“Eric. Cuz. You made the right choice when it really mattered.” Sylvia looked at him for a moment before focusing on the road again.
“It’s not enough,” he muttered. “You almost got killed.”
“Almost,” I said gently, and Eric winced only a little. “Almost is what counts. We’re practically healed. And you bought enough time for us to turn that fight around. That also counts.”
He snorted a little. “You make it sound as if I was a hero.”
“You did what you could, at quite a risk to yourself. In my eyes, that does make you a hero.”
He shifted in his seat to look straight at me, a deep frown on his face, guilt in his eyes.
“Ben, don’t you see? I was one of those Hunters. Theo made me join in. We killed one or two of your kind, not by my hands, but I watched. I laughed with the others. I even hurt you and helped… Theo to whip you. I don’t know how you can forgive me. I cannot forgive myself.”
“You saved me and Sylvia. And would you agree that Theo is somewhat insane?” I asked him.
Eric nodded. “More than somewhat. But even that doesn’t excuse it. I should have seen this.”
“And most of the Hunters you know are also believing this delusion, right?”
Eric nodded again.
“It is a group hype that is very difficult to escape,” Sylvia said slowly. “Just like those witch hunts. Those are cults. People believed that stuff. They thought they were protecting their families. Just like you did.”
“Are you… excusing what I did?”
“No, but understanding it and forgiving you.” I made my voice gentle again. It didn’t happen often that a Hunter was willing to change. I wanted him to stay on our side.
“I don’t even know what to do now,” he said after a while. “I mean, I can take care of the house, but I always just did what Grandpa told me to do. I don’t even have a job.”
I understood that feeling only too well.
“Let’s get you healed up and then we’ll see.” I didn’t want to promise anything but I would ask Beth. I was fairly certain Eric had no idea how much useful information he held that would help our kind in this area, from who those Hunters were to all the internet platforms they used.
When Sylvia pulled into the yard, I stared at the black truck still sitting there and remembered how I had crouched in that flat bed, in wolf shape and in pain. I hoped I hid my shudder well.
We all got out of the car and Eric opened the front door of the house. I was surprised to see it wasn’t locked, but then, none of us had checked it before leaving. Fleetingly, I wondered about the workshop and what we would find there.
Sylvia glanced at me, and I could tell she wondered the same.
When I heard a snarl, I rushed to push past Eric, just as a shape launched itself at him. I braced myself and caught the wolf that was attacking him. Its claws tore my shirt and the skin beneath it, but I hardly felt the injury.
“Liz. Dear Gods, Liz!”
The wolf ducked and snarled again.
“Sylvia, get out. Let me handle this!” I shifted into the wolf without waiting for an answer, wiggling out of my clothes. Then I made the soft yipping sounds of greeting, and the wolf stared at me and whined.
I yipped again and the wolf stepped back, turning the head aside, offering me her throat, declaring peace. I gently put my teeth over her snout, then licked her, doing my best not to give in to the shock I felt.
My sister Liz had gone feral.
… to be continued.
Preview of "A Wolf's Fear"
Chapter 1 - Liz
Wolves don’t cry.
Which is why I had no tears when I was lying under a bush, watching our house burn down to the ground.
Dad had forbidden us to watch, of course, but I had hidden my backpack and returned, needing to see the end of our life as a family.
Nessa had left in the morning, taking the motorcycle. She was my older sister, and Dad had sent her off first, hoping the Hunters wouldn’t follow her on what looked like a normal grocery shopping run.
He had sent me and Ben to walk to town separately, through the forest. I was supposed to take a Greyhound, and Ben would hitchhike, since it was safest to do so for a man.
We were supposed to meet up at a library in Ashton, in North Carolina, hundreds of miles to the south.
And Dad would give the Hunters the longest run in history to ensure that we got away safely. I knew I would probably never see him again, and it hurt more than I wanted to admit to myself.
We were wolves. And when Hunters found us and decided to act, we rarely fought back. Instead, we ran and tried to hide elsewhere. It had been that way for centuries, and nothing would ever change that.
I tried to tell myself that I could handle it. That I was a grown wolf, that I knew how to live in both shapes, and that I would find a place and a mate and be happy.
And knew that for the lie it was.
It took hours for the fire to burn out. Not a single fire-fighter came, and that was no surprise, either. We had few friends in the region, and when Mom had disappeared two weeks ago, we knew our time was up.
When only glowing embers and a sooty brick chimney were left of our home, I got up and slipped away to the forest, to pick up my backpack and start that long journey south.
The sun rises early in summer, and it was just peeking through the trees when I reached town again, back in human shape. I went to check the Greyhound schedule. But before I even reached the wall where it hung, I recognized the dog of one of the men hanging out there, and knew he was one of the Hunters.
Of course, they were looking for us. And if that dog got a good whiff of me, I’d be dead.
I walked past the station, checking the wind. Fortunately, it was blowing my scent away from that dog. I kept walking, knowing I needed a hiding place, knowing I was prey, a young woman alone, the backpack indicating I was likely not living here.
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About the Author
Hannah Steenbock is a German writer of Speculative Fiction. She uses both her native German and English as languages for her tales, as she loves English and tends to think in that language when plotting Fantasy.
After finishing University with a degree in English and Spanish, she lives and works in Kiel, the northernmost state capital of Germany. Her other pastimes include strolling along beaches, talking with trees and devouring as many stories as time allows.
A Wolf's Quest Page 9