My run lasts well into the night.
A Cheshire cat grin of a moon hangs in the sky, ringed with a nighttime rainbow, the air heavy with cloying fog. Even though I don’t have my wolf spirit yet, I’m a natural-born Totemic shifter, which means I was made to share the body and soul of a sacred wolf. My senses are sharper than a human’s, my body quick and limber.
Which is why it doesn’t bother me in the slightest to be barefoot in the wild, my soles soaking up every damp step in the forest. The smells and sensations are a balm to my battered soul, and it all makes me feel less alone. Like I can feel the people I love still watching over me through the canopy of the trees.
My dad and I used to race each other through these woods. We would come home with brambles in our hair and splinters in our feet, and Mom would pluck them out one by one. She would scold us and then we’d all laugh and raid the kitchen to replenish the energy we just burned off. The memory fades, and with it goes all doubt and concern over what I’ve decided. This run was exactly what I needed. There’s a sort of clarity that comes with it, like my expanding lungs expand my thoughts too.
Things are solidified now. I’m not going to go through with the ceremony that I’ve been preparing for my entire life. I’m not going to be able to take in my wolf. And as much as that grieves me, I know it’s my only shot at a life. A real life, minus the subjugation and threats that exist around every corner here, where I can choose for myself and be me without fear of being broken for it.
I’ll have to live like a human. I’ll have to sacrifice my heritage, my ancestors, my second half, but it’s the only way. After the Flux, my wolf will have to answer to her alpha, whether Burke claims her for a mate or not, and I can’t willingly subject myself or her to that life.
Bypassing the other pack houses, I skirt around the edge of the forest, my internal compass pointing me back home. The scent of pine trees fills my senses, wet needles and damp soil breathing out into the air like nature is exhaling with me.
With trudging steps, I reach my dark and quiet house and head to my room, where I pass out in bed almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. It’s a choppy, troubled sleep, filled with dreams of a wolf crying at a moonless sky, lost and wandering in the spirit world.
I wake up several hours later with sore, swollen eyes, like all the pent-up emotion has clogged them with unshed tears. Guilt tugs at my chest at the dream of my wolf spirit out there somewhere knowing I’m abandoning her, knowing that she’s going to come down during the ceremony and not find me there waiting for her.
I’m sorry.
I shove the regret aside and force myself to go through the motions. Showering again, I get dressed in jeans and a gray shirt, feet slipping into socks and worn-in sneakers. While my long brown hair air dries, I grab a backpack from my closet and begin to roll up carefully chosen clothes. Jeans, drab T-shirts, plenty of socks and underwear, nothing bright, everything as plain as possible so as not to draw attention.
Toiletries go in next, and in no time, my bag is near bursting. I grab a waterproof jacket and consider the phone on my nightstand but decide against it. The last thing I want to do is make it easier for Burke to track me. Besides, who do I have to call anyway?
For no other reason than it’s been hammered into me since I was little, I find myself making my bed, straightening my pillows, and tucking in my sheets, just the way my mom insisted. “Life can be messy, Seneca, so make sure the bed you lie in isn’t.”
A sad smile quirks my lips as I step back, and then with my shoulder straps tugged tight around me, I walk out, forcing myself to head toward the door at the opposite end of the hallway. My fingers trail over the wainscotting, the family pictures hanging up above, covering nearly every inch of available wall. It’s like walking past paused memories that were once happy but now just feel haunting. When I get to the closed door, I have to take a steadying breath before I’m able to open it and walk inside.
I’m immediately hit with my mom’s scent, and it chokes me with sorrow so visceral that my hand comes up to cradle my throat. It’s as though I can feel the rope of a grieving noose wrapped there. It takes me several gulps of air before I can push away from the doorway and walk to my mom’s dresser.
She didn’t wear jewelry or perfume or scarves or anything like that, but she did have a favorite two-piece hair pin that she always used to sweep up the front pieces of her hair when she needed it out of her way. The cuff and smooth stick are both waiting right here where I knew they would be. I grab them, fingers rubbing over the hand carved wood that’s been polished from years of wear, a rose at the end of the pin stick, and delicate leaves carved into the cuff.
Reaching up, I secure the two front layers of my hair with them and pin them back, feeling stronger for it. Then I dig into her bottom dresser drawer where I know she kept some money. Not much, just a few hundred dollars, her just in case stash, she called it.
It’s enough to get out of Twin Rivers territory. After that… Well, after that, I’ll get a job, find a place to live with humans, and hope Burke doesn’t ever find me.
I walk out of my mom’s room, letting myself look back once, allowing myself to breathe in her scent just one more time. Then I’m down the hall and out of the house. I move casually into the surrounding trees, listening carefully for any signs that I’m being followed. I wouldn’t put it past Burke to put a guard or two on me, not because he thinks I’ll run, but just so that he knows where I am at all times. Controlling bastard.
I figure if anyone is on my tail, I can lose them in here, but as I move silently, listening to everything all around me, I don’t hear anyone. It’s probably all-hands-on-deck in preparation for the Flux ceremony and the Spirit Weaver that will be arriving today, which is good for me. I waste no time in taking advantage and sprint in the direction of the nearest human town, away from my pack and my home...forever.
The treeline stops just a couple miles out of the town of Hillsend, and I feel like a jumpy fox as I traverse the flat land between the forest and where houses start to pop up sporadically. I pass the ranches and farms of people who have worked this land for generations, some of whom still tell stories of my people and their reclusive, secretive ways.
Most people think we’re like the Amish and that’s why we keep our distance. Some think we’re some cult that started in Eastern Europe and migrated over here due to persecution—that rumor is a personal favorite. And then there are those who suspect we’re something else but say nothing. We’re the fuel for scary stories told around dimming fires or late at night amongst a group of friends. The tales of the wolves that roam these woods for hundreds of miles is the stuff of legends, but most people never even think to see the connection. There’s no room for magic and mystery in their lives, so my pack exists right under their noses, exactly the way we like it.
I jog down the two-lane road that leads into town, though I slow to a walk so I can look as casual as possible whenever I hear a car approaching. Each time I hold my breath until it passes, hoping that it won’t be someone from the pack. We usually only come into town to buy or sell supplies, and I’m counting on the fact that all of that was done earlier in the week.
Soon, the intermittently placed homes begin to morph into neighborhoods as I get closer to the heart of town. I wish the bus depot wasn’t on the opposite side, but I’ll just have to hurry and hope there’s something going out within the hour. So far, this couldn’t have gone any smoother than it already has, but there’s no need to tempt fate. Deciding to play it safe, I skirt the center of town, even though it’ll add more time getting to my destination. I work my way through the less populated areas rather than walk on the busy streets. Fingers crossed, I’ll be on a bus in no time, never to look back again.