Little Wolves (gxg)

Chapter 16 - Full Moon

I woke up to short strands of hair tickling my nose. I shifted my hand and felt fur. I froze.

Opening my eyes, there was a wolf where Avery had laid, sleeping on its side, facing away from me. My arm was draped over it's side, where my arm had been draped over Avery's side. The scruff of it's neck was right next to my nose. I relaxed.

This is Avery. My Avery.

Blue moonlight was pouring through the window next to the bed, illuminating Avery's room. There was a full moon tonight.

Staring at the sight in front of me, this hollow longing swelled in my bones. I ran my fingers through her fur. Her coat was surprisingly soft, but as I grazed my hand higher, towards her back, the hair became grisly and coarse.

I thought this would be weirder than it was. I felt at peace, probably because the other half of my soul was laying next to me, even if she wasn't human at the moment. She was sleeping soundly, her wolf form much bigger than my petite body.

I hadn't meant to sleep until night came. I was feeling sad and disappointed after the conversation about my family and I just wanted Avery to hold me. I knew if I fell asleep she probably wouldn't wake me, not if it meant I would leave, so I decided to hand waking up to fate.

It's strange sleeping in a new place. In someone else's home. I woke up a couple times before the moon rose. The first was to pee, naturally, and the second was when Jo poked her head into Avery's room. I pretended I was asleep. I expected her to wake us or send me home, but all she did was close the door quietly.

And now I'm laying next to a wolf.

There was a distant rumble. I watched the front winds of a storm whisk the leaves in it's coattails. Clouds slowly rolled in, covering the moon. The ominous thunderheads puffing their roars and flashes of light over our small town. Then, the rain began. Soft patters on the window.

It reminded me of the times I would sit outside to watch the storm with my dad. I was no older than seven. We would sit on our patio, underneath our awning, on the metal porch swing my mother insisted we buy. I loved those moments. The rain falling. The distant thunder. The intermittent lightening.

It wasn't until I was older I realized he used those quiet moments with me to drink. Mom trusted him enough to watch me by himself, so she wasn't around to tell him not to have another.

He was fine, drinking wise, until I was old enough to run around on my own. Once I was capable of knowing where home was, he started acting different.

I would spend my days with the neighborhood kids in the woods. There was a large patch of them at the end of the culdesac we lived on. The other kids and I would play hide and seek, tag, marco-polo. We would race and explore and run our little hearts out among the trees.

It's why the forest became my happy place.

Once dad's drinking got bad that's where I went to escape. The trees began to sing to me. They would tell me it would get better. He would get better. Their whispers were made from my dreams. My naive adolescence manifesting reassurance and comfort.

I believed them for a while.

Year after year my friends started disappearing. After elementary school, I lost my closest friends. After middle school, I lost most of the others. And after high school, they were all but gone. Whisked away to different states and colleges where I would never hear from them again.

Now I live in Oregon, in a small town where the trees are taller than life and the people shine like the sun. I met a woman who sees me as strong and kind, and not as the daughter of a drunk. My father is trying his best to stay sober and my mother is just happy to see the rest of us thriving. It's strange how your life can get thrown in a completely different direction and you don't even get the chance to look back.