I literally ran out of Adam’s house to grab Millie’s wrist and pull her into my house before she says anything stupid that Adam would hear from his window.
I lowered my head and leant against the straw walls of the old elder Larkin’s straw inn. I drank the last content of squashed purple lily flowers from the cup, feeling it’s bitter taste burn through my throat. I couldn’t believe she still told this pointless stories to kids. The popular story about some “blood night” was nothing but myth, stories told in the dark to young wolves. Stories told to instill fear on them so as to be careful about entering other territories. But Larkin said it like it was a real thing. She wasn’t even born then!
I looked at the kids seated on straw mats around her, fear in each child’s face as they looked into Larkin’s, as they let her story instill fear in them. The view nearly got me smirking. Kids.
I looked out the door beside me, into the dark night that was dimly lit around the inn by fireflies and fires burning from sticks hung around the house. I could hear the chatters coming from the village, asking me what the hell I was doing inside this inn meant for Larkin’s wobbly stories and babies who believed her words.
I looked back and saw how engrossed Larkin was on her story so I quietly stepped out, feeling the night’s air hit my face. I shut my eyes, sniffing the air. This was one of those nights that makes you wanna tear out of your clothes, shape shift and run through the woods like nothing else mattered. Sadly that would remain merely a wish for me.
I walked out of the compound and maneuevered my way around the oak tree that stood just outside it, climbing down the stone steps that lead from Larkin’s house into the plain grounds of the pack territory.
I felt the sadness wash inside me as I realized the only place I could go to at a night like this one was the Clinic where my mother worked as the pack’s midwife. My mother, Gina, was the pack’s midwife and sometimes surgical doctor. She tended to the wounded, whenever they went to fight with the enemy packs. Mother always told me I belonged in the clinic because I was a shewolf. Women weren’t made for the fights, men were. When the men went off to fight, the women stayed behind to protect the younger wolves and the pack house. I spent my Winters learning how to tend to wounds from my mother and now I took pride in showing off my skills whenever the men came back from the wars.
As I approached the lake where the young pack members always stood around swimming and having fun, I heard Carl’s deep voice as he talked and laughed with his friends.
Carl was one of the young werewolves who protects the pack’s territory whenever the older men went for war. He was tall and well built around his chests and arms, his curly brown hair doing justice to his green eyes. I’d have found him incredibly beautiful if he wasn’t such an asshole all the damn time. I’d probably run off from this pack if I woke up one day and found out that he’s my long waited mate. The thought causes me to sneer silently as I approached him.
He soon notices me and instead of passing the ball on his hands to Jeffery, he holds it still and turns to smirk at me.
‘Oh no, not tonight’ I mentally cried.
“Look who we have here” Don, his third friend said amidst laughter, putting an arm over Jeffery’s shoulders.
‘just take deep breaths, Rose’ I tried to calm myself down while ignoring them completely.
“Are you just gonna keep walking and pretend we aren’t talking to you, Rose?” Carl finally speaks, bringing my attention back to him.
I stopped walking just as I was about to pass them and turned to face them. They stood on a line, Jason, their fourth friend coming to join them. They all stood inside the water, their bare chest dripping wet, their hairs smeared across their faces.
While Carl was the tallest and well built among them all and unmistakably the most handsome, Don was a complete opposite. Except that he was extremely fast in running. Jason on the other hand was black haired, muscular on the right places and well built too. So far he was also the nicest of them all. Jeffrey was a red haired walking pervert who always made jokes about finding his mate.
While their parents and the elders of the pack looked up at them with so much love, I saw them as nothing but nuisances to the pack.
“Done checking us out yet?” Don blurted, earning a scowl from me.
“Hell no, Don!” I retort.
“Where are you off to?” Carl asked, his eyes mocking “the midwife tent?”
I felt the anger burn through me and I clenched my fist.
“Go on then, we men are just gonna….. have fun here” He added, showcasing his muscular upper body to me.
Just then, I realized I’d been stupid for stopping in the first place. What was I thinking? This is them. They’re always gonna be this jerks in the village.
I faced forward and continued walking.
“Yeah, keep walking, Rose!” I heard Don’s voice before I disappeared through the dark back of the next house.
The clinical tent came into view the moment I stepped up. The dim light oozing through the door and windows causes me to sigh. Another long night learning some healing tricks as my mom would put it.
Heaving another sigh, I walked over to the door and stepped in. The room as always was filled with the women, mostly the young ones. Just like me.
Most of them stood afar, tending to one or two things. There hasn’t been pack fights lately, for the past five months precisely and that gave me great reliefs. I could sneak out with Sabrina now and skate through the woods until we got tired.
I sight my mom seated before the table, a wet cloth in her hand as she looked into another woman’s arm extended across the table to her.
She looks up to see me before looking back at the woman’s hand and quickly dabbing a wet cloth over it before sending her off. I slowly walked to her, sitting on the now empty chair across from her.
“Hey, Mom” I called tiredly.
“Is everything alright, Rose?” She asked, concern in her voice.
“I’m great Mom. I’m just tired. Just left Larkin’s place”
She chuckles lightly and replied, ” when are you gonna stop going there, Rose? You’re not a baby anymore”
“I know right? Not that I’ve ever liked any of her stories even when I was little. I just go there to watch the kids” I tried to smile but couldn’t for some reasons unknown to me. I slowly looked down, feeling her eyes watching me.
She watches me for a while before reaching a palm over my cheek and bringing my face to her and saying ” I know what troubles you, my dear.”
I knew instantly what she was implying.
“You’re going to turn eighteen in the next two weeks and you haven’t found your mate yet”
I looked down, tired of the same talk everyday and at the same time felt like I needed to talk about it. Werewolves usually find their mates starting from the age of sixteen so the river goddess could bless them with offsprings in order to continue the werewolf bloodlines. You know the drill……..
But I’m gonna be eighteen soon and still haven’t found a single man in this back nor the neighbouring packs who has a connection with me, who is my mate. The feeling makes me sick all the time. It kept me up all night. Wondering. What if my mate was dead? I’ve heard stories of men and women who lived the rest of their lives without a mate because their said mates already died before they could meet them. That’s such a horrible thing. I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life without my own mate. I wanted to feel that pulse, feel that energy between us when we finally meet. I wanted to feel and understand that strange feelings the other mated werewolves talk about. I wanted to love and feel just as loved.
But as my eighteenth birthday drew closer, I started to feel a great fear inside me. And the ‘what if’ questions never stopped coming. What if my mate has died from a terrible fever or bite from a war front, what if he still lives but doesn’t care enough to find me? What if I’m rejected once we finally meet, enough reason why he’s taking so long to find me?
My mom’s hand crawling over my shoulder brings me back from my agonizing thoughts. I looked from her sympathetic eyes to my interlocked fingers and chuckled dryly.
“Stop making me feel alot worse, mom,” I said jokingly “I’m sure he’s somewhere, thinking about me too and one day he’s gonna come looking for me and he’s gonna sweep me off my feet like the other males do around here”
Her lips extends into a long smile before she replied, “that’s what I like to hear”
“I just really feel sad when…….. Carl and his stupid friends make fun of me”
“Don’t let them bother you, Rose….”
” I can’t help it,” I cut her off “I feel really… I feel like I deserve everything they do to me, mom. All they say to me.”
“Why would you say that, baby?”
“Cause I don’t belong here, mom. I wanna learn to fight too and go to wa….”
“Stop” she leans back from me and sighed deeply “here you go again, Rose. This is your home, Rose. It’s where you belong”
“Why can’t I fight too? Jeffrey talks to me the way he wants because he thinks I’m too weak to fight him”
“Well are you? That’s the question you should be asking yourself”
I shrugged and replied “I guess I’ll never know”
“Listen to me Emilia Rose, this is your home and you belong here. No one can take that away from you. You still have a lot to learn my dear and it starts here, In this room just like the other women and you are going to do a great job. Your mate is gonna find you soon and he’s going to love you so much and protect you. And you can give him beautiful sons and daughters”
I watched her talk, astonished. I didn’t know what to say. Telling her what’s on my mind was pointless anyway. I should pray to the goddess to bring my mate to me soon.
“I wanna go home mom” I told her, attempting to stand up from the seat.
“Alright, love. I’ll see you later then”
I nodded before dashing out of the house, sighing in relief the moment I saw somebody walking up towards the tent.
But I’m gonna be eighteen soon and still haven’t found a single man in this back nor the neighbouring packs who has a connection with me, who is my mate. The feeling makes me sick all the time. It kept me up all night. Wondering. What if my mate was dead? I’ve heard stories of men and women who lived the rest of their lives without a mate because their said mates already died before they could meet them. That’s such a horrible thing. I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life without my own mate. I wanted to feel that pulse, feel that energy between us when we finally meet. I wanted to feel and understand that strange feelings the other mated werewolves talk about. I wanted to love and feel just as loved.
But as my eighteenth birthday drew closer, I started to feel a great fear inside me. And the ‘what if’ questions never stopped coming. What if my mate has died from a terrible fever or bite from a war front, what if he still lives but doesn’t care enough to find me? What if I’m rejected once we finally meet, enough reason why he’s taking so long to find me?