A Bit of Wolf in Her

6. Kung-fu, sword-fu, spear-fu, dagger-fu, arrow-fu, pie-fu

"So, he turns her children into pies and forces her to eat them?" Noah asked, stunned as he read over the crip-notes Winnie had made.

Winnie nodded. "Total pie-fu moment." When Noah blinked back at her, confused, she handed him the review she printed out about the play.

"By reviewer Mike Gent Wallace: This is a brilliant play," Noah started. "We're talking fourteen dead bodies, kung-fu, sword-fu, spear-fu, dagger-fu, arrow-fu, pie-fu, heads roll, hands roll, tongues roll–Jesus Christ Winnie." Noah put down the paper and Winnie only shrugged.

"Look, it was this or Romeo and Juliet and I'm comfortable letting you know you'd be on your own if we'd gone with the latter."

Noah rolled his eyes, picking up her notes once more. The day had been hard for them. Besides the obvious awkwardness revolving around Winnie's recent discovery, they never spent more than a few minutes at a time alone together. It made sense that things felt tense.

"Is war the only price for peace?" Noah read. "Did you write this?"

Winnie frowned, grabbing the papers from him to stare at the note written on the bottom right corner of the page. She nodded, handing him back the notes without looking at him.

It was while she had read the part of the play where Tamora, the captured queen, took revenge on those who had killed her eldest son. Her revenge got her nothing but death as the rest of her children got murdered and baked into pies, while everyone around her died as well. What struck Winnie about the entire ordeal was that as much as Tamora, the queen of Goths, lost, her revenge did nothing except bring her more pain. Had her vengeful actions been driven by the need for peace or for justice? Was revenge the only way to get either? Is the price of peace always war?

She glanced at Noah, who was looking at her expectantly.

"Nobody got anything out of it. After all the blood-shed, nothing changed."

"You got all that from pie-fu?" he asked and Winnie threw him with a pen, but he dodged it expertly. "Why don't we write about that in our essay? Instead of the tradition and loyalty thing?"

Winnie shrugged. "It's not the intended theme of the play and I don't think either of us can afford to get another zero for this."

She adjusted her position on the couch, and flipped through the book, which held the analysis of Titus Andronicus at the back, and showed it to Noah to prove her point.

"Traditional values religiously adhered to do not always provide us with the correct answers. In fact, these values can often lead to tragedy. Yeah, sounds about right." It was Winnie's turn to pull an explanation out of Noah. He was more interested in opening up than Winnie. "Werewolves aren't traditional exactly, but some things we've been doing for hundreds of years. Like we have this thing for blood." Before Winnie's heart could drop to her shoes, he elaborated. "I mean, our Alpha's only come from specific bloodlines that tie back to the very first Werewolves, and it's always the eldest child that's in line for Alpha. Even if they don't want it."

"What do you mean?" Winnie couldn't believe she was sitting in the living room, making small talk with Noah Delaney over Werewolf customs and culture, but it made little sense. If it was the firstborn who became Alpha, and it was Noah's mom who was the current Alpha... "Shouldn't you be the next in line, then? Instead of Elijah?"

"Not exactly. It's very complicated." Winnie urged him to go on, and he sighed. "My mom isn't the firstborn but her older brother – my uncle and Elijah's dad – died, which meant that Elijah became next in line since he's the firstborn. Since my mom is part of the 'Alpha bloodline' for lack of a better word, she's acting as Alpha until Elijah is old enough to claim his Right."