Season of the Wolf Pt. 01

If what Han says is true and that there is more than one version of history. His theory also applies to this situation. He has told me the side of the story he knows or the only version of it he wants me to know. I'm not sure which. But, I don't think his version is the only one there is. I want to neatly arrange the facts and decide for myself what to believe. If there's another side to the story, I'll find it.

The house is kind of creepy at night and full of dim corners. I find myself missing the noise, lights, and crowdedness of L.A. as I stare out the window and look out at the dark. Last night the quiet and the gentle song of crickets chirping and the babbling of the creek were a comfort. Tonight they only serve to reinforce how alone I am out here.

My imagination is starting to run away with me. I can imagine quite a lot and none of it is good. Snippets from horror movies flash through my mind. Is there someone hiding in the house, maybe under my bed, waiting to grab me? Could there be some kind of homicidal maniac running around in the woods just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike?

What about the old Indian burial ground/ cemetery that shares my property? I don't believe in ghosts and things that go bump in the night. But, what if something 'other' is out there and decides to pay a visit? I have no way to call for help. I'd be chopped up into little tiny pieces before the police got here anyway. I could be sucked up into some kind of paranormal black hole and nobody would ever know.

Ok, so now I am freaked out. With the lights on in the house and it pitch black outside anyone could see inside. I flicked off the lamp in the study and warily padded through the dark rooms in between.

The outline of the old carriage house is visible from the window above the kitchen sink. There's no light breaking up the darkness. Wherever he is. Han isn't home. I try not to speculate about his private life. Where he might be or whom he is with. It isn't any of my business.

I've convinced myself that my face is going to end up on the back of a milk carton. I'm alone in the dark and it's the plot of every cheesy slasher flick I've ever seen. In retrospect, I regret not giving Christine the address to the house. At least, I'd have the comfort of knowing that if she didn't hear from me eventually. She'd be able to give the police a location to start the search. As it stands now, someone could kill me, bury my corpse in the cemetery and no one would ever be able to find me.

I put the kettle on the stove and fish through the cabinets for the canister of tea. At this point I don't give a damn what's in it. My body is sore from horseback riding all day. My mind is frazzled almost to the point of panic. I'm agitated and restless. Sleep isn't going to come easily tonight without a little chemical inducement and there isn't anything stronger than tea in the house.

Once the kettle whistles and I've slugged back one cup of my grandfather's miracle blend. I pour another. Midway though the second cup, my thoughts grow sloggy and my body, heavy. I barely manage the staircase and peeling off my clothes before falling into the bed. I fall asleep almost immediately. I know in the morning I won't remember what I dreamed of. Maybe that's a good thing because flashes of faces and the echo of voices from the past haunt the hazy land between wake and slumber.

Chapter 14

I've made a mistake telling Grace so much about the family today. I could sense her confusion and disbelief. Deep down inside of her I know she realizes the truth. She simply isn't ready to accept it yet. I don't want to push her, but what choice do I have? Each day that passes her wolf inches closer to the surface. I can't let that happen without preparing her first.

I'm outside watching over her as she wanders from room to room flicking on and off the lights. She can't see me from my vantage point, but I see her. My wolf growls at the acrid scent of her fear. She's got nothing to be afraid of out here. I'll protect her until she's ready. She doesn't realize she's about to become one of the most dangerous predators in the world.

I wish Nathaniel were here to give me guidance. I truly have no idea of what I'm doing when it comes to preparing Grace for what is to come. How does one prepare someone for shedding her human skin and slipping into that of a wolf's? The experience of it is something I can't begin to describe in a few sentences. The first time it happens is probably a lot like being born, or perhaps, like dying.

The pain is the sheer agony of being ripped apart and molded back together again. Of bone crushing and contorting, sinew tearing from limbs, and flesh bursting at the seams and a split second later all of it, all of those pieces of you, being forced together in flash of scorching heat into one.

Though it seems like hours or days when the shift comes. It happens in a matter of seconds. I can scarcely recall my first shift. I think maybe, I've blocked the worst of it out of my mind. Either that or between the two of us, my wolf and I, we've chosen not to remember. He certainly doesn't enjoy the reverse process of returning to our shared human flesh any more than I particularly relish giving our body over to him. Sharing a body with my wolf is the worst curse and greatest gift a human could endure. It's pain and suffering and confusion, but it's also joy and sweet release from the confines and constrictions man places on himself.

When I'm in my wolf's body and he is at the helm there's no worry, no anger, no plotting or scheming beyond scoring his next easy meal. He doesn't communicate with words. I don't pretend to know his crafty mind. He is instinct and primal drive. In so many ways he is free and I am not. His life is simple and mine is complex. I have no intention of letting him take us over completely. Ever. For all that he is there is one thing he is not capable of. He may know freedom, but he'll never know beyond the shadowy consciousness we share what it's like, really like, to be human.

Grace comes from a different world and a different time. Somehow, I have to make her understand. I've lived a long life and hopefully, have a longer life ahead of me. I've always had purpose in my life, but it took her to make me finally realize my true path. I've done the things I've done for the pack, for my family, and sometimes, for myself. This, introducing Grace into my world, the reality of her world, I do for all those reasons and for the best one of all. I'm doing it for her, for her future. I'd spare her the pain and give her all of the joy and freedom, if I could. I can't. This isn't a gift without a price. One of the reasons there are so few of us is that the price is too high to pay. Grace will have to learn to walk with one foot in each world and it's not easy.

I haven't isolated her from the outside world on purpose. The remoteness of this place has done it for me. I have no doubt she'll try to civilize this wild corner of the world. She can try, but it will do her little good. Her cell phone will never get reception this far away from a repeater tower. Technology has left us in the dust. That suited Nathaniel fine. He didn't want a phone or cable TV and the connections were never run past the turn off from the main highway. She'll have to install a satellite if she wants the Internet and TV. But, I have a sneaky suspicion the effort won't yield any great results.

The way we live will seem foreign to Grace. We need the buffer of distance between us and everyone else for very good reasons. If the outside world ever learned the truth about us, there wouldn't be any of us left to learn about.

We've chosen this path and our feet are firmly upon it. Nathaniel was the last generation one elder left. He was the first Winono, first son. His son whose name shall never be spoken was the Winono of his generation and I am the Winono of mine. Grace's mother was a Winona, a first daughter, as is Grace.

The burden that comes along with being a first son or daughter is a heavy one to endure. There is only one first son and daughter born in a generation. First borns are born knowing exactly who our soul mate is. I know who owns the missing piece of my soul and it is Grace.

She probably hasn't really felt a true connection with any man. She wouldn't because I'm the only man she is truly capable of connecting with. I know she feels the pull to me as I feel it towards her. I'd like to think there's more to the attraction we feel for one another than something ingrained in our DNA to ensure the next generation comes into being, that, if she was an awful person or I was equally awful from her perspective, we'd be able to resist nature. Grace isn't a terrible person. I'm not a terrible person either. I'm trying to nurture her and coax her along. I want her to like me. No, I want her to love me as I have loved her since long before she was ever born.

I don't know if Grace's father truly loved her mother. Nathaniel loved his wife. I do know that. They tried for so long to bring He who shall not be named into the world. It took over a century for the two of them to finally get it right. As first sons and daughters, if we were born only to breed, the two of them would have had a very bitter life instead of the one filled with love they actually lived.

Grace is a firstborn daughter. The great granddaughter of a man not recorded in any history book and a blooded third generation descendant from the Shawnee family line. I was born a first son through the Galloway family line and am fifth generation pack. My DNA isn't as pure as Grace's, but it's no less potent. I'm gritting my teeth and enduring the hell nature is playing on my body. My wolf is impatient to claim what he knows is his. Every second that I spend with Grace it gets harder and harder to deny what we both already know and she has yet to grasp. She belongs to us.

Though out the decades so many descendants have faded to the mists of time. Some killed in wars, others lured away by the smoke and mirrors of an easier path, and many, far too many, died in the trying of what Grace and I are destined to do. Fate and time have whittled away at the pack until there's only a handful of remaining. It's just the two of us left now, just Grace and I shouldering the duty and responsibility of Winona and Winono. The future has been placed in our hands. It's up to us to preserve the past and safeguard what is and ensure tomorrow comes.

. It isn't that I don't want her snooping around in the past. I just need her mind open to the fact that history only tells one side of the story. The road on which the past was traveled is curved, twisting, and has more sharp bends than what can be told in any story. The only ones who know the truth of any given event and the circumstances surrounding it are the ones who lived it. At best the only version they can tell is their own and that may not be the whole truth of it, but just one version of a much bigger tale.

It is true, the dead tell no tales. But, they do speak into the next generation and the generations that follow through the very blood in our veins. They tell their stories through the shape of our eyes, the tilt of our noses, the color of our hair, and in hundreds of small ways not mentioned in any version of history. It is in the photographs of the dead long past, in those similarities that span the distance of time between them and you that the truth of the past comes to light.

Grace is safely tucked into bed. The breath I was holding eases out of me as I see the light in the window go dark. My wolf dances restlessly in my head. He wants to run tonight. But, I need control of our shared body for just a while longer. I've introduced Grace to the dead and I need to introduce her to the living. I don't know how to best proceed with that.

My extended family can be a bit overwhelming. They've already accepted her place with them. I can feel the energy of the pack circling around me. They're eager to welcome her home. Tonight they prowl on silent paws through the dark woods. I can't see them, but I don't need to. I know they're in the brush impatiently waiting for her to become one of them. I can't risk Grace seeing them yet. It's too soon. I've restricted their hunting to the tall cornfields and the swampy marshlands of the riverbank. Places I haven't taken Grace and I know she won't go.

The unheard call of their wolves is almost irresistible. They call out to her and I am not unaffected by their siren song. The spike in the paranormal energy that binds us all as one with the land and the air and with our communal sprit of unity is drawing my wolf out of the boundaries of my hold. Trying to deny the draw of the pack is almost like setting a bottle of ice cold water in front of a man dying of thirst and telling him not to drink.

I grit my teeth against the pull and try to fill my head with thoughts of Grace. She is the only thing that can occupy my conscious mind and keep me in my body. The way the wet clothes clung to her body. The curve of her lips when she smiles and the raw wildness in her she holds in such tight restraint are a siren song all of their own. She isn't a person easily put off by her fears. Her curiosity might force my hand sooner than I'd like. But, I can't begrudge her for wanted to search out the truth.

I don't have a clue of how to proceed with her. She isn't one to trust easily and truthfully, I'm glad for it. She isn't likely to give up on something once she has sunk her teeth into it. That quality has served her well and may save her. She already possesses the instinctive cunning and fierceness of the wolf. She simply doesn't know it yet. She is brave and eager to overcome anything she perceives as a weakness. I respect her for all that she is and it makes me love her even more than I thought possible.

I know roses and romance won't win her over. She already sees through the thin veneer of the gentleman I try to be and deep into the heart of the man I truly am. The attraction is there between us. I can smell the shift in her scent whenever I'm near. But, I want something beyond the physical to bring us together. I need her in love. And that's the thing I don't have a clue of how to accomplish.

Grace is torn between two worlds. I know it. The remoteness and isolation of this place works in my benefit. I doubt if she's the kind of woman who allows her friends any sway over her. But, I don't need them here or her contemplating returning to L.A. to complicate things. I don't want to force her into the reality of the truth. I want to ease her into it and let her figure out things for herself.

There are ways to speed up the process. But, I won't resort to them unless I have no other choice. I am pack master and instinctively her wolf will respond to my alpha call. I've earned this position in the pack with my blood and pain. With her being here, so close to the pack and the magic, her wolf will come.

I have given nature a little nudge and that is hopefully all I'll need to do. The tea is her grandfather's special blend. I didn't lie about that and she didn't ask what the herbs in the mix were. I drank the tea myself as a male on the verge of transition.

The first shift is terrifying and painful. The tea eases the wolf to the surface and makes the process less traumatic. Our bodies aren't designed to shift until after we reach adulthood and for most of us the first time happens between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. Time slows to a crawl after the first shift. I was born in 1820 and have the body of a male in his prime. I will age and eventually, if I'm lucky enough to survive my own life, and die an old man many centuries from now.

Nobody really knows what the average lifespan of a wolf is because nobody has ever made it to that ripe an age. Few survive the loss of a mate. It seems a cruel joke that we get only one shot at that particular brass ring that makes life worth living. Some choose to deny their wolves and slip away into the human world. Others simply go the way of the wolf and are never heard from again. Sometimes, people can't keep up and end it of their own accord.

Time and the changes it brings make for a very long race few have the endurance to run. If not for the promise that someday my mate would come, I'm not certain I'd have the fortitude it takes to simply keep on living. She has kept me anchored when I otherwise would have gone adrift. Most of us find a way and a reason to hang on. Grace was mine.

Grace drank the tea tonight as I'd hoped she would. She'll suffer no ill effects from the two cups of it she downed. In the long run, the blend will help her slide into this new life. This life was not the life her mother would have chosen for her. She intended to hide Grace among humanity. Fate had other plans for Grace and here she is where she belongs, safe at home with her true family.

It won't be easy for Grace. I was raised to believe in what was to come. Grace has no inkling of what she truly is. Without the magic of the pack, she'd never know. For it to happen, Grace doesn't need to believe. Her wolf will come whether she believes in it or not. As long as she is here, her destiny, the destiny she was born to fulfill will happen. That's truly all I have to do. Just keep her here and wait and in the mean time work a little magic of my own. It won't be that difficult. The groundwork has already been laid thanks to our DNA. All I have to do is convince her of what I already know. We're perfect for each other.

My wolf won't be held off for another second. I melt into the dark woods and strip free of my clothes. I still my mind and feel the brief flash of hot agony as I shed my human skin. The wolf scents the air and marks his turf to ward off the other males in the pack. My mate is here. I know her. I want her. My human tugs at my mind warning me away from her. The pack is nearby. I catch their scent in the air. There is prey in the woods. I bare my teeth and hone in on the pack. I can hear their song. I run and I run and let the night and the beauty of it sweep me away.

Chapter 15

I woke up drenched in sweat and tangled in a knot of bed linens. I'm on edge and grouchy for no reason. My typical sedate temper is as easily sparked to life as a dry season wildfire. As usual Han was here at the crack of dawn puttering around in the kitchen. Even though I didn't smell it yesterday. My nose immediately starts to twitch at the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon. I have plans for the day and one of them is to boot him out of this house so I can snoop around without his interference.

I quickly remind myself that I'm not snooping. This house and everything in it is mine and I have the right to do with it whatever I want. My stomach is growling like mad by the time I finish a quick shower and dressing in the shorts I wore to bed and an old t-shirt I found neatly stacked in one of the dresser drawers. I don't know why it matters so much to me that I don't go parading around in my camisole top in front of Han. He saw me in far less yesterday.

Though I try not to think about the almost kiss at the pond. I do. Just the thought of him has me flushed violently red and sets my empty stomach clenching tightly. Today, in the midst of the searching for proof, I should take a few minutes to unpack my things. I do own more than a few odds and ends hastily yanked out of a duffel bag. The décor in the bedroom as out of another time and kitschy as it is it doesn't suit me. I miss my wolf collection. The bric-a-brack figurines and hodgepodge of t-shirts might serve to make me feel less connected to the life I left behind. I can't say for certain if I'm sticking around or not yet. But, I know I'm here for the duration. However long it takes me to find the proof I so desperately need and formulate a plan, at least.