Chapter 9
Nine
NINA
Ruby finds me sitting outside and hands me a plate.
The pot roast super she’s prepared smells amazing, and even though I’m supposed to be pouting about not being allowed to travel with Bex, I take the bowl and savor each bite.
We sit outside at a long wood table with benches rather than chairs.
It’s situated behind the inn, over by the large oak tree.
Ruby doesn’t eat, but she does sit and keep me company.
While I eat, she remains silent, staring out into the open plains.
I set my plate down on the ground, leaving a small portion for the shaggy dog that’s been keeping us company.
“What’s his name?” I ask, finally breaking the silence.
She licks her spoon and looks at the dog. “I think it’s Gopher. He showed up one day, and took a liking to Davie. The boy’s been taking care of him, bringing him food and giving him shelter down below at night.”
A whistle comes from across the street behind us, and Ruby and I turn to see Davie standing outside one of the smaller buildings. “Gopher!” he hollers, and the dog sprints away.
“He’s a friendly pup, and good for announcing strangers.”
I recall when Bex and I first arrived in town, we’d heard him barking.
“He’s also a bit spoiled, in my opinion. Dogs belong outside, not inside.”
“But it’s not safe outside at night,” I remind her.
“And that’s exactly why the mutt is spoiled.”
“You don’t like dogs?”
Ruby shakes her head. “I’ve never really cared for any kind of canine. They’re dirty, and you never know when one will turn on you. They’re born predators. And from my experience, you can’t tame a predator.”
She reaches down and picks up my plate. “Sun is setting soon. Don’t dawdle too long out here,” she reminds me, then heads inside through the back door.
After a few more minutes of staring out at the prairie field, the sun getting closer to the horizon, I get up and walk over to the barn.
I want to say good night to the horses. Inside the barn, two women wearing long skirts and aprons are locking the rear barn doors.
When they come to the front ones, I meet them at the threshold.
“Can I stay with the horses for a bit?” I ask, not coming into the barn until they say it’s all right.
The taller one nods. “Of course. Though, to get back to the inn, you’ll have to go through the tunnels.” She gestures toward an unlocked doorway on the side wall, which meets the neighboring structure. “The stairs are in there.”
“Thank you,” I say as I walk away. Talking to people without Bex is something I’m not used to.
Before living with my sister, I’d go everywhere with our mother.
All I’ve ever wanted is to be normal like everyone else, yet conversing with people and being around them, especially in large crowds, can be overwhelming.
And the icy chill that spreads throughout my body whenever I get besieged by too many sounds and things to see, is definitely not something normal people feel.
I find Frostbite and Tumbleweed right where I left them after bringing them inside this afternoon from their time out in the corral. Before brushing them down, I freshen their hay pile and water trough. I brush Frostbite first, and when Tumbleweed nuzzles my arm, I know she’s asking where Bex is.
“She’ll be back tomorrow,” I say, and give her muzzle a good rub. “Be patient.” She’s not and continues to push against my arm. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”
When it’s time for me to start Tumbleweed, I pause at the chilling howl that pierces the silence from somewhere outside.
No, not outside. I look to the ground covered in hay.
When it happens again, both horses jerk.
Their hooves dance in place at the sound.
I try to settle them with calming commands, but the predator has them on alert.
All of a sudden the stall feels too small, so I back out, closing the stall door.
“Oh, please settle, girls. Whatever it is, it’s not in here.
” I hate seeing them all worked up like this.
I sidestep to the next stall and to my surprise the horse in there is casually eating some hay.
I move to the next stall. Same thing. This one’s just standing there looking at me.
No signs of distress or fear. I turn and face the horses on the other side.
Same thing. Not a single one jittery or anxious.
“What in the hay is going on?”
Frostbite whinnies the second another howl cuts through the night. It has to be that wolf Maureen almost unleashed on us in the inn last night. And if it is, I’m betting she’s got it chained up somewhere underground.
After saying goodnight to Frostbite and Tumbleweed, I walk to the room where the woman said the stairs were located.
The inside is about the same size as the building Maureen showed us this morning next to the inn.
Except this one is full of farming supplies, hanging on the wall and stockpiled on some sturdy wood shelves.
The front window is covered by a large wood wall with a peep hatch, same as the other building.
Curious, I unlock the hatch and let it hang open on its hinges. Outside is dark, and the full moon casts a pale grayish-blue light over the town. Gravers Junction most definitely looks like a ghost town in this light.
The howl comes again, but this one ain’t like the ones I’ve been hearing.
It’s less—powerful. My northern magic stirs, helping me decipher the threat.
And when I hear a chorus of howls, I know those are coming from out there somewhere.
This place is crawling with wolves. Inside and out.
I’m about to close the hatch but hold it open when three wolves run into view.
They head straight for the front doors of the inn, sniffing around before trotting out into the open street.
They’re not as big as the one Maureen has, but a wolf’s a wolf—deadly and always on the hunt.
They howl in unison, and then stare out, each one watching a different building as if waiting for a response. When they don’t get one, they run off out of sight.
I close the hatch and secure the lock. I see now why it’s not safe to go outside at night.
We had a wolf get into the chicken coop once.
The aftermath was a gory sight to be seen.
Thankful I don’t have to go out there, I make my way underground to the secret tunnels.
After closing the heavy wood door at the bottom of the stairwell, I stand in the hall, unsure of which direction to go.
The tunnel, which is lined with floor to ceiling pine wood plank boards and lit by hanging lanterns extends out to my left and right.
The townsfolk don’t need signs telling them which way to go, but golly darn, I could use one or two right now.
Biting my lip and fiddling with the end of my braid, I stare down one direction, which is shrouded in darkness, and then the other. The obvious path is to follow the one that has the lanterns. But then a gust of air sweeps through the tunnel, rushing at me, whispering in my mind, “Go. Go and see.”
Trusting the winds, I remove one of the lanterns from the wall and hold it out in front of me to light the way.
Looking to the ceiling, I should be directly under the barn.
Continuing through the dark, the floor sloping deeper underground, a shiver crosses my shoulders at the temperature drop.
The pine boards lining the walls come to an end and the sides of the tunnel going forth are packed dirt with support beams every ten paces.
The tunnel continues, and I swear I must be out past the barn by now. Soft whimpers get louder, and when I finally reach a heavy wood door, I push it open and peek inside, holding the lantern in first.
A growl comes from the shadows at the far end of the room, followed by clanks of metal chains.
Glowing yellow eyes find me and stare out as a massive form slowly emerges into the soft lantern light.
It stalks forward, thick dark brown hair at attention along its hackles while it bares sharp white fangs.
“Easy, there,” I say, my palm out to it.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I’m not actually sure what I’m doing in here.
Why did I listen to the whispers? Then I stop and stand straight.
The wolf also stops advancing, but it continues to growl.
I take it as a warning not to come any closer.
And I’m not sure if it stops because there’s no more lead on its chains, or if it’s assessing the intruder.
I set the lantern down next to the doorway, and before sitting next to it, I close the door.
“I think the whispering winds wanted me to find you. I think they want us to get to know one another a little better.” The ground is hard and cold, which oddly feels nice compared to the warm weather up on the main ground level.
I silently wish there were a blanket or some hay to sit on, but this will have to do.
“Now, I believe Maureen mentioned your name was Hunter. And I’m going to assume that means you’re a boy wolf, though my apologies if I’m wrong.
My name is Nina, and I’m here with my sister, Bex.
We’re still deciding how long our stay in Gravers Junction will be, but regardless, this is a fascinating place.
I’m quite impressed with this town and all the ways you all have adapted in order to survive. ”
While I speak, Hunter’s growl softens until he isn’t growling at all. I keep talking, and eventually he relaxes and lowers himself to the ground. He doesn’t curl up or dip his head. He just sits there, keeping that yellow gaze on me.
After an hour, sleep beckons me. Standing, I brush the dust off my skirt. “I’d like to come back and visit you again tomorrow.” The wolf tilts his head, not as if he doesn’t understand me but as if he’s asking, You want to come back?
“I’ll bring two blankets, one for me and one for you. And maybe some snacks.” I open the door and before slipping out, I say, “You shouldn’t be left all alone down here in the dark.” Then I set the lantern down and leave, closing the door behind me.
The whispering winds seem to want me to gain his trust, and that’s what I plan on doing tomorrow. Sitting and talking with him, because he looks as if he could use a friend.