Christmas for a Werewolf

Written for @WattyWolves' December Challenge.

W/C: 1850 words

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I sighed as I sifted through a box filled with strange shiny objects that for all their hardness seemed fragile to the touch. I reminded myself again that the humans called them decorations, as I plucked one of the things they called a bauble from the box. One swift contraction of my hand and I could have shattered that little ball. I knew, however, that if I had done so, I would have driven shards of coloured glass into my palm and I would have howled like the stricken wolf I would have been.

I shook my head before I threaded a tiny plastic hook through the hoop fastened to the top of the bauble. That, at least, was a little bit fun, if fiddly, time-consuming and strange. All of it was strange to me - the human house and human smells and human food. Even the human tradition of Christmas seemed bizarre to me, too used to worshipping the moon goddess at all times to have room or knowledge of anything else. The Christmas tradition, however, was a brightly coloured novelty and something which had, as yet, to wear off.

The human family that had taken me in for the holidays seemed nice enough, although a little reserved with me. I supposed it wasn't every day that they had a teenaged male werewolf staying with them, even though they were unaware of my true status. They merely thought I was a juvenile delinquent. The children of the family were younger than me, and even more wary than their parents to the point of being actively scared. The parents at least tried to put aside their wariness, greeting me with smiles and kind words whenever they saw me, and softly rendered requests to join in whatever festivity they had been planning.

That day alone, I had been pinning up scratchy, metallic stuff called tinsel that made me sneeze so violently, so continuously that I'd been moved, laughingly, to finishing off decorating the Christmas tree. Whilst I still couldn't figure out why a human would even want a tree in their living room, when it had been perfectly fine growing out in the garden with the others, but it wasn't my place to judge. In fact, apparently, it was my place to learn from my betters and elders, and the humans would only prove to be a calming influence, being so much more fragile than us werewolves. If I proved that I could handle a human child, then I could prove I had the patience to return to my pack. I couldn't wait, yet I knew I had to spend at least two weeks with the humans before I could be considered eligible to return where I felt I belonged. I couldn't wait, yet I knew I had to prove myself first, on Alpha's orders.

"How are you getting along, Remi?" the female human - Felicity - said, as she popped her head around the living room door.

She was the Alpha mate of the family, or would have been if she'd been a werewolf. Instead, she was 'wife', and 'mother'.

"Okay, I think," I replied. "About finished."

I tried to force a smile to my mouth because I didn't want to seem too ungrateful or reticent. Any show of disrespect or doing anything wrong and I'd be packed off to my Alpha in deeper trouble than I was already. I had only been with the Jones family for two days and a night so far. so anything could happen. Luckily for them, the previous night had not been mine for changing. Felicity didn't seem to notice any change in my mood, as she padded into the room.

"So I see," Felicity said in pleasure, as she plucked at some of the baubles experimentally. "And the tinsel didn't bother you once?"

"Not much," I said, with a brief smile and that much was true.

She nodded before she sighed. I could tell she had something on her mind, and I waited, patiently, silently, guessing what she might want to know.

"Remi," she said, hesitantly. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why was your father so angry with you?"