Running With the Pack (32 page)

Gretchen breathed deeply and focused, trying to invoke the monster that slept inside her. Down deep she went into the primal source of mind, where flesh means less and instinct is all. She moved, step by step, until her feet became sure and led her onwards toward the stream. Gnats flew into her eyes, things scurried in the brush and overhead, a bird called out in warning. She grew hungry, she gnawed on bread and chicken left over from the last evening’s meal. Hours passed and she barely noticed. She was only half-human now. The wolf led her through the wood.

She stopped in a copse as fear gripped her. Gretchen neither saw nor heard anything unusual, but she heeded the feeling and kept still for several long moments. In the quiet, a faint whimpering and whining—the sound a dog would make if it were pleading—became audible through the trees.

Gretchen pressed on, urgency driving her steps. Fully herself now, she was less cautious than she should have been; sticks snapped underfoot and branches cracked as she pushed them out of her way.

She tracked the sound of the weeping animal to the clearing. She stopped at its edge and ducked down behind a young maple surrounded by brush. Twigs caught in her hair and snagged on her shirt; she ignored them. From behind the tangle of branches she saw the cabin, forlorn and yet obviously tenanted, for there was freshly cut wood stacked beside it and litter strewn around the door. She registered the dwelling, but it was not this that held her attention. In the scuffed and flattened ground before it, she saw what had been making the noise.

Silent now, hackles raised, a crushingly pathetic wolf was held in a cage. It was an ancient construction of black iron, much like those used in old traveling circus shows. In the advertisements, they rose up from the backs of colorful wagons in a merry display meant to arouse excitement and draw unwary customers in. The reality of the device repulsed her. The wolf, sensing her presence, turned toward her. Eyes met eyes. Gretchen’s breath caught in her throat.

Before she had time to process the vision, as if any sense could be made of it, the door to the cabin was kicked open and a man stood in its frame. He was as rotted as the wood surrounding him. Thin, knotted hair topped a skeletal face. Two narrow eyes glared out at the wolf as, from behind the door, the man pulled a rifle.

“Whatsa matter,” he called out to the wolf. “Ain’t you had enough?”

Gretchen held her breath as he approached the cage, gun held over his shoulder. The wolf and Gretchen cringed as one as he swung his weapon, clanging the butt against the bars.

“Cry, you freak. Cry, or I’ll give you something real to cry about.”

The wolf began to whine and writhe on its belly, opening wounds on its legs that would never have a chance to fully heal if this was their treatment. The man grinned and looked out into the forest before turning away. As the cabin door slammed shut behind him, dislodging debris from the roof which fell in a soft rain to the ground, Gretchen felt her skin begin to burn.

The monster was close. Wolf called to wolf and the strange ache blossomed in her chest. Rage consumed her; she tried to tamp it down, aware of the danger she was in. Slowly and ever so silently, she backed out of the thicket and, still on all fours, crept away from the clearing. When she could no longer see the cabin, she rose, but she kept to the trees, moving swiftly from one to the other until she reached the stream.

Home never looked so sweet as it did when she finally left the woods. Running, she crossed the field, only slowing as she reached May’s garden. May was home by now and Gretchen did not want to rush in and alarm her.

“You’ve been gone for hours!” May said when Gretchen entered the kitchen. “Where have you been?”

“Didn’t you see my note?”

“Yeah, but ‘gone for a walk’ could mean anything.” May peered at her sister. “Are you okay?”

Gretchen knew better than to lie to her sister, but she wouldn’t give her the whole truth. How could she? “Not really, no. I got a little creeped out in the woods, that’s all. I don’t even know why I went out there.”

May inspected her sister’s face. “Yes, you do.”

Yes, Gretchen did, but she wasn’t prepared to admit it. There was no woman out there; it was just a wolf. Sad, yes, but just a wolf. It had nothing to do with her. She’d been tricked by her own imagination. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

“Well, you just take it easy, okay?”

“Promise. I’m going to get cleaned up and then I’ll help you with supper.”

“Good. There was a sale on ribs and I grabbed a few packs. We’re having those.”

In the shower, Gretchen scrubbed her body until her flesh glowed a pale red. No matter how she tried, the wolf would not wash away. She wept, quietly so May wouldn’t hear her, unable to contain the emotions that wanted to pull her to the tiled floor.

The monster had been so close. Too close. She still felt it lurking now, just there where she could almost touch it, if she reached a hand into herself. It, she, was howling in frustration. It felt terror and again that same rage. Gretchen was overcome with a scent she couldn’t possibly, as a human, comprehend. As the hot water finally wore away her confusion, a clear thought evolved in her mind.

I was certain there was a woman in that cage.

But it was the wolf’s foul memory describing that figure, not hers. Gretchen shook the water from her hair. There was not much difference remaining between them, and she was terrified.

The two conflicting memories tortured her throughout the evening. Both Gretchen and May were relieved when Molly walked through the door.

“How’d it go?” May asked as Gretchen smiled a greeting.

Molly blushed and May’s eyebrows raised.

“Fine,” Molly said.

“Just fine? Come on, something happened. You’re red as an apple.”

“John asked me out,” Molly said in a small voice very much unlike her.

“And?” May would not give up.

“I agreed.”

“I knew it!” May grinned and swatted her sister on the arm. “It’s about time.”

“But . . . ”

“No
but
. I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry about it. When’s your hot date?”

“Tomorrow night. I’m meeting him in town. He’s a cop, he’s going to ask questions, you know.” Molly insisted on airing her fears.

“Tell him we’re weird,” Gretchen said. “Just enjoy yourself, for god’s sake.” An unbidden harshness edged her voice.

Molly stared, and then finally said, “All right.”

Three sisters did not sleep well that night.

Molly did something the next evening that left both Gretchen and May dumbfounded. Her hair was piled on top of her head and her eyes were lined with black kohl. Their younger sister was transformed, but this was no monster that greeted them at the stair.

“You look lovely!” May said as she hugged her.

Eyes downcast, Molly said, “Thank you.”

“It’s true. You must really like this guy,” Gretchen teased.

“I just felt like doing something different,” Molly said, but her sisters were not fooled.

After she’d gone to meet John at the diner, May slipped off to read in her room. Gretchen, left with her thoughts, began pacing again.

Molly seemed so happy tonight, Gretchen mused. It was the first time she’d seen her make an effort with her appearance. Gretchen frowned. There was no reason for either of her sisters to become spinsters on her behalf. Molly—though she hid it well—was a joyous soul who would do well with a family of her own. May might, in time, find someone, though Gretchen doubted it. May seemed content to follow Momma’s lead. These troubles seemed far removed from Gretchen’s own muddled reality, but they were closer than she realized.

Gretchen now felt a fool for ever imagining her own life as a cage. She was fortunate, she finally realized, to have such sisters as hers. Anyone else would have put a bullet in her, or worse. She could not stop thinking about the wolf, battered and starved. That, she thought, could have been me. Still, it was just a wolf, unless what she saw beneath the moon was true? Could it be? She put her hands to her head to still the pictures that passed in a blur before her closed eyes.

They were interchangeable, wolf and woman. Wolf saw one thing, woman another. Gretchen thought she’d explode from the contradiction and she let a small cry escape from her throat. She sank into the sofa in the living room, huddled over and wrapped her arms around herself. The ache returned, an incredible longing. She understood, at long last, how very lonely she was.

Gretchen never shared Molly’s interest in boys—not in school, when the possibility still existed, nor as as a young woman, when because of the wolf a lover was out of the question. Before the change, she often wondered if there was something wrong with her. Even May had the occasional weekend foray into the strange world of men. Not so, Gretchen. There was once, just before Momma died, when a girl in her class made her young heart flutter. The way she felt when this girl entered the room scared Gretchen. When Gretchen changed, it was almost too easy to accept that love was not for her. Better that than face this other thing.

Now, wolf scented wolf and the woman Gretchen had become was in turmoil as she was slowly forced to recognize an affinity. Cotton curtains fluttered in a breeze, drawing Gretchen out of herself. She would have to go back. There was nothing else she could do.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the woods lately.”

May could no longer hide her concern. Gretchen had been irritable and distracted for days, but that was understandable. The moon was rounding and would be full in less than a week’s time. But this strange mood of her sister’s began when she returned from that first trek in the forest, and only increased every time she went there. Daily now, Gretchen left the house while her sisters were at work. Molly, who came in late most nights, was unaware of Gretchen’s habits, but May had been watching and finally she demanded an answer.

“I know. It’s okay, really it is.”

“You’re lying to me. You’re a mess every time you come home. What’s going on?”

Gretchen turned her face away from her sister. How to explain the horror she witnessed daily? She had honed the skill of silent stalking, she had inspected the cabin from all sides and the cage next to it. She knew the habits of the man who kept the wolf in such horrific conditions. She knew how purely awful he was. She saw the locks, too, that kept the cage sealed, and the keys hanging from his leather belt. She knew the wolf now. Ragged and broken in body, its spirit remained intact though as far as Gretchen could tell, it wouldn’t for much longer.

The man was brutal. She saw what and how he fed the creature, rotted meat dangled over the cage, withheld until the creature crawled, begging, toward him. Her ribs pushed through her sides and her coat hung in patches over scabbed flesh. Her eyes wept dark matter down over her nose. Gretchen felt the monster in her shift and slither, struggling to surface. She fought to keep it down.

“If you must know,” she finally spoke, “it’s the wolf.”

There. Not a lie, but not exactly true, Gretchen offered this to her sister in appeasement. She also knew that to mention the wolf was to draw a line neither of her sisters would cross.

“Oh Gretchen, I’m so sorry. I wish I could do more to help.”

“Well, you can’t.”

May sagged and Gretchen, contrite, hugged her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Don’t mind me.”

“What are you two fussing about?” Molly said as she swung in, a pleasant smile on her face.

Molly was going through a change of her own. Under John’s attention, at first reluctantly accepted, she was softening. An inner beauty once known only to her sisters was transforming the shape of her face, so much so that even the patrons at the bar had commented.

Gretchen wanted to say
wolves
, but she didn’t. There was no reason to deflate her sister’s good mood.

“The usual. Gretchen wants a whole cow for supper and I’ve only got three steaks thawed out,” May said.

They shared a laugh, but Gretchen’s was false and both sisters knew it.

Still troubled by her initial memory of a woman in the cage, she agonized over it until the night of the full moon. There had to be way, she thought, to be certain of what the wolf saw. She and the monster shared the same brain, didn’t they? Somehow the wolf knew to go home when the night was gone. Somehow she must be able to connect with the beast and remember, more clearly, what it would see. Gretchen soured at the thought, but it was the only way she knew to solve this puzzle.

That night, as her sisters held her, Gretchen fought for control. Pain, she could almost endure. It was the sensation of every cell dislocating from the others that was impossible to bear. Her consciousness separated as her tendons burned. Her vision blurred and shifted, condensed and expanded with her skin.
Remember
, she thought,
my name is Gretchen.
She screamed with the effort, but as her sisters moved away, all that was Gretchen was gone.

The wolf hunted. A young fawn, unattended for one moment too long by its mother, went down easily under her strong jaws. She shredded it, burying what she didn’t eat well away from the scene of its demise. In ever tightening circles she coursed through the forest, avoiding the outlying fields. Shortly after midnight, she found herself beside the stream. The running water triggered an echo of remembrance; she put her nose in the air and waited, for what she did not know. The wind stirred the upper leaves of the trees, bringing with it the taste of metal. The wolf shuddered and, as wolves do, it recalled. It turned and ambled along the bank, snuffling as it went, and then stopped as a cry pierced the night.

She would have run, but something held the wolf back. She knew that sound, it resonated and called her out, back to the clearing. Wolf eyes watched; she scented present danger but saw nothing. The cage stood empty. The cries came from within the shuttered cabin. The wolf crouched low and waited again, alert and still.

In time, the wolf’s patience was rewarded. The cabin door opened and the man emerged, dragging someone behind him by the arm. The wolf tensed; the stink was incredible. She watched as he approached the cage, kicked it open with his foot and heaved his baggage inside. The wolf saw the way his hands moved on the iron and heard the locks click into place. The figure inside did not move as the man walked away, but it wept with a most pitiful sound. The wolf recognized the song of sorrow. The place reeked of fresh blood and pain.