Season of the Wolf Pt. 01

"I do. Grace, you can choose. But, there's only one way you're ever going to know if you're making the right choice."

"Get acquainted with my wolf."

Han nods and picks up the tray of untouched food. He is waiting for an answer and I don't mind making him wait. The truth is I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm confused, terrified, and in so many ways the things he has told me make the final pieces of the puzzle slide into place. I get the sense he has more to say, but he isn't ready to say them and quite frankly, I'm not ready to listen either. He leaves me to my thoughts and gently closes the door behind him. I should at the very least make an attempt at normalcy and take a shower. But, I pull the covers over my head instead. I know I'm avoiding all the things I don't want to deal with and for once that suits me just fine. After all, it isn't like I haven't got plenty of time to face them.

Chapter 30

I hear the noisy scrape of boots against the hardwood floor outside of the bedroom door. I know it isn't Han. He walks softly and quiet as a whisper. There's a pause and then the covers are ripped off of me before I can protest. "Well, well, look at you up here hiding from the truth," Coyote drawls in a mocking tone. Coyote is the last person I want to see. One heart to heart conversation is my limit for the day and I've already reached it with Han. I scrabble to snatch the blankets out of his hands and he goads me my jerking them off the bed and tossing them in a heap on the floor. "You can't hide up here forever. Get your shit together, Grace."

He tosses a nutrition bar in my lap and flops down on the edge of the bed propping himself up against the headboard. "Eat," he orders. I nibble at the corner of the bar and that seems to satisfy him, not enough that he leaves but at least enough that he spares me the talk I know is coming and leaves me alone. He is dressed for work in a t-shirt, jeans, and western style cowboy boots. His hair is damp and tousled from the shower and he smells of crisp clean soap. Its early afternoon and I'm not proud of myself for staying in bed all day. I know he's right and I'm hiding from the truth and from Han, especially from Han.

"I get it. The whole brooding woe is me pity party theme you've got going on here, completely understandable. But, you know, normalcy is overrated." He tsks and shoots me a mischievous grin. "Pouting because you have a family that's devoted to you, a guy who lives and breathes for you, and you're going to have your youth and health for a very, very long time. Yeah, I can see how all of that could be a real downer," he says sarcastically.

"I thought I was normal."

Coyote snorts and tugs the empty wrapper out of my hand. "You lived in L.A. You should know better than anyone that there ain't nobody normal. Do you really want that life back without trying on this new one first?"

"Did Han send you up here to talk to me because that sounds amazingly similar to what he said."

"Han is pouting in the barn. If things are left up to the two of you, nothing is ever going to get accomplished. But, if that's what he said to you, for once he and I agree on something. You, for example, you're definitely something we don't see eye to eye on."

I can see the differences between Coyote and Han without further explanation. Coyote is like water crashing over rock where Han is a still pond that runs deep. Coyote is direct and doesn't hesitate to say anything he wants to say. Han is sparse with his words and doesn't give away a thing. The confession I forced from his lips must have cost him a great deal. "He says he's loved me since before I was born. I don't understand what that even means."

"Not a big believer in destiny, huh?" Coyote stretches out on the bed and rolls onto his side to prop his head on his palm. "You don't understand how rare and precious you are. Most of us have never ventured more than a couple of hundred miles from this place and out of the ones that have, very few come back. Imagine what it's like. You're looking at life from the perspective that you only have one lifetime to live. For most people one lifetime is hard enough. What do you think it's like when you have dozens of lifetimes at your disposal?

"Endless days and nights, living along side a world that changes in the blink of an eye while you stay exactly the same year after year and decade after decade. Eventually, this infinite world becomes smaller and smaller while that world out there of finite choices grows bigger and bigger. We spend our entire lives as two halves of the same whole. Can you imagine the appeal of just being one singular entity and of just living one lifetime? Nothing in this world is without cost. It all comes down to what price you're willing to pay.

"There's only one true soul mate out there for each of us. Han is a lucky bastard to have found his. For all I know mine might not be born for another century. Don't look at me like that," Coyote snaps. "I've had my share of fun, but that's all it is, fun. I haven't been in love. It isn't that I'm not capable of loving. In fact, I think I'm very lovable, cute and cuddly even. But, I haven't felt the soul deep pull that Han feels for you or, not that you'll admit it, that you feel for him. Not all of us are so fortunate and sometimes wait breaks the bridge. None of us have lived to old age, not in this form. You two might be the first."

"What do you mean?" Coyote has revealed more than he intended to, but I've got him talking and I don't want him to stop. I see the regret and longing etched in his features. He's being completely serious and honest. "Nobody has ever died of old age?"

"Nope. This whole thing started sometime around 1811." Coyote shrugs. "I guess you should be careful what you pray for because you just might get it. The Prophet prayed for the blessing of the Goddess. That his people would never be wiped off the face of the earth and well, here we are, immortal, mostly immortal, beings living in a mortal world. Mind you, I didn't say we couldn't die. Obviously, we can and do. Childbirth, illness, sometimes by the choices we make, or because of the decisions of another, we do die. Our world isn't just flea baths and barking at the moon. It can be as violent and brutal and as bloody as it can beautiful and filled with the sense of unity of running with the pack and being part of something bigger than yourself."

"I saw a picture of Han, a daugerrotype actually, dated from 1839. He is old. Isn't he?"

"He's the oldest of us left. Sixth generation pack. You're second generation, Sweetness. We live a long time and sometimes it takes a lot of practice to make those babies we so desperately need. We call it the heat. When the urge to procreate becomes almost undeniable. I'm glad I'm not a female especially in that regard. Luckily though, the heat only comes once or twice a decade. Might be better than PMS once a month. I dunno."

I am not discussing the reproductive cycle of a werewolf with Coyote and quickly drop that line of conversation. I do the math and guess Han's age to be around one hundred ninety-five years old. It boggles my mind to be able to live so long. "Is that why Han's...what'd you call it? Pack master?"

"It's not quite that simple and it's not my story to tell. When he finally tells you, and eventually he will. Please, try to have an open mind. Everything he has done, both the good and the bad, has been done for the pack and for you. Han bears scars than run deeper than flesh and bone and they've made him the man he is. Nothing in this world is without a sacrifice. Han is by far the better man, better than I could hope to be. He sacrificed a huge part of himself for the greater good and that's something a rare few would do."

I toy with the corner of a pillow and contemplate what Coyote has told me. "You respect him."

"Yeah, despite the fact that he's a pain in the ass, I do. Nobody stays here by force, Grace. We're here...I'm here because I believe in what and who I am. I know you can't understand that right now. But, I'm hoping that someday soon you will. Grace, you've got to be brave. You don't owe it to me, or to Han, or to anybody but yourself. Being a wolf is more than just the sum of the sacrifices made. It's bigger than that."

"What is it?"

Coyote grins. "Freedom, Grace. When I'm in my wolf's skin, Grace. I don't have to think. I don't need to worry about tomorrow. I just am and that's the only thing I know. The wolf doesn't plot. He doesn't deceive. There is no mask of civility. No duty beyond the pack. With him, you get what you get and there is no second guessing a thing. Do you understand how freeing that is, Grace? To be, not this or that, but just to be?"

"You're right. I don't understand any of this. Will you tell me the rest of Han's story?"

Coyote bounces off the bed in one graceful fluid movement. "Not my story to tell." He cocks his head and frowns at me. "Don't pout, Grace. The person who lived it tells a better story than I can." He stands in the mirror, tucks in his t-shirt, and tries in vain to straighten up his unruly mop of hair. "I'm off to work. Are you going to get out of bed today or what?"

I curl my knees up under my chin and clasp my arms protectively around my shins. "I don't know yet."

"Bad form, Gracie, but whatever. Don't be too hard on him. For everything that Han is or isn't, underneath it all, he's just a man. None of this is his fault any more than it's yours. Sometimes, like it or not, things just are and you'll either accept them or you won't. The ball is in play, Grace. Bounce it or get off the court, just quit sitting on the bench. Okay?"

"I can do without the bad sports analogies, but thanks for the advice," I grumble. Coyote gives me a wink and is out the door leaving me alone with my thoughts. I'm not being fair and I didn't need him to tell me that. It's just that I don't really know anymore what is fair and what isn't. Coyote and I must have talked for hours because the light outside of the bedroom window is fading to the soft purple of twilight.

Han hasn't made an appearance since this morning and I'm not quite sure what it means. I hear him downstairs rustling around in the kitchen making something for supper. I have no idea what's simmering on the stove, but the heavenly aroma of garlic and spices has my stomach growling. I know I don't deserve it, but he's always trying to take care of me. Even if it is in a small way such as making sure I'm properly fed. If what Coyote says is true. Han has been taking care of me for a very long time.

I climb out of the bed and force my feet to move. One step at a time, I make my way to the shower. After a scalding hot bath, wrapped in a towel and leaving damp footprints on the floor, I pad to my bedroom. I stand among the familiarity of my wolf collection and realize my affinity with wolves has always been there. Somehow, deep down, a part of me has always known what I am. I flop onto the bed and snatch up my stuffed toy wolf, squeezing her tightly in my arms. "When did life get so complicated?"

I dress in a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt. I braid my damp hair tightly against my scalp. It didn't take me long to come to the conclusion that Coyote was right. I need to bounce the ball or get off the court. I suppose it doesn't matter what I wear. I could probably don high heels and a tiara and accomplish my dreaded purpose. For this, I have no other choice but to trust Han. I don't know how to call my wolf out of hiding.

Han is standing at the stove with his back to me. I know he can hear my light footsteps because he stiffens and purposely loosens his rigid muscles as I approach. He doesn't turn his attention from the chicken and gives the chunks sautéing in mushrooms and peppers a gentle toss. I don't need to see his eyes to know his wolf is barely contained beneath the wrapper of Han's human skin. I am tearing him apart with my hiding and indecision. "What do I need to do?" I ask.

Han turns off the burner and covers the pan with a copper rimmed lid. His face is serious and his eyes dark and hooded with wariness. He stands so close to me the nearness of him is overwhelming. Gently, Han cups my cheeks in his warm palms and tilts my chin up. "There is no going back. If you do this, even if you do choose the human world over this one, you'll never be the woman you once were. You won't be content to stumble in the dark once you've walked in the light. Do you understand this?"

"Hanson Galloway, Attorney at Law, and distant relation, there hasn't been any turning back since the first time I set foot in this town." I flick my gaze to the floor and refuse to meet his eyes. "Since the first time I laid eyes on you I haven't been the woman I once was."

Han's thumbs are gentle on my lower lip. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asks in a voice capable of melting the polar ice caps. My body gravitates toward him and I'm helpless against the pull. I lean heavily in his arms and tremble from the warmth contact of skin to skin. The confusion of the day and my turbid thoughts calms to a gentle whisper in the back of my mind and I'm at peace for the first time since I learned about the strangeness of what he is... of what I'm about to become.

"I don't know yet. It's a ...thing, maybe both, good and bad?" He squeezes me and chuckles deeply. I can feel it vibrating through me. Maybe we were born for each other and nobody else. How can a person possibly know such a thing like that for certain? But, I do feel better in his embrace and I feel as if I'm where I'm supposed to be. He keeps one arm casually wrapped around my waist and reaches to lift the lid off the pan, spearing a piece of chicken. He blows on it to cool it and holds it to my lips. I take a bite. It's good and flavorful. He smiles in absolute satisfaction as I swallow it down.

I can feed myself, but obligingly open my mouth for another bite he offers me on the tines of the fork. He takes pleasure in feeding me most of the contents of the pan. I protest that I'm stuffed and he eats the remainder.

His wolf was always right in front of me, manifesting himself through Han's motives and behavior and the gesture of feeding me first was that of an alpha wolf providing for his mate. And my behavior was that of a female evaluating a male's worth and her approval that he passed the test. I don't know if it's nature or nurture that has me falling in slow motion. At this point, I'm not even sure if it matters. I revel in the warmth of Han's closeness and the devastating effect it has on me. "When do we start?" I ask.

"We already have."

Chapter 31

Grace has come around. It's been a slow process, but she's getting there. She came to me. She accepted food from my hand. Now, she wants to take the next step even deeper into my world. There's so much to explain and I have no idea of where to begin. I'm eager for her to slide into her wolf's skin, but I need to make certain she knows everything there is to know first.

Coyote has been an unexpected ally. Perhaps, it's that he is closer to Grace's age than I am or possibly, that he relates to her in a way that I can't. But, I owe him a great measure of thanks for saying whatever he said to get through to her. I need Grace well fed and rested. I need to earn her complete trust before we begin. The only way I'm going to do this is to offer her full disclosure in all things. Honesty is a terrifying concept. My world exists somewhere beyond her moral compass and some of the things I've done are beyond her ability to fully comprehend.

From her human viewpoint, I've committed murder, but from mine I've done what was necessary to protect the pack. There won't be any history lessons, not tonight. We've come to an easy peace and just for a few fleeting hours I want to enjoy it. I've been slipping her the tea for days, claiming it'll help her to sleep. It does, but it also contains a potent blend of herbs and roots. What's in the tea would put an ordinary human into a coma for a week. But, Grace is no ordinary human and the tea only aids in coaxing her wolf closer to the surface.

The recipe is a guarded secret passed down from shaman to shaman. Coyote is the closest thing the pack has to an actual shaman. Over the decades he has perfected the tea and learned to ferment the herbs and by some miracle of turning tea into potent whiskey managed not to blow the pack to kingdom come in the process. The blend Grace sips as she lounges peacefully on the porch swing is what little remains of her grandfather's secret mix and a bit subtler than Coyote's in your face recipe.

I sit next to her, shouldering her weight and squished up against the wooden arm of the swing so that she can prop her feet up, but I don't mind. I rock the swing with the sole of my foot creating a gentle night breeze with the back and forth motion. "What's it like, Han? Turning into a wolf?"

"The most blissful horror you can imagine. Like the pulling off of a scab and the itching of new skin as the wound heals. Pain. Confusion. Cold. And then, joy, incredible joy, like coming home to a house filled with family and a fire blazing in the fireplace on a blustery winter's night. Comfortable as a pair of worn jeans. Like being born and dying in the same breath. Being torn apart and shoved back together again. It hurts, but it's a happy pain, like that of a woman in her travail, labor, I mean."

"Gee, I can't wait," Grace says sarcastically.

I tug playfully on her braid and inhale her musky sunshine scent. "You get used to it. In time, it just becomes a part of you. It's an expected pain. Like when you fall down and scrape your knee or cut your finger. You know it's going to hurt and you expect it. But, the pain is what lets you know you're alive. Sometimes, you'll even welcome the shift. I can't put into words what it's really like. Just as a person can't fully describe what it feels like to make love. There are no words adequate enough to make you understand. You'll come to your own conclusion about things soon enough. I'll be there with you, Grace. Through it all, I won't leave your side."

"What if I try to eat you?"

Han snorts at the thought. "Grace, you'll still be you. You control the wolf just as she controls you. The two of you function as a whole together. She can't do anything you don't allow her to. Likewise, she keeps you out of danger you don't realize was heading your way. Did you ever dodge to the left instead of walking straight ahead narrowly avoiding an accident? How about wake up in the middle of the night and suddenly get up to check on something only to realize you left a candle burning or the front door unlocked? Ever grab something to eat out of the fridge and even though it smells perfectly fine, change your mind about eating the food and throw it away instead? How about hearing or smelling or seeing something nobody else did? You've never met someone you didn't like though they seemed perfectly likeable on the surface? That's your wolf sensing things you, in your human skin, could never sense."

"I don't know about my wolf being that good of a judge of character. After all, I like you. I'm not completely sold on if I should or not."

"Oh, you should trust your wolf implicitly about me. Animals are impeccable judges of character," I say and chuckle as Grace snorts. "Grace, we have the best and the worst of both sides of our dual natures. Your wolf will hunt. Small game mostly, rabbits, squirrels, and if she's quick enough, a raccoon. Sometimes, the pack will work together and take down a deer. Livestock and raiding chicken coops, strictly off limits. Grace, we can't risk anyone finding out about us. If we're not very careful the hunters will become the hunted."

"I hadn't thought about that," Grace says and she's suddenly very quiet.