Patrick comes up beside me, and I glance his way. His wide, ocean blue eyes are completely transfixed as they reflect the sea, and I give a smile.
This was what we always dreamed of as kids. Back when we were misfits. Only the most important figures in our pack got to travel, so Patrick and I had no choice but to stay.
We were not worthy enough to leave the pack. But here we are now, grasping the world at our fingertips.
While the ocean may not be as blue as the water we saw in brochures, I still take Patrick’s hand. He turns, meeting my eyes.
This is our moment. No one can take this away from us. Even Hunter gives us space as we grasp hands.
Being banished was worth it in the end.
...
––––––––
Brianna slips throughthe tall grasses on the sand dunes, and I try my best not to trip.
So, this is sand. My feet are sinking, and what strange terrain. It’s beige, grainy with small, glass-like particles, and I have the urge to dig.
It’s just silver’s urge, though. She is a wolf, after all.
Annabel yelps behind me, grabbing a hold of Chelsea, and I snort. Seems we wolves aren’t so steady on our feet.
At that thought, I hear another sharp yelp, almost laughing out loud when I spy Butch on his ass.
The humans fare better than us on this terrain, and I wonder if they’ve spent their whole lives here. Brianna looks about thirty, and I know Andrew and Theresa are a little older.
The three of them have more knowledge of this world. They’re not only older, but they’ve seen much more than I have, and it makes me so insecure.
I’m just a tottering toddler compared to them, and I truly am green.
Still, the humans don’t rub it in our faces. In fact, they seem to be taking their time, letting us get used to the sand beneath our feet. This terrain would be much easier to walk on with paws, but we won’t shift. We can’t shift.
We will remain human to make them feel safe.
Brianna slides down a dune until she reaches the beach below and lucky for us, the tide’s out. One by one, we descend into a small cove, and I hear gasps as our feet sink into the sand.
My boots leave prints.
The sand is darker and wetter on the beach, and nothing at all like the bright white sand that I saw in brochures. I don’t know why I’m surprised.
They were tropical brochures of the Bahamas. We’re in the northern hemisphere. It’s a miserable day, too. The sky is gray, which makes the sea look gray.
If only the sun would come out and grace us all. Maybe then I would see a little bit of blue.
Water crashes against the cliffs behind us, and it rises in the air like foam. I close my eyes, listening to the way the water fizzles when it hits the rocks.
It’s like my stresses are fizzling away along with the waves.
Patrick crouches down into the sand, picking up a coiled seashell as he places it by his ear.
Hunter and I watch him. “What are you doing?”
He narrows his eyes. “I’m trying to hear the ocean...”
Hunter cocks a brow, and I snort, leaving him be as I head toward the real ocean. Now that I’m up close, I see the seagulls are much bigger than I thought. One lands on a rock beside me, and I study its yellow beak. It’s shaped like a skewer with a little red dot on the lower beak. The bird’s back feathers are gray, while its head and chest are white. It has clawed, webbed feet, too, and pale eyes that won’t stop looking at me.
It probably doesn’t see many humans, or creatures that look human in a shifter’s case.