Tiger's Mate

Chapter 34

•Ethan•

I hadn't been here in years.

The path had grown more weeds over time, the roof had aged, the stairs somehow even more worn down — but everything about the bunkhouse was pretty much the same as I had remembered it to be.

This was the place Maia and I used to go when we were just pups, a little ways further down the route to the packhouse, in a time where I actually used to enjoy (somewhat) being in the company of others. Sage and Jared could often be found hanging around here once and a while, and with his little sister and rambunctious companion; Chris. Even Kallen used to come by, once and a while before that stick got shoved up his ass. We would occasionally come here when the adults were busy. When you were just pups, it didn't matter who your parents were or what blood you had — not like when you got older and you realized these things started to matter to people.

Obviously, things changed; we changed. Kallen had that stick problem. Jared and Chris got older, then the rest of us followed, and with age and maturity, things like hanging out playing board games and telling ghost stories in a bunkhouse just weren't all that appealing anymore. We branched out, made new connections. Maia and I started doing other things together the more independent we got—since the day we outgrew the need for our parents to drive us to movies or for them to give us money for food. Though in Maia's case — that last one was slightly debatable.

I couldn't even remember the last time I had seen the place, and yet now, here I stood, facing the old steps, looking into the vision of memories that didn't exist here anymore.

Why would she bring me here?

Why not the house? I thought. Though the more I did think about it, I realized what a stupid fucking idea that was. As I was trying to keep the pack unaware of my little secret. Talking in the house, even with soundproof walls, was a bad idea just asking for trouble.

Almost as bad as was just speaking out in the open woods where it was hard to dictate who was watching, and anyone could appear at any time — as I had evidently learned the hard way not twenty minutes ago.

I mindfully kept my claws from scraping against the steps, but the wood creaked with my weight regardless, the result of age. Obviously, the wrath of nature had taken its toll on them, though thankfully they held firm, evidence of either resistance or durability. Or both. The scents that used to linger around the house had all but faded. No traces of us existed here anymore. Or so I initially thought.

Maia's was particularly strong, which I had expected given that she'd obviously beat me here. What I didn't expect, however, was to find that they overlapped with other, older, remnants. She had been coming around this place in the recent months as far as I could detect. Often. And on her own.

I went inside the quant cabin-like space to find her seated on the maroon leather couch, her two legs curled underneath her, and gaze focused out the window beside her. She didn't turn to look at me, even when I padded forth on four paws and sat a little ways away — still unsure what her or not I should be wary, considering her formal hostile reaction. I trod carefully.

She had changed clothes it seemed, from the new knit sweater and loose sweatpants she wore now. Apparently, she came here often enough to stash an emergency pair of clothes here.

"There's a sweater of Jared's I stole a little while ago and a pair of his or Chris's jogging pants in the bag rack," she said in an even tone. And that was all she said, her voice simply devoid of anything, as if she were denying herself the feel of her emotions until after she could stare me in the face and yell at me.