by Kody Boye
I am just about to lean down to look when a presence appears in my peripheral.
“Oaklynn,” Alecia Meadows says.
I stand at attention and turn my eyes to face the old woman. “Yes?” I ask.
“I assume you had your scar covered?”
“Yes ma’am. I did.”
“Good. Then we can move on to our next objective.”
“Which is?”
“Trying to scare the pack out of Red Wolf.”
I pale. “You mean… you found them,” I say, stating this rather than asking it.
She nods. “Yes. We found them—at least, traces of them.”
“Where?”
“On the outskirts of the recreational area known as Wolf Creek.”
The boys—
The mayhem—
The blood—
Their bodies as they were ripped apart, their limbs when they were strewn about—
I tremble—more out of reflex than actual fear—and find myself turning to face the map. “They’re too close to the Wells family mansion,” I say.
“Which is exactly why we have to make our move—if not now, then soon.”
“Why soon?” Jackson asks. “Do you know something we don’t?”
Alecia Meadows doesn’t respond. Instead, she simply turns herded away and sighs.
“Grandma?” he asks again. “Why are you—“
“That’s why they were gone for so many days,” I say. “They were… scouting. Or something.”
“That’s precisely what we were doing, “Bernard says as he enters the RV. He whips the ashes from his cigarette off his shirt before closing the door behind him. “We needed to ensure that we were on the right trail.”
“I may be old,” Alecia says after a moment’s consideration, “but I am, without a doubt, an expert tracker.”
“As all wolves are,” Bernard adds, and narrows his eyes at me.
“You say that like you’re implying something,” I offer. “What are you suggest—“
I stop before I can finish.
Realization dawns on me.
My heartbeat quickens. My mind races.
I say, “I don’t think I can.”
To which Alecia Meadows replies by saying, “You know the area better than anyone.”
“I rarely went down to Wolf Creek,” I say, unsure how to respond now that I’ve been dragged into the center of it all. “Just because I live here doesn’t mean I know every nook and cranny that happens to exist.”
“She’s right,” Jackson offers. “We can’t depend on her to do the legwork.”
“Maybe not all of it,” Alecia offers, “but definitely some.”
“Why are you depending on me all of a sudden?” I ask. “I don’t even know how to shift properly.”
“It’s a matter of willpower, dear. You know that.”
“I—I don’t—“
I sigh, defeated.
I know what they’re asking of me—and why they’re asking me as a result—but I just don’t know if I’m capable of taking the reigns on this.
You did used to play in these woods, a deep, dark part of me says. You used to know where all the places to hide were.
While that might be true, it doesn’t negate the fact that nature changes, landscapes become altered. For all I know, all the trees that used to be toppled, all the caves that were once in existence, are simply no more.
I reach up to tangle my hands in my hair, and say, “I… I don’t—“
“You can do this,” Jackson offers, pressing a hand to my back. “You know you can.”
“You have to teach me first,” I say, turning to face him. “You have to.”
“I will.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise, Oaklynn. I swear it on my grandmother’s life.”
“I heard that,” Alecia says.
“You were supposed to,” Jackson replies.
And I smile—because deep down, I know that, with Jackson’s help, I’ll be able to do what has been asked of me.
I’ll be able to find the red wolves of East Texas.
Chapter Fourteen
The morning arrives with grim news and uncertainties.
Plastered, on a sickly red banner running across the news channel, are the words: Hunt for Killer Wolf to Begin.
“I thought…. I thought they had to wait,” I offer.
“The public is supposed to,” Zachariah Meadows replies, “but Fish and Game are surely on the case.”
A troubled sigh escapes me as I stare at the television—as in my pajamas I look on at everything that my life has boiled down to. Liking wolves. Loving them. Saving them.
If I don’t do something, and soon, Fish and Game may uncover the secret pack. And if that happens—
I shake my head.
I don’t even want to think of it.
Jackson—who has since appeared from the hall in his own undershirt and pajama pants—looks on at the TV with wide eyes and his mouth agape.
The only thing he can say is: “We have to hurry.”
“I know,” Zachariah replies. “I already called your grandmother and uncle. They should be here any—“
A knock comes at the front door.
“—moment,” the man finishes.
Jackson is quick to make his way to the door. Meanwhile, I continue to stare at the screen before us, trying my hardest to fight the urge to simply flee out the front door to save the wolves who at one point were people.
A hand falls on my shoulder.
I stiffen.
“Are you ready to go hunting for them?” Alecia Meadows whispers in my ear.
I nod, and say, “Yes. I am.”
“Good.” She gestures to the living room. “Jackson—draw the blinds.”
The young man does as asked.
“Now then,” the old woman continues, taking a step into the living room before spinning to face me. “I’m going to instruct you on how you can communicate with your wolf spirit and transform into the creature you were gifted with.”
“The Dark Wolf was more talkative,” I offer, unsure how I should respond or what I should say. “The one that came to me isn’t, though.”
“That’s because the wolf that came to you has no wants or whims of its own,” Alecia replies. “She is merely concerned about your survival, and wishes for you to remain safe.”
“How do you—“
Alecia smiles. “It’s not a coincidence that good wolves want the best for us, dear. Have you felt the urge to change once since she came?”
“I—“ I begin, then stop and frown. “Well… no. I… I haven’t.”
“That’s because she’s been waiting for you to accept your circumstance, and learn how to communicate with her in your own way. The Dark Wolf was an opportunist. This wolf—who we’ll call the Light Wolf—is simply a part of you now: two spirits as one.”
“Okay. But that doesn’t explain how I’m supposed to change.”
“Imagine you are in a pool of water,” Alecia begins. “Submerge yourself in its depths, and imagine you are becoming weightless.”
“Now?” I ask.
“Now,” the old woman says.
I close my eyes and begin to do just as she’s asked.
“Now,” Alecia continues, “let your mind concentrate on the wolf that came to you.”
I envision that day in the secret room—when, strapped to a table, and bound by forces beyond my control, I watched the metaphorical sky open and the beautiful white wolf come running. She’d been beauty, grace, a phantom spirit from a strange place. She’d come to me without reservation; and as she’d collided with me, I’d felt something—which, I realize, I do now.
My bones creak. My skin shudders. My body falls to floor.
Shifting, it could be said, is like stripping off a layer of oneself—reminiscent of a snake shedding its former skin. One moment you are yourself, then the next you are something else.
In all, it takes les
s than a minute for me to become the wolf.
By the time I open my eyes, I see the world in startling clarity—and watch the others around me look on in awe.
What? I want to say. What is it?
“She’s not a red wolf," Jackson says after a moment.
“Did you expect her to be?” his grandmother asks.
“I… I don’t—“
I turn my head to face Jackson.
He extends a hand toward me.
I, in response, reach out to nuzzle his palm with my snout.
“Does she know how to turn back?” Jackson asks.
“It’s like shedding a second skin,” Alecia says. “Oaklynn—can you hear me?”
I nod.
“Repeat the process, but this time, imagine that you are returning to your former self.”
I close my lupine eyes and imagine myself submerging in the pool once more. This time, though, I see the young woman I am—the human, so consumed by fear, by anger, by rage. A part of me doesn’t want to go back, because in this body, I am free of mortal anxieties, human persecutions, and mortal doubts and fears.
You can see, a part of me says, why one would want to stay like this forever.
The only problem is: I don’t want to stay like this forever—and for that reason, begin the process of changing back to my human self.
I am soon standing back on my two human feet.
“Welcome back,” Zachariah says.
“Thank you,” I reply, turning my eyes from him, to Jackson and Bernard, then back to Alecia again. “That felt completely different than it did when the Dark Wolf was here.”
“You need not worry about speaking its name,” Alecia replies. “Just remember to always trust yourself—and to not let your apathy grow too strong when you become the wolf. Though you are indeed a supernatural creature, you still possess the wants and whims and desires of an animal. Wanting to release yourself of your mortal bonds is not an uncommon feeling when under the guide of your Wolf.”
“I understand,” I reply.
“Good.” Alecia nods. “Now then: I want the two of you—“ she nods at me and Jackson “—to begin your search for the red wolf pack.”
“Do you have any idea where we might start?” Jackson asks.
I shake my head. “Not a clue,” I say.
He sighs before turning toward the door. “I guess we have our work cut out for us then,” he says.
I can only nod. “Yeah. I guess we do.”
We escape into the woods following our departure from the Meadows family home—all with the knowledge that anything could happen. Cold, bitter, and unsure what exactly will occur, I guide Jackson along as carefully as I can, making sure to avoid fallen trees and snarling vines that wish to bid us harm.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Jackson asks.
To which I reply with, “No. I don’t.”
He sighs—long and hard—and comes to a halt in the middle of the thicket. His nostrils flaring, his eyes staring, he looks first to his left, then to his right, then says, “I hope we’re not going near the Meadows mansion.”
“We’re not,” I reply. “I have a different idea.”
“Which is?”
“One you’re not going to like.”
He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Oaklynn,” he says. “What’re you—“
“Look,” I say, stepping closer so that, should anyone be around, only he can hear. “We know that they’re somewhere close to Wolf Creek. We also know that the river runs through a small gorge there, and that there might be caves. This means that, if they are there, we can flush them out and into the grasslands beyond the town.”
“To where they’ll be even bigger targets?”
“No.” I shake my head. “They won’t be bigger targets there because there’s fewer people. Sure—I mean, theoretically, they could be found, but if we push them far enough…”
“I… think I see what you’re getting at,” Jackson offers. “You want to push them into Louisiana.”
“Exactly,” I reply.
“Are you sure they’ll be okay there?”
“It’s the only choice we have at the moment,” I reply, and sigh.
I turn my head to look into the distance and inhale—hoping, to the Mother Wolf and all Her guidance, that no one, and no thing, will be there.
Thankfully, I smell nothing.
“We need to go,” I say. “Now.”
“But—“
“Shift,” I say.
Jackson complies just as I begin the transformation. Quicker than me, and far more efficient, he turns into a Wolf before I can even begin to start shifting.
By the time I’m in wolf form, I’m ready to begin running.
All right, I hear Jackson’s voice say in my head. Lead the way.
How are you doing that? I reply, taking a step toward him. His bright brown eyes are the same color in his wolf form as they are in his human body.
I don’t know. Psychic link, maybe? We are supernatural. Remember?
I remember, I say, then turn my head and adjust my footing. I had gotten used to the Dark Wolf’s larger, bulkier frame; and though the Light Wolf is still massive, she is slimmer and sleeker than her devilish counterpart.
Come on, I say after a few moments of adjusting to the Light Wolf’s form. Let’s go.
I take a few steps forward to gain my footing, then begin to lead.
The scents of the woods are as distracting as they are invigorating, as are the sounds that inhabit them. The sickly aroma of plants. The pungent scent of animals. The sounds of birds in the trees, of squirrels in the underbrush. These are the things that inspire the wolf within me to pay attention—an instinctual need to hunt on a morning where I neglected to feed myself before leaving the house. I am able to push most of these feelings down, but still, they linger, like water on the surface of your hands when you have not properly dried them.
You can still hear me? I ask.
I can, Jackson says.
How do I block out all this unnecessary information?
You’ll learn, the young man says. You’re just hyper-attuned to everything around you. Just focus on what you’re doing and you’ll be fine.
He says that like it’s so simple, like I am an unwilling student, but I know that it is just him speaking from experience. I know nothing about this form, what it means to be in it, or how to interact with it. Before, I’d been an unwilling passenger.
Now, I think, I’m in control.
I lead us to the edge of the clearing, near where I’d looked down at the high school boys as they’d plotted to ruin my parents’ lives, and come to a halt.
What’s up? Jackson asks.
Smelling, I replied, inhaling a scent of the thick air.
I allow the wolf a moment to dissect the smell before stepping forward.
Thankfully, there is nothing but DO NOT CROSS tape blocking the road near where the massacre took place. No cop cars line the roads, or people walk them. We are as alone as we could possibly be.
Which way? Jackson asks as he comes to stand beside me.
That way, I say, and nudge my head toward the slow-moving river. We can cover our tracks if we submerge our paws in the water.
Are you sure that’s such a good—
I ignore Jackson and hop down onto the dirt road, then begin to make my way toward the river.
A moment later, I hear Jackson follow.
I don’t hesitate to step into the small stream; and though cold, the water does little to hinder my momentum.
This is where I think they’ll be, I say as I continue to lead us onward—as through the water we go.
You really think so? Jackson asks. So close to the Wells’ property? And so close to where you—
Yeah, I say, cutting him off before he can finish. I think this is where they’ll be.
I don’t need to be reminded of what the Dark Wolf did.
We push forward, slowly but surely advancing up t
he stream and through the slim gorge that time has created through the natural art of erosion. Here, the algae has taken to growing on rocks, lighting the way with a thick and slimy smell. It’s comforting in the fact that, the further we walk, the less manmade smells I can determine.
We’re getting closer, I think. I know we are.
How I do I can’t be for sure. But the further we walk, the more the smells of the human world disappear, and the natural take claim.
I come to a halt. Lift my head. Inhale a deep breath of the wild air.
That’s when I smell it—something that I’ve never been able to determine before: a musk, like body odor, except from some kind of animal. Some kind of—
I hear something splash in the water behind me.
I turn, startled—
And see that Jackson is staring down the first wild wolf I have ever seen.
Chapter Fifteen
Jackson’s gaze is impenetrable. His lips are curled into a snarl, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. What’s worse is that this wolf isn’t openly communicating with us, but instead is diverting attention away from where we should be going, where—
I spin—
Only to find a second, and much larger, male wolf has come to stand before me.
I say, Jackson.
To which he replies with a, Yeah?
I think we found them.
No shit, Sherlock.
I would laugh if I could, but in this circumstance, I can’t.
We have been flanked by not one, but two massive wolves. Even the idea of laughing at this point is ludicrous.
I lower my head in an attempt to show that I am no threat, but find that it only causes the wolf facing me to snarl and draw closer.
Jackson, I say. A little help, please?
I’m thinking! I’m thinking!
The wolf edges closer.
I lift my head, pull my ears back, let loose a low growl.
The wolf jumps back and turns its head to regard something up the stream.