by K. R. Smith
“Derik, we’ve spent many an afternoon by the river.”
“Yeah, I know. But I mean the afternoon we kissed for the first time, our first French kiss for the both of us.” He said awkwardly, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. Oh oh… my stomach lurched as I felt tension tighten my shoulders. He went on, “I know we kissed just so we could get out of the way our first kiss with anyone? But I liked it and I liked kissing you that way. I know that you see me as your best friend, but don’t you think that’s good grounds to base a relationship on?”
“What, am I next going to start kissing Rachel and Mandy like that?” I laughed at his logic as I gave a playful shove.
Derik laughed uneasily before he rolled his eyes, “just in case you do, make sure Declan isn’t around. Otherwise he’d probably lose his self control.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
We turned quiet again and I noticed how we fell into an uncomfortable silence which was unusual for us. I caught Derik looking away, frowning deeply. Oh oh, don’t tell me that I’m in jeopardy of losing my best friend, because I don’t want to kiss him?
“Look.” He spoke in a low voice. “B, couldn’t we just try it?”
“Try it? Try what? We’ve already tried kissing…” I said confused.
He took hold of my hand to pull me to him. “Try seeing me as more than a friend even if it’s just for a moment, or even for a little while. Just see me as grown up Derik, instead of childhood friend Derik.”
Now he put his arms around my waist…Frickin’ hell, what do I do? Do I push him away? Can I turn around and run home? But most importantly, do I really want to hurt my best friend?
This was the thought which stayed me. I forced myself to remain still when he bent his head forward to kiss me. I had to use all of my self control and staying power to not gross out. It’s not like this was deliberately torture, but I didn’t feel that way about Derik… I just didn’t.
BANG!
We pulled apart to look about in fright.
“Did you hear that?” He asked worriedly.
“That was a gun shot.” I said anxiously. “It sounded far away, like it was coming from the border between Lokoti land and Alma.”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
I ended up clinging onto Derik’s top as he held me tighter.
“Come on, let’s get you home!” He turned us around to speedily walk us up the hill with his arm about my shoulders.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The shots rang out through the still night, echoing through the trees… the noise seemed to wash over the woods and reverberate through the darkness.
“What the hell is going on down there?” I uttered out, afraid.
My stomach knotted as I fretted about which two Lokoti Werewolves who were on patrol tonight, were up against THAT?
Suddenly I stopped, “oh no!”
“What?”
“DECLAN is on patrol tonight!” I cried out. Derik froze as a look of utter dread spread across his face. I grabbed hold of his hand as I began to run us back down the hill. “Come on!”
“Where are we going?” He objected.
“To your house!” I barked back. “If anything has happened to Declan, the Lokoti Werewolves will bring him there where Grandpa will treat him!”
Now he ran faster and we bolted whilst holding hands, all the way to his house.
*****
He barged through his front door, with me right behind. We found his mother dressed in a nightgown and robe, pacing up and down in their small lounge room.
“Derik!” She tearfully held out her arms and her youngest son rushed into them to comfort her. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, I heard it.” He said unhappily.
“I had just turned off my light and settled down to sleep when I heard it!” Aunt Susan’s eyes watered. “It’s Declan’s turn to patrol tonight.”
“Yeah, I know.” He walked her over to the couch to sit her down. “But remember what Uncle Em says about European Werewolves, which Declan is? They’re stronger and faster than Lokoti Werewolves so I’m sure he’ll be OK.”
I nodded encouragingly, “Grandfather says Declan is the strongest and fastest of the pack.”
“And he’s a fast healer.” Derik went on. “Remember the time he accidentally nearly cut his finger off when he was helping you cook last year? Remember how much blood there was? Declan completely healed from it in two hours and he was right as rain.”
She turned away to quietly cry into her hand which was in a tight fist, pressed against her mouth. Poor Aunt Susan, I felt bad for her. She lost her husband and now her eldest could have been harmed?
I too was worried, not just for Declan but for the Lokoti Werewolves who were family members or friends, who took turns patrolling the borders. I know Dad wasn’t rostered on tonight, since he patrolled last night. Two Werewolves patrolled at a time, to cover our vast territory. I hoped it wasn’t Grandfather or Uncle Julian’s turn tonight. I sank onto the couch which was opposite Derik and Aunt Susan’s seat.
“This damned, damned war…” Aunt Susan sniffed, “…I thought moving up here, would have got us away from the looting and the chaos.”
“Well, it has.” Derik squeezed her shoulder. “I mean, how many times has something like this happened since the whole time we’ve lived here?”
“Declan’s not even 21 years old.” She trembled with emotion. “He may have been patrolling the border since he was 16 years old, but he’s too young for this kind of responsibility and danger!”
I kept my mouth shut, as I recalled the fact that Uncle Julian and Dad began patrolling the borders when they were 16 or 17 years old. They started as soon as they were turned, right after the war. Their Lokoti Werewolf genes were activated from the deaths of their grandfathers, who died in altercations with marauders. Aunt Susan saw my uneasy look and shook her head at herself.
“I’m sorry B.” She said weakly. “I must sound like an ingrate sitting here and complaining. Your family and the Lokoti people have done a lot for us. But when you’ve already lost your husband and now something like this happens to your son?”
“Shhh.” He pulled her into his arms. “Shhh…Mom, it’ll be alright.”
I kept quiet as my legs jiggled nervously. I exchanged a worried look with Derik before we both looked away at the same time.
*****
I contacted Mum on Aunt Susan’s walky-talky to let her know where I was . In return, she told me Dad had rushed out of the house before the first gun shot was heard, to be back up. She had used the walky-talky to contact Gran, who told her that Grandfather had done the same thing. Aunt Susan’s eyes widened as she and Derik listened in.
“Oh no! Oh no!” She panicked as she cried harder.
“It’s alright, it doesn’t mean anything’s happened to him. It’s standard procedure.” I quickly reassured. “Every time there’s trouble, the whole pack runs to help. Usually when they fight altogether, nothing bad happens.”
Then I sat back down on the couch to wait with them.
*****
One hour stretched to two…two hours stretched to three…the clock on the wall read the time as 1.30 AM. My eyes were stinging and I felt cold because I was tired. I curled up on the Sabre’s old, beat-up couch, as the three of us continued to wait it out.
I recalled my earlier conversation with my parents over dinner. I frowned as I remembered what Dad said about the trespassers and poachers. Next, I shuddered as I relived Dad telling me that the baddies hit the woman, who went with her male colleagues to ask them to leave town. I wonder if what was happening tonight because of the same element?
The longer we waited, the worse Aunt Susan’s shaking became. I felt bad seeing her like this since she was usually a strong, independent woman. Her chastisements could even put Declan’s ferocious temper, in its place!
My Aunt raised her sons with a loving but iron fist, with the help of my Gran and Grandfather wh
om Derik and Declan appreciatively called ‘Uncle Em’ and ‘Aunt Arabella’. Sometimes even Mum and Dad helped out with babysitting duty, as Derik and I spent many hours either building cubby-houses in the woods, or playing games. Grandfather was probably the closest to Declan though, with the amount of time the older Werewolf took the younger one out hunting to placate Declan’s demanding European Werewolf bloodlust.
Gran once told me that Grandfather felt the most responsible for Declan. I think it’s because of the night the Sabre family arrived on tribal lands. It was Grandfather who shared his blood with the dying Declan, because his mate declared the Sabre’s family. The pack were at first reluctant to have a foreign Werewolf in their midst, as at first they doubted they could train his bloodlust to hunt animal instead of human. But it was through an incredible amount of will power, stubbornness and most of all love; that Grandfather succeeded where the pack thought that he would fail.
Aunt Susan, Gran and Mum got on like a house on fire, as the three of them would sit together at tribal gatherings and laugh until the cows came home. My Aunt was a strict but sometimes funny teacher, who I greatly respected. So to see her sit there, shaking like a leaf? This was a new experience seeing her this way. I wish I had a better handle of my abilities as a Circulator, so that I could just make all of this somehow go away.
Yet she could still surprise me, because although she was in the throws of panic about the safety of her first born? She still noticed how cold I looked.
“Derik, get B a blanket from the linen cupboard, would you?” She broke the silence.
“No, I’m fine.” I sat up, but he was quick to jump to his feet and obey her command.
He smiled warmly as he returned with the blanket to put over my legs, which I appreciated. Then he returned to his mother’s side as they sat, holding hands… but he snuck lots of looks in my direction.
By 1.30 AM Declan hadn’t come home yet nor had the Lokoti Werewolves carried him home.
“I think this is a good sign.” I told them. “If something had happened to him, they would have brought him home by now.”
Aunt Susan nodded vaguely, but she didn’t look convinced. I snuggled under the blanket then I lay my head on the arm rest to let myself doze for a little while.
*****
It was still dark when I woke up from hearing the backdoor open in the kitchen. I sat up as I watched Aunt Susan and Derik jump to their feet.
“Declan!” His mother cried out as she threw her arms about her eldest.
I watched the family reunion through the kitchen doorway. Declan had just pulled on the spare bathrobe which always hung on the back of the kitchen door, when his mother pounced on him.
He would pull off the robe just before he changed into his shape of a European Werewolf and then he would put it on again, when he reverted back to human. Unlike the Lokoti Werewolves who could still wear jeans in their humanoid werewolf bodies, when Declan changed his form completely altered. It was because of this, he couldn’t wear any clothes since they were torn apart.
“Declan, is that blood?” Aunt Susan cried out as she pulled back to look on.
I saw his left shoulder had dried blood on it, which was rubbing off onto the white bathrobe.
“Relax Mom, it’s almost healed.” He sighed.
“What happened?” Derik asked his older brother.
“Those stupid drunks from Alma - that’s what happened!” He growled unhappily. “I’m OK, but Jack isn’t.”
Aunt Susan and Derik turned quiet as my stomach sank.
“Is Uncle Jack badly injured?” I asked from the couch.
Declan looked past his family as his eyes settled on my position in a grim look.
“Jack took two bullets to the brain, removing half of his head as another tore through his heart.” He said unhappily. “He didn’t survive.”
My eyes filled with tears as my throat tightened. Uncle Jack… is dead? I mean, he wasn’t literally my Uncle; we used the term ‘Uncle’ as a sign of affectionate respect. Being one of the pack was more than just belonging; Mum once told me that the Lokoti Werewolves were not just empathic with their mates, but also with each other. There was even a rumor that they had limited telepathic ability. It was why Dad would suddenly leave the house and run out the front door with no word where he was going, like what happened tonight.
The European Werewolf released his human brother and mother and started to walk past where I was sitting, when he stopped to look down.
“I’ll just get some clothes on and I’ll drive you home.” He said flatly.
“No.” I tearfully shook my head. “There’s no need and you’re wounded anyways. I want to walk.”
“I can drive B home.” Derik offered.
“I said I’d do it so I’ll do it!” He suddenly said angrily, startling us all. Then he left the lounge room and went into his bedroom to dress.
*****
Neither Declan nor I said a thing, as he drove me home in his old, light blue, pick up truck. The sky was just starting to lighten with the onset of dawn and I felt cold, tired, hungry and emotional. Tearfully, I stared out the window for the short trip and couldn’t wait to get home so I could cry openly.
His vehicle chugged up the steep, dirt road as we drove past my families houses before Declan turned into the driveway of Mum and Dad’s. He pulled up in front of my veranda and left the engine running.
Just as I was about to hop out, Declan suddenly put his hand over mine. He squeezed it tightly which made me pause, as my breath caught and my heart began to race… I didn’t look at him nor did he look at me.
The heat of his hand actually began to travel up my arm and magically warm me all over, his grip was strong as it was tight. I even began to feel his thumb start to caress my palm, putting butterflies in my stomach. I sat there unmoving, not breathing and not blinking. Neither of us said a thing, leaving an eerie quietness in his truck.
Next, I felt his fingers entwine with mine, making my eyes widen as I stared ahead out of the windscreen. My butterflies grew worse, flying into a flurry; making me tremble when his fingers pressed into my palm and massaged it with his finger tips. His touch was both direct and yet tender.
Unconsciously, I started to squeeze his hand back but then my front door opened and Dad walked out. Automatically, he pulled back his hand as he still didn’t look my way.
“Go get some sleep.” He said shortly.
Finally I started breathing again, almost hyperventilating when I quickly opened my door and climbed out. I accidentally slammed the door shut, as I walked around the truck and up my veranda steps. Dad gave a nod to Declan, who quickly reversed out of our driveway to drive off back down the hill.
I collapsed into tears in my father’s waiting arms and he squeezed me tightly before leading me inside the house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2
New Chapter
~ 2 ~
4th September 2084
Uncle Jack’s funeral was held in the traditional period three days after a Lokoti’s death. Dad drove Mum and I down to the Holy Grounds, by the river just off to the side of the community centre. There, the rest of the tribe had convened where I saw the typical scene of a Lokoti funeral. In the grassy glade before the three Sacred Totem Poles sat a large, rectangular, wooden funeral pyre.
The council of nine Tribal Elders which included Grandpa, were dressed in the traditional way. They were wearing old suede clothing with face paint, of the Lokoti Wolf claw mark going down the side of their faces. Dressed as such, they led the funeral chant to a drum beat.
Uncle Jack’s family stood at the front of the crowd, as everyone stood in a semi-circle about the pyre. Four members of the Lokoti Werewolf pack, carried Uncle Jack’s body up to the pyre on a stretcher made from two branches with a large, leather pelt in the middle. We couldn’t see Uncle Jack’s body though, as it was wrapped in the woven, funeral shroud.
The funera
l was held at sunset of the third day of death, because of spiritual reasons. It had to be exactly in this period, to guide the deceased’s spirit into the next life. The funeral ceremony could go for an hour, but the body would burn all night. Then in the morning, the deceased’s ashes were sprinkled into the river. The river was very important to my people, as it was vast and interconnected to the other major rivers in Alaska. Eventually, it made its way to the Bering Sea and then the Pacific Ocean. But the river wasn’t just vital to geography, but it was seen to represent the ongoing nature of life, in relation to our beliefs.
The Circulate which was once made up of Circulators and Calculators, believed that the timeline is the surface of the space time continuum. Those that have special gifts and have been trained like Circulators, Calculators or those with ESP, can ‘see’ what was ahead in the timeline. Another belief the Circulate and the Lokoti had in common, was reincarnation. By sprinkling the deceased’s ashes into the river, it was the metaphor of returning the person’s spirit into the timeline so that they can be reborn, further down stream in another era.
I watched the four carefully place the body on top of the pyre. Then Grandpa lit the wood with a fiery torch that he was holding. I looked away when the flames approached the body, before it was completely engulfed in heat. As the body burned, the nine Tribal Elders stood in between the pyre and the three Sacred Totem Poles, continued to sing the Lokoti funeral chant to the beat of the drum.
I couldn’t watch the body catch on fire, I just couldn’t. Even if it was wrapped in the woven funeral shroud, it seriously creeped me out! As I looked away, my eyes fell upon the people standing up the front of the crowd, just across. To be honest, I wasn’t really looking, but I was staring blankly ahead. I could have been gazing upon Julius Caesar, without even noticing.
