My alarm clock woke me the next morning. I moaned, but sat up and rubbed my eyes. I realized that I had slept in my contacts. Not something I normally do. My alarm was ringing in my ears, so I shut it off. Its pathetic little moan as it silenced slowly sounded like a moan of death. With that happy thought in my head, I climbed out from beneath my gray blankets. Once my bare feet hit the floor, a shiver ran through my entire body.
I looked towards my bay window, and the shiver ran through me again, this time edged in little spikes of fear. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Just my simple white wood bay window with gray curtains framing it. I watched the brittle oak leaves through the left pane, imagining something dark crouching there. When I blinked, the figure I had imagined was gone.
I had a creeping suspicion that something wasn’t right. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was. It was like there was a huge black hole in my memories, and if I reached too far in, I’d get swallowed by something I didn’t know. Or didn’t want to remember. I shook my head, and looked at my alarm clock. It was seven-o’-five on Saturday morning.
Still trying to figure out what was wrong, I walked down the stairs. The shiver ran through me again as I hit a creaky one, but I ignored it. From the kitchen, I detected the smell of bacon and eggs. My favorite breakfast. For some reason, Whitney always made it on Saturdays. My mouth watered.
I walked into the kitchen, and sat at the bar. Watching Whitney flip the bacon, I had a fuzzy image of something in my head. No. Not an image. A video.
I was a little girl, barely five. I watched as blonde Whitney flipped bacon. I asked her why she always made bacon on Saturdays. She smiled at me, and right then I caught the glint of her moss green eyes. She said simply,”Your father loved bacon.” I laughed, and asked her how she knew my father. She smiled sadly at me, and said softly,”You, my little wolf, have your father’s courage. I knew him before he died. I also saw your mother give you up for adoption. That’s why I picked you.” She kissed the top of my head, then piled half the bacon on my plate. I dug in hungrily, already forgetting what she had said.
I raised my head from the counter. I must have fallen unconscious when the memory passed through me. I looked at Whitney, her pale hand holding a plate for the bacon. I opened my mouth to ask her something, but she said,”Your memory is strong, Lex. I should have fed you more.” Turning towards me, the plate of bacon in her left hand, she handed me a glass of water with her right. “Drink it all. It’ll help you wake up.”
But before I could put the water to my lips, Whitney put her hand over the rim. “Take away all memories of parents.” I opened my mouth to ask her what that meant, but she tilted the glass up, and I was engulfed in blackness once more.
I raised my head from the counter. My eyesight was blurry, and my brain felt like it had been microwaved then frozen. I searched for the reason behind this, but my memory was as dark as an abyss. I heard humming, and looked up at Whitney. For some reason, I imagined her with black hair, but I couldn’t come up with a reason why. Eventually, I gave up and started eating the bacon that was before me.
I was hungrier than I thought. I finished the entire plate of bacon, plus toast, eggs, and a bowl of cereal. Whitney just smiled at me and kept handing me bacon. She joked that if I didn’t stop, Kit and Austin would be angry to not have any bacon. I laughed, but continued to eat until Kit came down from upstairs.
I got up from my barstool as Kit rounded the corner. I was sitting in his stool, and I was too confused with the black holes in my mind to fight with him. Whitney watched me cross the counter to the living room.
I dropped onto the couch like my body was suddenly made of rock. My head was mainly filled with blackness, but the edges of it were gray. Imagine a squid squirting ink at you then the ink clearing little by little. Only this little was agonizingly slow. A headache was building behind my eyes, and it sounded like a howl from a wolf.
Then, after a few moments, I realized it was. It was a call for help, coming from the woods. I shot to my feet, and hurtled out the back door before Whitney or Kit could question me. I followed the howl in my mind, tracing its path towards its source. I almost got whacked by a few branches in my way, I was concentrating so hard.
When I came to a clearing, the howl was as loud as a waterfall between my ears. Then, it cut off abruptly, as if something had startled it. I glanced around the clearing-a huge one with a lake in the middle-and saw the source of the howl.
A huge black wolf, almost to my waist at the shoulder, stood at the end of a dock that hung over the lake. In the lake, I saw two other wolves, but their colors were distorted due to the rippling waves. But, somehow, I knew that these wolves were Quincey and Jon, and Ben had called me to help rescue them.
I quickly summoned my rage, and I was in my wolf form before I could blink. I bounded towards the dock, and met Ben at the end of it. Then, I got dizzy. A sense of deja’ vu washed over me, but I fought it, trying to keep my mind on the task before me.
Ben’s ears were laid against his skull, and his paws couldn’t stop twitching. His blue eyes were round, and as fearful as a rabbit caught by a fox. He was making whining noises, which I understood as pleas for help. I nodded, and looked out into the water, at the long, dark shapes that were my friends. My pack.
Without thought or hesitation, I jumped from the dock. A good ten to fifteen feet. I landed with a splash in the water, and cold droplets licked my muzzle. I snorted, and the droplets flew off. My long legs pumped in a rhythmic motion, and I was tempted to pant, to breathe through my mouth, but some instinct inside me told not to.
In a couple of minutes, I reached the two dark shapes in the middle of the blue lake. Now that I was up close, I could see that one was gray with gray eyes, and the other was brown with brown eyes. With a bark to get their attention, I paddled behind them, and angled my body to try to herd them toward shore. As I gazed into the brown’s large eyes, I saw fear and panic take hold of him. The brown started thrashing in the water, almost taking the gray down with it under the waves.
With a growl of frustration, I leaned in towards the brown, and sharply nipped his ear. The brown howled, and turned towards me. With some power, or force of will, or something, I somehow spoke into the brown’s mind.
Listen! Swim towards shore. Ben will be there to get you out. I’m a friend. Now, swim!
The brown, eager to listen to my booming voice, turned towards the south shore, where Ben was already waiting. I turned towards the gray, but he was already swimming frantically towards en route to the light peach sand. I, too, turned to go to the shore where my friends were, but something caught my eye. At the edge of the clearing, a woman stood inside the shade of the oaks, watching us. Even from this distance, I could see her red and black hair flowing down her back like a river. The woman nodded, then disappeared into the woods.
Shaking her image out of my mind, along with the feeling that I knew her, I swam towards shore. Two rumpled heaps of fur, one brown and one gray, lay upon the wet sand, panting heavily. Ben was laying beside the brown, licking behind his ears to warm the shivering wolf. I layed down next to the gray, pressing my side against his thick pelt.
As I began to lick the gray’s mane of big beads of water, the gray turned to look at me. His gray eyes were like pools, with the darker shades of gray near the edge and the light tones near the round pupil. His eyes were rimmed by a light gray, with the color darkening as it went down his muzzle and chest. The gray flicked his long tail onto my back; a gesture in the language of wolves meaning “thank-you”. I nodded, then began licking his mane again.
It was a while before the gray was warm and mostly dry. I looked over at Ben, and he looked at me. I stood, and walked around so that I was between the two wolves, but a little in front of them. I don’t know why, but this position felt right to me.
My silver-tipped ears were high, and my silver-gray-white tail was curled around my hind paws. Ben’s eyes flashed with anger, but then something like understanding flooded them. But the waves still left flecks of hard blue anger. I looked at the three wolves before me. I opened my mouth to speak, and out came a bark.
Anyone around us wouldn’t have known what we said, but the barks, whines, ear flicks, and tail twitches were clear as glass to us. Quincey, the brown wolf, filled me in o the story before I had got there.
Apparently, Ben was out for a run, and Quincey and Jon, only a few miles away from the woods, decided to follow him. In the middle of following him, Quincey said that a rush of heat like fire ran through his body, along with urges. Urges to hunt, to eat, to sing at the moon with the pack. Quince told me that after the urges came the change of form.
Jonathan, the gray, took over the story from there. He described the change as quick, but long at the same time. “I could feel every muscle stretching and contracting, and my bones grew shorter with each passing moment,”the blond boy said. Soon, the change had finished with them, and their senses went into power-up mode. Jon said that sudden headaches aled them, causing the two new wolves to drop to the ground in pain.
After the headaches had subsided, the gray and brown wolves ran after Ben, testing their new acute senses along the way. At this point, I was annoyed with Ben. A trained wolf that had had his powers for years must have sensed the sudden change in the smell and the atmosphere that wolves are so keen to. When I accused him of this, Ben looked startled, then said hotly,”The wind wasn’t in my favor. And I’m not as familiar with these woods as you. And, I don’t have your gifts.” We dropped the subject, but an unsettling feeling resided in my stomach afterwards. Jon and Quince continued.
Allegedly, while tracking the black wolf through the foliage, they had caught the scent of water. They were thirsty after their change, so they decided to go take a drink. Following the smell, they ended up in this clearing. Quincey said that it looked weird; the water was too clear, and didn’t reflect the surrounding trees.
I looked over at the water when he said this. The perfectly smooth pane of water did in fact not reflect the towering oaks and maples around the clearing. I looked back at Jonathan, and only then did I realize that he had dark rings of gray around his eyes, like glasses. I looked over at Quincey, and saw that he had them too, only in a very dark brown. Quincey’s eyes were also bigger than the rest of ours, and they were constantly moving. Jon’s extra long ears were erect, but I knew that were listening for any sound possible. His ears were also rimmed with black and white in a sort of criss-cross pattern.
I listened to the rest of the story. Jon had really wanted a drink, but at Quincey’s insistence had not drunk from the clear lake. Instead, to cool off in the thick fur coats that grew in at the beginning of winter, they had decided to swim instead. They had kept their mouths shut, having a sense that the water was deadly. But, not being used to their new forms yet, they had started to flounder around. Then, Ben came and called me.
I nodded as the story came to a close. It made sense to me. I glanced at Ben, at the hard sapphire embers that still flecked his eyes, and for no reason my anger sparked to life.
“Why are you angry with where I sit?” I growl at him. Ben’s hairs along his spine stood straight, hostile. “That is the alpha’s position! Only a male can sit there. It’s the rules!” he growled. I snarled,”It’s not the rules of this pack. Do you think you can be a better alpha than me? I know these two like they’re my brothers. What do you have to say?” Ben growled, and took one step towards me. A warning not to mess with him.
Suddenly, Jon was between us, filling my vision with gray fur. Jon’s tail was across my snout, silencing me unless I wanted to taste his fur. Jon was gesturing to Ben, saying in language of wolves that he had to go through him and Quincey before he ever laid a claw on me. Quincey growled at this, but it was a warning to Ben, not Jon.
Ben huffed at this, and I heard the crunching of dry and cracked leaves as Ben lay down in submission. Jon turned to look at me, and his gray eyes held triumph in large sparks of silver. I growled a playful warning at him, and bumped him from behind to get his bushy tail away. Jon’s ears flicked happily, but he still moved.
I took a step towards Ben’s large shadow. Ben huffed at me, another warning, but I didn’t listen. A strange urge was building inside of me, an urge unlike any other. I took another step forward, and slowly crouched down in front of the huge black shadow of a wolf that was my friend. My packmate. Without knowing exactly what I was doing, I leaned my head forward to touch the tip of Ben’s snout. His electric blue eyes stared straight into mine, and I felt the urge inside of me surge, then everything I saw was consumed by the electric blue of Ben’s eyes.