All the typical markers that Elle was working were there, and she was. In the month that passed since Marik initially showed up on her doorstep Elle had learned so much about werewolves, creatures that she had been writing about for years and making a good living off of for the majority of her literary career, how could Elle not try to pull all of this new knowledge to work?
Of course, there were certain aspects of what she knew that she changed for the public and the safety of the packs themselves, Elle didn’t want to unwittingly bring harm to them just because someone read her books and put two and two together much like Gaerik had done. When Elle thought about it if her grandma had never told her stories of wolves if she had taken a different route in career choice. What if she wrote about witches or vampires or just regular humans in general and never dipped her toe into the supernatural, paranormal realm, Elle had to wonder if she would be in the same place today? It was indeed a curious thought to ponder.
“Where do werewolves come from?” Elle asked.
The house, or so she thought was empty when she came downstairs, Elle had been hauled up in her bedroom so much lately that when her feet found the first-floor landing, it was almost like stepping into another country. Winter was creeping closer in Arkansas, the sun came in through the windows differently, casting soft golden shadows of its light on the floorboards and there was a different quality to the air. It felt lighter and more comfortable to breathe.
Elle found Marik in the kitchen, reading the newspaper and that was when the questioned popped into her mind.
Marik lifted his head from the paper, looking puzzled for a moment before he placed his palm on his thigh and turned his chin up slowly.
“Well, kitten.” He used that nickname that he’d used once on her in another kitchen thousands of miles away and his mouth quirked up somewhat. “When one wolf and another wolf really love each other --,”
Marik’s sarcasm was stopped in its tracks as she reached out and playfully swatted the back of his head on her way to the coffee pot.
“You know what I mean. We all have a beginning somewhere, what’s yours. Evolution, intelligent design, curse?”
Elle knew most of the legends, but she’d never included them in her own work, obviously, before her real-life encounter with wolves, Elle had always believed that there was a grain of truth to them whether it be a cautionary tale or merely scare the be-jeezus out of naughty little children.
“Who was the first werewolf?” Elle asked him seriously as she sat her mug down, forgoing adding creamer because she was so interested to know what he would tell her.
Marik saw where she was going with this, late at night he could hear her in her bedroom, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop, sometimes pacing her bedroom while she talked to herself. She’d started a new book, or she was chronicling their lives in minute detail. Bringing his coffee cup to his lips, he looked down at the newspaper before folding it up.
“Let’s go for a walk.” He said standing, stretching his torso slightly. “You’ve been in your room for days, and you could use some fresh air, help cleanse the scent of cigarette smoke from your hair.” Marik teased her somewhat as he grabbed his jacket from the back of the kitchen chair and slid his arms into it.
“Are you going to avoid my question?” Elle asked.
“No, I’m not. You should know by now that anything you ask me I will do my best to tell you anything and everything that I know.” Marik said, his eyes slowly softening more as he regarded her expression.
“Ok.”
Elle returned shortly with her jacket, stuffing her hands into the pockets as they made their way through the back door and out into the dead grass. Pressing her hands into the fabric of her jacket she tilted her head back, taking in a deep breath. Elle had hardly set foot outside since the night of the pack meeting, and it felt good to feel a breeze on her skin no matter how chilling it was. Winters in Arkansas were much different than those in Connecticut, and she felt there was a more significant opportunity to enjoy them rather than being forced indoors because there was a foot of snow outside. Elle loved winter time, as a child it was due to all the festivities that surrounded the changing of the season but now as an adult, there was a difference in the air that made her feel stronger, more herself. It was probably also why she wrote so much more during those winter months. Elle tapped into something that she would never be able to adequately explain. Opening her eyes, she found Marik watching her quietly, it wasn’t at all the way that she sometimes found Gaerik staring at her from across the room. It was at times unsettling the way he watched her like she was prey to him that would eventually be caught in his devil’s snare.
Breaking away from his gaze she smiled sheepishly for a moment before glancing around them for a moment, inspecting the area around them.
“Do we have a destination or are we just wandering about?”
“Just wandering.” He said before he set off, straightforward, headed into the high trees where they’d found Champ, the little white and brown spotted dog. “I can’t really tell you anything about how the first werewolf became one, I can only tell you the legend itself of how the gift was passed on.” Marik began, the dead leaves crunching beneath their feet. He didn’t speak for some time, letting the atmosphere around them tingle his senses. Elle found herself watching him doing much the same thing that she’d been doing, his eyes closed, nose to the wind. She wondered what he could smell, what he heard. For someone like him, being so tuned into nature must have been an incredible feeling. The only exception was that when Marik opened his eyes those brilliant glacier blues were tinged with red and she honestly did feel like Little Red Riding Hood walking alone in the woods with the Big Bad Wolf.
“Do you know any native American legends about werewolves, skinwalkers, shape-shifters?” Marik asked, his body language totally changed, he moved with so much grace.
“I’ve read a lot of them yes, I never used them in my books though. I’ve never actually gone into great depth as to where werewolves came from. There are no origins stories in my books, it’s usually strictly action and smut. Sex sales.” She laughed somewhat, a little embarrassed admitting that out loud to anyone else besides her publisher and for the first time she realized that, while there was a place for sex, she wanted to write something different, a piece of fiction that wasn’t solely focused on bringing two naked bodies together.
Marik laughed with her, leaning over and wrapping an arm around her, tugging her close, he could sense her embarrassment. “It isn’t simply that sex sells, Elle. You’ve still given your readers a fantasy.”
Breathing in deeply he kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “When I was a boy, my grandfather told us all the legends, but the oldest one dating back and the one that makes the most sense is the tale of Wisakachek. He was a spirit god.” Marik elaborated some for her to understand who the man was. “Wisakachek was, in my opinion, a guardian, like Gregory only he was a man who possessed the spirit of the wolf, of course in the legend he was a shape-shifter who lived in the woods. He was a friend to humans, and he could turn into a wolf whenever he wanted, and he used the form of the wolf to watch over us, just like Gregory watches over you. The night that we found you, there were many guardians there, not just wolves but the spirits of many different animals which is why I believe this legend to be the truth.” Marik told her, nodding even to himself.
“So, what happened?” Elle’s head tilted towards Marik, he knew how to start a story she would give him that, because he had her hooked.
“One day, Wisakachek was walking in the woods as it often did because it was an animal spirit, we’re of nature of course, as humans our very bones were formed from clay earth by the creator. Wisakachek saw two native boys who had killed a deer for their village, and he approached them and told them that he was starving and hadn’t eaten in days, so the boys told him that he could share in their bounty. Wisakachek was pleased by them and their giving nature, and he thank
ed them--.”
“And bit them and gave them the gift to become wolves?” Elle said looking up at him wide-eyed.
This earned her a small snort of laughter before he shook his head, stopping once they found a small alcove.
“You’re getting ahead of the story,” Marik smirked before he lowered himself to the ground, sitting in a soft bed of leaves. “No, he didn’t bite them and turn them into werewolves. Wisakachek went on his way, and the two boys took the deer back to their village to feed their people. Days passed, and the spirit god saw the two native boys again, and he approached them, but this time it was different. Since they met the boys were unable to kill a deer for their people, and their villagers were hungry so, Wisakachek told them that he could turn them into wolves and it would help them hunt more efficiently for their people and greatly benefit their village. Now, at first, they didn’t believe the god, so he changed into a wolf in front of them and back again.” Marik paused, a small twinkle in his eyes as he watched Elle seated across from him. “Wisakachek only had one condition though, they couldn’t bring harm to any human life. Since their tribe was a peaceful one, there was no problem, and things were perfect for a long time. The tribe’s village no longer went hungry for lack of meat and the two boys were praised as great hunters until one day an argument broke out between one of the boys and another villager and the boy became so angry that he shifted and killed him. Wisakachek was furious and cursed the murderer that he could no longer shift into a wolf at will. That he would live by day as a man but by the light of the moon, he would become a ravenous wolf.”
“Did the other native boy get killed?” She asked, whispering as she looked directly at Marik.
“No, he ran away. Knowing that his brother would not be able to control himself after nightfall, he fled deep into the woods where he lived out the rest of his days, while his brother was exiled from his tribe and that is what has evolved into what you see sitting before you today. Some say that each boy went down a different path. Now, I don’t give very much credit to the boy who was cursed. Eventually, the native tribes would have come together to put this danger down. I have always felt like werewolves descended from the other native boy. Because he had done nothing wrong Wisakachek didn’t curse him, he fled into the woods where no one could be hurt but also where his angry brother wolf could never find him, because obviously, I can shift at will, every werewolf can.”
“What were their names, do you know?” Elle asked him entranced by his story.
“It’s been ages since my grandpa told this story to us, but I believe it was Keme and Matchitehew.” He replied, leaning his back against the bark of a tree as he looked up at the sparse leaves left on the tree above his head.
“I might do some googling,” Elle replied gently as she folded her arms in her lap, thinking quietly as she pictured the story taking place in her head. “It’s actually wonderful though, much like the story of the Garden of Eden. We’re always given that one rule that somehow, we all fall short and break and must suffer the consequences, we all follow different paths in life and must make choices that will either bring us to good ends or bad. Because of my grandmother, I was always obsessed with stories about werewolves, but they were so often depicted as being evil and cursed, and I never saw them like that. Not from the stories that my grandma told me, I always just assumed that they were made up fantasies though.” The corner of her lips curved up, smirking at her own inability to have read between the lines as a child and even as a young woman.
“What kind of stories did she tell you?” Marik’s eyes had slid closed listening to her talk, and now they were open and watching her curiously.
“Well, there were the standards, of course, Little Red Riding Hood but she twisted it. I remember hearing the real nursery rhythm once and just started crying like a baby when the huntsman killed the wolf. Red Riding Hood was this magical woman who was in love with a werewolf and everywhere she went, he was always close by to protect her even though he couldn’t stand by her side as a man he was always with her as the wolf, she had a whole series of those in her head. Some of them I have to wonder now if they weren’t about her and your grandpa somehow.” Her smile turned sad for a moment, sniffing quietly before she used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away any moisture that had threatened to escape her eyes and possibly from her nose as well.
“I think that they were,” Marik said quietly, glancing off at the trees slowly. “He loved her, she was his true mate.” Gallen had told him all about Lucian’s journals while Elle was sleeping and having read them for himself he knew that it was true. Marik knew that it was harder for his dad to know that there was another woman that Lucian loved more than their grandmother but for Marik, it wasn’t so difficult. True mates didn’t come around very often, at least not as far as he was concerned. It was why now at his age Marik had never married and never had any serious relationships, Marik would rather be alone than to love one woman, bound to her because he couldn’t stand to hurt her, to only then find that mate whose spirit spoke to his. Lucian had split his life, loving two women and spiritually bound to one who he couldn’t always be with and had to trust others to keep her safe. Marik couldn’t imagine the kind of hardships that had caused Lucian, that kind of heartache, yet Marik couldn’t remember ever seeing his grandfather turn a cold shoulder to his grandma. She’d passed when Marik and Gaerik were around ten years old, Lucian could have gone to Grace then, but he was still bound to his wife, only in his death would he be free to love Grace completely.
The thought that her grandmother was blessed enough to have someone so special in her life, even after she had married and had a child was a beautiful thing Elle thought.
“I’d like to believe that it isn’t a matter of having one soul mate.” She said after the silence had stretched out between them and she’d taken to contemplating the bare limbs of the treetops above them.
“What do you mean?” Marik asked, being summoned from his own thoughts by her affirmation.
“Well,” She began crossing one ankle over the other, finding his blue eyes with her own. “Both of our grandparents were married and had children before they met each other, right?” Elle asked.
“Yes,” Marik said wondering where she was going with this.
“What if sometimes we aren’t supposed to find our true loves right off the bat, it doesn’t mean that we loved those who came before any less if anything we should be grateful to them because, in a way, they helped us learn how to love.”
“I never thought of it that way, but I like that,” Marik told her after he’d been thinking on those words for a while before he let out a bark of laughter. “Leave it to the writer.” Marik chuckled before getting his feet under himself and pushing himself up the tree, his hand coming out to help Elle up from the ground. “Come on. It’s starting to get dark Little Red Riding Hood.”
Rolling her eyes slowly she brushed the dead leaves from her bottom and off the back of her jean’s legs. “Are you going to leave your sheep suit on?” Elle asked him with a smile.
“Of course, at least until I can be trusted walking with you alone.”
Elle cackled out a laugh softly as the old song began to play in her head and she leaned over, nudging him with her elbow.
“What was it like growing up and hearing those songs? Did you like them or just think that humans were incredibly stupid?”
“I actually made out with my first girlfriend to that song,” Marik said as they walked back towards the house.
“You’re kidding.” Elle laughed, she usually would have been a little worried that they had gotten turned around somewhere in these woods, but she trusted Marik’s instincts to get them back to the house safe and sound, it had been some years since she had gone wandering around in the woods. At least not since she was a teenager.
“I am not kidding. My girlfriend couldn’t figure out why I thought it was so funny.” Marik shrugged.
“So, haven’t you ever dated a girl who w
as a werewolf?” Blinking Elle could faintly see the lights from the house up ahead, and she slowed her walk not quite ready to go back inside. Somehow, she wished that they could stay in this protective bubble, but Elle knew that wasn’t possible.
“No, I’ve always dated humans exclusively for some reason. I guess I never dated a woman like myself because I grew up with all of them and it sort of felt like -,”
“Dating your sister?” Elle finished for him, looking up at him with a smile.
“Yeah.” Marik nodded with a laugh.
Pressing her hands into the pockets of her jacket she looked at the clearing that came up to the back porch of the house. If she listened carefully, she thought that she could hear voices coming from inside and Elle was positive that Marik could as well.
“Are you ready for this?” She asked turning her eyes back to the man that stood at her side.
“A war?” Marik shook his head. “I don’t think anyone is ever ready for what we are about to walk into.” Looking at her it made him pause and not for the first time since they had reached Arkansas. The thought that it was possible someone wouldn’t make it out of this alive broke past the protective barrier he kept up in his mind, he didn’t know if they would be able to right all the wrongs that had taken place or if they would win at all. The terrifying possibilities of the lives that could be lost churned inside of his head in the dark hours when he laid in his bed staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of others sleeping inside the house. Who would be lost?
“We’re going to make it.” Elle stopped his thoughts from cascading any further. “We can do this.” Elle reaffirmed as she nodded even though she knew he would be able to hear the pounding of her heart when she tried to speak positively. Elle was always good at putting off the inevitable, and she didn’t want to think of what fate had in store for them. Elle wanted desperately to believe that at the end of all of this they would still be standing. She made up stories for a living and personally yes, she liked a happy ending, and most of her novels had them, but in the real world that didn’t always happen. It was life.
Through the Woods Page 11
