by Alana Hart
Those unexpected words and the totally impish tone of her voice made a laugh burst from me, to my own surprise. Oh, yes. I liked this woman.
“Grams!” Bryson protested, and he was actually blushing. That made me giggle all over again. Miss Madge took my hand, patting it, and led me over to one of the simple log benches set up around the fire, with Bryson trailing behind us helplessly. She sat me down in the middle of the log like I was an oversized doll — though I didn’t really mind that — and took the seat to my left. I was still more than a little nervous, but she had managed to take the edginess off. With a resigned sigh and a shake of his head, Bryson took the seat to my right.
Even though the gathering was roughly circular, somehow this had a feeling of being at the ‘head’ of the group, as though everyone had oriented themselves to face in this direction. Made sense, I supposed, with both the alpha and the oldest member of the pack(and grandmother of said alpha), sitting in one spot.
And there I was, the pitiful little clueless human, sandwiched between them. Well, half-human according to Bryson, but still. I felt like a fish with no water as far as the eye could see.
I tried to settle in and relax; it seemed that I had interrupted a round of storytelling, or maybe just bragging. I was glad, at least, that I neither had to speak, nor have a deluge of information dumped on my head again for the moment. This was clearly a social gathering, not a— well, whatever that had been last night. I had no appropriate words to describe it.
After several minutes of just watching and listening to the various stories, Bryson wrapped an arm lightly around me, tucking me a bit closer into his side. My breath froze in my chest, even as my heart leapt and raced like a horse loosed from the gate. I peeked up at him, and he looked down to meet my gaze with a warm, tender smile. The racing beat became a fluttering prance, and I could feel my breath coming more deeply. I hoped no one else would notice.
I wanted so desperately to push him for information, to ask some of the countless questions on my mental list, but the pressing ones forefront in my mind at the moment didn’t seem appropriate in the midst of a large social gathering. I considered trying to drag him off to drill him for answers, but I wasn’t sure how that would be taken, and I didn’t want to endanger the good will they all seemed to hold for me right then So, I merely smiled at him gently in return, and lay my head lightly on his shoulder. I said a silent little prayer to whatever deities that might be listening, to please, please let me not be making a giant mistake.
I tried to focus more on the tales and anecdotes being shared. Eventually I pieced together that, yes, there was another small pack from somewhere nearby who had come to join them for the night. As I began to pay attention to the world beyond myself, I heard a variety of yips and other soft canine-type noises coming from the woods nearby. I guessed some of the pack must have already taken off, opting to forgo this party-ish scene.
❖ ❖ ❖
I was startled from a sort of half-dozing trance nestled in against his side some time later by the sound of approaching vehicles and the glow of headlights filtering through the trees here and there. I had assumed, late as I had been, that I was by far the last to arrive. Given that no one else seemed surprised or worried, though, apparently this was an expected thing.
Miss Madge leaned over, speaking softly to me. “Jim and Cerise both had to work a little late this evening, so we’ve been waiting for them to get here.”
I beamed at her. “Oh, I see. Thanks.” I elbowed Bryson in the side and shot him a playfully accusatory glare. Why didn’t you think to tell me that, mister? my expression asked.
“Owwwww,” he complained, just as playfully, rubbing his side where I’d nudged him. Madge snickered and patted my arm, apparently approving of my attitude.
“Don’t be too hard on him, dear,” she stage-whispered to me. “He’s still young and stupid when it comes to the social graces.”
Bryson looked at her with a long-suffering, pleading expression, lips curled down in a near pout and brows drawn together. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Gram, you’ll scare her off.”
She gave that sweet-but-cackly kind of laugh that only elderly ladies can pull off. “If she gets scared off, it’d be from you doing it, not me saying it.”
Bryson rolled his eyes but let it go. Probably wise on his part, for once.
During this little exchange, two cars pulled in at the edge of the meadow, and five people altogether emerged, a couple who looked to be in their fifties or so — he had a distinctly doctor-or-lawyer look, ‘Jim’ I imagined — and a group of two girls and a guy in their early to mid-twenties.
As they came over to the fireside gathering, an anticipatory tension began to crackle in the air. Every eye, it seemed, trained on me; I realized after a heartbeat or two that it wasn’t me they were looking at, it was Bryson. Duh.
Except, he then turned his attention to me, and the rest followed suit. If I could have crawled underneath the log I was sitting on and hid, I probably would have.
“We don’t have any other non-shifters here tonight; with it being an all-night kind of thing, the kids and teens that haven’t changed yet are all at home, and our pack doesn’t have any other human members.”
I nodded softly; this wasn’t really a surprise, I had assumed as much.
“Will you be okay here by yourself while we’re in the woods?”
I pursed my lips, raising a brow slightly. If I was just going to spend the evening by the fire alone, why had he pressed so hard for me to come tonight?
“I don’t see why not. Presumably the only dangerous critters likely to be around will be you lot.”
He chuckled softly. “Likely, yes. And we’ll swing by and check on you from time to time, too. Don’t worry if you don’t see us, though; we can see a lot better — a lot further — than you can, especially in the dark.”
I nodded again, feeling more than a little uncomfortable but trying not to show it. Something about this felt very odd, but I wasn’t sure what or why.
“If the fire starts to die down, feel free to feed it.” He motioned over at the pile of logs.
Miss Madge spoke up, then, when he didn’t continue. “And if you get tired, dear — I know most folk aren’t used to being up all night — there are some blankets and things in the back seat of my car, it’s the first one there,” she finished, pointing with her walking stick to the far end of the line of cars, at an old but very sturdy looking beige mid-size car.
I smiled my thanks to her and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, though I can’t imagine getting tired. I’m way too keyed up.”
She and Bryson both laughed softly, as did several of the others around us. “Somehow, I’m not surprised,” drawled Bryson with an electric sort of grin.
❖ ❖ ❖
Bryson slapped his hands flat on the tops of his thighs, then, and stood. He took a step up and back, up onto the log on which I was sitting. He whistled loudly, and all conversation around us ceased, all attention on him. The intensity of focus was almost a palpable thing.
“Is there anything we need to address before we get going?” he asked loudly. There were a few conferring murmurs in the group, but no one spoke up. He nodded. “Alright then. Let’s get going!”
Fairly rapidly, everyone rose from where they were seated, and I began to follow suit. Madge put a hand on my shoulder, pushing down gently with a smile. “No need for you to get up, dear, you just relax.”
I felt vaguely miffed for a moment, until I realized what she meant. Everyone was stripping. Oh, right. Changing into wolves with clothes on would probably be awkward at best.
I felt my cheeks get hot; I was sure I was blushing brilliantly. This part would take serious getting used to. For now, I just ducked my head, letting my long hair fall forward to screen my face, and turned it to the side, so that all I could really see were Bryson’s feet.
I could hear teasing and laughter and general sounds of excited high spirits. The group w
as also pressing in closer to the log-bench that Bryson and I were on. I became aware of another sound, then, in addition to the voices and the sounds of clothing being removed. Or maybe it was felt, rather than heard? Regardless, it was like a soft crackling hum, like a barely-heard tone on a radio station with poor reception. It made my head feel itchy.
When I saw paws pacing through my limited field of vision, I realized it must be the pack shifting to wolf form. Huh. I hadn’t noticed that when Bryson had changed, before. Was I becoming more sensitive to them, or was I just so busy being freaked out I hadn’t noticed, before?
“You can look, now,” Bryson murmured to me with a laugh in his voice. I looked up to him with a playful smirk, then took his suggestion and glanced around.
Holy crap.
A few dozen wolves may not sound like much, but when they’re all pressed in close to you, it looks like a LOT. Particularly packed in unnaturally close together, and eerily still. I thought they looked a good bit bigger than normal wolves, too, though maybe that was simply due to their proximity.
I took a moment to admire them. Just as in their human forms, they were varied in every way in their wolf forms. They ranged from pale grey through the whole spectrum to deep black. I couldn’t help thinking that, also as in human form, none of them quite compared to how gorgeous Bryson was.
Bryson looked around the group, as if searching for something in particular, but whatever it was, he must have found it (or not found it?) because he then hopped down off the bench, shucked his pants — I averted my gaze, though I couldn’t help appreciating his butt; it was a very, very lovely butt, much like the rest of him — and began to transform. I closed my eyes at that, not wanting to watch the disconcerting process.
I felt a soft, supportive sort of nudge and pressure against my arm, I assumed from the Madge-wolf. I opened my eyes to look down at her. She was pale, like her grandson, but a cool steely color instead of warm cream, and her face was nearly white from the canine version of grey hair. I hesitated, not wanting to offend, but couldn’t resist; I reached down to pet her head gently. I was no expert at wolf expressions, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Once the strange itchy-humming sensation faded again, I looked back where Bryson had been. There was that gorgeous honey-and-cream wolf again. I was quite certain he was larger than regular wild wolves; he stood a full head taller than the next largest in the pack.
❖ ❖ ❖
The big cream colored wolf — Bryson, I reminded myself, it’s Bryson — padded over to me, and promptly licked my cheek. I laughed and spluttered; it felt like his tongue was almost as wide as my face! From the way his ears pricked forward and his eyes lit up, he seemed to get a kick out of my reaction. He continued to lick several more times, until my sides hurt from laughing so much. It was a bizarre feeling, sitting in the middle of a small sea of wolves, being essentially tickled by one of them. The only one of them really moving, at that.
After a few moments, he looked at me with what I could only describe as a wolfy grin, and lay his big head in my lap, his ears drooping to the side a bit, looking very relaxed.
The way he did that seemed significant somehow; almost ritualistic. Of course, knowing almost nothing about this wolfy culture, I had no idea what that significance might be.
Not knowing what else to do, I stroked his head gently, just as I would have to soothe a dog, running my fingers over the tiny soft hairs on the top of his muzzle, between his eyes, then back over the dome of his skull, repeating the gesture several times. He seemed to enjoy it, his eyes closing halfway, and he gave a sort of low rumbling sound, vaguely reminiscent of a cat’s purr, except much deeper and quieter.
He seemed to be expecting something, but I had no idea what. “Uhm… have fun? Hurry back?” I chuckled faintly, feeling rather silly. I doubt that was what he was waiting for, but he seemed to accept it anyway. He lifted his head from my lap, then tilted it back, and let out one loud yip towards the sky. It startled me so much I nearly fell off the log.
There was a tension in the air, a sort of quivering, like a coil ready to spring. The off-white Bryson-wolf looked over the gathered pack, gave me one last look, then leapt in the direction of the forest. Big as he was, he covered the distance within seconds. With a barrage of yips and little excited whines, the rest of the wolves took off after him, fanning out to go in various directions into the woods. It was a majestic sight, all those wolves moving with such unison of purpose, more like flocking birds than most dog packs I’d seen.
Of course, these were no ordinary wolves, let alone dogs. I wondered idly how much human-level thought and memory they had while in their wolf forms. I’d have to remember to ask Bryson at some point. Obviously, they retained at least some, given his behavior, and their almost eerie coordination.
I noticed that there were a few stragglers, who took much longer than the others to make it into the woods. One was the steely grey wolf that had nudged me earlier, that I had to assume was Madge. Rather than the exultant run that the others had taken, she was trotting along at a much more relaxed pace. Another wolf stayed by her side, a big brindled brown male, though he seemed to be practically vibrating at restricting himself to her pace. I thought maybe it was Elijah, though of course I had nothing of substance to base that guess on. There was another pair further down the meadow that also kept to a sedate pace.
Soon enough, though, I was left alone in the meadow. Suddenly the night seemed very deep, and I got up to add another log to the fire, pushing back the darkness a bit more.
❖ ❖ ❖
Soon enough, I was glad for the light sweater I’d brought. The log bench I occupied was far enough back from the fire that it wasn’t quite managing to keep me warm, particularly my back. I considered moving up to sit on the ground closer to the fire, but the occasional burst of sparks dissuaded me. It was a remarkably pleasant evening, though, the full moon gilding everything in silver, the dancing flames entrancing.
The night was eerily quiet, for the most part. The scent and sounds of so many predators in the area must have silenced much of the normal nightlife. There were still crickets, and the occasional frog call, but the usual birds and small mammal calls and other such sounds were absent. They were replaced, however, by the occasional yip or even howl from the wolves. In other circumstances, it probably would have been terrifying; as it was, it was rather exhilarating.
Awe inspiring as it had been to see the assembled wolf pack, I still wasn’t sure why Bryson had wanted me here tonight so badly. The small amount of time we’d spent together while waiting for the last folks to show up, pleasant as it had been, had hardly been worth the drive out here. Of course, they would be coming back eventually, too, but I had figured they would all be exhausted and ready to go home and go to bed at that point. So why was I here? What was the point? Just to start getting me familiar with the pack, and they with me? Perhaps just to make me feel welcome, and wanted?
Certainly tonight I had felt welcome, and Bryson and his grandmother, at least, definitely made me feel as though I were wanted here. I had to admit it was a pleasant feeling. My mother had always been a very caring and loving parent, but besides her and Angie, I hadn’t felt much of a sense of belonging in far too many years. My mother kept trying to convince me to try and join a sports team at the college or something like that, since I tended to be so athletic, but I didn’t want the additional time obligation that would entail. Keeping up with my schoolwork was hard enough as it was.
So did I really want to obligate myself to this pack? Surely there was more to it than a romp in the woods one night a month; could I afford the distraction?
Ugh, why didn’t I push Bryson for information while he was here? I had myriad questions, many of which would have a bearing on the decisions I faced. I wanted, even needed answers, and I kept neglecting to get them.
At least Madge seemed intent on getting me properly informed. I got the distinct impression that she was hoping very much that I would acce
pt Bryson’s offer, such as it was. Though, I still wasn’t even sure what exactly it was he was offering. Dating? Marriage? Just to get me pregnant, end of story?
Every time I heard one of the howls in the woods, I felt a little answering tug in my chest. Bryson had said that just being around the pack had begun to change me, would change me more, and I could recognize that now. When he first told me what was going on — was it really only yesterday? — I had fluctuated between horrified and terrified. That fear and distaste had faded rapidly, though. Tonight, while I was still uncertain and a little uncomfortable, I was also, for the most part, glad that I was here, even if I didn’t quite understand the reason for it.
At some point as I sat there by the fire, listening to the sounds of the pack, I realized I very much wanted to be out there with them; to know what they were doing, to run beside them, to join in the sense of both ultimate freedom and true belonging.
To share this wonder and magic with Bryson, and run at his side.
