Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
E mery
“Thank you again Dr. Bryant for all you’ve done for me,” I thank the director of my internship. I’ve decided to officially withdraw.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out this summer. If you’re ever in need of a reference, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Given all of the changes in my life in such a short period of time, and the fact that I’ve promised to remain here among the Nightwolf pack for the next few weeks, I won’t have time to complete my internship.
Oddly, though, I don’t feel the sadness I thought I’d have. Instead, I’m excited for the project I’ve decided to work on while here at the commune. I’m not entirely convinced that I will shift during the next supermoon as Chance believes.
However, with Ashley safe at home and time on my hands, I’m going to put my anthropology skills to use in other ways. I’ve decided to create a historical reference for the Nightwolf pack. In the time I’ve been here, Ms. Elsie and a few other elders have shared with me a lot of the pack’s history.
Up until now, this information has only been kept orally, through storytelling.
My plan is to document the histories and stories of the pack and present it to their alpha and the rest of the pack as a gift for allowing me to remain among them for the time being.
I peer at the time on my phone and quickly forget all about my internship. I’m going with Ms. Elsie and a few others into town for some supplies I need for my project.
The doorbell for Chance’s house goes off. Technically, it’s not a bell since it doesn’t actually make a sound. Instead of an actual bell, a red light blinks off and on whenever someone presses the outside button.
When I asked Chance about it, he shrugged and made some comment that it works better for him.
“Coming,” I call out, guessing that it’s Ms. Elsie.
I open the door to find her and two other women wearing eager expressions.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, shutting the door behind me.
“Now tell me, what is it that you want to purchase again?” Ms. Elsie asks.
“Some notepads, a tape recorder and if I can find one, a small tablet.”
“What do you need all of that for?” Linda, one of the other women with us. She, like Ms. Elsie, is one of the older females of the pack.
“I want to create a recorded history for you all. Since your history has been passed down from one generation to the next via word-of-mouth, there’s very little written about your world. Which is not a bad thing at all,” I say, holding up my hands in the typical ‘I mean no harm’ gesture.
“It would benefit future generations if they have these resources that talk about your history, important events that shaped your pack. I’m a huge believer in reading and knowing about the past can greatly shape our futures,” I tell them.
Ms. Elsie stops sharply.
Her movement causes me to pull up short less I run directly into her.
“Kind of like a storyteller?” Ms. Elsie cocks her head to the side as if she’s asking herself this question.
“Uh, I suppose so, but I’m?—”
“Yes, our pack hasn’t had a storyteller in quite some time,” Linda adds.
Ms. Elsie’s lips flatten before she answers, “Our last one died in the war. The same warring that killed our alpha and beta’s parents.”
“The storyteller before that was killed in a raid.”
“Then there was the one who was kidnapped by the witches and tortured for everything she knew.”
My head spins as the women talk about the fates of their past storytellers. “Excuse me?” I interject. “I-I don’t understand.”
“Oh darling.” Ms. Elsie takes me by the arm, like she always does when she’s about to impart information only she knows or understands.
As we continue on our path, she relays story after story of storytellers from their pack whose fate was less than favorable.
“Eventually, the practice fell away but now you’re here to revive it,” Linda says.
“I’m not a storyteller,” I tell them as I slowly withdraw my arm from Ms. Elsie’s hold.
“I’m an anthropologist and the histories of past or even extinct civilizations interest me. I just had to quit my internship because of…” I toss out my arms and glance around, indicating the entire craziness that’s shrouded me ever since I went to Florida.
“But I figured that while I’m here I might as well create a gift for you all to be able to pass down to your next generations or even continue it,” I explain. “That’s all.”
The three women fall silent, looking between one another.
Ms. Elsie is the first to look at me again. That unwavering smile is there. “Well, let’s get you the supplies you need.”
I’m grateful that she doesn’t push the subject. I mean, I didn’t want to tell them, yet again, it’s not definite that I’m even a wolf.
Yes, my hunger continues to rage a little out of control, and the restlessness in my body has grown and there are continuous sensations that run throughout my body that I can’t begin to put words to but…
My thoughts trail off because I don’t know how much longer I can keep denying what looks like it’s my fate.
“There’s the stationery store that was closed the other day,” I say to the women, pointing. “It’s open now. I’m just going to run in and have a look around. I’ll meet you all back at the tech store afterward.”
Linda takes a step forward as if she’s about to say something but Ms. Elsie puts her arm out, stopping her.
“We’ll look for some tablet options for you to choose from,” she says.
I let out a sigh of relief. Though I enjoy the company of just about everyone I’ve come in contact with in the pack, I really need a few minutes to myself at the moment.
The stationery store is just across the street. A bell rings as I pass through the door. I’m greeted by a woodsy smell that reminds me of pine and aspen. I became familiar with the scents in the few weeks I spent in Colorado.
Yet, here I’ve been able to pick up on scents more accurately and much more quickly.
“Welcome.”
A beautiful woman with long, dark glossy hair appears from behind the glass counter. Her smile is friendly as she asks, “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a couple of notebooks to do some written recordings,” I say.
“We have a variety of notebooks.” She directs me toward the wall that demonstrates the array of drawing pads, bullet journals, writing journals and more.
“These are perfect,” I say, picking up one of the bullet journals as well as one of the lined writing pads.
“Are you working on a school project?” she asks.
“No, I’m going to create a written history of the community…” I bite my bottom lip. I don’t know this woman and while many people who own stores in this area are wolf shifters themselves, not everyone is from the Nightwolf pack.
She continues to look at me expectedly. Then she squints her dark-brown eyes. “Are you from the Nightwolf pack?”
My eyebrows nearly touch my hairline. “Me? Oh, no. I’m just staying here for a little while.”
“With Chance?”
The tone her voice takes on makes me turn to her. I look her up and down, noting again how pretty she is. A possessiveness I can’t quite place overcomes me.
“Yes,” I answer.
Suddenly, this woman who came across as friendly when I first entered changes. Her eyes narrow.
A growling from deep inside of me moves up my belly, chest and nearly scratches its way out of my throat. I barely manage to hold it back.
“What does he see in you?” she asks with obvious disdain. She sniffs the air. “Are you even a wolf? You smell weird.”
It’s obvious this woman has some sort of feelings for Chance. Despite my rational mind telling me that doesn’t mean Chance even knows her or has had anything romantic with her, I take her challenge personally.
“The last time I was with him he said he would never mate,” she says with a flick of her long hair. “He’s probably just using you like he does every other woman he’s been with.”
With him.
It’s clear what she means by those two words. Every instinct in me immediately wants to rip her hair out. I force myself to take a step back, away from her.
“Besides, with his defect he thinks he’s too broke to ever mate with anyone.” She shrugs and then looks at her nails. “Just as well. It’s not like my alpha would accept me marrying a wolf who can’t even hear.”
“What the hell did you just say?”
Her eyes flutter and widen as if she hears the danger in my voice. Yet, the emotion quickly passes and she gives me a dismissive roll of her eyes.
“What you didn’t know? He tries to hide it but we all know what’s going on. It’s not like I wanted him to mate me or anything. Hey?—”
Before I can stop myself, I’m grabbing the back of her hair.
“Get off of me!” She tries to push me off of her but some unfamiliar to me strength tightens my grip on her hair.
“Don’t ever talk about him like that again!” I growl. “You should count yourself lucky that a man like Chance would ever look twice at your sorry ass.”
I pull her hair so that she’s forced to look me in the eye, even as she struggles to loosen my grip.
“Chance is more than you could ever deserve. And if I hear you’ve even mentioned his name in that ugly tone again, I promise to come here and destroy this entire shop and everyone in it.”
I release her and push her away from me, causing her to fall to the ground. It’s the sound of her butt hitting the wooden floor that brings me back to my senses.
Slowly, it’s as if a thick red curtain is pulled from in front of my eyes. Glancing around, I realize I’m in the stationery shop and I’ve just cursed at, and assaulted the owner or worker or whatever she is to this place.
She’s a wolf shifter, so I expect her to retaliate. I know shifters are much stronger than humans, but she remains on the floor. The look on her face is one of disbelief as she pants, trying to catch her breath.
Shame invades my body. This is not how I was raised to behave at all. But before I can completely regret my actions, the ugly words she just spouted about Chance come back to me.
I tighten my hands into fists but force myself to take a step back. A good, well-behaved woman would immediately apologize for my actions.
I can’t do that.
I won’t do that.
Instead, I toss the notebook in my hand onto the counter and I back up a few steps before turning and pushing my way out of the door.
Across the street Ms. Elsie and the two other women wait for me outside of the tech store. One of them waves for me to come over.
But I pivot and head in the opposite direction. I pick up my pace until I’m running. The thing is, I don’t even know where I’m going. I just need to run for some reason.
I’m not a runner, not typically. Pilates classes three days a week and swimming laps twice a week is my typical workout routine. It has been four years ever since my mother insisted they were the best form of exercise to keep a slim, lithe figure, which is the most acceptable for a woman.
Ashley is the runner of our family, though. She’s always loved it.
Yet, my legs feel like I’ve been running for years. There’s no ache or heaviness in them. It’s as if I could run for hours.
I don’t want to stop for two reasons. One, because it feels good to be in my body like this. Second, I don’t want to explain to Ms. Elsie and the other women what happened in that stationery store.
I don’t behave like that. I shouldn’t behave like that.
But I couldn’t have stopped myself even if I wanted to.
There’s only one clear thought that continues to pass through my mind as I run.
I would do it again.