A Drizzle of Home

4 | A Drizzle of Trust

Of course I'd washed up in another pack's territory. I was in no position to argue or fight, or even leave for that matter. It was better than dying, but she'd seen my foreleg herself. They had to know that I couldn't go anywhere.

"How?" I asked, my tone softening since the last time I spoke. I feared it was too late to try being nice, but what else did I have to lose? Maybe if I apologized or begged––gave up any sense of dignity I retained, they'd let me stay, wouldn't just toss me back in the river. I hopelessly pointed my nose toward my injury, uttering the words as humiliation bubbled up in my chest. "I can't walk."

Cloud dipped her head, as if her fear had been confirmed. "I see." Her mouth pursed in thought. She didn't have the answer to that one. No one did.

"Then I say we drag away his body," Spruce chimed.

His littermate faced him with a green-eyed glare. He only grinned, raising his eyebrows in innocence. With a roll of her eyes, Pine turned back to Cloud. Their gazes met with an understanding smile, a look of sympathy passing between them, before they shifted toward me.

"We can help you." Cloud held her head high, pride returning to her stature. She took a step forward and tipped her nose to herself. "But only if you trust us."

Spruce's muzzle screwed at the thought. I nearly did the same, unsure of what this odd group of wolves could do for me, hesitant to get my hopes up in the ideas of this small and ditzy canine. But what other choice did I have than to hear her out?

"Fine," I said. "I trust you."

She chirped a short laugh. "Not so fast." There was a new kind of smile spreading on her lips, a mix between the male's usual smirk and Pine's current look of excitement. "Trust is a two-way trail. If you want us to trust you, we need some answers."

I held in a sigh. I should've seen it coming,  already knowing I'd have to bargain for my freedom. There was nothing to lose anyway, not by telling them I didn't know anything.

My stomach churned with the questions that were sure to claw at their minds, the same as mine. There was a chance that they wouldn't believe me. They'd think it was a lazy cover-up for something even more pathetic––maybe I was an outcast of my former pack, kicked from their ranks for being useless and broken. Or perhaps I'd done something stupid and rebellious toward my alpha, and this was the punishment.

I gathered my nerves and licked my chops, trying to plan an explanation. There was no way to predict how they'd react. It was better to just get it out there. "I wish I had them," I admitted, using my tongue to rewet my nose. "I woke up here without any memories. I don't know where I'm at, or even how I got here."

It felt strangely relieving to get my frustrations off of my chest, to speak my worries aloud to these strangers. "I don't have a pack or a home, nor any way to find one." My voice quivered a little as I spoke, and I shut my eyes tightly so that no tears could well in their corners. "I don't even know my name, much less where to go."

A long moment of stillness hung between the trees. Not even the wind dared disturb the quiet. My heart pounded deep in my chest, and blood thrummed in my ears. Finally, Cloud spoke.

"That's..." Her voice trailed off, struggling to find fitting words. I could think of three: horrible, pitiful––"Sorry."

Sorry. I was a sorry excuse for a wolf.

"I'm so sorry," she echoed.

I looked up to meet Cloud's eyes. She cocked her head, ears slightly askew, and her tail drooped behind her. The silver in her irises sparkled with sadness.