Bounds Of Love (BWWM) #Wattys2018

Chapter 8

The atmosphere mellows slightly as the stretch of motorway brings us closer and closer to our destination. The camper passes under a huge, overhanging sign with the words 'MiddleEast - 20 Miles' in black bold. Eventually a sign with 'Welcome to MiddleEast' passes our vision and Dad pulls off at the exit, bringing our van onto foreign ground. My breath catches in my throat. This is it.

I expect some little differences in the pack to be noticeable. The first being the lack of moon and wolf imagery which my pack has all over the town. It makes sense of course since the humans in this city have no knowledge of werewolves existence. Nothing is less discrete then giant pictures of wolves painted everywhere. But there's more to it then blending in and keeping our species a secret from the wider population. From my research I found that this pack doesn't worship the Moon exclusively but allows members to follow their own faith, including the human ones. I guess that's what happens when you submerge yourself completely in their society. I also know that they have a different culture, with more fashions and foods and...Well everything.

It's still surprising to see everything in real life though.

I can immediately spot the disparity between this pack and Oakwood; there's no figure stating the population, because unlike home more than eight hundred people live here, and the people here actually look like they could be strangers to each other. As our car edges down the streets we're one of hundreds of vehicles moving around. No one glances at our van funnily, wondering what could bring in newcomers. In fact, no one notices we don't belong at all – at least it doesn't seem so at first glance. There's crowds of people on the streets all brushing past each other without a single hello. I doubt they can tell each other apart from Tom, Dick and Harry.

How am I meant to find a place to belong in a pack of people content with being alone?

Mum persists in her general peppiness from earlier, but her smile seems a little tighter. Eventually she starts biting at the skin around her finger – a bad habit she picked up from her mum that I then I picked up from her. She's nervous, I'm nervous, and (underneath his his mask of strength) Dad is probably nervous too. For the first time in the journey, Dad fully removes one hand off the wheel for a reasons other than changing gears. His large hands encases mum's tiny one, his thumb stroking the top of her hand.

"So, this is it." He states aimlessly as Mum's stares vacantly ahead.

I look around at the swell of people and colour and architecture. Buildings are made entirely of glass, shimmering in the sunlight like stolen jewels. Apartments seem to be stacked one on top of the other, pushing the limits of how far into the sky's territory man should reach. Every shop has the store name printed in fancy script, yet each storefront has some strange accessory to make it stand out from its neighbour. Forget flower pots and pretty posters. There's doormen, ramps, rotating doors, flat escalators that carry customers two feet at most. Its pointlessly progressive. A clear attempt to accommodate to the demands of the fast pace city. I'll get used to it eventually. But the fact makes this all the more daunting. This really is a big change. This is nothing like home.

"Yeah, this is it." I repeat.

It takes us another half an hour of silent avoidance before we reach a gated neighbourhood on the outskirts of the city. The car pulls up to a tall silver gate slowly, before Dad gets out and goes to an intercom on the adjacent yellow brick wall. Like magic, the gates majestically swing open.

Talk about leaving an impression.

Within seconds he's back in the car and we're slowly rolling down an endless dirt drive. On either side of the dusty road is a thick canopy of trees that stretch for miles backwards. The trees closest to us look like alder trees, with dark bark forming the thin trunks which tower above our van. The trees are full and green, perfect for hiding the dark secrets of this small secluded world within the city.

Subconsciously, I edge away from the windows, feeling unfamiliar eyes trail our car like we're new prey. My hand lands on the headrest of my dad's chair, seeping in his strength to help calm my nerves. This is no longer like the busy town, where I could've mistaken the city for uncharted territory. This land oozes with power, screaming it's ownership with abandon. These trees, the dirt on the ground, the view of the moon – all belong to this pack. It's clear from the smell in the air and the way my wolf stirs within like an animal wanting to flee from a guns warning shot. My fingers curl, nails digging into the material headrest relentlessly.

It couldn't be more obvious that we're intruders if they got a MiddleEast flag and waved it in our face. My wolf is feeling the strain of having only a small section of the pack to protect us. Her nerves make me want to tell my dad to step on the peddle and get us to the alpha and luna before it's too late. Before the pack defenders, who are no doubt trailing us in wolf form, attack. The baby hairs sculpting my face become sticky from nervous sweat and chills break out across my skin. I feel like my every move is being analysed and catalogued by unknown beings searching for threats.

In the distance there's a howl, long and sharp – a warning.

Welcome to the land of wolves.

**

A/N

Getting the feeling Ebony may want to turn back home >.<

Likes? Dislikes? Suggestions?