Chapter 3
Fern
Despite the dangers the wolfkin posed to humans, an uneasy truce between the two races permitted wolfkin to cross into human territory to conduct trade and other business during the two weeks surrounding the new moon.
The other two weeks brought increased aggression, hunger, lust, and enough volatility that both had agreed long ago humans should be spared it.
Fern had no objection to the arrangement, especially because she was almost sure they knew there was something different about her.
Even if they couldn’t name it yet, Fern felt their eyes linger on her a little longer than they did on the other human girls, even ones prettier than she.
Could see their nostrils flare and pupils dilate when they scented her, their hands trailing in her skirts as she walked by, balancing trays of drink and food.
But as long as she never shifted, her wolf would remain dormant, and she was safe.
She’d gone to bed immediately after returning home ten years ago, and her finger had healed by the time she awoke, so her parents had never even seen the injury.
Fern had thought nothing of it at first, her memory of the night hazy and leaving her wondering if perhaps it had just been a strange dream. And then a few days later, she had forgotten it even happened.
Until the next full moon, when she heard the call to shed her prison of flesh for fur and fangs.
She still remembered the first fever, the way she sweated through her clothes, clawing at her own skin until her father had been forced to bind her hands in thick cloth to protect her from her own, sharpened fingernails.
They’d locked her in the closet and held the door shut while she screamed, swore, and battered herself bloody against it until the sun rose. Then the fever broke, and she fell into a deep sleep.
By the next full moon, they were better prepared—with chains and a gag.
And so the years passed, with Fern isolating herself to the closet once every four weeks to suppress the shift that would have her banished from the village and bound to the alpha that had marked and made her. Forced into a life of servitude for him and his clan.
One might say serving drinks in her family’s tavern wasn’t all that different, but at least here there was no censure for her occasionally sharp tongue.
As a wolfkin, she’d be beaten or worse for speaking back to an alpha.
She shuddered at the thought, her resolve strong. Better one night a month with the gag than a lifetime of it.
* * *
It was a few days before the new moon, and the door opened. Four beta wolfkin walked in, men who had visited before.
For the longest time, she had assumed all of their male wolfkin customers were alphas based on the size of them—broad-chested and well over six feet tall.
And then she’d met a real alpha…
She’d never make that mistake again.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, knowing the term always brought a laugh, and that laughs always brought tips. “Will it be a meal or just ale tonight?”
“Always a pleasure to see you again, Fern. What’s your mother got in the stew—goat or mutton?”
“Rabbit, actually.”
They looked at each other, wolfish grins overtaking their faces and making her sweat. Wolfkin could almost be mistaken for human—large humans, but humans nonetheless.
Except for their canine teeth, long and sharp whether the moon was full or not.
“Meals then, for the lot of us,” one of them said, clasping her on the shoulder.
His hand squeezed for a moment, then lingered. He stepped closer, his face lowering as he sniffed the air around her, his grip on her tightening.
Something stirred inside her, a shadow of the wolf she’d never been, that made her want to lean into his touch. Her stomach tightened, followed by her head tilting to offer her neck, her exhale gaining pitch…
“I won’t be able to get your stew if you don’t let go,” Fern finally said, finding her voice.
“Mmm, maybe I’m not in the mood for meat tonight.” He leaned down further, his lips a hair’s breadth from her ear. “Perhaps I’m hungry for something a little more… sweet.”
Fern closed her eyes, finding the prospect of being eaten not as abhorrent as she probably should…
“You’ll not be troubling my daughter tonight or any other night,” her mother called from the bar. “Now, take your seats and let her do her job, or you’ll have to find dinner elsewhere.”
The wolfkin holding onto her barked a laugh, then whispered before he let go, “It’s a shame. With a scent such as yours, I’m sure you’d be delicious.”
He snapped his teeth in her face, laughing again when she flinched, and the group made their way towards a table in the back.
The tension in her lower belly loosened, and she released a long breath, shaking herself free of the instinct to go back to them, so they could… so they could…
She did not allow the thought to fully form, instead focusing on the human customers as her mother prepared the wolfkin’s meals and delivered them herself, all while they eyed her every move from across the room.
Her parents were well aware of the effect she and the wolfkin had on each other, and when the line between harmless flirtation and brazen desire was too close to being crossed, they’d jump in to give her the reprieve she needed before she accidentally outed herself.
Before she’d be dragged to the wolfkin territories across the river, never able to return.
The night progressed more or less the same as all the others, with her avoiding the wolfkin’s corner as best as she could.
When they finally left, she breathed a little easier, resuming her normal demeanor, with lots of smiles, giggles, and half-hearted taps on the arms of the humans she was used to.
They too were eventually nudged out the door as the hour grew late, and once the last coin had been collected, dish had been washed, and table had been cleaned, she and her parents locked up and headed to their house behind the tavern.
“You shouldn’t flirt with them,” her mother chastised in the dark, the wind blowing stray strands of hair that had fallen free from her braid. “It’s not safe.”
Her father nodded. “If you let them get too close, they might be able to smell it on you. Their noses are better than you can imagine.”
Fern wanted to argue that she hadn’t flirted, nor had she purposefully let them sniff her.
But she couldn’t argue about their noses, her own stronger than most humans, and so it would do no good to fight. She was tired, and already owed her life to her parents.
“I’m trying,” she said. “But I can’t just ignore them if they speak to me, either.”
About a year ago, a lone wolfkin had nearly torn the place apart when he’d asked Fern to refill his cup only for her father to come in her stead. It took five human men to finally subdue him, all of them sporting scars from the ordeal.
And that was just one, so a whole group of wolfkin? Fern had no doubt the outcome would likely be deadly.
Her mother sighed as they entered, lighting the fire and fixing the kettle over it. “Then perhaps it’s time for you to quit the tavern.”
Fern scoffed, taking off her apron and folding it over a chair. “And do what? I never learned any trades.”
Her parents looked at her, and her mouth ran dry.
“And do what?” she repeated, her heartbeat beginning to quicken.
Her mother gestured for her father to say something, and he rubbed his neck almost bashfully, taking a seat at the table and pointing at Fern to take the one next to him.
She did, if only because her obstinance would delay what he was about to say.
“Oswyn’s asked for your hand.”
Fern’s shoulders fell, and she looked to her mother for confirmation that this was true, but she would not face her.
Oswyn was… kind. Not the handsomest man in town, but neither was he the worst to look at.
It wasn’t marriage to him that had her conflicted, though. It was marriage to any man at all, because then the burden of locking her up would fall on him.
Her father already knew what worried her.
“We told him. Says he can overlook it, and he’s even got a space that would work for your fits.”
“You told him?” she almost yelled, her body shaking. “You had no right! This is my secret to bear, my curse to—”
“It’s our curse, too!” her mother spat, standing up and turning around. “Or is someone else chaining you in the closet every month?”
Her face aflame with shame, Fern’s attention fell to her lap, to her finger with the small scar. To the one night of youthful nescience that had sealed her fate.
And yet, as she closed her eyes, tears threatening to come forward, she knew that if she were given the choice again, she would still choose to save that young wolfkin.
Her mother’s anger left her, and she joined them at the table, defeat lining her face.
“I don’t mean to make you feel like a burden.
I would gladly spend the rest of my life keeping you safe from the beasts.
To mark a child is…” She clicked her tongue in disgust and shook her head before continuing.
“It’s just… we won’t be around forever. And Oswyn is a fine man, and a fine carpenter.
He makes good money, so you’ll never have to worry about him putting food on the table. ”
Fern nodded. She knew she could do worse, and her parents were right that they couldn’t help her forever. It wasn’t pleasant to think about, but one day they would be too old and too weak to contain her.
And if she ever accidentally hurt them, she’d never forgive herself.
“I… I see. Aye. Perhaps… perhaps that would be best.”
“This is the only way we can protect you,” her mother said. “Not only from shifting, but also from those awful wolfkin. They don’t chase after married women.”
Fern wondered if that was actually true or if married women were simply less likely to find themselves in the company of wolfkin, and then the kettle began to whistle.
Her mother poured the water into three waiting mugs, placing one in front of her.
Fern sipped it without thinking, burning her tongue.
“I take it you have already accepted his proposal?”