Chapter 50: Learning the Ropes
“He should have healed by now,” Alex says. I can hear the frustration in his voice.
His body is so tense, it looks like a coil ready to spring.
“There are things at work we don’t understand. But we’re trying to learn … ” his mother states in a soft, assuring tone.
“So…we send for other healers. From another pack.” Alex insists.
“We will wait for the next round of tests first,” his dad says. “They may tell us something.”
“I feel like we’ve waited enough!” Alex snaps, his temper getting the best of him.
It’s hard for me to watch Alex and see him in so much pain. He is usually so happy and
carefree.
His mother glares at him reproachfully, and Alex mumbles an apology.
It’s interesting to witness this family dynamic. Twenty–four hours ago, I didn’t even know his parents‘ names. I still don’t know his dad’s.
All the while, Rita is unfazed.
His mother’s face softens. Her voice drips with sympathy. “I understand your passion…
your frustration. It is hard as a mother to watch my oldest son lying helpless while I am
unable to comfort him.”
Alex stands and rushes over to her, gripping her around the shoulders and burying his head into them. He towers over her, the epitome of masculine strength, though the gentle heaving of his back betrays the tenderness of his pain.
I know what it’s like to feel helpless. I feel it even now.
As the sun drops lower in the sky and early evening shades of orange, pink, and purple are starting to paint the horizon, Alex takes me on a tour of the pack base.
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Yep–they call it a base. Makes me think of the Star Wars movies my dad used to watch.
With our fingers interlocked, Alex leads me through dirt streets and points toward houses, telling me who lives where.
I listen patiently, though I don’t know anyone he’s talking about, and I’ll never remember,
“Tell me. About what itsss rrr–really like. To be a werew–wolf,”
His eyes glisten as he explains. He has calmed down now.
“We’re family, although we’re not really all related. There’s no weird incest thing or anything.”
I giggle and he laughs.
“No—but really, this is how most werewolves live. In the safety of the pack, away from
humans–even other werewolves.”
“Why. Do you live. Out there?”
“With the humans? Yeah…for the last generation or so, the younger sons of the Alpha have had the freedom to leave the pack on, like, a sabbatical. Sort of like the Mormons do, you
know?”
I shrug. I don’t feel like the two groups have much in common for me to make the correlation. “But…why?”
“They say it’s to gain insight into the evolving human world—with all its new technologies and whatever—but I think it’s to keep the peace…so the younger sons don’t try to rise up and take the kingdom. At least, that’s how I see it.”
“Does that happen?”
Alex shrugs and pulls me in close to him. The breeze is starting to get cool, and I must have been shivering a little. I hadn’t even noticed.
This is all so much to take in. I mean, this time last week my problems didn’t extend past
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typical teenage high school drama. Which even that was too dramatic for me.
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Now I’m wanted and on the run. The target of some supernatural assassin. Practically in a
protection program.
Again, like a movie. Only not fun.
“Who. Leads here?”
“My father is still Alpha, but he’s getting older. Michael really runs the pack, with Father’s
guidance. Or he did.” Alex gets quiet again.
I want to ask what would happen if his brother passed away, but I don’t want to upset him
by making him face that possibility.
Things are already bad enough.
“Will M–michael be Alpha?”
“Someday.”
Alex’s smile fades a little, and I regret continuing this line of conversation. So I quickly
change it.
“Do the otherrsss…ever come out?”
I know this doesn’t make sense, but I’m trying desperately to control my stutter. I will
eventually have to talk to other people here–well, werewolves–and I want them to
understand me without it being awkward.
“Come out? Ah…you mean to the outside world.” It’s not even a question. Alex just gets me. “Sometimes. But not very often. It’s dangerous for a wolf around humans, and they risk getting exposed.”
“But you control. The ssshift.”
“Yeah, we do. Most of the time. But not always. You see, werewolves were once tied to the moon–like in the myths say, you know–but over time we began to gain control over our
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own urges and abilities. We learned to control the wolf so we could control the shift.”
This is all so fascinating. I can’t seem to stop asking questions.
“How often. Do you do it?”
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“Not as often as the movies like people to think. Not that people think there really are werewolves–you know what I mean. Just for, like, ceremonies, occasions… With modern conveniences, it’s pretty much reserved to traditions.”
“Like when?”
Alex grins. It’s the biggest smile I’ve seen on him since before he disappeared. “Well…when two mates first…you know…they shift.”
“Arrre…you blushing?”
He snickers. “I mean, I’m a guy.”
I smile at him. This is the Alex I got to know. Before.
I put my head on his shoulder. “You’re a guy.”
But the only thing on my mind is this gives literal meaning to the term doggy–style.
What can I say? I’m just a girl.
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