Running With the Pack (33 page)

The wolf waited still. Night settled softly around her. It would be dawn soon and as the sun drew nigh, she felt her usual compulsion to return home. She did not. She was held as captive by the cage as the figure inside it. The scintillating scent of wolf buried within woman held her there.

Finally, at long last, the figure moved. It rolled onto its side and heaved itself up with a bruised arm. One hand wrapped around a bar of the cage. She leaned her head against it and sighed. The wolf, watching this, must have disturbed a leaf with its breath. The woman turned and met the wolf’s eyes.

Something was exchanged between them, some plea in a coded language only those two could understand. It lasted for but a moment, and then the woman lost her grip and slid back to the bottom of the cage.

The wolf was done here. She retreated through the forest, breaking into a trot only when the clearing was left far behind. Home called, dawn was coloring the horizon. She was running out of time.

She had not yet reached the boundary where wood met field when it came upon her. The wolf, mid-stride, twisted and fell. Leaves scattered in her wake as she slid for a few paces in the dirt. Tortured by her own mutation, she choked on vomit and released a burbling half-howl. When it ended, several endless minutes later, Gretchen lay motionless on the ground.

She did not respond to her sisters’ calls. They, trampling through the brush at the edge of the wood, were almost frantic.

“Where could she be?” Molly said, her eyes wide with fear.

“I don’t know.” May’s brows drew in. “She must be close. She knows to come home.”

“She’s been acting funny lately. I hope she’s okay.”

May was surprised Molly had noticed. “Has she said anything to you?”

“No, not really. She just seems so withdrawn.” Molly kicked a pile of damp leaves out of her way.

“It’s hard on her. She needs us, Molly, maybe more now than she ever has.”

“I know.” Molly hung her head. “I’ve been away too often. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.” May was overjoyed at Molly’s newfound romance and did not want it to stop. Molly deserved all the goodness she could get.

“We just . . . ” May hesitated. There was nothing they could do for Gretchen that they weren’t already doing. “Never mind. Let’s keep looking.”

They were close to panic when they finally found her, stretched out in a copse of trees. She sat upright as May’s hand touched her, startling her sisters who gasped and jumped back.

“It was a woman,” Gretchen said. Her voice was hoarse, not yet acclimated to human vocal cords.

May recovered and wrapped Gretchen in the blanket. “We’re here, Gretchen,” she said. “We’re right here.”

Gretchen sagged into her arms. May and Molly said nothing as they tended her and half-carried her back to the house. Once she was in bed, they met in the kitchen.

“What was she talking about?” Molly asked.

“I’ve got no idea, but we’re going to find out. She needs to talk about whatever has been bothering her and we’ve got to make her do it. Tonight.”

“She’ll be a mess!”

“I know it. She may actually open up.”

Gretchen did, and it was not what her sisters expected.

“I’m telling you, I know what I saw.”

“You can’t possibly expect us to believe you know what you saw out there as a . . . a wolf. You’ve said yourself you don’t remember anything. And what you have seen is bad enough.”

“You’ve got to tell someone, Gretchen.” Molly was terrified that the someone would be John. They were getting along so well; the last thing she wanted was for him to discover just how weird her family was. And yet, what Gretchen described was a matter for the authorities. John was sure to learn of it, one way or another.

“It’s no ordinary wolf. Under the full moon, it is a
woman.
We can’t bring in the law. What do you think they’ll do with her? And how long do you think it will be before they look at me?”

Perhaps now had not been a good time to speak to Gretchen after all, May thought. Yet, she had a point. If, and that was a large
if
, Gretchen had seen another of her kind as she so astonishingly suggested, they could not risk anyone else becoming involved.

“Okay. You’re tired. Why don’t we call it a night and see what tomorrow brings.”

Relieved, Gretchen nodded. “Fine. But I know what I saw.”

After she’d staggered off to bed, Molly and May sat in silence.

“Do you think it’s true?” Molly finally asked.

May reached across the table and took her hands. “I don’t know. I think she’s just had a bad dream. But don’t worry. We’ll make sure John stays out of it, whatever it is.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, holding on tight. “Thank you.”

Gretchen rose the next morning in a stupor. The walls of her bedroom were close and confining. Her legs were weak and she clung to the back of a chair until she found her balance. Shadows seemed superimposed on the window frame: dark limbs of trees, scuttling creatures, the outline of a wolf somehow standing upright.

She was more certain than ever that what the wolf saw was accurate. Her sisters might not believe it, but she knew. She could not leave it alone. Gretchen gathered her wits. Both sisters were awake before her. She cornered them in the kitchen before either could wish her good day.

“I can’t leave her out there. Don’t argue. This is none of your business.”

Shocked, the sisters turned as one. Gretchen’s eyes were black, feral. They felt the monster there in the kitchen where no monster belonged. Fear tainted Molly’s belly, but May held firm.

“Let us know what you need.”

“I need time. Alone,” Gretchen said.

Molly drew in her breath, but said nothing as Gretchen sat at the table and put her head in her hands.

“It hurts,” she said and Molly went to her side.

“You need to eat.”

May heaped a plate with bacon, sausage and eggs. Gretchen ate with her fingers as Molly stroked her hair. It was an uncomfortable morning, but it passed and by noon the eerie light had dimmed in Gretchen’s eyes.

“Will you see John tonight?” Gretchen asked as Molly dressed for work.

“No,” Molly said with a frown.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think I should see him again.”

Gretchen took her by the shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, Molly. Don’t. You really like this guy, I can tell. Promise me you won’t give him up because of me.”

Molly wiped a tear from her eye. “But it’s too dangerous. What if he finds out?”

“You and May can’t protect me for the rest of my life. You need to have a life, too. Look at me.”

Gretchen turned Molly toward her. Molly saw her sister, as familiar as her own skin. She also saw, very close to the surface, the wolf. They clung to each other for a moment before Molly stepped away.

“Okay. I won’t stop seeing him.”

“Good,” Gretchen smiled.

“Be careful, will you?” Molly said quietly.

“As careful as I can.”

Gretchen cornered May in the living room that night, before she could turn on the television to watch her favorite show.

“I’ve got to set that woman free.”

“What?” May said, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I can’t leave her out there to die.”

“But what about that man? You said he had a gun.” May’s flesh grew cold. She rubbed her arms, suddenly very afraid.

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

“It’s too dangerous. You could be killed.” May grabbed her sister’s hand.

“Better that than live like this!” Gretchen shouted and snatched her arm away.

May realized then just how deeply Gretchen’s loathing of herself ran.

“And what of the wolf?” she asked quietly. “Would you leave it out there if you didn’t have these crazy dreams?”

“They aren’t dreams!” Gretchen said, eyes wild, but something in her sister’s voice reached her. Would she do such a thing? It was true, it was not the plight of the wolf that moved her, pitiful as it was. Only the thought of the woman drew her back, again and again.

“Gretchen,” May said softly, “if what you’ve seen is to be believed, that thing out there is somehow one of your kind.”

“I am not a wolf!” Gretchen bared her teeth.

May sighed. Gretchen had to face this thing she was, but she was clearly not yet ready.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. Do as you’ve always done. Do what makes you happy,” Gretchen said and leaned into her sister. “Just once, May, do what makes you happy.”

“
You
make me happy,” May said as she left the room.

Gretchen watched the wolf, now almost too weak to stand. She watched the man until she knew his daily routine as well as she knew her own. She came to know the forest as only a wolf could, each tree, rock and thicket became her own. She practiced silence, she stopped wearing shoes. She almost thought the man had become aware of her presence, or a presence in the nearby wood. He came out of the cabin, gun in hand, and stood still, as though listening for some sound. This happened several times, but he never detected the shadow that was Gretchen.

Drop by painful drop, Gretchen came to love the creature in the cage. She wished, still, for her vision to clear, for she could not think of it as a wolf. She saw only the woman she was sure the wolf became beneath the moon. She wanted to see her face, she wanted to wash the sores on her body and comb out her hair. She wanted to hold her, to offer safety and to keep her from further harm. Drop by drop, Gretchen understood. She was going to kill the man.

At home, she thought of nothing else. May absorbed her silent sister into her routine as Molly’s romance flourished. Neither were aware that Gretchen intended an action which would have at one time been unthinkable to her. It was the wolf within and the wolf without that forged this thing she had become. She considered weapons, poisons, traps and at last, she considered her own bare hands. She could think of no sure way to see the job done. Two weeks passed, then three and she was no closer to a solution. Her bed was unmade, her laundry piled up, she ate as though she starved.

On the morning before September’s full moon, she was rummaging through her closet in search of a clean shirt when she found her answer. Forgotten amidst the dust on the top shelf was a small shoe box. She pulled it down as though it was lost treasure and carefully removed the lid. Inside, wrapped in tissue, was the thorn she had plucked from the wolfweed just before they burned it. She lifted it out reverently, between two fingers. It had not withered in all the last ten years. The outline of an idea, cruel and terrible, formed in her mind.

“You’re going into the forest at night?” May asked, home from work early in the evening.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Gretchen was tired of repeating herself. She knew May would never stop worrying, but she also knew this thing had to be done.

At dusk, she left a pensive May in the kitchen and made her way into the woods. She and the wolf stalked as one. She felt its raw presence within her, she spoke to it, drew it forth, allowed it to breathe in the still air. Her eyes could not see as well in the night as the wolf’s and so she let her knowledge of the wood be her guide. She heard the stream before she reached it; the water rushed lightly over rocks and limbs. She followed it until, at a tall oak, she branched off toward the clearing. Gretchen knelt behind her usual tree and was overcome by the eternal patience of the wolf.

She had no way to know if her plan would work. She had only her own experience to go by. Gretchen did not even know if the thorn retained its potency. All she had was hope, and though she tried not to think of how that hope lay in the thing she most hated, it had become too obvious to ignore. Gretchen relied on that which had changed her to change him.

The wolf was sprawled on the bottom of the cage, sides faintly rising and falling with its breath. An air of resignation emanated from the sad thing. At least she’s still alive, Gretchen thought. I’m not too late.

Gretchen had never spent a night in the forest, but she had watched the man inebriate himself day after day and knew he would drink himself to sleep. Beer cans and bottles littered the clearing. Where he found the funds for his habit she could only guess. As she lay there, he staggered out once to relieve himself. She was grateful to see him so far gone.

At least an hour had passed with no sound from him before Gretchen dared to move. She knew she should hurry, but when she reached the cage, she paused. The wolf, scenting her approach, raised it ragged head. Gretchen grasped the bars with her hands and looked into its eyes. Had the wolf not been subjected to such excruciating cruelty, this closeness may not have been achieved. But close they were, faces two feet apart, and in other, less obvious ways. The wolf made no sound as Gretchen tried to convey her compassion and her love. She allowed herself to believe, for just a moment, that the woman inside the wolf understood.

The cabin loomed in the moonlight. She crept quietly to the door and pushed it open, holding her breath and listening for any motion from within. There was none. She entered slowly and saw the man sprawled across a rotted cot, his pants and his shirt all undone. Gretchen grimaced at the thought of touching him, but anger drove her on. She peered around, noted the location of the gun. It was propped against the wall beside him and was probably loaded. She gently lifted it and was surprised by how heavy it was. What to do with the thing? She placed it under the cot and, with her foot, slid it as far back toward the wall as she could. Fear raised the hair on her neck, but before she could reconsider she took the thorn from her pocket and jammed it in.

He rose with a roar as Gretchen ran from the cabin as fast as the dim light would allow. The man, confused, did not at first follow, but soon enough Gretchen heard his drunken shouting from the clearing. She, by the stream, stopped to listen. His voice was slurred, his curses struck out at the night, at demons invisible and at the helpless wolf. Gretchen feared he would take his rage out on her, but she could not linger.

Back home in her bed, adrenaline kept her awake for hours more. When she finally did sleep, her dreams were blood-soaked. When she woke, she was ravenous.