by Alex Stone
“Be safe,” she says, nearly void of emotion.
“We will be. I’ll call you when it’s over.”
“Thank you,” she says. “Look after him, okay?”
“Of course. I swear, I won’t let anything happen to him.”
“Tala!” Michael calls as he jogs down the hall. “Ready to go?”
“Absolutely,” I say with more enthusiasm than necessary. Michael is already walking toward the door. Before I turn, I mouth “I love you” to my mom. She smiles back at me and turns to continue her cooking.
It’s not long before Michael and I pull into Uncle Carl’s driveway. As I put my Honda in park, I ask Michael, “You ready?”
He nods quickly. “Oh yeah!”
“Okay, before we leave, take a big swig of this. And do not spit it out.” I hand my thermos to Michael, who gives me an unsure look. “It tastes like shit, but it’ll help.”
He takes it, quickly removes the cap, and chugs before pulling the thermos away from his lips. I watch as his face coils in revulsion. Just when I think he’s going to get sick or spew it out, his lips go tight and he swallows. “Yep,” he says. “Definitely tastes like shit. How will making me want to puke help?”
“It’ll help your muscles relax for the change.”
“Couldn’t you have just given me whiskey or something? This is a big rite of passage, right?”
“I’m not giving you alcohol. Besides, you’ll want a clear head.”
I open my car door, and Michaels asks, “Aren’t you going to have any?”
“I had some earlier. Now, come on.” I don’t tell Michael that I’ve never needed anything to help me with the change.
We get out of the car and begin our trek past the community building and into the woods. It’s getting dark, but I can still see the bright orange markers on the trees. I point these out to Michael, so he knows how to get back to the house. Over a half an hour later, we finally make it to the clearing. Most of the pack is there. Uncle Carl, Lizzy, Norman, Ricky, and so many more. A few others trickle in. Michael is standing next to me when Uncle Carl approaches. “Thank you for having me do this, Tala. I won’t forget it.”
“Of course,” I say. “Your experience as a wolf is valuable to the pack. After you’ve changed, fall into position. The other wolves will know what to do.”
Uncle Carl nods before turning to Michael. “What have we got here?”
“We’re almost certain that Michael will turn tonight.”
“There’s nothing like the first change,” Carl says. “Take it all in. The actual process may be rough, but it gets easier. Tonight, embrace it all. Your senses will take it all in like never before. You won’t ever forget this night. I still haven’t forgotten mine.” Uncle Carl chuckles.
“Really?” Michael asks.
“Really. I slipped in the mud and came out smelling like—well, I learned a lot. It was still magical. There’s nothing like it, Michael. Enjoy it, and good luck.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Uncle Carl leaves us to greet other pack members.
I feel my body begin to tense, and I hear Michael’s breaths quicken. “You feel it, too?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Michael says, sounding like he just ran a mile.
“It’s almost time,” I say. “Michael, you’re going to turn!”
He grins at me, but it looks like he is starting to sweat.
“Remember, try to relax and don’t resist. You’ve got this.” I move my gaze along the group until I see Ricky. I wave at him, and he nods back. “Head on over to Ricky,” I tell Michael. “You’re sticking with him tonight.”
He nods before jogging over.
I close my eyes and inhale slowly through my nose. As my senses stretch out, I begin to feel the moonlight on me, something my human form would never be able to do. It’s soothing, calm, like a mother’s whisper. I begin to undress, quickly taking off my boots and slipping out of my jeans. A warmth flows through me, enveloping me, and my body tries to tense, but I force it to relax, to return the moon’s embrace. I wince as my shoulder juts out, feeling almost like someone hit me and dislocated it, but I breathe as the moon guides my body to its freest form.
Before I know it, I am released. My paws center me firmly on the earth, and I let out an elated howl, signaling to the rest of the pack that our run has begun.
Chapter 8
Around me, my pack echoes my declaration, their howls carrying through the trees, overpowering the sounds of the small woodland creatures. I run along our usual trail, the pack trailing behind me. The breeze flows through my black fur like fingers flowing through water on an afternoon boat ride. The shadows of the sassafras are long and contrast with the bright areas illuminated by the moon.
I catch the scent of prey and slow my run as the pack files in behind me. I look back briefly to see a smaller wolf with light brown fur. He pads along the forest floor and stops next to Ricky’s grey wolf. Michael. Pride fills me heart, which is ready to burst. Before I realize what I’m doing, my muzzle is in the air again. I howl, this time to notify the pack of our quarry. I run at full speed as my pack races behind me, hopefully now catching scent of our targets.
Carlie, Lizzy, and a few others split off toward the prey. They often herd our targets, making it easier for our hitters to take down larger game. Ricky, Ray, Norman, and Uncle Evan’s sons, Austin and Ashton, follow a few minutes after. Michael trails behind the main hitters. Today, he will observe and learn how to hunt as a pack. I lead the rest of the pack around to the prey.
The herders have set up a semi perimeter, so the two elderly white-tailed deer have nowhere to run as the hitters tackle at the wolves’ hindquarters. Michael stands on the sidelines as Ricky and Ashton bring down the first buck before Austin finally tears its throat out, and its blood spills out onto the grass. The hitters circle back as the herders block the deer’s path, preventing an escape. This time, Norman and Ray tackle the prey, soon bringing it down before Ricky can bite at its snout.
I howl once again, and the wolves clear from the deer carcasses. As acting-alpha, I eat first. I bite into the open wound on the first buck’s hind, quickly devouring the tender meat. Once I am finished, Uncle Carl eats next. Ricky makes what sounds like a cut-off whimper before pointing with his snout toward Michael. Uncle Carl stops before stepping off. It’s tradition in our pack to let the newly changed eat after the alpha. With his head down, Michael slowly approaches my deer. He pauses before slamming his snout into the deer. His eating is sloppy, and he doesn’t seem to know where the meatiest part of the meal is, but he will learn. Once finished, Michael licks his chops and steps back.
I let off another howl, and chaos soon ensues. The rest of the pack descends upon the deer like a blood-thirsty swarm until I can no longer see anything but the hind-ends of my pack members. With so many of us, it’s unlikely two deer will fill anyone up. I hope they like spaghetti.
Once the pack has finished, we fall back into formation with me on point and Uncle Carl at the rear once more. I lead my pack around the large pond, which marks this end of Uncle Carl’s property. We begin to loop back, this time at a steady trot. The second half of our run always takes longer. We are in less of a hurry; our hunger usually sated, and the remainder of the moonlight provides the kind of repose we don’t find elsewhere.
A soft mist begins to descend, moistening the air and dampening my fur. Gradually, the moisture in the air increases until a heavy rain falls, but the strength of the pack’s run is unabated. The musty scent of the forest’s shower drowns out all other fragrances, further releasing the untamed nature of the wolf. I let my mind go, allowing my body to guide me along the familiar paths. The downpour obscures part of my vision, and I blink against the water. I let my wolf guide me back as I lead my pack through the rain, closer to the dry sanctuary that’ll await us at dawn. Over a mile to the house, each step draws us closer. I hear nothing, but the steady falls of my paws on the earth below, see nothing but the way befor
e me, and smell—
I halt abruptly. I smell someone. Something is off. I lift my nose in the air and breathe it in. A wolf! Before I can let out a warning, we are ambushed with unfamiliar wolves attacking the middle of our line from both sides. Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck.
I howl, hoping my pack will know how I expect them to respond. Uncle Carl rushes around toward the middle, just shy of the chaos, guarding the slower and weaker members of our pack. Good. I charge toward one of the enemy, tackling him at his hind, ending his entanglement with Carlie. She quickly responds, tackling him in turn. For a herder, she does fairly well, albeit, a bit slower than I would’ve liked. I nip at the wolf’s back leg as a warning, but he still attempts to fight. A snarl escapes me, and he cringes back. Instinct of the wolf is ready to break free.
I realize I could easily kill this brown wolf. He’s weak, poorly trained, and leaves his neck overly exposed. I bury my teeth into his legs instead. His meat tears away like a hot knife through butter until his bone stymies my advance. I could easily cripple him, show him why no one fucks with my pack. I could tear the flesh from him quickly…but he’s no threat if he can’t run. I don’t need to do more.
Turning my attention to the would-be onslaught, a new vigor consumes me. My pack is winning. I delve into the fray, tackling and biting before swatting other wolves off my pack members. The injured begin to flee, and a few from my pack begin to chase, but I move quickly, stepping in the way of their path. There’s no need to split up or let them separate us.
A weight begins to lift, but not in a good way. I feel as though someone has removed a heavy blanket on a cool, cool night, yet my mind becomes clearer. A few yards ahead of me, one of my pack members, Norman, shifts back to human, only further tearing a wound in his center. I try to call out, but a whimper escapes me. Damn it!
I release a breath and allow my body to take on its other form before running over and dropping to the ground next to Norman. Blood covers his round belly, and he coughs, spewing and spitting on my face.
“It’s okay,” I say, taking his hand. “I’m here, Norman.”
He smiles weakly, chuckling before the blood chokes him again. He mumbles, but I don’t understand what he’s saying. “—t’ make it easier on —evidence.” He begins to shift again.
“Norman, no!” I say before I realize why he’s doing this. “We can get you to a hospital! It’s not too late!” But he’s already a wolf again, and it is too late. Norman’s breathing becomes harsh, labored, and quickens before stopping altogether. I never thought a member of my pack would be in a position where this was necessary. Die in wolf form and that’s all the evidence that remains. If there’s no human body, no one cares.
I sit, my bare ass on the cold dirt, slowly petting the fur on Norman’s front paw, but I don’t have the luxury to wait. Another cough draws my attention. A young man, about my age, sits against a tree. The brown wolf. His leg is mangled where multiple bites have left it resembling a chew toy more than a human leg. It seems that someone else decided to take a few nips at him. I walk over, ensuring my stride is strong as both a way to intimidate and make him even more aware of his injuries.
“Hello,” I say, smiling darkly. Ricky runs up and, without a word, pulls the man up.
The young man grins, and his eyes travel up my body. I chuckle at him without humor before drawing back my fist and decking him in the nose. Even without hearing the crack, I know his nose is broken; I feel it as my knuckles make contact with his face. What can I say? It has been my signature move since I was nine.
“The fuck?” he yells, holding the front of his face.
“Whimper all you’d like. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, it’ll only get worse.”
“You stupid bitch,” he says, smirking despite the blood dripping from his face. He’s either stupid, or he’s got balls, considering my pack member is holding his arms behind him and supporting his ass. It’s probably both. “We’ll skin you first,” he says.
“Yeah?” I ask as part of me takes note of the injured pack members behind me, some of whom shift back. I deck the guy again. His nose already broken, there’s not much resistance this time, but his blood splatters across my face.
To his credit, he doesn’t flinch, just spits a mouthful of blood and saliva back at me.
“Now that I have your attention,” I say. “I want answers.”
“What makes you think that I know anything?”
I shrug and a place a hand on my hip. “You seem pretty cocky for a guy who doesn’t know why he’s risking his life. Or maybe you’re just overcompensating…” I allow my eyes to drift down momentarily and give a deliberate chuckle before meeting his glare with a smile. “You have the information I want, but maybe I wasn’t clear enough. Why has your pack targeted us? And you should know that if you lie to me, you’re as good as dead.” Of course, I’m bluffing. I don’t mind punching a guy or beating his ass, but I’m not a torturer or a murderer.
The guy clenches his jaw, and I ready my fist to deal another blow.
“Wait,” he says, letting out a labored sigh. “I don’t have all the details, but my leader, apparently, had some past with yours— Raina, right?” My face must give something away because he gives a weak laugh before continuing. “Apparently, she used to be one of us, but she stole something when she left, and he wants it back.”
“What did she take?”
“If you really want to know—” He abruptly leans forward, pulling his arms from Ricky’s grasp. Before I can say anything, Ricky recovers, swiftly grabbing the sides of the guy’s head and twisting, snapping his neck in one smooth motion. He’s done this before.
I stare in shock as the man falls, his body limply landing at my feet. It takes me a second to react. “What the hell, Ricky?”
“He was going to attack you!” he shouts, but I can’t help but think that he chose an awfully fucking convenient time to try to save my life.
A howl that doesn’t belong to me or mine echoes through the night. Another wave. “Get the turned and the kids out of here!” I shout to Uncle Carl before shifting back as quickly as my body will allow. The turned wolves, now in human form, begin to flee with Uncle Carl.
Once I notice Michael trailing behind him, I allow instinct to take over, mindlessly attacking everyone I don’t recognize. Clawing at the underside of bellies, lunging for exposed throats, and tackling my foes to the ground. Attacking other wolves in this form feels less violent, less like murder, though, death and slaughter are inevitable. Animals fight all the time. It’s the natural order. The animalistic order. Death in human form feels worse, disturbed, and all too real.
I stop and take in the chaos. Wolves attack wolves, but the sheer numbers of my pack are enough to overwhelm the other side. A few fall, and the survivors of the other pack flee once more. From the look of the sky, it’s only an hour before dawn. We really have been out all night. They won’t be coming back, not yet. I want to relax, continue my run, but I need to speak with my pack.
As my body returns to its usual form, I approach a group of others gathered closely together. As I near, I hear yelling.
“Get off of—” The blunt sound of an impact cuts the man off. A few members of the pack, Ashton, Austin, and Lizzy, begin to drag a human body away.
I stand next to Ray at the edge of the group. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got one.”
“What?”
“We’ve captured one of them— alive!” he exclaims.
I feel my brows come together. “We’ve captured one?” This is completely unprecedented.
“His name’s Dante, and he’s the other pack’s second. He knows who killed Grandma.”
Fuck.
Chapter 9
I pace back and forth in front of the door to Uncle Carl’s basement, waiting for “the boys” to finish interrogating Dante.
After the ambush in the woods, the pack brought Dante back to the house. Uncle Carl was still meeting with
the turned members of the pack, as well as the teenage wolves, Michael, Juliet, and Ryan. He was serving them cocoa, cocoa of all things, when we entered, crashing their would-be comfort session with a kidnapped killer in tow. Despite everything the other pack has put us through, I couldn’t help but object to taking a prisoner in for “questioning,” especially with the kids present. . They still have their innocence.
“Ready to make that bastard pay?” Ricky asked. He seemed almost gleeful. I had to pause. “What?” he asked. “Don’t you want to know why they’re here? Why they killed our grandmother? Don’t tell me that you don’t have the stomach for this.”
I stared at Ricky for what seemed like an eternity, but I know it was only a few seconds. “How could you say that? You know I want to avenge her. God!” I rubbed my forehead. “I’ve felt ready to kill, Ricky. Everyone knows, I’ve come damn close to killing people before. But I’ve never actually killed someone. I’ve never knocked someone out, kidnapped them, and tied them up in a basement to torture them for information. There have been times, especially during the last few days, where I felt like I could rip someone’s throat out with my bare hands, but when it comes down to it, I have to question whether or not all of this is justified. Who are we? Really? Are we killers who murder and torture for revenge? Defending ourselves when another pack attacks us is one thing, but this—” I put my hands up, unable to continue.
Seeing his nephews drag a bloody man downstairs as he fought, kicking and biting, Uncle Carl quickly corralled the curious teens into another room. Meanwhile, Ricky sneered at me. “Seriously? Do ya’ think that because they die as wolves, that we aren’t killing them? They’re dead either way, sweetheart. The sooner ya’ realize that, the better. This is to protect our own. Ya’ can get on board, or ya’ can stay up here, but it’s happenin’ whether you want it to or not. I thought you of all people would be able to handle this. I’ll take as a mom’nt of weakness, but this is war, and war is dirty. We need a leader. The boys’ll handle this, while you figure yerself out.” Before I could reply, he turned on his heel and followed the others to the basement.