Free Me From the Wolves

[4] Mountain Ash

The funeral for Marc was lovely. Even though days before, Ryder had broken down and claimed people weren't worth their word, a plethora of them came to remember Marc. Each of the pack members came promptly and respectfully, so did some of the older members (some of which were fathers of current members like Dakota, Kelvan, and Troy's) and their companions. Marc's co-workers (and apparent employees) took a day off and stayed for at least the memorial. Some teachers who were friends of Marc's attended as well. To my surprise, I saw Stormy--clothed in her usual black fashion--with a family of other eccentrically dressed relatives who I knew were her witch coven. They had chanted statements under their breaths in a foreign language the entire assembly. It was hard not to hear if you were a werewolf...well beneath the crying. Most of the crying came from Merida and sniffles from Sherriff Carol Bloomingdale. But in the presence of her husband and daughter, Carol suppressed her cries to a decibel only audible to supernatural hearing. Stella didn't cry at all. Maybe she knew Marc's recent cruelty or maybe because even though her mother had her husband to cry up on, Stella knew that her mother's tears were over Marc as a best friend and past lover...Marc to Carol was Ryder to Stella. But still, Merida consoled Carol afterwards. I admired her for that quality, but I couldn't help but let it resemble me and Stella.

But now, I was standing near the plaque belonging to Marc Ramon, just outside of his family's crypt. I was playing with the end of a rose while wanting to look over my shoulder at the two Ramon brothers standing stiffly and accepting the sympathy and blessings from the attendees with their mother. I waited until nearly everyone left before tossing my flower on the pile of others, saying a thanks to Marc for saving my life, and standing up to look back to the Ramon family and the pack brothers who had all formed a circle and silently mourned with a bow of their heads. As they left, they shook it off, sent me a forced smile of apology, or left with an unreadable expression on their faces.

"Good luck," a male witch related to Stormy had told the Ramons and I noticed Stormy walking over to me in her black boots and knitted tights beneath uneven skirts of darkness.

"If he needs me, you know how to reach me," was all she told me. I wondered what she meant, but at the same time, I had a feeling that I knew exactly what she meant.

"Stormy," I addressed as she had begun to walk off. She watched as her last relative departed from the Ramons' presence before looking to me. "How's Aaron?"

"He's...okay, actually," she answered with a hint of a smile. It quickly dropped and there was a shimmer in her grey eyes before she glanced at the Ramons. "Look, I know he doesn't want to hear this, but I am sorry about Marc's passing. So is Aaron."

"I'll be sure to tell him," I gulped.

"Be sure not to," she countered with a wink and then left as well. I watched her and her family flee the funeral and walk through the cemetery to the parking lot. I looked around at the hundreds of grey stones, wondering how many of them honored a werewolf's passing or victimhood. And when the wind blew and not only moved my hair, but also my thoughts on the matter. The only noticeable warmth other than the Texas sun had approached me from behind. I turned and saw Ryder. His eyes were no longer a chocolaty tone. They were almost as dark as the black dress shirt he wore with the sleeves rolled up that matched his black pants that were almost too long somehow.

"Ready to go?" he asked. He reached out his hand and I immediately grabbed it. We walked back towards a crying Merida who clutched a beautiful black and gold urn in one arm and Zander in the other, who could be Ryder's twin if you studied how much they looked and moved the same.

***

Though the Ramons opted out of having a gathering at their house, I was still invited over for dinner. Merida had recovered from her harsh crying in a way that made her not only stop, but for her to become sick with a sore throat and a throbbing headache. As soon as I caught on to it, I told her I would do the dishes and she could go to bed. So she bid us all good night and did so, but Ryder went with her to maybe talk or make sure she was okay. I didn't really know because he had shut the door and I had learned that the some rooms in this house were soundproof for a reason.