Chapter 2
Effie Harlow
The train continued along its path, and I wondered just how far the gap was between the previous station and Kirkwall.
It had been nearly ten minutes. I was both eager to get out of the train and nervous, mostly because I wasn’t fantastic with social interactions, considering my cautiousness.
I always tried to see the best in people, and I didn’t want my past to taint my future, but without knowing their intentions or how they would act towards me? It was nerve-wracking.
Shaking myself from the thought, I played with a loose frayed string that came off my worn, light-colored jeans that hung a bit loose on me.
My brightly colored sneakers, which I had shaded myself, stood out in comparison to the dingy train seat in front of me.
I had always loved blues and purples, so I had patterned those shades across the entire span of soft material, up to where they tied around my ankle, the plastic bottom of the shoe slightly worn and the laces more gray than white.
I liked to think you didn’t notice how worn down they were because of how bright I had colored them.
Now though, after seeing everyone on the train and downtown dressed in serious, dark clothes, I found myself feeling a bit embarrassed of how I looked.
My clothes were not only older than I realized but were reminiscent of craft projects that I indulged in when bored in my room.
My ears heated, wondering what others thought of me when they saw my colorful secondhand clothes. Probably nothing good.
I couldn’t bring myself to be actually ashamed, though.
Honestly, the memory of wandering barefoot in Chicago in the middle of January always came to mind whenever I started to feel embarrassed.
The horrible memory from five years ago that still absolutely wrecked me with fear, pain, and confusion.
It was one I held onto, though, because it was the starting point of my memory, making me wonder what had come before. My eyes closed as I rubbed my temples.
Blood. That was the very first scent I recognized, the copper tinge filling my lungs as I stared at the pavement under my feet.
My vision was slightly blurred, and I wasn’t positive if it was from the tears streaking down my cold face or the pounding in my head.
I tried to step forward, but it felt like the earth itself wobbled underneath me, my knees breaking so that I fell onto the hard surface. My body jostled upon impact.
Where was I? Why couldn’t I see straight?
Painful memories seemed to tinge my subconscious as they filtered out and made room for a demanding, static, empty space.
I tried to grasp onto them, but the excruciating shocks that shuddered through me were like a shock wave.
My fingers reached out to grasp something, anything, to make a connection with something other than the torment and torture my body seemed to be reeling from.
My life force was leaving me. I could feel it being siphoned out and replaced with something else.
Something more than just the static blank space that seemed insistent on pushing out all else.
Before I could grasp what that blank space was, ice seemed to whip me across the face as snow froze my fingers where the cement and moisture met.
Golden marble structures that played in my memories were replaced by cement and iron structures and the sounds and smells of an urban cityscape. An unfamiliar one, at that.
I wasn’t from here. I didn’t belong here. Where did I belong?
The harsh wind blew against my ears, making it impossible to hear or focus on anything but the storm that felt like it was personally surrounding me.
I could barely hear the horns around me, and lights flashed as I dragged myself to standing, trying to make my way across a stretch of pavement.
Yellow lines broke through the snow and ice, leading me forward in somewhat of a straight line.
There was bile in my throat as my head spun, making me wonder if I was sick. I didn’t remember being sick before, so I had nothing to compare it to… in fact, I had nothing to compare anything to. I couldn’t remember what had come before this.
The searing in my neck told me that this wasn’t normal, though.
As the sound of the horns faded in the distance, I hit into a solid brick wall.
I leaned against it, my shaky fingers coming up to my neck.
Hot liquid squelched between my fingers as everything shuddered around me, my eyes nearly closing.
I had a feeling closing my eyes would be a very bad thing.
I think I was crying, but my body was shaking in full tremors that pushed me forward towards a large building with a warmly lit door.
I could sit there. I knew I could. I just needed a minute to get out of the wind.
My skin was absolutely frozen on the outside, and on the inside…
I felt as though I was going through some type of metamorphosis.
Something shifted, growing inside of me as it tried to expand out.
A small almost-whine broke from my throat in confusion as flashes of a white lethal predator flashed before my eyes.
Fur stained in blood, a howl echoing against the night sky that featured a bright moon and freshly fallen snow.
Bloodlust and hunger like I’d never felt before had me nearly passing out.
When I finally hit the building’s steps, my hand came onto the door handle, and when it didn’t open, terror took over.
A clawing sensation began working itself up through my chest as my cheek scraped against the rough wooden surface.
I thought I could hear voices on the other side, but as the door opened, causing me to fall forward onto the cold, hard tile of the lobby, my vision went dark around the edges, narrowing into a tunnel.
All I could see were two pairs of shoes.
One belonging to a woman, and one to a man.
Hopefully, they would help me. Something told me that it wasn’t likely.
A warmth grew to surround me as the energy that had been fighting the clawing sensation finally filtered out, leaving me in pain but feeling far more at peace. At least I wouldn’t die feeling as if I was about to explode. My sigh was authentic.
If I survived this, I promised myself that I would never be cold again.
That was the last thought that crossed my mind before everything went black.
A shiver ran over my skin, reminding me just how cold and scared I’d been, making me feel blessed by the Goddess to even own a pair of shoes and a jacket.
I knew avoiding the cold, especially in the start of January in Wisconsin, was impossible, but I would forever be attempting to get as warm as possible, no matter what time of year.
It was somewhat ironic, because the wolf that resided inside of me absolutely loved the cold.
After all, I shifted into an arctic wolf. She and I were intrinsically tied, something that I found amazing. Those around me, though? The fenrir wolves who didn’t shift? Not so much. Then again, I couldn’t expect them to understand something that was such an individualistic and beautiful bond.
As I said, when Gerald had first explained to me what the savage bite mark on my neck meant, it had been confusing because I couldn’t tell them when the attack had even happened.
Everyone’s best guess was that I’d been attacked and the trauma from the experience had removed my previous memories.
It made me wonder if anyone was looking for me out there.
If anyone was sad that I’d never come home.
Probably not.
As I had come to accept, they weren’t lying about the attack.
I had learned that there were several major species of wolf shifters in the world.
Up until that time, I had assumed they meant I had been attacked by a literal wolf.
Then I had gone through my first shift and experienced just how different I truly was.
Of course, my wolf had forced the first shift while we were outside in the snow and insisted we play in it for around an hour before Theresa had finally made me come inside.
The human side of me had spent hours warming up again, and I still had gone to bed freezing.
Not that it mattered to my wolf in the least!
My wolf could be… difficult.
She was also the other half of my soul. It was why when the other kids bullied me for being like I was, I almost felt bad for them.
They would never experience what I had. I mean, it didn’t change the fact that their bullying hurt, but there was a small part of me that still felt bad for them.
I may have been considered weak in our society, but I wouldn’t have traded strength for the magic inside of me.
For my wolf’s calming presence, despite her being pushy.
Plus, I couldn’t blame my wolf type for the reason I’d been bullied.
Not completely. It was somewhat inevitable, considering how I looked, that I would stand out, especially around fenrir wolves.
Differences made people uncomfortable and mean, and I was very different looking.
Colorful, almost, and not just because of the artistic liberties I took with my clothing.
First, I was far smaller than most humans.
I was only around 5’2”, and that was while wearing sneakers.
I had a smaller, more delicate frame. I was lean with curves and slightly toned legs, arms, and abs, which didn’t match the women I had grown up around.
They had all easily been over 5’8’’ and made of toned muscle like the fitness models you saw on packaging for healthy food.