Thirty-One: Carpe Diem

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.დ.❧.

The somber tone of Billy Holiday singing from the radio played lightly in the background tonight. 

I was huddled in a blanket in front of the tent; the chilly air made me snuggle deeper into the warmth of the covering. Had I been in my wolf form, the cold wouldn't have bothered me as much, but since I wasn't, I had to make due with the thick blanket I was given.

Sitting across from me was Vicky. She was in the middle of chastising Emory to stop horsing around and finish his dinner. 

The eight year old chuckled, paying no mind to his Caretaker, and was still bouncing around in a circle while nodding his head from side-to-side. He'd been doing this for the past ten minutes with the songs that were playing.

Vicky's narrowed-eyed stare unfazed him. Emory wasn't looking at her whatsoever. 

The she-wolf growled, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was grumbling under her breath about there being a reason she never wanted kids. 

Vicky frowned at Emory again, snapping for him to sit down. 

The boy giggled, still hyperactive dancing and was now singing "La, la, la, la-la!" over and over again to ignore Vicky.

I could see the frustration on the she-wolf; her eyebrows pinching together, her jaw slanting, and her left eye even twitched. 

It made me wonder how she managed to put up with Emory this long when clearly she wasn't very patient. Especially around children. But I suppose it had a lot to do mainly with the boy's other Caretaker; having to remind Vicky to take deep breaths.

Looking away from the struggle between Vicky and Emory, I settled my gaze on Iota.

Her long platinum hair looked almost silver in the moonlight. It was resting over one shoulder as the woman's eyes lifted to peer over at the squabbling pair. 

The corner of her lip curled upward then she lowered her gaze back to what she was doing. I looked down to the rolled out leather pouch with thin straps holding each of the knives tucked into each slot.

Iota was using a small gray cloth to rub slowly at the blade of the knife she held in her hand. With every knife, she'd take at least five minutes rubbing at it before placing it back into its slot and moving on to the next one. 

You could tell she was very attached to her knives with the way she took care of them.  

"What's on your mind, Gigi Dear?"


I found out that Iota was actually six years older than Vicky who was only a year older than I was. Vicky says the reason her sister talks like an 'old lady' was because Iota had to grow up a lot faster than she should have. 

Vicky teased while Iota stared with a soft frown that Iota grew up too fast and that's why the Iota talked so old.


Iota still cleaning away at her knives when I looked up at her. 

She had picked up my daydreaming without looking. She really creeps me out when she does that. 

Her gray eyes lifted a second to catch mine before looking down again. She placed the knife back in its slot, removing a larger knife out of the next slot.

When I seemed to be taking longer than expected to answer, Iota's grin appeared. She assured me, "It's alright to speak your mind. There's no judgment here."

Chewing my bottom lip, I was searching through my mind wondering what I'd like to ask her first. There was so much I needed to know, but wasn't sure how much of my questions Iota would be able to answer.

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