The Crow and The Wolf

Chapter 22

22.

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As the day faded and the sun gave way to the moon, her eyes looked at the floor in concentration as the moonlight painted shadows on the floorboards. She exhaled, realising that the world around her was moving on and that she seemed to be stuck.

Her gaze traced the floor lines. They traced every detail carved into the boards. How they varied in size, how some had small circle designs while others had the streak lines that a snake would leave behind.

She could feel her wolf just beneath her surface, laying beside her border but staying on her side as if cautious to step into Valeria's mind. She couldn't blame her wolf; for the past few days, she had been giving her a cold shoulder. But at the same time, what did her wolf expect Valeria to do—to forgive her for hiding everything from her and making her worry?

'Yes', her subconscious chimed, 'she only meant well.'

She could feel her wolf's emotions; she was calm. She seemed peaceful, as if everything that mattered in the world had just disappeared and all she cared about was the pup growing inside her, and Valeria could understand that—no, she understood that.

After all, Valeria was human, and her wolf was an animal. And her instincts would be to protect her pup first. Valeria just wished that she would have protected her as well.

Valeria's wolf felt her turmoil, and she whimpered, pushing against her barrier so she could comfort her, but Valeria still didn't want her wolf's sympathy; she didn't want anything at all from her wolf at the present moment.

She understood, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Valeria looked at the snow falling outside and felt the tips of her thumb making circular motions around her small pump that was already starting to form. Her first check-up would be tomorrow, and she already knew most of the things the doctor would tell her.

Human autonomy and werewolf autonomy were completely different, especially when they regarded pregnant women. Humans would carry the foetus for 9 months, but that wouldn't exactly be the maximum time period to carry a foetus, it was just the normal duration. There were some cases where a foetus could be born in the tenth month or so and the baby would appear early, but werewolves were different.

Although it was similar, with no specific time frame for when the baby would come out, after all, it depended on whether the baby was ready or not, she-wolves would carry pups for up to 6 months, and yes, sometimes it was delayed, and other times the pup chose to come early.

She remembered how her mother would come back home and tell her about the new pups that were born, and how there was a small glint of happiness she would see in her mother's eyes; after all, she was there to help deliver them.

Her mother would also remind her that rank would often sometimes also play a factor in the baby's delivery date. Her mother had told her that the higher the rank, the longer the delivery date would be.

That was the one problem that mostly worried Valeria; she didn't know what rank her mate was, so she wasn't sure when her pup would be born, and she wasn't even sure when to start preparing for the birth of the pup.

But that was just another one of her problems on the long list that existed.

The bed sank, and she heard small movements as the echo of his heart beating faster fell to her ears. She closed her eyes, attempting to calm her heart so that it would beat more slowly.

"I know you're not sleeping, Valeria," he said, his voice groggy from just waking up, which sent a shiver down her spine.

A shiver that perplexed her, a shiver that made her wolf purr, and one that created a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. She shook her head and breathed in, forgetting about pretending to sleep.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked her.

"I-I couldn't sleep," she shifted slightly, "Did I wake you?"

Luc ran his hand down his face and said, "Your anxiety woke me up, but it's okay."

"I'm sorry, you could smell that?"

He chuckled softly, and the sound brought that weird feeling back, which made her shuffle around on the bed uncomfortably.

"Yes, you're practically swimming in anxiety," she gave him a small nod, going back to looking at the snow falling.

A moment passed between them, and Valeria thought he must have gone back to sleep, but his voice echoed throughout the room.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she could hear the apprehension in his voice: "That's if you want, of course."

She sighed, "no, I'd rather not build up the anxiety in the room; let's talk about something else."

"Like what?"

Her eyes grazed around the room before finally resting on the box of records she had rummaged through a couple of days ago.

"Why the records? Why not listen to music on your phone like everyone else?"

She felt him shift behind her before tapping her softly on her shoulder. She turns around to meet his grey eyes.

"My mother collected records and CDs—my real mother," he told her, looking into her eyes intently, "and it's the only thing I can remember about her. She had this obsession with music and always had hard copies. There was always music playing in the house, and when I felt like I was forgetting her, I played music, and over time I started collecting my own favourites, in a way continuing something she started and making sure I never forgot her," he told her with a smile.

But like Mr. Edgar, she could see past the smile; she could see the hurt in his eyes that looked far away from her. She didn't know why she did it, but she felt like she had to, to remind him that she was here.

Her palm cupped his cheek, and his eyes looked at her, and she knew he was back.

"Mr. Edgar heard me playing a song, and from then on, whenever he travels to visit his daughter, he comes back with some CDs for me. It helps me remember her, but it doesn't help anymore; I've forgotten what she looks like."

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