Chapter 35
You’re Safe in My Arms
Adam
The visions tossed me through months and years before I could even blink.
Standing before me was an older teenager, maybe around fifteen.
His hair was dirty blond and he was a lot less frail than before.
All his hair had grown back, his muscles had thickened, and the once vacant pupils now burned with furious determination.
His steps were uneven, and he still needed to hold things for balance, but every day he pushed himself a little further. When the doctors would praise him for reaching another milestone, he didn’t smile. He barely spoke, and when he did, it was usually a one or two word response.
This day, he walked with a metal crutch instead of the cane or walker the rehab center had provided. He carried it most of the time instead of using it for support, but when he’d grow tired, he’d put it under his arm and keep walking.
A brunette girl around his age caught up to him.
She was missing one of her legs from the knee down, the fresh amputation scars partially hidden under bandages.
She was very lean as though she had been an athlete before ending up here, but she also wore a smile that seemed to warm everything around her.
“Hey,” she said, walking next to the teenage boy, who was only slightly taller. Austin must have been around five feet, five or six inches, barely as tall as I was when I was human. She handed him a chocolate pudding cup. “I saved it for you.”
“Thanks,” he grunted.
“You’re always walking alone. Where are your parents?”
Austin’s face remained oddly stoic, but he squeezed the pudding cup hard enough that the foil popped and the contents fell to the floor.
“I don’t need anyone’s help.” He dropped the half-empty container and hurried out the door of the facility, balancing on his crutch. I followed him until he stopped close to the edge of the woods surrounding the rehab building.
This place wasn’t familiar, and I wasn’t even sure what state I was in. Huge laurel oak branches sprawled outward, Spanish moss hanging like old rags. The weather was humid and hot, and the shade barely made a difference.
Austin slowed his steps and carefully sat on the ground, using his crutch for leverage. He stared at the trees for a moment before closing his eyes to breathe in deep through his nostrils. When they opened again, they glowed a pale orange.
“I’m gonna run one day. I’m gonna run into the woods and never come back. I don’t wanna come back.” His cheeks were wet as he wiped his tears with the collar of his white T-shirt. “Why am I still here?”
The scene faded, and a short, blond half-turn made his way through fallen leaves as he sprinted along the forest floor.
For the first time, Austin smiled. It was only for a moment as he leapt from the ground to the branches, swinging to the next before deftly landing on his feet.
These woods were different from the others.
In the place of massive, sprawling oaks were tall, skinny pines, and the air was crisp and dry.
In the distance, mountains with light snow patches towered several thousand feet into a cloudless sky.
Austin leapt up into the thin branches of a yellow poplar tree, holding himself steady with one hand while shielding the sun from his face with the other. I jumped into the tree as well, which was much easier now that I was a full werewolf.
Getting a closer look at the teenager, I could see he made good on his word.
His T-shirt was ragged and dirty, the blond, fur-like hair covering his body had flecks of dander and sand, and whatever skin was uncovered was just as filthy as the rest of him.
He likely hadn’t been back to civilization in a while.
His eyes darted to what he was after in the distance.
It was a deer with large ears and white on its face and underside.
Austin studied it carefully before letting himself fall to the ground.
He had grown a lot bulkier than before, muscles I’d never seen on a half-turn rippled with his every careful movement.
He focused his glowing, orange stare on the clearing ahead, making sure he moved into the wind.
I could smell the deer, and though I’d never hunted a day in my life, the scent seemed to bring out something I often repressed.
Austin didn’t repress the wolf. It was like he didn’t want to be human anymore.
As soon as he was within sprinting distance, he prepared himself to lunge, but froze when another werewolf leapt onto the deer, instantly severing its spine with his massive jaws.
“Better be a lot quicker than that if you wanna eat,” the werewolf said in a mocking tone, looking up from his fresh kill. He was pure black with a few specs of gray on his muzzle and completely nude but had a lot more fur than most of the werewolves I’d seen.
“I did what you said.” Austin ran over to the kill, clenching his fists. “You said to track, stay downwind and be patient. I’d have killed it myself.”
The werewolf patted Austin on the back. “Not bad at all for a half-turn.”
“I didn’t want your help,” Austin hissed.
The werewolf slung the carcass over his broad shoulder. He was about as big as Austin would end up, though there was something off about him physically. His arms were a little longer and he was almost standing on his toes. They weren’t quite paws, but he wasn’t flat-footed either.
“You don’t have the strength or the ability to kill one of these yet, but when you go full-turn, nothing’s gonna stop you.”
“How long do I have to stay like this? I hate this body.”
“Depends. Everyone’s different. Sometimes it takes years, sometimes a few months, but you’re the strongest half-turn I’ve ever met. If something were to happen to me, you’d survive no problem out here on your own.”
“What do you mean if something were to happen? Nothin’s gonna do you.”
The werewolf started walking toward a hill in the distance as Austin trailed close.
“I dunno. Things happen. We’re resilient, not immortal.”
“You’re never gonna tell me your story, are you?” Austin asked.
“Not ‘til you do.”
Austin didn’t respond, instead he kept his eyes on the werewolf. They approached a small opening in the side of the craggy cliff with an ashy fire pit out front.
“You don’t have to cook it. We can just eat it like that, right? That’s what werewolves do,” Austin said, stopping as his elder dropped the buck to the ground.
“It’s what werewolves do, yeah.” He gave a sharp-toothed grin and pulled off one of the deer’s legs with a nauseating snapping sound before dropping it into Austin’s arms. “Wanna eat like a werewolf? Here ya go.”
The eager half-turn held the leg to his mouth and used his smaller canines to break the flesh, but he couldn’t seem to tear the meat away. Again, he tried, this time shaking his head, but his teeth just weren’t long enough to sheer anything.
“May as well be human,” he mumbled, tossing the leg to the ground.
“Stop being hard on yourself. Everyone has their limitations. Deal with it.” The older werewolf pulled a large, sharp blade sticking from the trunk of a scarred pine, paring the skin of the animal like a delicate fruit before ripping the rest of the hide away with his massive hands.
“You get angry over the stupidest shit.”
“It’s not stupid!” Austin kicked the leg out of the way. “I’m sick of being helpless!”
“Well, good thing you’re not. I’m not usually in the habit of helping the helpless.”
“But I—”
“Can’t eat meat directly off a carcass. Who the hell cares? Humans can’t do that either, but they managed to eat meat just fine for thousands of years. You gotta brain, so use it. It’s not only about brute strength. You gotta be smart enough to use what you’ve been given to survive out here.”
Austin sat on a small, flat boulder, staring at the ground. “I’m not smart. I want to be strong.”
“Why do you say you’re not smart?”
“Never finished school.”
The black werewolf let out a growly chuckle. “Obviously. You’re out here with me instead.” With his index finger, he lifted Austin’s chin. “Got some news for ya, kid. School doesn’t make you smart. It makes you obedient.” He let go and continued skinning the carcass.
“Do you ever get lonely?” Austin asked.
The older werewolf stopped what he was doing and sat on the boulder.
“Yeah. There’s not a lot like us. They’re like domesticated dogs stayin’ in their miserable cities, barely living miserable lives.
The humans hate us, but the werewolves just stay there like strays.
Those that leave that shit-hole end up in Colorado Springs, joining the military. I feel sorry for ‘em.”
“Why? I’ve been thinking about it myself.”
The older werewolf shook his head. “Don’t ever trust the military. Don’t ever trust humans.”
“My parents and brother are dead,” Austin said, changing the subject, prompting the werewolf to turn toward him. “My father killed everyone, even put a bullet in my head, but I’m still here. I don’t know what to do. I thought I could find my purpose out here, but this doesn’t feel right either.”
“Damn, kid.” He slipped his arm around Austin’s back, but the half-turn pushed him away.
“I don’t want sympathy,” he snapped, but his snarl softened. “I want to know why you’re here.”
“I killed people,” the werewolf responded without hesitation. Austin’s face turned pallid. “I tore five men to shreds, and I don’t regret any of it.”
“So you’re a killer, like my dad.”
“No. I’m just a killer. I’m not your dad. Those five men raped and murdered my daughter.” His voice trembled. “My only child. Humans took her from me. I’d probably kill more of ’em in a rage if I didn’t come out here.”
“I—” Austin paused, letting out a sigh. “Shit. I’m sorry.
I think about what I would do if my dad didn’t kill himself, and every scenario leads back to my hands around his neck, letting him breathe for a second before choking him again until he slowly dies, all while looking at my face. I’d be a killer, too.”