Waindale

If he was cold, I could warm him. Hot, I could cool him. Dead, I could revive him.

I wake on the hard stones of the beach, empty and alone. The night gives way to day as the sun begins to break through in shades of orange and pink, yellow, and beyond—the lightest blue. The blood that drained from within me has dried, and I shed my clothes to wash them and myself in the ocean.

The godly strength I felt is gone, but the ocean water is not frigid against my skin. Overwhelming hunger has surfaced, but the great understanding I once had has dimmed. I’m one of them now. I can feel the need to shift inside me, but I’m scared of how it will feel; how I may change not only physically, but mentally.

My stomach thunders, furious from starvation.

They hunt. They tear away at their fresh kill, bloody and raw.

I know I have to do it. The instructions are coded into my DNA, so I abandon my soaked clothes and face the forest with determination. My fear is suffocated by my terrible hunger, but hesitation still gets the best of me. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. “Come on,” I mumble to myself.

My eyes squeeze as I let the beast inside take over. I lash forward, feeling every microscopic change as my body molds into that of a monster. Bones move and break, hair spurts all over, my face is re-shaped in a flash, and my dark eyes become even darker. Hands form to paws. My spine stretches to grow a tail. The fearsome teeth of a carnivore emerge in my mouth. I collapse onto the ground, my face planting into the rock. I lift up as soreness consumes my body, and with each step I attempt is nothing but wobbly failure. The hunger I felt in human form multiples tenfold, but I am as skilled as an infant when it comes to walking let alone stalking, sprinting, and pouncing on prey.

Regardless, I force myself up again and again until I can step without crumbling. One step becomes many, and like riding a bike, balance becomes second nature. Walking evolves to a jog which quickens to a run. Just as I am proud of my conquering, my front leg is caught on a tree root and my body crashes into the forest floor.

My ears perk up at distant sounds of life, and from my crater, I see something moving beyond. I am swift to get up and shake it off in pursuit of a possible meal. The animal instinct takes over, and all train of thought vanishes from my mind.

It’s a rabbit.

The sight of it has me salivating.

I eagerly chase after it, tripping and stumbling and bumping into trees. I wreak havoc until the thing is dead between my teeth, but I quickly realize that it isn’t enough. Not even an entire deer could sustain me. Filling my stomach in this form will be much harder than filling a human stomach, so with no time to waste, I charge south toward Waindale, toward my mate who will discover yet again that I am not what I appear to be.

The world is somewhat different from this perspective. I feel powerful, but not evil like before. I just hope Adam is okay with this—the fact that I’m like him. I hope he forgives me for the loss of our son. I hope he believes me when I tell him that the moon goddess herself held me and did this to me.

More urgently, there are rogues in the mountains, and I don’t know if they are disbanding now that their leader has disappeared, or if they are going to find power in unity. Adam needs to know this. Waindale and the pack are at risk.

I travel down the coast, grateful for my new-found speed. A human would never be able to cover such distance in such time, and I truly understand why Adam’s father and Alexander had to journey so far when searching for him. I can’t help but believe my easy adaptation to this new body is because a part of me was always meant to have it. Things will be different now; roadblocks I experienced even with my father’s power could be cleared. Thinking about my—my baby makes my heart shrivel and turn to dust, but my body is now compatible with my mate’s. Nothing will ever replace him, but I must consider the technicalities because I am able to provide an heir once again. I must act in favor of the pack because that is what a Luna does.

Shifter or not, I always tried to do what is best for the pack. I may not have been physically eligible to hold such a title, but in my heart I knew I was always capable, regardless of what blood flowed through my veins.

Something in the air causes me to slow. I turn my head, unsure.

It’s like Adam’s scent but slightly different. It’s stronger, more potent, more intricate. I shake my head and dash off, thinking I must be close. The surrounding forest appears rather familiar. I’ve been in the Waindale woods many times, yet I never thought to memorize the scenery; I never thought such knowledge would carry so much weight. I could be twenty miles away or one mile away, and it’s not like I can venture into town like this. My clothes were abandoned at the beach up north. I have to trek through the forest and find Adam’s house from the back.

The scent becomes more apparent. With few options, I try my best to follow it.

Soon, I hear a voice.

At first, I can’t make out what the voice is saying, but as I grow closer, I recognize it with both relief and excitement so powerful that it hurts.

Then I realize he’s calling for me. He knows I’m near.

“Wrenley!”

My heart swells and threatens to burst.

“Wrenley! Where are you?”

My legs can’t move fast enough.

I come plowing through the trees and suddenly see my mate in a frantic search. His eyes find mine in a matter of seconds, but his face is utter confusion.

Desperate to speak, I shift to the me that he knows, but I am unaware of the resulting pain. A surprised cry escapes me and I fall to my knees. When I look up, I am still met with bewilderment—possibly even more.

Adam stares down at me. Shock has made him mute.

“I-I know,” I breathe. “Just—just let me explain.”

He comes to my side, pulling off his shirt and covering my naked, shaking body. He takes me in his arms and presses me against his chest, the back of his hand holding my head.

Adam’s scent replenishes a reserve that has long been empty, and as I bask in all his glory, he mutters, ”How? Wrenley, how?”

“He’s gone,” I say, refusing to let go. “She came here and sent him back to hell.”

Adam takes in a deep breath and holds me even tighter. “Don’t do that ever again. Don’t vanish off the face of the earth. I couldn’t even feel you anymore—it was as if you didn’t exist anymore. Where were you? He took you, didn’t he? And what was that? How did you shift? Did he do that to you? Did he make you one of us?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You’re alright? And the baby?”

I slowly pull away. “I want to go home. I-I’m tired and hungry and—god, there are rogues in the mountains, Adam. You have to go stop them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We have to hurry. I’ll explain inside,” I say and tug him to keep moving.

Adam takes me home and while I ransack the kitchen, I explain my father’s plan to create a pack of his own, a pack so large and powerful that it would dominate over all shifters. I explain how he gathered rogues in the mountains to be our followers; how they’re a threat to Waindale and the pack. I try to describe where I was—how I may have been in hell—and this makes Adam tense. He watches me and every now and then touches me just to assure himself that I’m real.

“I wasn’t even his only child, Adam. There were others. They kept him connected to our world. I suppose he wasn’t planning on having just one pack but many packs all over. He would have control over everything. But the only way to stop him from coming here was to destroy his children.”

I then go on to share my upsetting experience with the moon goddess. “She said I could either become one of you or—well, I couldn’t be here anymore. I didn’t have a choice. The baby isn’t compatible with this body. She told me that he wouldn’t survive, but if I didn’t change we both wouldn’t survive. I-I had to let him go.”

“You aren’t—”

I shake my head. “No. Not anymore. He’s with her now.”

His eyes fall to my barren stomach.

“There isn’t time to mourn. There isn’t time for any of this, not until we know that the rogues aren’t unifying. History will repeat itself; they will not only hurt us but any other pack they come across.”

“Our son—”

“He died inside of me when she changed me,” I say, looking directly at his face. “He poured out of me and I washed him away. He’s gone.”

Adam’s expression turns careful. “He was ours.”

“I know. I know he was. But he was also part of him.”

Adam grips the counter and pushes against it, furious that our helpless baby couldn’t be saved. My child didn’t ask to have my father’s blood. He wouldn’t want to have such evil ingrained in him. He would have been like me—sacrificing everything to stop such malevolence.

He would have been like me.

“M-My father didn’t only torture me. His other children—he must have watched them as well. He must have fueled them and told them that they were going to be leaders. The moon goddess must have mated them to shifters to try and better them. T-They were probably kept in their own prisons in that sea of black nothingness. They were probably out there; I just couldn’t see them. There may be groups of rogues in hiding all over the world. What do we do? Other packs may be in danger.”

Adam stares down at the counter then suddenly let’s go, stepping back. “I’ll send a group to scout the north. We’re in contact with neighboring packs—we can warn them, spread the word.”

“How close are they?”

“Not close at all. We keep our distances, but if you’re right, if there are other rogues banded together, then having all packs searching should find them. I’ll make the calls, tell them to let others know.”

I nod. “Okay. I don’t know how many are in the mountains, but we need to protect Waindale just in case. People need to stay inside. We need to make sure everyone stays out of the forest and bunkers down.”

“I’ll send Ben to the town hall. He can tell the mayor and maybe we can get an advisory out. We could say there are wolves near town or bears or something. He’ll figure it out.”

Before Adam leaves the kitchen for the office, I grab his arm. “I need to make sure my mom and grandma are safe.”

“Wrenley, I don’t want you out there.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll run there in wolf form. I just—I have to tell them.”

He sighs. ”Wolf form—right. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Hey, at least your mom might forgive me for no longer being pregnant.”

“Just, be quick, okay?”

“I will,” I say. “I’ll come right back here.”

He pulls me close, kisses my forehead, then releases me into the world. I strip behind the house and shift yet again, feeling much better now that I’ve been fed. I pick up my clothes and carry them in my mouth. Now isn’t the time to explain everything—there may be things forever left unsaid—but my priority is to warn them and keep them inside.

It doesn’t take me long to run to my grandmother’s, and when I do, I swiftly shift and dress myself in the cover of the brush. The pain eases up more and more every time I shift, but a soreness lingers. I stretch my limbs as I hurry up the porch steps. I knock insistently and the second my grandma opens up, I slip inside.

“Oh, Wrenley, did you call? We weren’t expecting you,” she says and closes the door behind me.

“No, I didn’t. Where’s mom?”

“Why she’s in the backyard digging out that old clothesline. Do you need her? I can go get her.”

I turn to the back door. “No, no, I’ll get her. Just stay inside, okay?”

“Stay inside—is something wrong?”

“I’ll explain, just don’t go out there,” I say before shooting out back. I immediately see her hunched over with a shovel, plowing at the gravel, digging up the metal like the stalk of a plant. “Mom!” I call and she peers back.

“Wren? What are you doing here?” She straightens up and leans the shovel against the post.

“Come inside. We need to talk.”

The two sit down in the living room and watch as I lock every door and check every window.

“Wren, what are you doing?”

“There’s a threat. These rogue wolves are near town and we’re worried that they might try to hurt Waindale. You need to stay inside and wait until I say it’s okay.”

Grandma asks, “Why would the wolves hurt their own town?”

“These wolves aren’t apart of the pack. Rogue wolves are, well, rogue. They aren’t really loyal to anything, but we think they’re unified and that could mean very bad things. It’s dangerous out there. Adam is sending someone to the town hall to put out an advisory right now.”

“Will everyone be okay? Does Tali know, and Vivianne?”

Damn it. I need to warn Vivianne.

“I-I’m going there right now. I just wanted to get to you guys first.”

My mom eyes me. “Should you be out there? I don’t want you running down streets if these rogue wolves could hurt you. I’ll call Tali. You’re staying here.”

“I can’t stay. I have to get back to Adam.”

“Then I’ll drive you, just let me call Tali first.”

My eyes follow her as she gets up to fetch the landline from the kitchen. “It’s fine, really. I know what I’m doing.”

“Will you call us when you get back, then? So we know you got home safe?” Grandma asks.

“Yeah, I will. I just really need you two to stay inside. It might be nothing, but I rather be safe than sorry.”

“Wren!” My mom calls from the other room. “Come explain this to her, will you?”

I sigh and take the phone from her, updating Tali about the pack’s situation. It’s a quick conversation—wolves understand wolf things, and she assures me that Vivianne will be safe at home. “Can you tell Vivianne to call Imogen and everyone? Spread the word?”

“Of course,” Tali says. “You stay safe, alright?”

“I will, thanks.”

I hang up and hand the phone to my mother. “I better get going,” I tell her. “I call when I get back, and I’ll call again when we know the coast is clear.”

Before I slip away, she says, “Wren? I know this is your world now and we don’t really get it, but—well, just be careful, okay? I-I trust that Adam will keep you safe if anything were to happen.”

“He will, mom. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen.”

She nods and suddenly brings her arms around me. It’s been a while since she’s held me, and something about it feels grounding. I hug her back and close my eyes, soaking it up before I’m rushing out the door.