Mara:A Charmed Affair

2:Shift

“Howl with us cousin, “Rafe snickered.

Mara gave him the finger and blew against the window; using the tip of her index finger she drew a heart in the fog and her initials in the middle.

“Save it for Alec,” Andrea teased.

She rubbed the heart away then, even though it had already faded to a slight blur. Andrea could be so different when she was around Rafe, it irritated her more than anything. She loved Andrea, they were like sisters, but the power Rafe had over her was disturbing, and she couldn’t see it. She couldn’t even see that Rafe was only using her until a better wolf came along. She chuckled at ‘wolf’ it was humorous to refer to her makeshift family as such, but that’s what they were; wolves masquerading as normal people.

But not that night. That night they would become one with nature and allow the inhibitions that kept them chained to civilization to loosen. That night they would be wild.

Mara shivered then, wild, it wasn’t a good thing to her. Wildness had its perks; unpredictability, that sexy allure, and that mysterious vibe of ‘what now?’ ‘what do we do now?’ ‘what havoc do we wreak now?’

Andrea let out another resonating howl, so loud it pierced Maras eardrums enough for her to slap her hands on her ears, “Cool it Dre.” She muttered irritated.

But she had just begun, and Rafe egged her on, “G’on babe, show the night what you got.”

It’s like they were drunk, or high, the way the two of them were acting. The smell of their scent rose in the air, assaulted Maras nose. Clarisse hummed up front as Rafe howled right beside her in the passenger’s seat. She was so calm, so uncaring, so resigned to the idea that this was how her family should act, like animals. It’s what they were.

But Mara didn’t think so, she believed in a decent level of civility, all of which were completely wasted on Rafe. Was she the only sensible person?

Those who write fictional stories about werewolves would say that they are one divided by two. Mara rolled her eyes at that as well, as far as she knew they were one, the wolf, and the man. One. The wolf was merely a curse thanks to some ancient witch who believed that men ought to suffer for those things they did so naturally. The wolf, simply represented the darkest parts of the human, the deepest rage, the deepest sorrow, everything was intensified, and that’s why she prayed that her cousin Rafe wouldn’t do anything stupid.

The crisp night air enveloped the Quartet as they emerged from the Subaru hidden in the deepest part of the woods, just a few yards from where the pack would meet and commune. The air already smelled of them, musky. The leaves had begun to fall, and they danced around in the air as if they were waltzing, a lean here, a dip there, and then a final bow.

“Mara,” Clarisse held her hand out to Mara who sheepishly albeit embarrassed took it, if only to please her surrogate mother.

Meanwhile Rafe and Andrea ambled along with the pair as they made their way through thickets of trees, and climbed over rocks speaking excitedly about the animals they would hunt. Mara slowly slipped her hand out of Clarisse, timing it at just the right moment when they came up to a tree. She stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets to prevent the childish act from happening again and continued walking.

A couple of minutes had passed when they spotted other members of the pack standing in a sort of man made clearing; no temple, no benches, just torches of fire that flickered high up towards the sky.

Breathe Mara, breathe.

She had to go through with this, she had to do this, for herself and Clarisse.