Things became awkward fast. I let go of my cousin's shoulder and stepped back a bit. I could tell Running Elk needed a moment to take it all in.
"You ok?" I asked with concern.
Running Elk shook his head, taking half a step backward. It took a moment before words managed to spit their way out my cousin's throat. "Ok? Damn, miniature wolf, you always played up the wolf you were named after, but to actually be ... "
Running Elk paused, his eyes a little glassy and his breath unsteady. I gave him a small smile. The times I'd daydreamed about showing someone what Iwas couldn't compare to having revealed it to my cousin this way. The nervous fear I could smell wafting from him had me worried.
"I'm still me, " I reassured him. "You've known me your whole life. Me being able to become a wolf doesn't change who I am, who I've always been."
My words seemed to soothe him. He snorted.
"True, you've always been ... wolfish."
We shared a grin, remembering our childhood.
When we played hide-and-seek, I insisted the game be called hunter-and-prey. Even as we grew older, I would sneak up behind him to scare him. Running Elk wagged a finger at me. "You never even hinted that you were a frigging werewolf!"
"Council said not to tell anyone," I said with a shrug, "and Dad was always watching. Guess that means I can't complain about you coming out here tonight without telling me?" I raised an eyebrow at him and tilted my head, trying to look indignant.
"Yeah, you have no room to talk. But really, you couldn't even drop me a hint, Cuz? Me? That hurts, miniature wolf. And your mom, man!" Running Elk let out a nervous, choked-down chuckle. "Not quite the spirit I was looking for tonight. And to think she named you miniature wolf! No wonder you liked story-time so much. Did you pose for the covers? Oww, damn, Cuz," he exclaimed, rubbing his arm and glaring at me.
I felt terrible for my instinctual jab, but Mom's children's books were a tender subject. My dad and my grandfather had different reasons, but the same goal, as they attempted to convince my mom not to print them. I defended anything to do with my mom, now more than ever. I knew better than to let my emotions get the upper hand.
I grunted in remorse. "Sorry, Cuz."
"Aw, it's alright," Running Elk replied. "The books are awesome, and your mom ... "
Another long silence. Running Elk took in the grief still in me, finally looking away. When he looked back, his eyes held an appraising look that went on until I began to get uncomfortable. I moved back against the small rise behind us and sat down. It took a moment, but Running Elk finally joined me.
"This is the place, isn't it," Running Elk asked softly, gesturing to the space in front of us.
I tapped the ground between us, then had to look away. Memories warred within me. I could easily recall Dad's fight with the cougar. Dad took advantage of the distraction my arrival caused, lunging in for the killing blow. The cougar's blood mixed with Mom's.
The image of Mom's changing hand reaching for me warred with silver fingers, her reassuring smile when I tried to hug her intangible form battled with her grimace of pain as she writhed on the blood-soaked ground. Red and silver swirled together in my mind, the silver finally winning.
Like the river she took her name from, I thought. There's always more than what we can see from the surface. I let out a sigh. Running Elk scooted closer, his shoulder bumping my arm. We were content to sit in silence for a while,
"miniature wolf," my cuz finally asked hesitantly, "what about the other ones that were here? Are they werewolves too?"
"Just regular wolves, 'cept Dad," I replied.
"You sure?"
"I think so. They acted like wolves. Human wolves wouldn't fight for den territory," I explained. "It would be cool, though, finding someone else like me. I can't picture someone who could be a man, wanting to live his whole life out here as a wolf, raising kids in the wild."
"Like you?" Running Elk teased, jostling me briefly before getting serious again. "Your dad was the big black one, right? Stupid question," Running Elk answered himself, giving a small disparaging snort. "Of course, it was Uncle Black Wolf."
"Yeah," I replied with a grin. Everyone in my tribe called my dad Black Wolf. Only his students called him Mr. Wolcott.
"He's not a timber wolf," Running Elk said thoughtfully.
No, Dad wasn't like the thinner, lithe, and usually grey wolves found in and around the Rocky Mountains. Dad's wolf was stockier than the wolves found in America, completely black. My wolf form was mostly black, with the whites, creams, and greys I inherited from my mother in my neck, paws, and underside.
"European wolf, Cuz," I told Running Elk, "straight out of the Black Forest, just like he always said."
Another silence filled with unasked questions and a troubling look.
"Any werewolves in the rest of the tribe?" Running Elk finally asked.
"No, " I replied. "Dad bit Mom, way after they were married. She wanted him to. Council members are the only ones who know," I added.
A grunt was all I got in response, followed by another long pause.
"You're wrong."
Running Elk's pronouncement startled me. Did he mean he knew of another werewolf, or that someone other than the Elders knew? Neither of my assumptions made sense.
What am I wrong about, Cuz? I grunted to indicate that he should enlighten me.
"We didn't dream, and your mom's ghost doesn't qualify as an animal spirit guide," he told me with exasperation.
Ah, my little joking quip from a moment ago. So, no spirit guide for him, and still no spirit guide for me. Nothing like disappointing Grandfather again. Then I cheered up a bit. I wasn't out here for my dream hunt.
"You still have time," I told him.
"Hmm."
The silence was more comfortable this time. Until …
"So, your mom," Running Elk said, glancing at me briefly before fiddling in the dirt by his feet.
"Yeah," I sighed.
Now I knew for sure there was more to the supernatural world than just me and Dad. What was the significance of Mom's spirit showing up on the anniversary of her death? Right now, I didn't even want to deal with the thought of ghosts,no matter how magnificent it was having that last mangled image of her replaced by tonight's ethereal vision.
"Wish I knew more, Cuz."
"Hmm."
The silence drew out. Running Elk and I would break the world record for being talkative, I thought sardonically. We seldom needed words to communicate the important stuff. Usually, all we needed were a few looks and hand motions.
"Are you taking that ranger job?"
I grinned as he changed the topic to something more mundane, giving us both time to consider the supernatural aspect of this night.
"It's what I took all those college courses for," I said, brushing off his implied concern. He knew our grandfather had been pressuring me to take a job on the reservation.
Running Elk let loose something between a snort and choked down laughter. "You'd be able to cover a lot of territory as a wolf. Hate to see the looks campers give you when you show up," he said, still chuckling.
His glance at my manhood let me know he was talking about my undressed state after having shifted from wolf to human. Love you too, my ever-practical cousin!
To Be Continued.
"Been thinking of wearing a doggie backpack," I told him."Hard to put that on as a wolf by yourself," he replied.Instead of answering, I started shifting my body. It's natural for me to begin with my feet when I'm doing a total shift. Concentration and practice, which my dad had insisted upon as he taught me, were essential for changing just part of yourself. I focused on my shoulder, making me look for a moment like a misshapen creature right out of some horror movie, before going on to my hand.Mom had insisted on teaching me animal anatomy, which is very different from human anatomy. She'd been the best vet in the area. How often had she drilled me on this? I could hear her gentle voice explaining how joints on four legs work at different angles. So, shift shoulder, elbow ... ehh ... keep human wrist, get a combo of paw and fingers ... I went back to full human."Working on it," I told Running Elk.From the look on his face, Running Elk was trying not to throw up. I didn't say an
Loping back toward home in the predawn darkness, shoulder to shoulder with my dad, gave me a sense of comfort and completeness. We Had connected up during the night, getting to know our new neighbors. Dad and I had left the new pack behind, the two of us mock-fighting, hunting for small game and playing together.Dad and I were so close physically that our shoulders or sides touched most of the time. We would part for the occasional leap over an obstacle then come back together again, both of us needing that closeness. We had the same pace, and similar heights now. Dad was still huskier than me, and I was a bit taller in the shoulder than him. I could only hope that we would be closer emotionally as well. I know he loved me, but the last year, especially the last few months, had been hard and lonely with Mom gone.Our home was on the outskirts of our little community, right up against a stand of trees. Dad led the way along the row of bushes to the opening in the crawl space under our
"Glasses," he commanded, motioning with his chin while his hands opened the mustard.I could tell by the glance he gave at the empty sink he realized I hadn't bothered using a glass while drinking down the carton. I could almost hear what Mom would say every time she thought I was sneaking a drink without using a glass. Dad was silent as he gave the milk a quick sniff to make sure it hadn't spoiled.He emptied the last of it into the two glasses I set on the counter."I'll go shopping once the stores open," Dad said.There was a pause, with closed eyes on his part, as if he was pulling himself together still. When he opened them, he picked up the milk glass, raising it as if making a toast."Congratulations on getting a response from those many applications you filled out," he said.A slight smile like old times touched his lips before he hid his disappointment at me leaving him soon. I think he just realized he needed me as much as I needed him."I know you've worked hard. Which comp
I didn't feel like listening to another lecture, especially without Mom around to keep things from exploding between my dad and me. I also didn't want to lose the camaraderie my dad and I had tentatively found. He sounded tired and looked drained, but managed to pull on hidden reserves to get him through this.The way he was looking at me wasn't his usual condescending smirking glare, nor was it the demanding drill instructor, the no-nonsense-tolerated, stiff-ass attitude I often got from him when he taught me anything about being one with the wolf.It took me a second to realize he was going to try and speak to me like an adult, someone of equal standing. It's about time, I thought triumphantly. I took a breath and leaned forward a bit myself. I didn't trust myself to say anything other than, "I'm listening."Dad gave me a small, wane smile. I was sure his usual way of talking to me was ready to come out the second I acted immaturely enough, in his opinion, to blow it. His self-depre
"I don't hate you."A partial truth. He was my father, and I loved him. I just hated his ongoing sermons and training. He was a wolf living in a human world.I was a human who merely also happened to be able to live as a wolf. I grew up human, despite our family excursions as wolves. I was part of a deep and cultural human community. I had family beyond just him and mom. I was part of my mom's tribe, a connection with society Dad never had, and possibly, I realized, a connection he couldn't completely comprehend. I had an identity beyond being a wolf. I honestly couldn't see myself having any trouble out in the world.My dad was right about me sharing mom's desire to learn, and his too. Teacher he might be, but in his heart, Dad was an eternal student.Dad gave a little hmph as if he knew what I was thinking. He probably did, as often as we'd yelled it back and forth. But then Dad grinned a bit as he walked over and put his hand behind my head. He pulled on me until our foreheads met.
I took a moment while out of Dad's view to wince and rub my shoulder. I stuffed the very wrinkled bag in the back of my sock drawer without even looking at it. Peeling off the ripped shirt, I threw it in a corner. I had to bend over some to take a look at my shoulder in my dresser mirror. Touching it gingerly, I knew I was going to be sore for the next few days.No clean shirts left in my room, which meant nothing to hide the bruise that was working its way across my shoulder. I resented that grip but knew I wouldn't have stayed if it hadn't been there. And I had promised to listen.I demanded to be treated like a man and got more than I bargained for.His words about possibly becoming a rapist came back to me. He never said he had, only that the struggle in a crowded city was too much for him, how finding mom had been a godsend.I didn't want to ask, but at the same time, I was desperate to ask, to be reassured that my dad was who I always thought he was.It was my turn to try and st
The next day was more of the same, with Dad going out of his way to get me ready to be on my own. The first thing the following day was a long trip into the county seat to get a motorcycle added to my driving license. He insisted on a helmet, and I didn't argue.He also insisted on a trip to the mall while we were in town. He bought me one dress shirt and a few casual shirts so I'd have something other than my usual tees. We had lunch in the food court, where he instructed me to bring the wolf within me closer to the surface. Dad was leaning back, remaining casual, commenting on the various smells and sounds. I was glad it was mid-week and not too crowded.I felt like I was about to panic, freaked out by this new attitude he had. He and I had never really just hung together. It had always been my mom and me who took off to go places. It was hard to match his casual atmosphere and just chat about the wolf. It was hard to push down the rebellious teen I had been. I didn't know if I coul
Wolf.Man.The wolf I had just been was more wolf than I had ever been before. I felt confused and disoriented. I glanced at Dad as he eased the truck back on the freeway.I am a man. I knew I was! But…My body twitched, even though I had completed my transformation. My clothing felt constrictive. I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't form.Dad nudged the water bottle over until it bumped my thigh. I awkwardly managed to unscrew the top and take a sip. I didn't trust myself to put the cap back on. My eyes followed my fingers as they moved. It was like I didn't know my own hand.I automatically turned when Dad sighed."Open the glove box."I pushed the button, and the small compartment door popped open. Inside was the usual assortment of papers for the truck, a small first aid bag from which many a bandaid had come when I was a kid, and the heavy leather pouch Dad called his emergency kit.I knew what was in it, and had seen everything there many times when we went camping. I pulled