Wolves of the West: The Hunt

“Considering you never came home, spent the night at a random boy’s house in the middle of the forest, and neglected to answer your phone, I’d say you got off easy.”

Aunt Robin was leaning over the counter, flipping through an old book about herbs and homeopathic remedies.

Her frizzy red hair was braided and hanging over her shoulder. She had woven bits of twined string and feathers into her hair and had changed out the hoop in her eyebrow for a stud.

My aunt peeked up at me through light lashes, sending me a quick smile.

“Cheer up, Mordy,” she said, “you’ve been in a mood ever since you got home.”

I wasn’t in a mood. I was disappointed and confused and embarrassed because after Ben had randomly asked me out, he had gone radio silent.

I hadn’t wanted to wander back to his house because I hadn’t wanted to look desperate. But the honest truth was I felt a little desperate.

“I hate running the shop,” I told my aunt as an excuse. “Mom already lectured me for hours about what happened and made me sit in on her readings. Surely that’s punishment enough.”

“She was scared,” my aunt said, flipping her braid over her shoulder and shutting the book. “Cut her some slack, she’s overprotective and maternal.”

“Well, it’s confusing,” I complained, “one minute I’m a kid and the next I’m an adult. She can’t have it both ways.”

Aunt Robin frowned. “You’re right, she can’t.” She grabbed her bag from behind the counter and slung it over her shoulder, smiling at me as she reached forward and gave my cheek a quick pinch.

“I’ve got to go, punk, I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Hopefully you prayed to Venus or Aphrodite or whatever version you chose today,” I grumbled.

Aunt Robin laughed. “I don’t think I’ll need it with this one. He seemed interested enough without godly intervention.”

I couldn’t help but smile when she kissed my forehead. “Have a good time,” I told her, “and be safe!”

Aunt Robin turned and tossed me a wink in the doorway. “Always!”

I shook my head and sighed, reaching for a bucket of charms and getting a start on sorting them. I separated the gems from the shells and the shells from the herbs.

My mother got all sorts of shipments from local spell casters and wannabe witches. Roseburg seemed to attract only the strange.

The shop door rang out as someone entered the store. “Forget something?” I called out without looking up.

My aunt Robin was one of the most forgetful people I had ever met. If she made it out the door without forgetting her keys or her shoes, then we considered it a miracle.

“Morda?”

I looked up sharply, not expecting to see Kale. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, wringing his hands as he looked around the shop and then looked me over.

He stepped in after a moment, letting the door fall shut behind him.

I walked around the counter and braced myself against it for support. “Can I help you?”

“You... you—uh, you weren’t hurt when…”

I shook my head. “They ran right past me.”

“And you went and got the rangers,” Kale said, barely meeting my eyes.

I nodded. “I heard you guys screaming... I thought... I…”

Kale shivered and shook his head. “They weren’t regular wolves. No one believes us, but you—you saw them too. They were huge, they... they looked at us like they... like they were human.”

I swallowed thickly. “What happened?”

“We were running,” Kale said. “Amanda was barely moving, she was crying so hard. Me and Britt tried to get her to move faster, but she was too upset.

“We left her behind and kept running until we heard her start to scream. We ran back, and all I saw was blood, Britt started screaming, and I... I thought the wolves had caught Amanda, but she fell and broke her ankle.

“The bone burst right through the skin... that’s where all the blood…” Kale paused and took a deep breath.

“We were trying to get Amanda to calm down when we felt them... they came right up to us and just stared. It was... it was really eerie.”

“And then?”

“Nothing,” Kale said, “they ran off, ran toward the edge of the woods instead of going deeper into them. We tried to get Amanda as stable as we could, and then the rangers showed up.

“But they didn’t believe us about the wolves, at least—not until they found the tracks.”

I sucked in a deep breath and smiled tightly. “I’m glad you’re all all right.”

“Amanda had to get a pin put into her ankle, and Britt won’t see me anymore... she can’t look at me after what I did…”

I closed my eyes as I remembered running through the woods, remembered Kale grabbing the back of my shirt and throwing me to the ground, remembered his words.

It’s you or us.

“You sacrificed me,” I spat harshly. “You decided I wasn’t worthy of living, decided you and your girlfriend were worth more than me.”

“I’m sorry,” Kale said, his voice broken in two, “I didn’t think—I just reacted and—”

“You were ready to let me die, let me be attacked and brutally killed by a pack of wolves.” I held on to the counter hard enough to force the blood out of my knuckles. “What you did is unforgivable.”

Kale looked down. “I know.”

“What else do you want, Kale?” I asked, suddenly feeling tired. “You didn’t come here to apologize, you would have opened with it if you were.”

“I need some sort of love potion,” he said quietly, “something to make Britt love me again, something to make her want to be with me.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or yell. “Are you serious?”

“Isn’t your mom a witch?” Kale asked. “Isn’t that what this store is for? I won’t tell anyone anything, hell—I don’t want anyone to know that I have to use a potion to make my girlfriend love me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “We don’t sell love potions,” I told him.

“We sell dried herbs and gemstones and useless crap. My mother isn’t a witch any more than you’re a brave person. Even if we did sell potions, you’re not worthy of any kind of love.”

Kale’s expression changed almost immediately. “I made a mistake, I chose my girlfriend over you, that isn’t criminal!”

“Well, sorry if we have different outlooks on the subject,” I hissed.

“You hoped I would be attacked by wolves so that you could get away. It wasn’t that I fell behind or couldn’t keep up, you intentionally sacrificed me.”

“I know you have what I want,” Kale said darkly. “What’s your price? A few hundred and an apology?”

“Get out,” I demanded, my voice shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Kale said, shaking his head as he rifled through his wallet. “I’m sorry I did something stupid while being chased by a pack of wolves.”

He pulled out a wad of cash and glared at me. “Now go brew me up a love potion.”

“Get out of here!” I yelled, beginning to tremble.

“Morda, please—”

The door to the shop opened and closed, allowing my heart to calm down and my mind to stop confusing past and present.

I was here in my mother’s shop, I wasn’t hiding underneath a bush as a pack of wolves ran by. I was safe here, I wasn’t in danger of being hunted.

“Morda?” I turned to see Ben standing at the front of the shop, tawny eyes moving from me to Kale and back again.

He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, and his hair was slightly mussed as though he had been pulling at the ends. “Is everything okay?”

Kale closed his mouth, jaw flexing as his eyes fell to the floor. I looked from him back to Ben and forced a smile that felt tinged with anger and embarrassment.

My whole body felt flushed from my conversation with Kale, and Ben’s presence just reminded me of how insecure I’d felt since he’d asked me out.

“Please,” Kale nearly spat, “I need this.”

“And I need you to get the hell out of my shop,” I fumed, striding forward with a glare. “Now.”

Kale backed up and shoved his wallet into his back pocket. “I’m coming back,” he warned.

I tilted my chin up as Kale disappeared out the door, brushing past Ben as he did.

I took a deep breath and held it in my chest as I slipped behind the counter and started sorting the trinkets again, all but throwing the shells into the bin.

“What was that about?” Ben asked. I looked up to find him standing directly in front of me, bright eyes watching my hands as they shifted through the junk on the countertop.

He reached forward and picked up a stone, twirling it in front of his eyes.

“Thanks for the help,” I said bitterly.

Ben shrugged and placed the stone back on the counter. “You can handle yourself,” he said. “You don’t need me to speak or act for you.”

I bristled, unsure whether to be angry or in agreement. “Yeah, well, apparently you don’t need to speak to me either.”

Ben’s lips twisted at the dig. “I was busy this week,” he said, excusing himself. He offered no further explanation, no apology.

I felt annoyance prick at the back of my neck and then scolded myself for it. He had only asked me out offhand.

We hadn’t made plans, we weren’t a couple, and it wasn’t like he was blowing off a sure thing. It was my fault for being inexperienced and bored and anxious.

“So was I,” I said lamely, “and I’m busy now, so what do you want?” I dropped the shells and gems onto the counter and placed my hands on my hips, trying my best to look as directly as I could at Ben.

He held my gaze unflinchingly as I knew he would. “I’m here to take you out.”

I raised my eyebrows and squeezed out a laugh. “Really?” I said, unable to tame this new, bitchy side of myself. “Why now?”

Ben blinked. “I want to.”

His honesty almost knocked me off my feet. A part of me wondered if he had really been raised in the woods.

“Well, I’m busy now. I’m running the shop for my mom tonight.” I was going to add that I no longer wanted to go out with him, but I held my tongue.

“I’ll come by when it closes,” Ben offered. “We could do something afterward.”

I held out as best as I could, but between his mussed hair and innocent gaze, I was already a goner.

I picked up a bunch of dried lavender and twirled it around, pretending to consider his offer. The longer I stayed silent, the more a tiny smile began to take root on Ben’s face.

“Okay,” I conceded, “you can come back at eight thirty when the shop closes.” I lowered the lavender and looked at him directly.

“If you miss close, don’t bother showing up here again. I don’t give second chances.”

Ben nodded, fighting a smile. “Noted.”

“Good,” I said, struggling to suppress a smile myself. Ben ducked out of the shop shortly after, letting the door fall shut behind him and taking my focus with him.

As soon as he was gone, I was unable to do much. I puttered around the shop, neatening up a little here and there, but that was about it.

Roseburg was a few miles from Astoria, a rather popular tourist spot. As a result, we got a small bit of tourist traffic when the months grew warmer.

The afternoon drifted by, a few of those tourists popping into the shop to poke around. Along with them were the regular customers my mother supplied with all sorts of odds and ends.

Some of the women claimed to have lived in the Roseburg area for generations, connecting their family history to blood as well as ground.

They were nice people but had this aura to them that creeped me out a little if I read too much into it.

They fawned over my mother and started fawning over me when I turned sixteen, picking up my heavy brown hair and smiling with wise eyes.

The last few hours crawled by as the regulars got their fill and the tourists headed to the local restaurants and evacuated the small specialty shops.

I swept and dusted and straightened shelves, all the while keeping a close eye on the clock hanging on the wall and the watch on my wrist.

At 8:29, I flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and locked the front door.

I ran behind the cash register and counted the money as fast as I could, not bothering to double-check my math before grabbing my satchel and throwing it across my body.

I ran for the front door, skidding to a halt in front of the body mirror to make sure I was in order. My long skirt just grazed the floor, showing off my strappy sandals when I moved just right.

The skirt was a deep, burnt orange that I coupled with a white blouse with two strings hanging from the collar and lace cutouts detailing the area around my ribcage.

I pushed my heavy hair over my shoulder, grabbing it and holding it high above my head, debating whether or not I should tie it back.

I let it fall after a moment, shrugging before taking a deep breath and turning once more toward the door. I slipped out onto the quiet street, tugging the door closed behind me and locking it.

I turned around to see Ben leaning against the shop’s window, occupying a space that had been vacant only seconds before. I didn’t react when I saw him, adjusting quickly to his sudden appearances.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Ben smiled and started walking; I followed silently. I tried my best to stay in step beside him, but Ben was a lot taller than me and seemed used to a quick pace.

He didn’t say much as we walked, just small remarks asking about the shop and my duties to it.

I stopped when we reached the edge of the forest.

“Is something wrong?” Ben asked.

I looked over my shoulder and caught the setting sun just beyond the town. It would be dark in less than ten minutes, and the forest was the last place I wanted to be wandering at night.

Ben seemed to read this through my expression and body language alone.

“We’re not going far,” Ben said. “I set something up just beyond the house. You’ll be perfectly safe,” he assured me.

I knew it was stupid, but I didn’t feel any resistance to Ben. Unlike with other people, there was no portion of my brain screaming at me to distrust him.

Everything he said I believed, and beyond any doubt, I knew I could trust him. So I did.

Ben guided me through the woods with ease, reaching out to balance me or warn me of rough patches.

He was always quick to draw away from me, leaving me to wonder if he was overly polite or regretting asking me out.

Ben’s eyes caught what little light was offered to us, making them almost seem to glow in the low light. I was absolutely transfixed by them—by him.

I shook my head as Ben slowed in front of me, scrambling to organize my thoughts as the words he said became lost to me.

“—too special. I just wanted to get to know you.”

I looked up and was unable to draw a breath. Ben had set up a picnic table in the middle of the open field beside his house.

He had strung lights on the branches of the surrounding trees, casting enough light to see but not too much that the mood was broken.

The table held a teapot and two mugs along with an assortment of after-dinner treats—slices of pie, a plate of cookies, croissants, cinnamon rolls.

Ben watched my reaction closely, getting slightly anxious the longer I was quiet.

“I don’t know if it’s too much—or not enough. Will caught wind of what I wanted to do and, of course, wanted to make sure we had something you liked, so we got everything. I, uh… yeah.”

I looked up at him and beamed. “It looks amazing,” I told him, moving into the clearing.

I felt like I was stepping out of my boring life and into a different world, one with winking lights and jars of baby’s breath and pale blue teapots at night.

I looked over my shoulder at Ben and caught him watching me, expression completely unguarded and full of wonder and amazement.

My entire body heated up under his gaze, perhaps for the first time feeling reassured that he felt some of the attraction I felt.

We sat across from each other, and Ben poured us each a cup of tea, grimacing as he spilled a bit. I chuckled and thanked him, lifting the mug to my lips and taking a small sip at the same time he did.

Now, I had been drinking foreign teas my entire life.

Between my mom’s shop and my aunt’s exotic tastes, I had tried a lot of different teas, and as a result, I had lost the ability to be surprised by any sort of beverage.

Watching Ben’s reaction, though, was priceless.

He coughed a little and winced, setting his mug far from his body. “Wow”—he coughed again—“that was… nice?”

I smiled. “A little different from beer?”

Ben nodded, crossing his arms. “Definitely different.”

I felt my smile slip a little as we fell into silence and the sounds of the forest suddenly came to a crescendo.

I could hear everything from birds flitting up on branches above us and small animals scurrying through the underbrush.

The woods at night were always screaming to me, a flurry of activity that could only happen with the night’s cover.

“There’s an owl,” Ben whispered, “just to our right—no, more my way—up a little.”

I followed his directions, squinting through the dark as best as I could. When I saw it, I jumped a little, big bright eyes staring down at me under a ruffle of dull feathers.

“Wow,” I breathed, grinning at Ben. He smiled back. “That’s amazing.” I located the bird again, staring at it until my eyes watered a little.

“You must see this sort of stuff all the time,” I said. “Do you guys get a lot of deer around here?”

Ben shook his head. “Deer don’t usually come too close to us.”

I frowned. “That’s a shame, they’re beautiful.” I looked up at the owl again. “But still, it must be nice to be so connected to nature.”

The moon was hanging high above us, nearly full and casting a washed-out bluish light over the clearing. “Pros and cons,” he said, “as you may have noticed, the woods are a busy place at night.”

I leaned forward on the table, picking apart a cinnamon roll. I was too nervous to eat in front of Ben, and he hadn’t reached for anything.

“So tell me about you and your friends,” I urged. “You guys all seem a little...peculiar? I don’t know. Will was telling me how you’re with each other more out of convenience than out of friendship.”

Ben shrugged. “We’re all misfits, I guess, none of us really fit in with our families. We rely mostly on each other now.”

I took a sip of tea. “What was it about your family? If you don’t mind me asking…”

Ben tensed a little, but he smiled. “I was just different. Caused tension. What is your family like?”

“It’s mostly been just me and my mom all my life. I never met my dad, and my mom never seemed inclined to find him so I could.” I shrugged.

“My aunt lives with us when she’s not with a boyfriend or traveling. That’s about it.”

“Do you get along with your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wish you knew your father?”

I shrugged, wondering briefly why I didn’t have a better answer prepared. I guess I had never thought too much about him. I obviously knew that I had one, but I just never needed to know him.

It didn’t bother me when kids at school made ties out of construction paper on Father’s Day or when the school hosted father-daughter dances. I had my mom, and I had never needed—or wanted—anything else.

“Not really,” I said lamely, “it’s been just us as long as I can remember.”

“What about friends?” he asked. “Do you have a lot?”

I thought of Jocelyn and grimaced. “I have...a few.” I sighed.

“To be honest, I’ve always been treated a little differently because of my family and the way my mom makes an income. I guess I am just a little too odd for this strange town.”

Ben’s eyes changed, morphing from interest to sympathy and understanding. He leaned toward me, and I felt the pull toward him, almost as if some bond between us was tightening.

“I know what that’s like,” he said, “to feel like an outcast among misfits. Like if you can’t belong with them, then—”

“—you can’t belong anywhere,” I finished.

Ben nodded, swallowing. “Exactly.”

I looked down, remembering taking my lunch to the library to avoid the cafeteria on days when Jocelyn was absent from school.

Worse, I remembered eating my lunch outside under a stormy sky when the library was closed and Jocelyn was gone and I couldn’t stomach eating with empty lunch tables and the whispers of my classmates.

Once I went back to those memories, I couldn’t stop them from surfacing. I remembered girls asking where I got my clothes from and laughing before I could respond.

I remembered people saying my mother’s name just loud enough for me to know they were talking about her.

I remembered them calling me witch or ~freak~ when my aunt painted my hands and feet for some solstice ritual.

I drew into myself, suddenly finding a chill in the warm summer’s night air. Ben was watching me think, his own eyes downcast and heavy.

I tried to shake off the memories, but the atmosphere around them clung to me like a second skin, interrupting my interaction with everything.

“It’s not easy being different,” I said. “People don’t like different.”

“No,” Ben said thickly, “they don’t.”

I looked up at him. “How bad was it for you? Being with your family?” I figured it must’ve been rough for Ben to leave his family before he was even a legal adult.

He was nineteen now, and if he had been with Fitz and Will for a few years, then that meant he was out of his house around the time he turned seventeen.

Ben became guarded. “It was…unbearable. I left. That’s all.”

“I was bullied in school,” I said, boldly reaching for his hand across the table.

“I was never allowed to hang out with the other girls, and boys never looked at me twice. I know what it’s like not to belong, to feel like everyone would prefer it if you vanished.”

Ben recoiled, pulling his hand away from mine.

“No,” he said shortly, “you don’t understand what it was like for me. You had your family; my family was the problem. I—” Ben stopped himself when he caught the expression on my face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ve never had to…never wanted to…share any of this with anyone before. Will and Fitz know bits and pieces, but the real stuff…”

He looked up at me, tawny eyes stripped bare. “I’ve never let anyone else know what it’s been like for me.”

I swallowed. “I’d like to know,” I told him plainly. “I’d like for you to tell me.”

He managed a weak smile. “I’d like you to know too,” he said, “eventually.”

We continued talking, sticking to lighter topics. Ben talked a lot about the outdoors. Almost everything he did involved the forest in some way.

The width and depth of his knowledge impressed me; he seemed to know every species of bird and fish and plant there was to know.

He understood how ecosystems worked; he could explain the relationship between predator and prey perfectly, and he knew how to track different animals.

I was afraid I was boring him with all my photography jargon and stories from school, but Ben asked lots of questions and listened intently.

All my life, I had always felt like conversations worked on the basis of each person waiting patiently while the other person spoke in order to contribute their own ideas.

But with Ben, it was different. Ben seemed more interested in gathering information than he did in sharing it. His reactions were never forced; they were pure and honest and unafraid.

He cared about my ideas and experiences and opinions. He always wanted to know more but never pried when it got too personal or made me feel inferior to him.

When I lacked the knowledge, he supplied the answer without making me feel small. Talking to him was like conversing with a side of myself that I had never had access to before.

It was easy, simple, and effortless. It was rewarding, invigorating, and lively. It was tender, gentle, and beautiful.

We talked until our voices were hoarse and the forest quieted. Our teas were cold and untouched; the food eventually picked apart the more comfortable we got with each other.

Ben tried to shoo me away, but I insisted on helping him clean up, secretly hoping for another ten minutes before he walked me home.

I piled up our plates and grabbed a tea mug as Ben grabbed the rest, asking me about the sports I played as a kid.

I laughed as we walked through the back door and into the kitchen, about the launch into my little league story before I felt my arms go slack and everything in my arms fell to the ground and smashed.

Ben swore, but I barely heard him because standing in the middle of his kitchen was a wolf.