouth. “Oh god…” He suddenly felt very short of breath, as if some huge weight were pressing down on his chest, crushing his throat and belly. Sickened, Haksar vomited in a short, violent spasm. Half-digested pizza and stomach acid twisted the air’s scent even further as the spew soaked into the grass.

 

Suddenly exhausted, Silaria lifted her paws off Haksar and retreated from her dazed cousin. The female wolf had been within inches of ripping his throat out and taking a bitter revenge… But the emotion had died prematurely, leaving her drained. “He’s dead…” her voice faintly repeated. She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t help it.

 

Haksar’s voice jerked her back to reality, whether seconds or minutes later she wasn’t sure. “Who’s that?” the wolf asked crassly, his snout jerking towards the third and newest wolf of their party.

 

Silaria’s lips curled back into a sudden snarl. “As a human she’s Jenny, your little friend…” The she-wolf reveled in his confused, slightly dubious but undeniably panicked and guilty expression at her words. Haksar had done this—and he was going to pay for it. Her voice, previously silky and patronizing, morphed to a harsh, crude tone as Silaria shot her question across the unconscious wolf’s limp form. “What’s her name, Haksar?”

 

He hesitated, licking his lips. The taste was faint, but certain. “Arania.” The wind seemed to gust for a moment, carrying the newly spoken name away even as it fell from Haksar’s teeth.

 

Silaria broke the moment by shoving her snout and shoulder against his, as if to smack him wolf-style. “We need to get out of here,” she half growled, her throat tight with constrained emotion. “Simon is dead, and the police will come looking in the morning. We can’t trust the girl not to squeal if she recognizes us.”

 

“But…” His face screwed up, like he wanted to protest but didn’t know how.

 

Impatient, Silaria snarled. “But she our neighbor? But she’s your friend? But now she’s a werewolf too?” Her eyes bulged slightly as the dull shine of her canines gleamed in the moonlight. “That doesn’t count jack squat when you’re family’s dead, Haksar.” The silence lengthened uncomfortably. Silaria jerked her head to indicate Arania. “Word’ll get out that we’re the ones who had Simon over tonight, one way or another. We’ll be prime suspects, even if they—probably—can’t prove anything.” Her mind was sorting through the possibilities. “We need an alibi.”

 

Haksar drug up the conviction to protest. “If we leave her like this, she’ll—she won’t know she’s a werewolf till it takes her, she won’t be able to prepare…”

 

“This is the last night of the moon. By the time she changes again, it won’t be our problem.” Silaria’s voice was merciless.

 

“But… She’ll never know her blood name, either. All wolves know their blood name.” He seemed to struggle with the idea of a wolf not knowing it.

 

“What, you want to write her a message?” She sneered in derision. “That wouldn’t be suspicious in the least.” Evidence of something human would lock the investigators’ minds on human rather than canine suspects, and rightly so. It couldn’t be risked. “Do you want to go to jail? It was you, after all.” The words punched his heart.

 

“We… We have to make it right.” His voice was faint; he couldn’t think straight.

 

“Then tell her, if you must. I’m leaving. Meet me at Jakka’s when you’re done. And for chrissake’s, don’t let her see where you go.” By the time Haksar looked up again, Silaria was gone.

 

Hesitant, he nudged the unconscious wolf. She didn’t move. All of the blood clumped about her shoulder had dried; the wounds were healing quickly, the bleeding halted and the skin slowly scabbing over. After a pause, the wolf prodded the back of her head again. Arania’s eyelids flickered for a moment before settling down again. Taking that as good enough, Haksar leaned in to whisper hoarsely in her ear. “Your name is Arania…”

 

Chapter 3

 

Jenny woke suddenly the next morning, her memory blurry. Quiet sunlight blinded her for a moment as she turned her head to look around, noticing the trees with interest. A sudden feeling of trepidation stole through her chest. What if it really wasn’t a dream, what if…?

 

A sudden, wild scramble to sit up, eyes wide, searching through bleary blinking to see her surroundings ensued. Then her breath stopped, as she saw him. The world zoomed in about her head, her vision swimming though her eyes were still and steady, locked on the Simon lying before her. She shuddered to draw breath.

 

It was perhaps an hour before she moved. Or maybe only minutes, Jenny didn’t know, couldn’t tell, couldn’t care. Simon was dead, inanimate, a corpse lying on the ground that would never speak or make dinner or come home late at night again.

 

Wiping her face fruitlessly, she lurched and stumbled to her feet, unsure what feelings lurked to the surface as she turned away from the body. It was Simon. But not. She didn’t want to see the ‘not’, wanted it to go away and disappear and never come again. She wanted Simon back… Maybe life hadn’t been perfect with him, maybe they hadn’t had the most affectionate relationship, but that didn’t make losing her rock in life any easier. Retreating into the forest was a guilty relief and wrenching pain all at once. Her heart ached with the contradiction.

 

More hours, minutes passed, marked only by the steady beat of her feet. Jenny found herself, with a detached surprise, at the edge of the trees and gazing on a brownish house. She didn’t recognize the house. But that didn’t matter much today.

 

Then Jenny found herself attempting to explain the situation—or just explain anything at all—to a middle-aged man with an empty coffee mug. Urged by her story and his conscience, the police were phoned within minutes of her crossing the doorstep; she knew the call was done when the phone beeped loudly as it clicked back on its base. Twenty minutes of tense silence followed, decorated by uncontrolled spurts of word and motion, theoretically meant to explain something, from the lone girl on the couch. Her finger picked at the upholstery. The middle-aged man wondered if she was quite sane in the head, or perhaps affected by some sort of disorder not yet popularized by the general media.

 

Policemen did arrive, eventually. It would have been an eternity had Jenny known the time. The first to speak to her was actually a woman, Jenny noticed; with an effort, born she knew not where, the girl pulled herself back into the world a bit. Perhaps it was some desperate cling to the structure of the world, to the sanity she knew was out there still. …Where am I going to sleep tonight? The policewoman distracted her from that particular thought, assuring her that everything was going to be okay and that their next-of-kin were going to be notified as soon as the police had something definite to tell them. Jenny tried to focus through the haze, picking up only half the words she knew the woman must be saying.

 

Jenny was not taken back to the forest. Urged outside, she was led to a car and told to buckle in. It’s true, it’s true… Oh my god, this is really happening… She felt her throat grow weak and tense; she curled herself into the corner of the car, her face pressed against the plastic leather as she cried.

 

--

 

The world drew near and real again as she crawled out of the car at the station. Protective surreality dispersed, Jenny was almost together again in a world that seemed too bright, too harsh. Too real. Her soul had been scraped so raw the faintest breeze abused her skin in the very feeling of it.

 

She wasn’t sure whether her heart was in some sort of forced calm, or denial, or whatever—did it matter much, at this moment? Only the shrinks would worry over the question. The policewoman led her inside and down the short, tiled entrance hallway; the light from the bulbs above flashed off the stark whiteness as the hard sounds of their shoes clicked and bounced off the same surface. Then they turned off the hallway, down a corridor of sorts and into another door. Her fingers felt the paneling of it as she passed, touching the hard slick shiny surface with the desperation for experience of one doomed to die, or one who has known the death of another and seen their own in reflection.

 

A chair was pulled out and motioned for her. Jenny sat gingerly, her eyes open as she turned to stare for a moment at the face of the woman who’d done it. Curls. The woman’s face was surrounded by curls, most pulled back behind her head with the rebels framing her face in curlicues.

 

“We need you to give a statement.” Jenny flinched, the words loud and abrasive. “ I know it’s hard right now, but we need you to do it before you forget anything.”

 

Does she really know how hard it is? The girl couldn’t tell. The woman had doubtless seen her share of pain, but had she ever really shared it? Jenny almost started to cry again as she realized just how alone she was, no matter what the policewoman knew or didn’t know.

 

The voice cut in again. “Would you prefer to write or dictate?”

 

Jenny shook her head indiscriminately, helpless. After a few seconds she tried to choke out an answer, to be more reasonable—but her voice caught in her throat. A hitch in her breath, she leaned forward and motioned towards the papers stacked on the edge of the table.

 

It was signal enough. She was given the appropriate document, its top lined with headers declaring its purpose and bold letters underneath demanding straightforward descriptions and details. The end of it had line detailed for her signature; the paper was actually three pressed together, designed for carbon copies. Jenny raised the pen gingerly to the top, swallowing the feeling that swelled inside her and threatened tears. This was important; this needed to be done. Filling out the paper would be doing something. Though, truly, there was nothing left to do now. He was already dead, after all.

 

--

 

There was an investigation. There was also an adoption. The two blurred together in her mind.

 

She was on a plane. It had been three weeks.

 

The policewoman and another man—her partner, maybe, if police really worked that way—had driven her to the hospital as soon as the most immediate evidence-giving rituals had been observed. “We need to have you checked out,” it was explained to her. “For your own safety, but also for your insurance company’s peace of mind and our own investigation here.”

 

Gerald, her second or third cousin (and her closest living relative) was seated next to her, calmly reading a paper. The man, in his fifties perhaps, was tall with dark hair graying at the temples. He had hesitated a moment when they had met, a few days earlier, before greeting her with one of those awkward half-hug half-handshakes.

 

Teresa was being interrogated, as one of the main suspects in the case—Simon had been at her house last before the odd occurrences, after all. But that wasn’t quite the case, she argued,

 

“We decided to go visit old Jake’s instead, the three of us. Family friend, my uncle’s coworker.” Teresa failed to mention their common bond of lycanthropy.

 

“We’ll need some contact information on this Jake person; he’ll have to be brought to the station for questioning too. Later, though.” The policeman made a note. “What time did the three of you—which I take to mean you, Simon, and Alex, no?” Teresa nodded. “What time did you leave?”

 

“Ohh… Maybe seven or so? Not too long after Simon got there.”

 

“How did you get to Jake’s?”

 

“We walked,” she answered nonchalantly. “Gain some exercise, same some gas after all.”

 

“And what happened after you got to Jake’s?”

 

“We chatted for a bit, then watched a movie. Las Vegas Streets,” she added, seeing the questioning look already rising in his eyes.  “An old police movie.”

 

“And after the movie was done?”

 

“Simon left pretty quickly after. There was a full moon out, so it was light enough for him to take the shortcut through the park… After all, the car didn’t matter—it was a Friday night, he didn’t have anything to do the next day, and going back to our house to get his car would’ve taken just as long or longer… I think he just wanted to get home to Jenny, you know? He almost always does that…” Teresa cleared her throat. “Did that, I mean.”

 

Gerald had advised using his first name from the start, when she’d called him Mr. Paterson over the phone. The man was married, with a son, Richard, in college and a fourteen-year-old daughter named Jessie. The family lived in Kansas… Their destination now, actually. Her thoughts on Kansas had never gone much past ‘grain fields’ and ‘boring’.

 

Jenny had been suspect too, at first. But forensic inspection had confirmed the death to the hands of the animals, so the pace of the case had changed to determining whether there had been any humans behind the animals. Several times, Jenny was asked if she had seen anyone else, or even signs of anyone else in the area. The girl told them of the tree marks she had followed, though the police didn’t seem to be able to make anything of it. Swabs for fingerprints and residue revealed nothing out of the ordinary, and in the end they were forced to conclude they didn’t have a clue about the strange marks.

 

Gerald had talked for a moment about how the whole family had been worried over her, and grieved over Simon, though the they had barely even met before. “You don’t have to know someone to care when the die, you know…” he had informed her quietly, perhaps defensive in Jenny’s silence to his consolations.

 

Her visit to the hospital had been relatively calm, considering. Looking at her own shoulder, Jenny couldn’t believe she’d almost had it bitten through by a mad canine just hours ago. The doctor couldn’t either.

 

“A bit scratched up on your shoulder, here—whatever did that went through your shirt to do it, too.” He smiled wryly, pinching the torn fabric. “Even so, since an animal was the culprit we’re going to give you some rabies shots, just in case. The nurse’ll be in to do that in a moment. I’ll have her give you some antibiotic to rub on your shoulder there too—it’ll help reduce any scarring and keep an infection from starting underneath those scabs. If it does get infected, though, come back in right away, okay?” He gave her a long look, driving the point home. “Any other complaints?”

 

Jenny didn’t know these people. But she was going to live with them, at least until she turned eighteen. Well, she could survive a year out there, even it was completely horrible. It was only a year. Her mind fluttered over whether she’d be going to college now—those things cost money.

 

“Jenny?” The social worker was on the phone. Fuzz crackled between them. Jenny wondered if the woman was on a cell phone somewhere. “Good news, the Kansas social workers’ve completed the home study—a.k.a., the Patersons’ve proved themselves fit and willing to adopt you.”

 

“That’s nice.”

 

“So when Mr. Paterson gets here, there’ll be some more paperwork and such to fill out, but after all that’s done and as long as no problems turn up you’ll be free to go home. The adoption will only be actually finalized after you’ve lived with them a few months, but considering your age it won’t make much difference to you.” Jenny could almost feel the woman smile cheerily. “Any questions or concerns? Things you’d like me to know?”

 

“Not really. The Patersons seem like good people, I’m sure I’ll be fine with them.”

 

“Surviving at that Social Services place in the meantime?”

 

“It’s fine.” Food’s not great, but they’re feeding me, aren’t they? Jenny stared at one of the various Mickey Mouses dotting the wallpaper, almost forgetting about the phone in her hand. Not all of the rooms were so kid-oriented, but the more neutral ones had been full when she arrived.

 

“Well, hang in there. This’ll all be over before you know it.”

 

--

 

The plane was still going, high above grayish mist of the cloud cover. It was an airplane like any other airplane. Gray and blue upholstery and space for the neat little foil packaged peanuts on the little plastic tray. Gerald had given her the window seat, perhaps intending niceness or maybe just by chance. She was staring out the window now, though between the thick plastic and the evening sky little more than the blinking light at the end of the wing was visible.

 

Jenny shifted in her seat, too tired to be truly bored. It seemed like ages since the plane had left the ground, but the stewardess had yet to come round with the handy-dandy little refreshment cart. That meant they were probably less than halfway there. Great… Surely the trip wasn’t that long. She shifted again, trying to find a position that didn’t crick her neck so much. There was a book lying open on her lap, but Jenny had failed to read for quite some time now. Her eyes stared out the window, seeing nothing. Her mind wandered.

 

“Miss?” The voice filtered through her thoughts several moments, or maybe minutes, later, though in truth Jenny couldn’t have said just where she’d been or what she’d been thinking about the previous instant.

 

“Miss?” the woman repeated, her voice tinged with impatience. Jenny looked up. “What would you like to drink, miss?” She waved at the various choices stacked neatly along the edge of the cart.

 

“Juice is fine.” Her own voice sounded distant to her ears. The drink was poured, and duly handed over with a packet of peanuts. Jenny didn’t bother to open the little tray in front of her at first, instead slowly sipping at the tart orange juice in her hand. But the pretzel package was too resistant to open wit hone hand, so she had to flip down the tray set down her plastic glass to get two hands to twist the foil open. Peanuts spilled out as she tipped the bag over onto the tray; Jenny alternated sips of juice with bites of peanut from the bag, passing time.

 

The food ran out all too soon. Jenny sighed, crumpling the peanut foil. She turned to watching for the stewardess to return for something to do, though that little ‘game’ didn’t last long either. Trash gone a few minutes later, the girl stared at the back of the seat in front of her for a moment. Her eyes drifted back down to her book. Jenny blinked, and opened it again.

 

Chapter 4

 

The journey off the plane—when they’d finally reached that point—was slow and uneventful. The terminal—they were in Kansas City now, a weird and oddly foreign place—was oddly quiet, perhaps due to the time of night. The sky was thoroughly dark outside now, looking completely opaque through the window thanks to the lights inside. A faint hum of people noise floated about the large, glassed-in area they had disembarked into; newspapers folding, wheels rolling noisily, a muted exchange of greetings with the guards as people left. Jenny couldn’t help but notice how much smaller this airport was compared to the multi-complex, practically sprawling Dallas establishment.

 

“Welcome to KCI,” Gerald said with a short wave of his hand around them. “Fairly nice airport, but as it happens to be located north of the river we’re going to be able to count on a two hour drive home tonight. Most of the time ‘going to the city’ doesn’t take quite that long, if you’re wondering… Just ‘cause normally we don’t have to come all the way up here,” he trailed off, a faint smile on his face, staring out the glass doors for a moment. “Cuts it down to an hour and a half that way,” he added, his voice vaguely apologetic.

 

Jenny shrugged, passing over the words. Even when the “Adoption Placement Agreement” had been finalized, she still hadn’t really reacted to the idea of living so far out it almost was like the ‘middle of nowhere’…

 

The sliding doors opened with a small whoosh as the two stepped out into the streetlit night; the air was neither cool nor warm, though it was a little damp. Gerald, more alert than Jenny, looked about as the pair dragged their various suitcases outside. Jenny had brought a lot of stuff… but it still felt like very little when she considered the fact that those bags contained all her physical trappings of the previous seventeen years.

 

“Shelly should be here to pick us up anytime now,” Gerald informed her, his head still swinging side to side as he kept an eye out for his wife. “She’ll probably tell you to call her Shelly too, though that’s actually her middle name, legally…” Jenny was getting the impression that Gerald was talking much more than he usually did; his attitude reminded her of the nervous shy kid about to be pushed on stage who chattered his head off in the meantime. The man turned suddenly, staring at her face until she glanced over and her caught her gaze, his eyes serious. “I’m sorry for your loss. I never—knew Simon well… Your mother was my cousin, and I talked to him some after their—accident.” He struggled with himself, his eyes staring into the distance without moving from her face. Jenny found herself quietly listening, just listening, though part of her was begging for his memories and the other half was roughly walling herself off from them. She didn’t want what fragile peace she had to break.

 

Gerald was speaking again. “He… he didn’t really want any help, I think… wouldn’t accept anything I suggested.” The man blinked, his head moving to the side as first heard and then picked out one of the approaching vehicles among the handful moving by the drop off lane. “Shelly’s here,” he finished rather weakly.

 

The headlights blinded them for a moment as the van pulled around, clunking slightly to a stop. The far door clinked open a moment later and a stocky woman came round the hood, blinking slightly as she focused in the brighter light of the pickup lane. “Jenny.” The woman’s voice was practical, almost stately, yet a bit rough around the edges. It wasn’t a question, either. “You look a bit like your mother did, when she was younger… Here, let’s toss your bags in the back, why don’t we?” There was only the slightest pause between the two phrases, no lingering from one to the other. Jenny, on the other hand, was knocked a bit off guard by the sudden reference. She didn’t say anything as they shifted her stuff—luckily __ didn’t seem to expect anything.

 

The back door slammed down and latched itself shut on her pile in the back of the van. Jenny stared at it for a moment, then moved around to the side to put her own self in. The sliding door slid back easily, like a well-oiled hinge; seeing the inside, she was immediately struck by how it seemed to ooze that “aged, falling apart but comfortable all the same” feeling. The seats were brown and rather ragged, the floor stained but clean, the ceiling cover stapled back up along the edges; she couldn’t help but wonder what decade it all dated from. A word from Gerald informed her that she had to slam the door a bit to get it to latch properly.

 

Cocooned inside the walls, now, Jenny drew her knees up to her chest in the half-light of the car as Gerald and Shelly settled themselves in the front seats, Shelly driving. The van rumbled back into gear; with every additional friendly and family-like detail Jenny felt more and more like an intruder on someone else’s life. Which she was. Fancy that.

 

Two hours. They moved onto the highway soon enough; Jenny lost track as Gerald and Shelly talked in hushed tones over which exits to take to avoid some roadwork somewhere.

 

“Sorry we won’t be going through the city, Jenny,” Gerald said, his low voice interrupting her low buzz of thought. “We’ll have to come back by sometime and show you the Plaza. For the Christmas lights, perhaps, if we don’t visit again beforehand…” Jenny glanced up to notice the man looking over the seat at her, so she gave a shrug in reply.

 

He kept talking. “Michael and Jessie—the adoption people probably gave you a rundown on them, no? Michael’s going back to his dorm tomorrow, so he was probably planning to hit the sack early tonight. Jessie should be asleep by the time we get home, too, but knowing her she’s probably got both of ‘em still up waitin’ for us,” he added with a soft chuckle. The man’s eyes seemed to roam about the car of their own accord as he spoke. “Yeah, we’re giving Jessie—and you—the day off school tomorrow so she can show you around a bit. He smiled. “It’ll be odd to have a new person in the house.”

 

Jenny gave a small nod of agreement, though little of her attention was actually directed at Gerald. ‘Odd’ was a nice way of putting it…

 

Jessie Paterson, sixteen years old. The picture showed a mousy, brown-haired girl with braces and a smile so wide it almost blared out from the picture. Interests and Hobbies: “hanging out with my friends, computer games, the internet, anime, drawing, board games.” The writing was neat, but almost minuscule in size.

 

Michael Paterson, twenty years old. Picture: slightly round-faced, disaffected looking youth with brown curly hair and small, dark eyes. Interests and Hobbies: “computer games, comics, manga, anime, board and card games, programming, the internet.”

 

Those two were yet to be met. She had seen some pictures of the house before she left, too; they had dismayed her a bit, in all honesty. Most of the indoor ones had been too dark to show much detail; lots of uncovered wood and a distinct lack of ceilings and walls (much less paint) in many sections were clearly visible, however. Jenny hadn’t dared ask whether the house was actually converted barn or storage house of some type; even if it had been meant for human habitation from the start (as the normal-height ceiling beams suggested) the structure still suffered from a ‘half-finished’ look all around. They had sent a picture of her future room, too; apparently it had been a books-and-nick-knacks storeroom before it was emptied for her use. Concrete on two sides and sunken slightly underground, it did sport a pair of windows on the outside, wooden walls. Kansas. It seemed unreal.

 

Plain boredom set in after awhile, as the car ride dragged on; Gerald didn’t keep talking very long; she wasn’t feeling conversational, anyway. The highway morphed from eight lanes to four to a measly two as they skirted the actual city and drove on into the fabled fields of wheat. Though, it was too dark to tell most of the time whether the grassy stuff beyond the road was wheat or grass or some other plant altogether.

 

Ages passed as Jenny stared at the stars.

 

This time, it was the sudden change in noise and vibration as the car pulled onto the gravel driveway that brought her out of her reverie. “We’re here,” Shelly commented in a friendly but unnecessary manner. “Come on, we’ll get you settled in.”

 

A harsh, white light on its own personal telephone pole illuminated the driveway like some false, miniature sun. Jenny blinked for a moment as her pupils contracted sharply in the glare; then she moved on, going round the back of the van to pull out a load of her stuff. Car doors slammed shut, and Gerald and Shelly came back to help.

 

The door to the house itself opened almost magically on cue as Jenny turned to head inside. A teenage girl, looking way too perky for the hour, emerged with bounce. “Jenny!” the girl called, as if they’d known each other all their lives. She skittered down the short set of stairs in front of the door. “I’m Jessie, your sort-of-sister now,” she half-exclaimed; with that smile, Jenny almost expected the girl’s eyes to curl up into two little anime arches of happiness. “Though you probably could’ve guessed that, I imagine,” she added almost hurriedly, an air of embarrassment about her for a contrite moment. Then she grinned again. “Come, let’s go inside.”

 

I was beforehand… Jenny thought a bit cynically. Neverless, she followed Jessie back up the stairs, struggling for a moment to knee her bags sideways and through the door.

 

The inside of the house reminded her immediately of the van. A light was on in the pseudo-entryway, lighting up the open kitchen to her right and its nearby table but fading out beyond to leave the rest of the house steeped in twilight of darkness. Jenny picked out the outline of a couch behind the table as her eyes adjusted; then the shadows shifted as a body detached itself from the furniture and turned to gaze at her. “You must be Jenny,” the person commented.

 

Jenny was in the middle of a half-exasperated shrug (really, who else could she be but Jenny, now, wandering into their house at this time of night?) when Jessie jumped forward to introduce them. “Jenny, this is Michael. He’s my brother, but since his college hasn’t kicked him out yet he’ll be leaving again tomorrow. You won’t see much of him, trust me.” Jessie looked as if she was quite prepared to ramble on, but Jenny quietly interrupted with her own words.

 

“Nice to meet you.” She kept her voice neutrally polite. “Now—Jessie—would you be so kind as to show me to my room? I’d like to sleep tonight, if you don’t mind.” A feeble attempt at a bit of humor, though she feared it came across more as bad temper. The door creaked open behind her as she spoke, admitting Gerald and Shelly.

 

“Yes, please do, Jessie dear,” Shelly called from behind. “I know you want to chit chat, but could you please delay the urge a bit? You’ll have plenty of time tomorrow, you know,” the mother admonished.

 

Jessie rolled her eyes as if to say “Oh, fine,” and started off down a hallway of sorts. It wasn’t really a hallway, as it didn’t have any actual walls, but the furniture backs and occasional column edged it well enough. They turned a corner, passing what looked like the living room (there was a folded card table next to the couch, anyway) to reach a bedroom door that, amazingly enough in this house, slid silently open as Jessie pushed.

 

The small, unpainted room was bare aside from the bed pushed against one wall; the promised windows looked rather unpromising as she gazed at her stark reflection in them. Plaster mingled with concrete foundation edges on two walls; sanded but unfinished wood made up the other two. Some neutrally unoffending sheets covered the mattress on top of its metal, brown painted and slightly peeling frame.

 

“We’ve got a desk we can move in here, and a dresser too, if you like,” Shelly offered. “It doesn’t look like much, I know—we’ve been saving everything that might’ve gone towards a few improvements for Michael and Jessie’s college tuitions.” The woman smiled faintly, her eyes scrutinizing the room as if seeing it from a stranger’s eyes for the first time in quite a while. “It’s been this way so long, I think I’ve grown attached, to be honest.” Detachedly, Jenny noticed that the woman’s eyes were twinkling in amusement.

 

Michael had disappeared, she noticed. Actually, she wasn’t sure if he had even followed them back in the first place. Jessie, meanwhile, had a subdued look of jittery excitement about her; Shelly was warm and almost motherly, while Gerald looked a bit antsy.

 

“Anything we can to do help you settle in, Jenny?” he asked, almost on cue. “We don’t want to be bothering you, now…” Perhaps he, at least, remembered exactly why she was moving in with them.

 

“I’m fine, Jenny answered carefully, her voice uncomfortably a notch higher than usual.

 

Gerald nodded his assent, motioning the other two back out of the room. “Bathroom’s just to your right,” Shelly called informally from halfway through the doorway, amused and cheery still. Jessie lingered for a moment and then too left, shutting the door softly behind her.

 

Jenny sat down gingerly on the bed. Room in here for the desk, perhaps, if the dresser fits next to the bed, but not much else. It wasn’t like their apartment before, or even the house before that, had been much better—perhaps it felt smaller simply because that was Texas, and this was Kansas…

 

The teenager drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Pajamas, she needed pajamas. Wisely enough, Jenny had packed those on top for easy access. She changed quickly, grabbed her tooth brush and was finished with her cleaning routine in record time; a minute or two later, she was standing at the light switch, giving her space one last new lookover. Then she flicked the light off, stepping her way carefully across to the bed to collapse gratefully onto the sheets. It wasn’t her bed, but it was a bed, neverless. And comfortable enough, too, even though the bedframe was a bit creaky. Moonlight shone in softly through window father from her; Jenny could see the moon itself from her bed if she edged a bit to the side, though a good third was still blocked by the window frame at this particular moment. The satellite was in that awkward, three-quarters full stage; she wondered for a moment if it was waxing or waning, but she was too tired to try actually figuring it out right that second. Tomorrow, perhaps. Jenny closed her eyes and almost felt herself drift off the edge of consciousness…Jenny slept peacefully that night, despite the strangeness of the new ‘home’.

 

Chapter 5

 

Morning air. Jenny didn’t know how she knew it was morning air, but the fact was undoubtedly certain even before her eyes flickered open to the daylight that confirmed it. The teenager was disoriented for a moment as her brain rearranged itself, riffling through memories so as to tell her exactly where she was; it clicked a few milliseconds later as her eyes landed on the odd mixture of plaster and concrete making up the walls.

 

Jenny rolled on to her back, staring at the ceiling. It was actually all plaster in here. One finished thing in this house, at least.

 

A new day. Jessie was supposed to show her ‘around’ today, wasn’t she? Apathy suddenly overtook Jenny, almost like a tidal wave—if tidal waves could sneak in the back door and take over before anyone realized what was going on. Sitting up—much more suddenly that usual—Jenny gave herself a mental shake. What’s with me these days? Thinking about it, Jenny hadn’t been honestly excited about anything for ages. Barely even cheerful, most of the time.

 

Hmph. Jenny would have to change that, by raw mental force if necessary. Coming to terms with this ‘Kansas’ was one place to start… So it’s Kansas. But there are people, aren’t there? Maybe even a gamer or two in the bunch. And if they all manage to be really shitty people—or boring ones—I know there’s got to be an internet connection somewhere around here. And if all else fails—it’s only a year; eighteen is the magic number, after all. No sense in even bothering to hate anything when I’m just going to be gone before I know it. Breathing deeply, Jenny did her best to make her own words true.

 

I can do this. I can. She flipped the bedcover back, swinging her legs over to stand decisively in the middle of her room. Then Jenny made the bed, privately too much of a neat freak to let it linger long untended. Before long she was bent over one of her suitcases, rummaging for clean clothes and toiletries. Need to unpack today…

 

Later, done with everything else, she cracked open her door to sneak over to the bathroom again, toothbrush in hand. Sounds like they’re already up… Soft voices were drifting from across the large kitchen plus living room plus game room plus storage plus whatever else room that made up the center half the house. She brushed her teeth quickly, stashing her things back in her room before finally working up the subconscious nerve needed to venture into the kitchen.

 

A cheery-looking table greeted her—well, sort of cheery. Jessie was grinning, animated enough for three; Shelly was nursing a cup of coffee while Gerald hid behind a morning paper; Michael was sullenly chewing on a syrup-less waffle, looking doggedly unconversational; perhaps he just wasn’t a morning person. Either that or the waffle had mortally offended him and he was set to take revenge at all costs.

 

“…Morning.” Jenny worked up a smile, reminding herself of exactly how grateful she should be to these people for taking her in on such short notice.

 

“Oh, good morning, Jenny.” Shelly sipped a bit of coffee. “Would you like some waffles? There’s more in the freezer, there,” the woman offered, nodding her head to indicate it.

 

“Uh, sure.” Jenny’s tone was a mixture of apprehension and an honest effort to be more ‘cheerful’. Sliding herself over to the fridge, she opened the freezer on top almost gingerly, gently fingering the packages in her quest for the waffles of breakfast.

 

“Just grab a few out of the package there—no need to try levering the whole thing out. Toaster oven’s to your left there, dear, don’t break it and you’re free to use it much as you like.” Slightly bemused, Jenny complied.

 

“That’s a bit of a joke, by the way, Jenny,” Gerald interrupted, sticking his head around the paper. “That toaster’s half broken to start with. Morning, by the way.” He blinked at her.

After some wrangling with the toaster—‘half broken’ was code for ‘the knob to toast stuff is missing’—Jenny ended up with some properly ‘toasted’ waffles. (Using the ‘bake’ switch instead was the key, apparently.) She sat down at the table to eat, slightly unnerved by the fact that, as Michael had finished (and disappeared again, too) she was the only one actually eating. Gerald and Shelly had the paper and coffee to entertain them, respectively, but Jessie was suspiciously empty handed.

 

The girl perked up noticeably as Jenny sat down. The older girl, meanwhile, paused a moment to be thankful the table was round instead of square, which meant that five chairs instead of four wasn’t nearly as awkward as it could have been.

 

“So, Jenny,” Jessie began eagerly. Jenny speculated on exactly how long this uber-excited amazement would last (or, for that matter, had already lasted).

 

Well, this was probably much better than resentment. “Yes?”

 

“Well, I have time to show you around this morning, you know, or at least I will after Michael finally leaves.” She sent an annoyed look towards the back of the house, presumably in the direction of his room. “Anyway, where do ya wanna go first? There’s the creek, our place here, the neighbors, the Downs—most of the teenagers ‘round here’ll be there today, we should visit that for sure,” she added. “There’s more interesting stuff further out, in Daton and La Cyne and stuff, but we’d have to beg a car ride for that.” The girl seemed to fluctuate between flaunting her hometown (well, area) and being dismayed at its distinct lack of things to do.

 

“Anything’s fine,” Jenny answered, trying to be nice. “…You all’ve already eaten, I take it?”

 

Shelly nodded, smiling across the table. “We get up fairly early ‘round here, out of habit if nothing else, I guess. Some families ‘round here actually farm, so they obviously get up for a reason… Jessie’s the only real earlybird in the family, though. When she was little she’d never ever let anyone sleep past seven,” the woman remarked, taking an annoyed glare from her daughter with ease. “Now she gets up early to do her schoolwork, ‘cause most of the time I won’t let her leave till it’s done.”

 

The homeschooling. She’d almost forgotten about that detail, among all the others. “I’ve never been homeschooled, obviously, so…”

 

Shelly nodded. “I don’t play so much of a role anymore—just try to help if Jessie doesn’t get something, or call someone who does so they can explain it to her… ‘Try’ being one of the keywords, there.” There was a moment of comfortable silence as Jenny nodded agreeably and took another bite of her waffles. Shelly and Jessie chatted on as she tried to eat quickly.

 

Finished eating, she stood and held her plate uncertainly. “Dishes…?”

 

“Straight in the dishwasher, dear. We finally got it fixed last week,” Shelly proclaimed almost proudly. By the time she turned back around, Jessie was already up and standing and her side, looking quite ready to go.

 

“Need to grab anything?” she asked, “I’ve got water enough for both of us,”—she pointed to the bag in her hand—“but we’re not going that far so we should be okay even without it. Oh, and do ya wanna grab a swimsuit or at least shorts or something for the creek? It’s much more fun to wade in,” Jessie added helpfully.

 

Jenny glanced down at her pants—they were plenty loose enough to roll up. “No, I’ll be fine. As long as we’re back in time for lunch, anyway,” she added with a smile.

 

“Well, duh,” Jessie answered, rolling her eyes comically, “Unless of course we get invited somewhere else, which will probably happen considering that Mrs. Dawson is really big on the feeding people thing and I know she’d love to meet you and all that—Come, let’s get started,” she exclaimed, somehow interrupting herself as she tugged Jenny out the door. Anything to do with waiting for Michael to leave before they went ‘on tour’ had been forgotten, apparently.

 

The local tour started without further ado. “That’s the storehouse,” Jessie explained, pointing to a low, white-washed building off on one side of the immediate lawn area. “Lots of tools ands stuff in there, the lawnmower, some furniture we don’t want in the house… The roof’s a bit leaky in places, though, so all the important stuff is underneath tarps inside.” The girl swung round, pointing to a set of structures that seemed to grow off the side of the garage. “We keep most of the dogs in those pens there, usually, or out in the fields during the day—that’s where they are now,” she added helpfully. “The cats, on the other hand, just wander around wherever they like—we’ve got some kittens now, wanna see?” Jessie scampered off without waiting for much of an answer.

 

Jenny followed dutifully; the shade of the garage was already much cooler than the slowly rising sun outside. Only half of the building was clear enough to hold a car like a proper garage, though; paint cans, sawhorses, grease and loose gears made it obvious it was, or at least had been, a workshop at some point. A sudden sound of mewing reached her ears as Jessie turned to look at her with eyes glittering over the pair of kittens in her hands. “There were five, but one died two nights ago,” she whispered. “The rain got it, I think… getting wet along with the chill these last few nights was just too much for it.”

 

Jenny was quiet as the girl transferred one of the kittens to her hands; its miniature claws hung on roughly as she cuddled the creature in her cupped palms.

 

“Tiny little fighters, aren’t they?” Jessie asked softly over the mewing. Jenny could feel her liking for the girl increase a notch or two.

 

They held the kittens another minute or two, silently indulging in them. By the time Jenny put hers back in the rag-covered corner, her fingers were crisscrossed with scratches not quite deep enough to bleed.

 

“You like ‘em?” Jessie asked as they wandered back into the sunlight.

 

Jenny nodded agreement. “So… Where next?”

 

“Well, the creek basically runs through the Downs, so I figure we can follow it down there, you know. And I’ll show you the neighborhood along the way, and all that.” Jessie skipped off, and Jenny followed.

 

There were indeed houses closer than the far Kansas horizon, though Jenny had to stretch her mind a bit to really call them a neighborhood, as most were on the far edge of shouting distance between each other. Neverless, she walked companionably beside Jessie as they set out from the driveway; the younger girl was already motioning towards the house next down the road and chatting exuberantly about its occupants.

 

The road, paved but rather old and cracked, led them off over several hills before Jessie turned them one to a gravel side-path that wound more comfortably though the fields. The pair crossed a rise to see a dense, unexpected line of trees marking out the bottom of the miniature valley between their hill and the next. “That’d be the creek,” Jessie informed her.

 

The area under the trees was almost its own little world, compared to the open, grassy fields around it. For one, it was cooler, and therefore infinitely preferable to Jenny in her choice of clothing. Jessie kicked off her sandals and motioned Jenny to do the same. “This goes straight to the mini-lake in the Downs—well, as straight as curves are, anyway. Wading’s much more fun than trudging about out there, too,” she added with an airy wave at the hills outside.

 

Jenny was wearing shoes and socks rather than sandals; stuffing the socks in her shoes and tying the laces together made them easy enough to carry, though. A little wading never hurt anyone…She made sure to roll her pants up nice and tight, though; wet jeans were an annoyance she didn’t want to deal with. The shallow water ran clear over the rock-covered bottom of the stream, harmless and just slightly inviting enough. Stepping over the mud back, Jenny splashed lightly into the creek after Jessie. “Feels nice,” she offered, wiggling her toes as the water tickled them in its passing.

 

“See? Just like I told you, much better than the fields. Only in the summer, though, it gets way too chilly as soon as the weather cools off a bit. Wintertime we all talk online or get our parents to carpool us somewhere instead.” Jessie was almost dancing rather than wading as she worked her way down the creek, hopping from one rock to the next as artfully as any dancer. The girl didn’t seem to have any purpose in mind, though—it wasn’t like her antics were keeping her feet dry or anything. Jenny followed more calmly, noticing the surroundings in more detail than usual. Dropped mulberries dotted the creekbed in one bed overhung by the corresponding tree. Filtered sunlight played across the water. Sweat beaded across her forehead and then cooled as the faintest breeze drifted over them.

 

The walk went peacefully for the first five, ten minutes; they navigated some deeper bits (including “the second deepest spot,” according to Jessie, about four feet deep or so—Jenny couldn’t confirm that personally, however, as she stuck to the edges for that section. Then Jessie spotted a snake, to much splashing.

 

“Look! I think it’s one of those northern ridgeback types—pretty, ain’t it?” Jessie was holding the tail of the snake in the air, a good arm’s length from her body; the reptile was wriggling fruitlessly to escape.

 

Jenny, bemused and curious, neared Jessie and the snake carefully. “Not poisonous, I hope?”

 

“Not at all,” the girl answered confidently. “Wanna touch it? Just be careful he doesn’t get you, now, the bites still hurt even without the venom…” Jessie held the end of the tail towards her.

 

Jenny took it carefully, heeding the advice. The snake was a covered in a dappled pattern of greens and browns—perfect for blending in, no doubt. She ran her fingers lightly over the scales, silently fascinated. Jessie gave her a few minutes of wonder before developing marked signs of impatience to be going; taking the cue, Jenny let the snake slide back into the creek as they started off again. First, though, she paused to note the sinuating ripple that marked the path of the creature’s waterborne escape. That was cool. Kansas had hope yet.

 

--

 

They arrived at ‘the Downs’ around ten by Jenny’s watch. All things considered, at least she hadn’t had to change timezones.

 

She actually didn’t notice the change in scenery until they were well into the wooded area Jessie deemed the Downs.

 

“So why is it called the Downs?”

 

“Well… It’s just... down. The lowest area around. It even gets kind of marshy in places—there’s a pond somewhere near the middle, too. It’s pretty icky, though, full of pond scum and mosquitoes this time of year. We’re going to the mini-lake on the creek instead, the ‘real’ deepest spot—it’s much nicer.” Indeed, the waterway was somewhat wider now, and perhaps a bit deeper on average. The creek was growing darker, too, with more trees around to block the sun.

 

“It’s not that great, really, but it is nice in the summer when your parents still don’t much favor air conditioning. Or at least mine don’t,” the girl clarified, rolling her eyes. “It’s not deep enough to jump into, or anything, but the water’ll get up to your neck if you bend your knees a bit… We’re getting close, now, it’s just around this bend. HEY, YOU GUYS,” Jessie yelled rather suddenly; shouts of greeting worked their way back. Jenny spent a moment how Jessie had recognized this bend from all the other bends.

 

The water dropped suddenly from a comfortable six inches to a foot and growing. Jenny moved to the side, unwilling to get her pants wet; Jessie giggled when she noticed but moved over too when the water started licking her thighs.

 

The trees opened up to reveal the water-made clearing of the ‘mini-lake’ as they rounded the last of the curve. Mini is an apt term… Jenny wondered briefly why they didn’t just call it something with a smaller name, like ‘pond’ or whatnot… Maybe this place just didn’t fit their particular definition of ‘pond’ or something; it was basically a large, deep bend of the creek itself. ‘Mini-lake’ still sounded a bit contrived, though.

 

She doubted the group of kids hanging about it cared much either way, though. Two guys and a girl were frolicking around in the water; a second girl was lying on a large rock that partially overhung the inside curve of the water.

 

“—I told them you were coming,” the younger girl whispered sneakily as the others greeted them with various degrees of excitement and hand motion.

 

“Hey there, girls,” the water playing female called out cheekily. She looked to be about Jessie’s age, comfortably chubby and cute in the face. The other girl, dark haired and skinny on the rock, twirled a few fingers in their direction with a polite smile; the two boys, though differing in size and age, were still similar enough to be brothers—both had curly ‘jewfros’ and whale-white skin (except, of course, for their already red shoulders). The younger one had that skin-and-bones look of a growing tween—probably twelve or thirteen, she’d guess, since he was still quite small in stature. And more than mischievous for his age, she judged, as he snuck up behind the older boy (who was still focused in her own direction) to splash him wildly.

 

Jenny couldn’t help but grin as the victim sputtered, wiping water from his eyes. Soft snickers and (from the boy) outright laughter rang round the water as the older boy ducked his smaller clone under.

 

“Brothers, I take it?” Jenny asked the group in general.

 

“Cousins, actually. But for various reasons we share the same household, so yeah. Name’s Nick, by the way. And this little scraggler is also known as wittle Wobbie-poo,” he teased, playfully smacking the boy’s head.

 

“I’m only little ‘cause you’re so freakishly tall,” the kid pouted back. “And I told you guys to call me Rob now,” he admonished, looking highly exasperated.

 

Nick was rather tall, Jenny admitted, despite the fact that Rob/Robbie’s view was probably a little skewed from his particular vantagepoint. Of course, not being especially tall herself, hers probably was too…

 

“Well, I’m Jenny, Rob,” she said, adopting a serious face. Aside from the innocently elevated eyebrows, anyway.

 

“I know,” the boy quipped offhandedly. He stuck his tongue out at Nick as if to proclaim ‘see, she calls me right.’

 

Jessie’s perky friend stepped in before Robbie could start anything further. “I’m Bridget—it’s nice to meet you, by the way. And that’s Sarah,” she explained with a glance at the girl on the rock. Jenny noticed a book in Sarah’s hands, on closer examination; the girl was in a swimsuit like the others but seemed to have no intention of joining them in the water. Bridget, on the other hand, was drenched; dry-headed she was probably an orangey redhead, though water had turned it several shades darker.

 

In time, Jenny ended up next to Sarah on the rock; despite the willingness of everyone else to chat, the Texan wasn’t going to soak herself to do it. Jessie, on the other hand, had stripped to a swimsuit and jumped right in; far short of their previous vivacity, the four in the water were now floating about lazily.

 

Amazingly enough, Sarah had yet to say a word past the quiet “Hello there,” Jenny had gotten when she joined her. Jenny didn’t mind much, though; a bit of silence was welcome right about now.

 

She glanced over as the soft flickering sound of moving pages announced life in Sarah yet. She had rather pretty blue eyes, Jenny noticed. The girl mumbled something.

 

“Sorry, what was that?”

 

A bit of a tired (or perhaps impatient) look in her eyes, Sarah drew a deep breath, almost gathering herself for the repeat. Her voice was a few notches clearer—and noticeably sharper the second time around. “I said that I’d ask you if you were new around here, except the answer’s obvious.” Lips pressed together, she seemed to settle back into the rock after speaking.

 

“Ah…” Jenny debated whether to continue the un-auspiciously started conversation. Sarah, meanwhile, rolled herself onto her back. The Texan was momentarily distracted as she noticed the white edge of a rather vicious-looking scar curling over the girl’s hip. Wonder what that’s from…

 

As she glanced back up, she realized that Sarah had been watching her with an almost bored look on her face. The girl didn’t make any explanation of the body mark, however. Jenny decided that perhaps that wasn’t the best topic to begin with if she was going to chat a bit. “So… Jessie’s fourteen—how old are the rest of you?”

 

The teenager caught a flicker of annoyance in Sarah’s eye. “Bridget’s fourteen too. Robbie’s eleven, Nick’s fifteen. I’m sixteen.”

 

Jenny nodded, leaning forward to catch the last words as another splash fight broke out below. The noise gave her an excuse to pause, anyway; unfriendly vibes were almost wafting off the other girl, but she had no idea what she could’ve done to deserve them. Determined to be polite, though (and just plain curious, too), she ventured another question. “Do you guys come here often?”

 

“Oh, sometimes.” A pause hung in the air as Jenny waited expectantly for more. “I’m not that fond of it, but it is somewhere to meet…” the girl added, trailing off vaguely.

 

Jenny took in that information. “Do you all hang out as a…group, like this, much?” They seemed rather diverse in age to be drawn to each other by pure force of companionship, but it was always possible.

 

Sarah shrugged. “We’ve known each other awhile, that’s all. Neighbors and such…” The girl played her fingers against the rock, distinctly uninterested.

 

This conversation sure is engaging. Jenny sighed, feeling a bit antsy. “What do you guys do for fun, then? Besides hang out here, I mean.”

 

Sarah shot her a sudden, almost dirty look. “Contrary to popular belief, we do have TVs and computers out here,” she sneered. “Hard as that may be to imagine. Though personally, I prefer a good book any day.”

 

Jenny recoiled a bit. I think she was waiting for that one… “Well, yeah, I figured that when all the adoption info stuff said that half the family was into the internet.” She kept her voice light, half-joking.

 

Sarah didn’t smile. Jenny waited a minute or two, giving the girl a chance to explain herself, or apologize, or something as they watched the others splash-fight in the sunlight. Jenny’s eyes explored in the quiet, settling on Sarah’s still-closed book after a moment or two. “Whatcha reading?”

 

“Remaking Eden.” Sarah pronounced the title deliberately.

 

Jenny read the subtitle to herself. How Genetic Engineering and Cloning will transform the American Family. “Interesting choice for a summer read.” She was careful to keep her tone amused rather than derogatory.

 

It half-worked, anyway. Sarah seemed to be sullenly going along with the fact that Jenny wasn’t going to be outright hostile. “Interesting indeed,” she replied, dead pan.

 

Luckily, Nick’s arrival in a short noisy scramble cut off any further awkward moments between them. “Hows’it going, you two? We haven’t heard much from down there,” he grinned, jerking a thumb over shoulder to indicate the others.

 

Jenny shrugged. “It’s a bit hot out for my liking, I’ll admit.

 

Nick scrunched his eyebrows together in comic disbelief. “Perhaps if you invested in some shorts instead?”

 

“I’d rather not…” Jenny replied, offhand, not volunteering an explanation.

 

“Suit yourself.” He rolled his eyes. “And is Sarah here failing to be her usual conversational self?”

 

“Leave me alone, Nicholas,” Sarah warned him quietly, glancing up from her book. Jenny hadn’t even noticed that the other girl had started reading again.

 

Nick smirked at her, but the girl wasn’t paying attention. He turned back to Jenny. “All the teenagers around here meet in La Cyne on Fridays—you gonna check it out?”

 

She shrugged. “I dunno. What’s so fascinating about La Cyne?”

 

“Movies, usually. Some arcade games, a pizza place. Depending on your social life, the main attraction is a chance to see everyone you normally don’t have the gas money for. Thankfully most of the parents around here have agreed to internet connections by now, or the many of us who don’t go to an actual school like Sarah here,” he said, nudging her (she ignored him), “would be the bumbling hicks we’re supposed to be. If you take Hollywood as reality, anyway.” He paused, perhaps musing for a moment. “’Snot like you really get lonely, though, if you know how to entertain yourself. A continuous desire to meet new people might prove problematic, though,” he snickered lightly.

 

The corner of Jenny’s mouth twitched in amusement. “High school? I didn’t know there was one out here…”

 

“Well, the bus routes for it don’t stretch this far, so if you wanna go you gotta drive every day. It’s twenty minutes, maybe half an hour away if you take the highway, I think. Too much of a drive for most parents, though, especially if they’re able to homeschool instead. Most of us did do elementary school, since there is a local one of those.” His eyes drifted back over to their silent companion. “Sarah still goes ‘cause, even if her parents wanted to homeschool, she’s taking all these wacko smart-kid courses that I doubt either of them could even begin to teach her. Kid’s a crazy-ass student.” He was looking at Sarah as he spoke, half talking to her even though the words were third-person, as if she was out of earshot. Perhaps she was, with that book in her hands.

 

“Anyway. You guys should definitely come to Big Daddy’s this Friday. It’ll give you a chance to meet most everyone our age out here, if nothin’ else, ya know?” Jenny wasn’t sure if Nick was trying to flirt, to invite her so pointedly, or if he wasn’t trying at all and she was just focusing on herself too much, to assume so. Those last few lines, for example, he hadn’t even been looking at her—most guys would make eye contact, at least for a moment, if they wanted to imply something personal. Nick, on the other hand, was busy calling down something to the girls on the water. “Right, Jessie?”

 

“What’s right?” the girl half-yelled back, lying back lazily in the water.

 

“You gonna take Jenny to Big Daddy’s this Friday?”

 

“Sure! We’re eatin’ beforehand, though.” Eyes dancing, Jessie caught gazes with Jenny. “The pizza there sucks, and everyone knows it. Buffet’s okay, but I’m personally sick of it, so…” the girl grinned.

 

“Sounds… cultural,” Jenny answered, laughing softly in the sunlight.

Chapter 6

 

That was Tuesday. Wednesday, Jenny started some of her homeschooling classes. Thursday, the air conditioner broke down. It was Thursday evening that everything happened. Luckily enough, the windows were open at the time.

 

She started feeling a bit funny after dinner, right as Jessie was gearing up for the drive to Big Daddy’s. Sort of light-headed, a little headachy… Considering how hot it was, Jenny assumed that dehydration was the culprit and had downed a large glass of water by the time Jessie came over to investigate was taking so long.

 

“Jessie, I’m not feeling that great…” A spasm of pain shot through her forehead. “Really not sure I wanna go out tonight…”

 

The girl frowned, disappointed. “What, you sick?”

 

Jenny’s stomach contracted without prior warning. “Maybe, actually. Ugh—I wonder if I might’ve been allergic to something at dinner…” It had been innocent spaghetti, so she doubted it, but…

 

Jessie scrutinized her carefully, as if looking for visible symptoms; Shelly appeared too, presumably ready to drive them over. “Something up, girls?”

 

“Jenny says she doesn’t feel good.” The girl’s tone informed them that this was a bitter letdown.

 

“Well, I don’t…” Her legs started to ache a bit, the way she was standing. “Promise I’ll go next week, okay?”

 

Eventually Shelly left to take Jessie alone; she set up Jenny in bed (and in pajamas) first, though, with ibuprofen at hand and a nice book to read first. “Try to get some sleep if you can,” the woman had advised her. Jenny had agreed that that sounded like a good idea.

 

The aches and pains only grew worse with time however, in a creeping and sneaking sort of way; she didn’t feel like she was going to throw up, at least. Gerald came in to check on her after awhile, at which point she was still awake and trying to entertain herself as best she could. “Doing okay in there?” he asked, cracking her door open.

 

“Not really, no… My head feels like it’s going to split in two.”

 

He gave her a worried gaze. “We’ll take you to the doctor’s first thing in the morning if it doesn’t get any better, then. I’d take you know, but it’s only the emergency staff on duty this late.”

 

She nodded, showing him that she understood. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. It’s probably just the flu or something.”

 

“Well, hang in there. Yell if you need anything, I won’t be far. Want the light off?” She nodded, and he flicked the switch before closing the door quietly behind him.

 

Jenny closed the book as the door clicked shut, unable to concentrate on it any longer. She closed her eyes, too; her vision was swimming a bit too much for her liking. Because of that, Jenny never actually saw the moon rise about the crest of the field in the distance; she felt it, though, violently, as pain shot down her spine, lacing to her fingertips as Jenny gasped and convulsed. What the--? Somehow, she could feel herself on the edge of a mental blackout as thought became difficult and them impossible as the pain rose, longer and lasting, blocking out all else. Her body was trying to scream, but her throat was stuck and mangled and it came out silently…

 

 

She must’ve gone out the window, Jenny realized later. At the time she was more aware of brief impressions of grass and rock and gravel as her vision blurred and swam, her mind on a drug trip she hadn’t volunteered for. The girl was staggering now, in a wild drunken dance as she fought unknowingly with her own clothing. Before long she collapsed, panting, eyes closed as she lay at the edge of the driveway light. What is going on? The agony in her limbs was lessening to a sharp ache, now, if you ignored the fact that every tiny movement still felt like it was hitting a raw nerve or ten. Wisely, the teenager ceased moving altogether after about two tests of that.

 

Eventually, the blurry black edges of her vision wandered their way back into a picture that she actually recognized. Well, mostly recognized. The house was there, yes, but rather than seeing one house Jenny was viewing a conglomeration of individual pieces of wood and chips of paint and glass that seemed to barely fit together—an overload of detail that she couldn’t seem to look past. It was like—her mind couldn’t stop noticing. The telephone pole was a sea of toothpicks, the driveway its own rocky desert and the grass a mess of green veins feeding into their respective blades. For the longest time, Jenny couldn’t move simply because she couldn’t stop looking.

 

But her sight wasn’t the only thing that had changed. By far not. Jenny tried to get her bearings by focusing on as little as possible at a time.

 

The girl tried moving a bit, gingerly, thinking to stand up. She halfway made it and fell back over on her other side instead, to much complaining from her muscles. It was at that point that Jenny realized she had four legs instead of two. And fur.

 

What the hell am I? She stared intensely at her own paw. Arania… The voice, and maybe the answer, came unbidden to her mind, a forgotten memory. I am Arania…?

 

She shook her head, unnerved. Where did that come from? She didn’t linger on the question, though.

 

Honest to god werewolves? She started at the hair covering what used to be her hand. This feels too real to be mere delusion… She twitched her ears, and noticed the soft breathing of the dogs in their pens twenty feet away. Listening, the creaks and groans of the old-new house were also heard, along with a soft and throaty snore. This is… unbelievable… but amazing… Thoughts of danger and power and magic battled for space in her mind. Werewolves… I’m a werewolf… The breath caught in her throat as her imagination sprung to life, filling in the gaps and infiltrating her mind with a hesitant but huge and growing wonder. A mental paintbrush busily reworked Jenny’s—Arania’s—whole conception of the universe.

 

She tottered to her feet unsteadily, a newborn cub still connecting neurons to her limbs. Suddenly Arania didn’t expect to get any sleep tonight. Pawing at her head and wriggling her hips, she loosed herself of the clothes still hanging off her sides.

 

But how…? The curious little worm of a thought inched onto the edge of her thoughts and demanded center stage. She flickered though her memories, though for some reason that was hard, more like sludging than searching. Perhaps because they were ‘human’ memories…?

 

The wolves, that night… She remembered the one all too clearly, poised in the air for that second before it struck her down. Those wolves—werewolves, they must have been, to do this to her. Her lip curled back in a snarl. Not dogs that killed Simon… but murder…A sudden feeling of disgust came to her, tempered by anger. But—what if all werewolves were like that? What if she did the same, somehow lost her head?

 

Resolve hardening, she vowed control. The problem was, though… What if this form didn’t care about what she vowed herself? What if the second she smelled blood some inner wolf would take over, no matter what she thought? What if, what if, what if? Arania had no idea.

 

She put those thoughts away for the moment and took a careful—but wildly erratic, thanks to her lack of true command over her limbs—step away from the Patersons' house. Not knowing… further away is safer. It felt odd to distrust herself, but the circumstances were unusual.

 

She had stumbled some distance away, through the light of the moon that at once stung and caressed her back, when she realized that for every step away from the Patersons' she was drawing closer to their neighbors. Well, she had all night to find a sanctuary, didn’t she?

 

The Downs… Well, that would be better than where she was as far as population density went. She hadn’t revisited it since her tour several days ago, but she remembered the way well enough…

 

The road seemed to stretch forever as Jenny lumbered along, in rough control of her limbs. Luckily, no cars were in sight. Walking with four was a more complicated beat than two, that was for sure.

 

This is so weird. A fascination with this turn of events was warring with the feeling of danger lurking inside. The wolf paused to rest at the edge of the trees of the Downs before moving further in, picking up a collage of details—damp earth and moss, paw prints in the mud, crawdads and caterpillars and fungi, rotting branches and new roots exposed to air. A thousand different shades of gray... She reveled for a moment in the fact that with these eyes the darkness hid no secrets from her. Well, few, anyway—

 

“Well, what have we here?” a voice hissed suddenly, venomously. Arania jolted in surprise, slipping on several rocks as she fought to keep her balance. Who—?

 

A wolf was standing regally on the far side of the creek bank, the gray pelt dappled by moonlight. Arania wondered whether she—somehow she knew the wolf was female—had been hidden before, or just obscurely placed in plain sight. Whatever—Arania could feel waves of disgust and contempt waving off the stranger. Not wolf… werewolf. She spoke, didn’t she? Arania tried to answer, but something halfway between a whine and a growl was the only thing that made it out of her throat.

 

“A cub indeed. Who dared profane the species in your creation?” Agitated, the werewolf turned a circle and approached her, almost stalking. “Such has not been seen in years,” she muttered. More words followed, but they were too mumbled to be easily comprehended. Arania wasn’t much concerned with that, however; as the other wolf drew nearer an instinct to flee or fight was dragging its fingers into her brain, demanding to be heard. Arania let out a low growl of panic and warning as the other wolf took a step too near.

 

The stranger backed off, but with a look of contempt in her eye. Then she sniffed, pointedly. “You smell like that city girl.” Without thinking Arania tried to answer, but the words never made it past the awkward shape of her tongue. How the hell does she talk like that? 

 

“Follow me,” the wolf snapped after a pause, as if having made up her mind. Padding along, Arania following after a beat, the she-wolf started talking after a minute or two. “Dradnir leads our pack in these parts. As a newcomer you must be presented, and I assure you he will be quite interested in your origin. Considering that it is against the express wishes of Dradnir, not to mention everyone else in the pack—or so I thought—that no new humans be infected with our plague.” She seemed to be anticipating quite a reaction from him, by that tone of voice. Arania hadn’t quite gotten to the point of not being amazed at her canine presence in the world to worry that much; in the back of her mind she was trying to figure out if there was anyway to confirm whether the werewolf in front of her was Sarah from the mini-lake. Sarah had had a scar, after all, that could have come from being bitten herself… The she-wolf’s fur was too dense to tell if she had the same marking, though. Jessie had later informed her that Sarah’s scar was the result of a dog attack—the pieces seemingly fit together…

 

“I am Kathin, by the way. Assuming that that’s one of the questions you’d ask, if you had control of your voice.” Arania stared at Kathin’s black eyes for a moment, highly resenting the werewolf’s condescending tone. Then Kathin turned her head, and she realized that the wolf’s eyes were just darker than expected, not black. Are you Sarah? she wanted to ask. Though, even ignoring all previous facts, it was clear the two of them here were getting off on the same wrong foot she and the human girl had done half a week ago. To meet a werewolf my first night out…though, why did it have to be this one…

 

The moved from the trees and into the fields bathed by the high, reluctant moon. Kathin led them carefully through the highest grass, her nose and ears constantly on the watch as Arania followed and studied with interest. She soon lost track of where they were going beyond general direction; across roads, under hedges, past cows that skittered nervously when they neared… Too much of it looked the same as all the rest without a careful eye.

 

Kathin stopped suddenly in the middle of yet another random field, swinging her head to look over her shoulder at Arania. “Wait here.” The werewolf whisked away into the wheat.

 

Arania sat back and sniffed the air. Grass, that was obvious. Lots of pollen in the air. A faint, muggy feeling that might be drifting from some nearby part of the creek. Lowering her snout to the ground, she picked up a trail that must have been Kathin’s. Like dog, but not really… Must be wolf.

 

Arania was still taking in her surroundings when an older wolf stepped into her vision. She froze; he came closer, faint hints of a snarl in his features. Arania fought the urge to back away, to escape as the older wolf—Dradnir, by the looks of it—circled her slowly.

 

“So another moonchild is born, another smear on the face of this earth. Kathin tells me you know not how to speak.”

 

Arania shook her head. Dradnir hissed softly through his teeth. “A crime has been committed, and we see the evidence before us. Justice shall be had, if the means be in our power.” He rounded suddenly on the field about them, calling out in a voice bitter with anger. “If any of you know of this, speak now.” Arania suddenly realized that other werewolves were scattered all about them; a feeling of foreboding wriggled its way into her heart.

 

Dradnir’s attention centered back on Arania. He studied her at length. “…The light of youth is in your eyes. You have been tainted, but you think only of the power it brings, no?” Even if she’d had a voice, Arania didn’t think she would’ve answered that one. Something about the old wolf’s eyes hinted that the deranged was hiding just underneath, testing the edges.

 

“This would be much easier if you knew the skills of speaking under the moon’s light like this.”

 

No duh.

 

“That will only come with time, I fear, though some of our treatments may ease the path. Kathin shall hear your story firsthand tomorrow, instead, as she claims to know you in her human life.”

 

“We met at the riverbend rock,” Kathin affirmed quietly. Arania nodded.

 

“You would not know me,” Dradnir informed her. “I live some miles from this place, and work at the high school during the daylight.” What subject, I wonder? “We avoid the use of human names on the moon nights… It is simply—impolite,” Arania digested that.

 

Dradnir drew himself up to address the group again. “We must accept the fact that yet another has been added to our ranks, however this has come to be. That particular tale we will know tomorrow, after the sunlight has returned the cub’s tongue for a time. In the meantime, let us reaffirm our efforts to reduce the danger we pose and, ultimately, rid ourselves of this plague.”

 

Arania couldn’t help but make a small sound of protest at the measure of disdain Dradnir poured into that last word. The werewolf latched on to it, eyes rolling crazily, almost like he’d been waiting for her to bite.

 

“Not a plague, you wish to claim? No sickness here, only difference? Those weary words have haunted us, haunted us, yes, to the graves of our friends and family.” Dradnir was pacing, jaw working ceaselessly between words. She could see the shadow of other wolves—only a handful, but still—sitting attentively, hiding any boredom Arania felt sure was to be lurking somewhere, the way his speech sounded as if it’d been rote a hundred times.

 

“We have power. To see, smell, hear with a wolf’s skill… to take down a man in one fell, to turn him to a fellow moonchild if we like. Even the power of the transformation itself, though that is mostly forced on us by the moon’s turnings. But this form comes at a price—the price of hiding from our friends and family, the risk of losing control, the loss, inevitably, of some part of our humanity. What is it worth? A little wonder maybe, till that’s worn out too.”

 

Arania was weighing his words carefully. Sure, he seemed a bit touched in the head, but even so he had to know something about being a—werewolf. She’d thought the word before, but it struck her again with the sheer incredibility of it. Shit… I’m actually a werewolf…

 

With a sigh, Dradnir wound down. “As said, you can not share your story now, and so there is little for me to do with you at this time. Kathin… Keep an eye on the cub, in both worlds if needed. You’ve got the pills already, don’t you? Good.” A flick of his tail dismissed them from the scene. Uncertain, Arania padded away softly to the sound of Dradnir calling the others together to discuss ‘Moreala’s latest findings.’ Then Kathin reappeared; this time, Arania scented the wolf a moment before she materialized into view.

 

Kathin motioned her onward with a flick of the snout that would have been humanlike if she’d been using a hand. “The night’s young yet… And I, personally, would like to spend it sleeping.”

 

Arania’s mind wandered as Kathin led her back through the unmarked fields. Dradnir-tempered foreboding and caution were turning her excitement into a guilty pleasure; she couldn’t stop thinking about how Simon must have died, what must have happened to the wolf that did it for him to simply murder like that. I’m past all this, remember? Her feelings didn’t agree. It had been different when she’d thought him the victim of a mindless dog attack…

 

They must be approaching part of the creek again, she noticed, sniffing the air. The tree-lined serpentine was immediately visible as the two wolves crested the final rise; Kathin didn’t lead them into it, however, stopping in the field itself. Kathin pointedly tramped herself a bed in the wheat; curious, Arania flattened her own patch, but didn’t bother to lie down in it. Kathin gave her a slightly sullen look. “What’s got you?”

 

Arania shrugged as best she could, miming sniffing the air curiously. Truly, she just wasn’t tired yet.

 

“This will be so much easier when you learn to talk.”

 

Haven’t we already established this? 

 

“Frankly, I’m not sure how to go about teaching you. I was too young to have any solid memories of how they taught me…” she trailed off. “You do it by forcing your voicebox back into something humanlike, basically. It’s just the how of that that’s hard to explain…” Kathin dropped her head onto her paws. “There’s the rules of conduct to teach you, too, but most of those are common sense. No showing yourself, no slipping secrets, no making new wolves… That sort of thing. Just don’t break ‘em before morning and we’ll save it for then, ‘kay?” Her voice was growing more garbled, more indistinct.

 

Arania fidgeted a bit. The other wolf was obviously settling herself down for the night—but she had had ages Arania lacked to grow used to the sensation of this new and different body.” She circled once, twice. Kathin noticed.

 

“The little cub doesn’t wanna go t’sleep yet?”

 

Arania gave her a look in answer, not particularly eager to nod enthusiastically back to that one.

 

“Well, sniff around if you must. But don’t wander far, or do anything dangerous…” Kathin closed her eyes lazily. “We’ll leave here an hour before dawn.”

 

Arania watched the wolf carefully for several moments; Kathin seemed to be ignoring her, however, and was not to be bothered.

 

It didn’t take long for the “cub” to wander off in the grass. So many interesting scents to investigate—every foot was a different story, a puzzle in itself—there was so much to do, to revel in this strange magic. Magic! Not in the spell-casting sense the word brought to mind, but how else to describe this existence as another being entirely? In a way, Arania could almost imagine that her brain had simply been transplanted into a foreign, canine cranium without her knowledge at the time. Except that she’d felt herself change into this. Magic!

 

The wolf froze as she noticed the scuffling of some small animal ahead. On cue, her stomach panged pityingly for a snack—it was going to be such a long night. The wolf crouched, wondering if she’d be lucky enough to actually catch it. But… raw meat? The idea wasn’t disgusting, and indeed even rather appetizing to the subconscious mind that stirred within at the thought. More snuffling emerged from the grass; ears twitching, Arania guessed it wasn’t more than a handful of yards away. She blessed the light breeze that must be keeping her scent from it, that close; then she crept forward, a lupine silhouette on the hunt. All thoughts of whether hunting might be included on Kathin’s ‘trouble’ list evaporated without a thought. The shuffling froze. Arania pounced, vicious, before the small furry animal could make up its mind where to run.

 

Amazingly enough, her paws had landed on (and actually caught) the wriggling little creature. Instinct flared again and she bent her head to bite tightly, shaking the prey till its spine snapped and the blood vessels broke between her teeth, leaking onto her jaw. Pinning the weight to the ground, she gripped a hind leg and tore it off by pure force, ripping the animal’s—it had to be some sort of mole or something, for the size—belly open in the process. Guts stained the ground as Arania ate, almost mindlessly satisfied with the hunt and possessively jealous over the kill. A small part of her was left over to feel appalled and helpless at this new development.

 

The meat and muscle were delicious, all the same; she savored the tastes as they passed, one after another as she devoured the various pieces till little but bone and the guts she wasn’t sure about were left. An agreeable sensation grew in her stomach.

 

The wolf flopped in the grass and rolled over delightedly, playing by her lonesome. Her muscles stretched and timbered. The werewolf that had taken over relaxed, the need to feed morphing into a desire for rest. The little part that had protested was still wide awake, however, and clamoring for attention the rest of her head just wasn’t in the mood to give.

 

“What the hell is this?!” Kathin’s snarl, only half human-sounding, jerked Arania awake some hours later. So she had slept, after all. And she was once again a calm human-in-a-wolf’s-body through and through.

 

Kathin was dangling the mole corpse in front of her face, a dangerous look in her eye. Arania cracked her jaw to answer, but as usual only a garbled growl emerged. Kathin’s eyes flashed.

 

“Aside from the fact I’m amazed you caught anything in the first place—it’s against the code to kill at all, much less… consume. Don’t you realize what that does to the wolf in there?” She paced a circle, dropping the animal with a sharp toss of her head. Drawing breath, Kathin stopped and visibly took control of herself. Then she sat down, and gazed at the sky for a moment.

 

Arania grew alarmed again, all by herself as she pieced together her memories and recalled the moments of being completely—she hated to say it—out of control. Guilt swept over her.

 

“I know… You didn’t know.” The words emerged from Kathin like pulled teeth. “I should have taken more care to guard you, the new-made cub, as it is.” Kathin was silently holding in protest that she had never dealt with a ‘cub’ like this before—no one had, in recent memory—and so hadn’t know everything about what to do. “But, for your safety, and everyone else’s…Don’t try this again. It brings the blood rage to the top, makes us even more animalistic and base.”

 

Arania sucked in her breath, the iron aftertaste of blood still in her teeth

 

“Few werewolves can bring themselves out of a rage like that, once it starts. I saw it one or twice, when I was young,” Kathin reflected, a bit dolefully. “The Dradnir took over, when the old leader died in an accident, and implemented the new code. The fasting rule was one of the first, that no one was to eat in wolf form.”

 

Gradually Kathin revealed the other rules to her, in a meandering sort of way. Though perhaps… sensible, there were restrictive, to say the least. She was not to speak of werewolf business in any human habitation or in any place were humans frequented except in direst need, for fear they might chance upon the conversation. She was not to drop hints, even humorous ones. She was to spend her time as a werewolf as far as feasibly possible from all humans, so that if she lost control and started attacking everything in sight it was less likely she’d contact a human.

 

Like I’m gonna turn around one day and go “I’m a crazy werewolf, rawr!” and try to bite the nearest leg?

 

You could, you know. Look at what happened with the mole. And how do you think Simon died, huh? I doubt he’d been intending suicide in mind when it happened.

 

What was he even doing in the first place, with two werewolves in the middle of the night like that?

 

She didn’t know for sure, but she could imagine the possibilities. I mean… A talking animal shows up on your doorstep and invites you out? Screw the danger, that isn’t a chance to miss… A chance to defy reality. What if Simon hadn’t taken that chance, however he’d been presented with it?

 

A choice between chance and familiar—safe—human life? It wasn’t that safe itself, though, was it? Her parents had died in a simple car crash, after all.

 

“We are also investigating more scientific ways to undo the worst of the were-bite causes. Most of the actual research goes on in the cities, of course, and is relayed back to us later, but the results are the same. With the help of silver nitrates and genetic engineering, we can make ourselves safe again. Normal.” Kathin grinned uneasily for a moment. “The challenge is not to kill ourselves in the process.”

 

Dradnir’s mindset was still a bit extreme to her, Arania reflected privately as Kathin looked pointedly at the sky and made noises about returning to their human beds in time for moonset. Though, the scare she’d given herself had knocked her several notches in his direction.

 

So very strange. Kathin left her unceremoniously under her own window; Arania retrieved the clothes she’d abandoned the night before and dawdled outside as the moon slipped low, down to touch the hills as the sky lightened in the east. I hope none of them rise quite that early... Shelly and Gerald could be in the kitchen even now… or they could’ve checked on me last night and found my bed empty. She would have to start using that lock on her room. Her limbs were aching like before, tender when she moved…

 

Realizing that she had delayed too long, the wolf finally levered herself through the window just seconds before the change took hold. Fire through her nerves, a series of cracking bones and within a matter of seconds a human lay panting on the hard, scratchy and completely uncomfortable carpet of her bedroom floor. It took all the life left in her and then some just to get her garments properly back on her limbs before she collapsed on the bed.

 

Sometime later Shelly cracked the door open to find Jenny sprawled among her sheets and sleeping soundly. The woman debated whether to wake her, but having heard that she’d felt ill the night before it didn’t seem like too much harm to let her rest awhile longer…


Chapter 7

 

Jenny was up by eight-thirty all the same, but she almost tripped over the card table when she spotted the back of Sarah’s head in the kitchen. “Oh hi there, Jenny,” Shelly called out amiably. “Feeling any better? I was just about to come see if you were up yet—Sarah’s here to visit you.”

 

“…Hi.” Jenny mustered up a smile of sorts.

 

Sarah smiled back, the large grin almost splitting her face. “It’s early for a Saturday, I know, but I wanted to invite you out to lunch today. We both missed meeting everyone at Big Daddy’s yesterday, you know?” She quirked another grin; the second one looked a little less forced.

 

“Well… that sounds… nice…” Jenny knew what was going on, but that didn’t make it any easier to play along. “So… considering the time—did you have something planned for before lunch, or something?”

 

“Well, I thought I’d invite you along to my house. When my mom said lunch I’m pretty sure she was talking about something there, so...”

 

Shelly spoke next, politely stepping in. “You feeling up to that, Jenny dear? You looked so awful last night, are you sure you’re recovered?”

 

“I… I think I’ll be okay.” She pulled another smile on. “It’s not like we’ll be doing anything that strenuous, after all.”

 

“Would you like a bite for breakfast first, then?”

 

“…Just something light’s fine.” She ended up being given a poptart, though she took the time to dress and brush her hair first; logically enough, she saved brushing her teeth for after she’d eaten…

 

Before she’d even gotten quite accustomed to the idea that Sarah was already here to accost her, they were in Sarah’s car and driving. If there had been any doubt about Kathin’s identity before, it was gone now.

 

“So spill,” the other girl began suddenly, turning to look (almost glare) at Jenny as they halted in front of a stop sign. “I need your story, I need some promises, and then we’re gonna give you some help on the whole talking thing. Sound good?” She jerked her head back to the road and pressed the accelerator without waiting for an answer.

 

Jenny paused, collecting her thoughts before she began to speak slowly, calmly. “That night my brother was going to visit his girlfriend…”

 

--

 

“Let me check the facts, then, make sure I’ve got everything right. Your brother was acting all suspicious, so you tried to check up on him and ended up trailing him through the woods instead, right? That, I must say was a very stupid move to start things with.”

 

Jenny responded with only a slight nod that the facts were right, not rising to answer Sarah’s ‘opinion’ on the matter.

 

“When you found him there were two weres nearby and he was either dead or dying. One of the wolves attacked you, bit you, you fell unconscious and woke up the next morning clueless. Frankly, I have a low opinion of these Texan weres…”

 

“They’re not like you guys, that’s for sure,” Jenny commented blandly.

 

Sarah shot her a look. “Did they even pause to tell you your blood name?” Luckily, they were no longer driving; the other girl had pulled them off the road some time ago.

 

“I am—“ she caught herself, not sure if the name restriction Dradnir had mentioned worked the other way too. “Arania,” she whispered after a moment, Sarah leaning in to hear her. “Though I still don’t remember who told me that…”

 

Sarah nodded slowly, a serious look in her eye. She turned to look at Jenny. “Now we need to discuss the promises—the oaths—I mentioned. As it could be months before you gain full control of your were-voice, Dradnir gave me the task of administering them to you now.” She sighed suddenly. “Though honestly, they do not bind at all except by faith.” Sarah stared at her hands for several moments. “Are you ready?”

 

“Assuming I agree to the contents of these oaths, yes.”

 

“They aren’t very bad, really… Just common sense in a bottle, more or less. You have to keep them if you wish to remain a part of the pack, though, which means a lot to most weres. Now… Repeat after me. I swear that I will never harm a human being…”

 

Jenny recited carefully, word for word, to never eat as a wolf, be seen as a wolf, do any harm whatsoever as a wolf or reveal the existence of the werewolves to any human, etc…. Most of it was reasonable, like Sarah’d said. Jenny stumbled and paused, though, when they reached a line about “Doing everything reasonable to aid the cause of reducing the were-plague among us.”

 

“I’m still not convinced it’s a plague, you know.”

 

Sarah looked on sadly. “I know.” The silence lengthened between them. “Are you going to take the oath, or not?”

 

In the end, Jenny took that one too, harping inwardly on the definition of ‘reasonable’.

 

As soon as she’d finished the last of the words, Sarah began rummaging about in her pack. “The leader met me last night, after I’d dropped you off. Our buddies in the city have been busy with their research, it seems… This particular medicine is tried and tested, though,” she explained, showing Jenny a small, orange plastic bottle. “It messes with the hormones a bit during weretime to make it easier to shift your voicebox back to human form.” Unscrewing the cap, Sarah dosed out a pair of pills and took one for herself, holding the other out to Jenny.

 

The idea of taking something so—unregulated, like—made Jenny rather nervous. That pill could be anything… “What if I don’t want to take it? Seems a bit risky to me, you know…? No FDA or whatnot to oversee things…”

 

Sarah looked down at her hand, then back at Jenny. She seemed to think the protest rather silly. “You’ll have to take that up with Dradnir, I suppose. Or I’ll take it up for you, or something…” With a small shake of her head the girl put the one pill back and took her own without trouble. “No pressure, okay?” Sarah gave her a grin Jenny figured was supposed to be reassuring.

 

They did have lunch later that day (though it was a rather quiet affair) and other lunches in the future with varying degrees of trust between them. Dradnir, or Mr_Space_09 by his screenname—the only way Jenny could talk to him firsthand, for several months—managed to convince her to take the hormonal thing after Jenny had no success with the throat-changing two months in a row.

 

But the thing was, the medications didn’t stop there. A rage-inhibitor, several pain-relievers, a hormone to repress the thicker than usual hair-growth that developed after a few months… At the same time Jenny grew used to her new home, unpacked her stuff and let her toothbrush live in the bathroom, among other things—like finding amazingly entertaining RPG games online with Jessie and learning to fish one afternoon with Gerald. She learned to speak as a wolf too, though admittedly with the hormone help…

 

All in all, life was going well when she finally cracked one moonlit night.

 

Arania had already been in a vague resentment of the pill-popping ‘treatment’ regime—if nothing else, the lethargic side effects were nothing to look forward to every month. Hints of doing otherwise, however, were met with amazement that she would dare risk everyone’s safety just so she could feel a little better. Drugs without the side effects were being researched, weren’t they? She just had to be patient.

 

But much more than better drugs were being researched, she discovered. Dradnir had bigger plans than that.

 

Said wolf was now addressing the rest of them, sitting gamely in the snow. His eyes were shining in, his breath misting gently before him as he spoke. The force of winter was upon them in full blast, now.

 

“They figured it out by accident. You know all those tales of silver bullets killing a werewolf? Well, it’s partially true. Silver sulfate, in conjunction with this other stuff—it inhibits our cells’ defenses just long enough for the enzymes to get at our DNA, the source of this were-problem. There’s still a bit of a risk involved—“ he was so excited, he seemed to simply wave that little detail away, “But if it works, we’ll be almost human again—we won’t have to change every moon, or anything, ever again. Can you imagine?”

 

Arania could imagine. And even with her troubles… She didn’t really want to go back. Not that much. Simon had gone after a chance, hadn’t he? He died in the process, but she had come out alive, magically touched for all time. She’d gotten used to the new thrill in her life, these nights spent under the moon… But that didn’t mean she was tired of them.

 

“The more slowly we administer it, the safer, the scientists say. If you spread it out over three days the risk is very minimal, apparently,” Dradnir informed them. “Two milliliter doses, every two hours… Would anyone like the privilege of going first? Anyone?” The wolves stirred excitedly, but no one spoke up; Dradnir’s eyes landed on Arania. “Arania, perhaps? As one of the youngest, you’re probably not as resigned to this as the rest of us are…”

 

“No.” The word was out before she could stop it.

 

“I’m sorry?” Dradnir didn’t seem to believe his ears.

 

“I want to… I want to stay a werewolf.” Her voice gained strength. “And I don’t need your medicine to do it, either.” She was going out on a limb there… But she could trust herself. Really, who could she trust but herself?

 

The other wolves were stirring uneasily. “Arania…” Dradnir started, more calmly than he looked. “The bite of the werewolf curses us all, causing danger and often death in its very nature. To embrace this cancer is against the codes of this pack.”

 

Adrenaline in her veins, Arania nodded slowly. “I see what you mean. But I disagree.”

 

Somewhat stricken, Dradnir dropped his head. “I fear we can not keep you in the pack if you insist on thinking this way.”

 

“Then so be it.” I’ll find my own pack, far from you and your rules. She could feel her heart lifting even as the rest of the pack reacted to her words, Kathin staring at her in disbelief from across the circle. With this last medicine, though, she doubted there would even be a pack here much longer.

 

Arania stood, thoughts of the other wolves leaving her mind. Then she was running, running far and wide across the fields, free under the moonlight that coursed through her veins.

 

I am… Arania.

Fin