19. Patrick.
I’m basking beforethe heat of the flames, deep in the underground refuge as I think back over the last few days. I never would have dreamed that I would be sitting amongst humans.
Already, wolves and humans are becoming familiar with one another, and I’m itching to get up and talk to one of them.
They’re humans. Creatures I have read about my whole life. I am fascinated by them. Yet I can’t move from my spot. I’m too afraid to get up and start a conversation.
What if they don’t like me?
Most of the humans seem relaxed in our presence now since Ethel approved of us, but a lot still look wary.
I spy the old man who was fussing with his fishing tackle earlier, wondering if I should go over and break the ice.
He keeps to himself, much like me. He carries an old water skin as he guzzles it back, gazing at nothing. It’s now or never. I will go over and introduce myself. If he tells me to get lost, so be it. I have to understand that in his eyes, I am the villain. I turn into a wolf.
Slowly, I climb to my feet, approaching the old man gingerly. He doesn’t look up. Even when I’m inches away, he doesn’t deign himself to gaze at me.
Just as I’m about to cut my losses and head back to my place by the fire, he speaks. “Sit down, kid. You look like a lost puppy...”
Lost puppy? Is that a dig at my wolf heritage? Never mind.
I do as he says, sitting down next to him with my back ramrod straight. I’m so nervous. He’s so much older than me; I wonder what his story is.
He offers me some of his water, and an awful, sour smell seeps from the lid of the old skin. Yeah, that’s not water.
Still, not wanting to offend him, I guzzle some of the drink back, then immediately spit it out.
He guffaws, slapping his thigh. “Not much of a drinker, hey?”
I’m panting, wiping the disgusting liquor from my tongue. “What is it?”
His eyes gleam in the light of the fire. “Pig piss...”
Wait, literally? Oh, God...
He gives an old, gruff laugh and slaps my back now. “I’m kidding. It’s beer. I made it myself... Why it tastes like shit, kid.”
I bow my head as an awkward silence follows. At least he appears to be accommodating, even though I spat out his homebrewed beer. Luckily for me, he doesn’t seem to be offended.
Something catches my eye around his neck, and my eyes widen when I spy the golden crucifix. It’s identical to the one I have in my pocket.
The golden cross seems to burn the inside of my pants as the memory of that woman rushes to the front of my mind. She had cried, cursing and asking why I looked so much like someone she knew...
“Did she die peacefully?”
Startled, I glance up. He’s looking away from me again, that distant sheen in his eyes. “My daughter... Isabel. She was one of the humans who attacked your pack to save that young Raven lass. Did she at least leave this world in peace?”
I glance away from him, unable to look in his eyes. But my reaction to his question seems to confirm his worst fears. He sighs.
“Such a cruel world we live in. I warned her not to go. Her little brother, Peter, was killed by a shifter a few years back... and you look an awful lot like him, kid. Same eyes, same spirit... He was smart, too. Loved books. ”
My heart thumps against my ribs as I think I’ve finally figured out who his daughter is, and now my whole body wilts. I flinch next when his hand lands on my shoulder, and I glance up. He’s still not smiling, but his eyes are far from accusing. He doesn’t blame me for the death of his son and daughter...
Still. Why do I have an uncomfortable knot in my chest?
“It’s okay, son. I knew she was walking to her death that day, but she wanted to avenge her brother. That was all she cared about. Whether she lived or died.”
Something stings at the back of my eyes, and now the memory of Brent killing Isabel replays through my mind. At least I can give her a name now. Once again, I hear her terrified shrill of a scream as it tears my insides out, and I choke.