Questions Of My Childhood
Looking back at the moment with the benefit of humanside clarity, the old stag had been way too big to take down single-handedly. But that was the drawback of the wolfside--it was almost like dreaming in that you couldn't realize an idea didn't make sense til you woke up and thought about it. Being wolfside didn't turn you into an animal. You could still talk and reason. You knew who and what you were. You were still yourself, just way more... impulsive.
And just one glance at the stag's big, juicy hind leg quickly became all he could think about.
"Sam GET BACK!"
He had been so excited for this hunt, a chance to prove his capability to the pack, to bring home a feast… well, okay, a large snack… maybe finally earn a pack name. That was all he could think about once he assumed his wolf shape.
Now, instead of gaining a name, he was certain he was going to lose an eye.
The problem with time slowing was that sometimes your body slowed too. He had gotten too close, trying to go for the neck. And the stag's antlers, an entire rack of sharp stabbing points jutting out at various angles, came swooping down for his face. His heart pounded in his ears. He tried to pull himself away, but his body responded like it was buried in tar. The antlers were coming towards him almost faster than he could get away. He cringed, trying to pull his head as far into his shoulders as he could manage. And he screwed his eyes shut, as if that would make any difference.
He felt shock as the antler made contact—and it took him a moment to realize it was slashing into his right arm, not his head. Relief didn't last for very long, though, because it still hurt like hell and sent him spinning, landing on his stomach and lying immobile as he heard Odysseus, Hatchet and Patience struggling with the stag. Distantly, he could hear its panicked trumpeting, which turned into desperate gurgling and finally the thud of its corpse hitting the ground. But the triumph wasn't his; all he had done was provide it a momentary distraction and then clutch his arm as blood seeped through his fingers and congealed into a sticky mess.
"Kid?"
"Sam?"
Two sets of hands hefted him up, but Sammy was still having a hard time comprehending what was happening around, and to, him.
"Shit," Patience swore, which finally snapped him back into the space-time continuum. "That looks bad."
"Sam, let me see," Odysseus said patiently, prying his fingers off his arm. Sammy brandished his teeth, but even in this pain-addled state he could not attack an alpha. But it didn't hurt. His entire shoulder only felt like a void. He wasn't sure if it was from adrenaline, or maybe it was just because he had endured far, far worse. He dared to look down, at the chunk of flesh that was missing from his chest to his deltoid, and his feet buckled.
"That ain't healing," Hatchet pointed out.
"Yes I know," Odysseus mused. "It's also bone deep."
Sammy groaned.
Odysseus, still holding his arm, circled around to face Sammy's front. "Try going humanside, that might force your wound to close in the process."
Sammy nodded, shut his eyes, concentrated... and nothing happened. He took a deep breath, imagined sucking the fur back into his skin... still nothing. His legs started to shake. He was either too shaken, or too depleted of energy, to transform. He opened his eyes again and a pathetic whimper escaped his maw.
"Can't?" Odysseus asked.
Sammy shook his head. He felt like a failure of a werewolf.
Odysseus turned to Patience. "Run ahead and get the first-aid kit out of the truck. We'll bind the wound, load up the carcass, and get both back home."
Hatchet hefted the stag over his shoulders, and the procession marched slowly through the woods. Sammy wasn't sure what he found more upsetting: his wound, his shame, his inability to even manage a basic bodily function... or the fact that Night Sky was going to be pissed.
***
Night Sky had gone full taskmaster.
Sammy, Liam, and whatever other packmates not fortunate enough to keep out of sight had spent the last two weeks drafted into her mad quest to make the house immaculate from top to bottom. Clearing out the dusty guest rooms had been the worst of it. But Night Sky was no-nonsense about this. According to Liam, it wasn't just the fact that they would be hosting the alpha of another pack, which etiquette demanded putting the best of feet forward, but they were hosting Odysseus' sister. She had grown up in this home, and Night Sky considered it a matter of personal pride that the House of Argo was better for her presence. So, with stakes that high, she was understandably keeping everyone on their toes. Sammy noticed that no one dared come into the house wolfside since her crusade had started. No one would risk shedding fur inside.
So, it was a great relief when the day of their guests' arrival had come. A big soirée was planned to celebrate the alphas' niece's eighteenth birthday. The house vibrated with anticipation, though Sammy's reasons were different from everyone else's. With all the attention being on their guests, Sammy intended to just keep his head down and enjoy some time to himself for a change.
Pack life was not at all what he expected, and at the same time it was. Being the newest member, everyone was curious about him. He often found himself the subject of the others' attention, and his novelty factor hadn't worn off even after half a year. Most had their hearts in the right places, but that just seemed to make it worse. The more they were invested in his success, the more upset they would be when he inevitably let them down, right? So, to have everyone's attention diverted to something else for a while would give him a break. At least, that was the plan.
But then Odysseus, feeling antsy himself, had invited him to join in a hunt in the woods before their guests arrived and, well, here he was. The opportunity to run with alpha had been too important to turn down. And then the chance to earn his name in a blaze of glory had been too tempting to resist.
So he wound up in the back cab of Odysseus' truck, pressing a bandage on his arm and trying not to bleed all over the interior while they wound their way through the rough-cut path back home. Everyone had gone humanside but him. He'd offered to ride in the bed with the meat, but Hatchet had just scoffed before all but cramming Sammy inside.
Elizabeth stood ready to greet them when they pulled up, already dressed in her work scrubs, having just gotten home from work. At least one thing worked out in Sammy's favor today.
"What happened?"
"Kid got cocky," Hatchet said as he got out, pointing behind him with his thumb. "Got his arm sliced open for his efforts. Looks like he still hasn't recovered from whatever shit those people did to him, because he isn't healing like he should be and he can't change back."
Sammy had just worked up the nerve to open the door and allow himself to be seen by Elizabeth, when Night Sky's voice rang out across the yard. "What happened?"
He almost jumped back in the cab when she came bounding up. She smelled of both fear and anger, and as her gaze locked in on him, he knew he had really screwed up. Everyone was supposed to be spit-and-polished ready for the arrival of their guests, and now he had made a mess of things. He opened his mouth, apology primed, when she turned on her husband.
"You were supposed to watch out for him!" she snarled. Her voice rounded into a Cajun drawl that came out when she was really angry. "Ah told you he wasn't ready for big gayum yet! Ah told you just because he can catch game on his own, don't mean he'll automatically clue in on group huntin' tactics!"
Odysseus growled at his wife. "I thought this would be a prime opportunity for him to learn."
"For god's sake Odysseus, yah don't just chuck someone into the ocean and tell 'em to swim!"
"We're werewolves!" he protested. "Hunting is ingrained into our very nature!"
As their bickering escalated, Elizabeth placed an arm around Sammy, gently pulling him towards the house. "Come on, let's start cleaning this while Odysseus convinces Night Sky not to neuter him," she said, twisting her mouth to try to hide her smirk.
"I don't want them to fight on account a' me," he whimpered. That would just be one more reason for Odysseus to be mad at him, after all.
"Oh, don't worry about it. My aunt and uncle are passionate people. Trust me, this'll just lead to some loud make-up sex tonight." She shook her head as if to ward off the mental image and then leaned in closer. In a conspiratorial whisper, she said, "You know that British accent of his is kinda fake, right? He picked it up in his travels abroad as a young man. He just keeps it because it really turns my aunt on." She grinned as they crossed the threshold into the house.
Sammy couldn't believe it. "What, really? But he seems so British."
"Yeah, no. Uncle Nick just spent a few years bouncing around Europe after having a falling-out with his dad. Caught a flight to New Orleans one day, and there's where he met my aunt. They married after dating just a couple months, and then Uncle Nick came back here with his brand-new bride in tow so he could resume his rank as the pack Beta."
"How did Odysseus' father react to Night Sky?" Sammy asked, appreciating the distraction.
"Oh, from what I heard, it didn't take her long to impress the old man," Elizabeth said. "The way Roy tells it, he was just glad Nick found someone who could settle him down."
As they reached the top of the stairs and found their way to Sammy's room, Elizabeth sat him down on his bed and took a look under the bandage. The way she sucked in her breath did not inspire confidence. "Yeah, that's gonna scar. You realize you're gonna get some medicine smeared on that ouchie, right?"
Sammy sucked in his breath. Night Sky's apothecary skills were as effective as they were nasty. "Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse," he muttered.
"Hey, you can take it. If I got cut that deep, I'd've bawled my eyes out. You're one tough customer."
Elizabeth's praise felt undeserved, but he knew better than to argue with her when she complimented him.
***
For whatever reason, Odysseus and Night Sky had seen fit to move Sammy into shared quarters with Liam. It was a large bedroom with more space than Sammy ever needed, but he could tell Liam did not appreciate having to compress his worldly possessions. The two sides of the bedroom were a study in extremes as a result. On Liam's side, the walls could barely be seen behind the miasma of sports memorabilia and band posters left over from an emo phase. Sammy had a dresser for his clothes, a shelf that for now held nothing, and a bed. But at least he could keep his nothing tidy and clean. He made his bed every morning, since the thrill of actually having a bed still hadn't worn off. He just hoped he would get to keep it after this foolhardy stunt. If he couldn't hunt with the pack... like a real werewolf... how long til Odysseus shipped him off to be someone else's problem?
Night Sky had come in and scolded lightly while she and Elizabeth stitched his arm back together. Sure enough, she'd brought the blender, filled with a green herbal muck that she smeared liberally over his arm before re-bandaging it. So at least he still had merit in her eyes. But he still indulged himself in a good sulk once he was alone, lying on his bed with his large feet dangling off the end. Eventually, the burning receded into a complete numbness in the arm, and Sammy drifted into a light, unhappy doze.
He woke up from the sound of an unfamiliar car pulling in, which was soon followed by joyful sounds, many of them high-pitched. Curiosity got the better of him, and he hauled himself over to the window.
Odysseus had his arms wrapped around a woman with frizzy red hair that had to be his sister, Kendra Simon-Vasso. Though she looked nothing like him, there was something in her body language that mirrored her brother's. Sammy had seen pictures of their father, and Odysseus was practically a carbon copy of the man. So his sister must have taken after their mother just as extremely. To her left stood her husband Theo Vasso in a kilt, sandals, and an open vest revealing a slight paunch.
Night Sky had scooped a girl and a young woman into her arms. The older one had to be Reilly, the reason for this family get-together. Reilly eventually pulled herself away from Night Sky, and circled around to the back of their truck, which contained what Sammy assumed was her luggage under a tarp. But as she pulled it back, she revealed... another buck, not as large as the one they had taken down that afternoon, but still impressive.
He watched as she pulled it out and tossed it at Odysseus' feet, lowering herself to her knees behind it.
"I, Reilly Austin of California, present this offering to Argo as proof of my ability to contribute, and ask to howl with you, to hunt with you, to live with you."
Everyone around her cheered.
"Son of a…" Sammy said.
The smaller girl, who appeared around the age of six, drew her gaze up towards him. Sammy hesitated, wondering if she would say something to the adults about his outburst. But instead, she threw him a full-arm wave.
He raised his left hand and waved back.
***
"To my niece, Fortune!" bellowed Odysseus. "Named after that which favors her boldness."
The rest of Argo, assembled around tables set up in the front yard, held up their glasses and toasted their newest initiate. The deer meat that she had caught was roasting on a large fire pit nearby, while the food the pack had caught had been sent to the smokehouse.
"So Reilly," Liam spoke up, "You're really moving in? I thought you were going to join the Order."
Sammy sat on the fringe of the gathering and watched everything. He didn't think anyone could pronounce the capitalization of a word, but somehow everybody accomplished it when they mentioned this "Order." He decided to ask someone about it later. It seemed like one of those things everybody should know, so he didn't want to publicly humiliate himself by professing his ignorance right there on the spot. He was quite happy being peripheral to the attention right now, thank you very much.
"I still am," she answered. "But I want to spend a year in Argo first, do some hard work, build up some muscle. No disrespect to my mom or my pack, but California's a little too idyllic for me. I always wanted to be out here, living the rustic life."
That got her a round of commendations, before she focused her attention on a grizzled figure halfway down the table. "And a year under Hatchet's tutelage will guarantee my fast tracking through Order training, never mind what an honor it will be just to learn from him."
Hatchet only nodded his acknowledgment.
Her younger sister Madison interjected, "And I just had a talk with Mama and Dad. They said it's okay for me to stay here with you for the winter!"
"The school's are better out here," Theo commented.
Reilly really had it all. She had a pack name, she had a family who loved her, and she had a plan for her life. She was even beautiful. Regular shifting burned calories faster than they could accumulate on a werewolf's body; but Reilly's figure had a bit of healthy excess around the bones. Sammy had managed to gain some weight since his rescue, but he still looked emaciated by comparison to her. And with a nose like an arrowhead and fiery red hair, well, that pushed her into the category of exotic, from his point of view.
Her plan included traveling the world… on purpose, even. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to travel, completely unafraid and in control. It was no wonder everyone in the pack liked this girl. Even from an outsider's perspective, she seemed pretty cool.
***
Reilly's eyes cracked open at the break of dawn the next day. It was her eighteenth birthday, her first full day as an adult. She had awoken early and accomplished her morning chores in like kind. With those finished, she even managed to unpack some of her stuff into her new room before breakfast. Perhaps it wasn't adult-like to be so eager, but she couldn't help that. And with nothing to do while most of the pack still slept (or were just crawling into bed, in a couple cases), she opted to go wolfside and go for a stroll in the woods. There was a tree in the heart of the forest that she loved to climb every time her family had brought her out here. And how she would be able to climb it every day, if she so desired.
She had always preferred Argo's forest over California's vineyards ever since her first visit here. Her parents' pack had been formed in the 60s, and sometimes felt more like a commune of ex-hippies than a "proper" werewolf pack. Out here, werewolves could roam freely throughout the woods without fear of human discovery. Here, they reigned supreme as top predators of the land. That's what Reilly loved most about these woods. They made her feel powerful.
Argo held another advantage with its mostly-adult population. The boys back home constantly followed her around with tongues lolling out. And she couldn't stand any little kid that wasn't her sister; most were rowdy and/or stupid. Reilly had always preferred the company of adults. "Precocious" was a word she heard a lot growing up.
The sun had peaked out from the horizon to begin a new day's journey. Reilly reached "her" tree and hoisted herself up onto her favorite branch. The thick wooden arm made a perfect seat for surveying her new domain, the land of her ancestors. She took a deep breath to savor the raw newness of the morning air, but instead she got a noseful of male that made her hackles leap.
She twisted her head just in time to see that guy emerge from the scrub. Argo's newest recruit set Reilly's hackles on end. He'd spent the whole evening yesterday skulking about and watching her when he thought she wasn't looking. But he wasn't as subtle as he thought, especially with a salty, rancid scent like his. Bathing seemed to be a foreign concept to him. And then there was his wide-eyed, paranoid stare—the kind a serial killer would have. Why Uncle Nicholas had seen fit to accept him into the pack, she didn't understand, but it was not her place to question him. All she could do was keep her guard up.
As if he hadn't expected her to see him, he froze in place. He made for a pretty ugly werewolf—his brown coat was scraggly and the mane around his neck was even more disheveled, long hairs going every which way. Even though he was over six feet tall, she could see ribs poking through his scrawny frame.
The last time she had seen a werewolf in this poor a condition, it had been her own father, half-crazed from six months of exile, and screaming obscenities at her for "getting him kicked out."
"What do you want?" she asked. She tried to hide the alarm in her voice, but didn't do a very convincing job. She tried to resist the memory. She leapt down off her branch to confront him. Last one, she had climbed up a tree to scream for help. This time, she was going to stand her ground. She wouldn't let herself be cornered, and she wouldn't scream for her mother to save her. That experience had made her swear to never be a victim again, and she was not one to break her promises.
Accepted by Uncle Nicholas or not, "packmate" or not, she was not going to let this guy make her a victim.
He just stared at her. His nostrils flared as he sniffed at her. Sniffed. His breathing became audible. Chocolate was heavy on his breath, souring her own taste for the stuff. Reilly curled her lips back and unchained the growl in her throat. But that didn't seem to intimidate the stranger—his eyes grew wider, his head sunk into his shoulders, but he held his ground.
"I asked what do you want?" she demanded. "What are you, stupid?"
The stranger began to raise his arm. Reilly didn't wait to see what he was about to do. She grabbed him by the wrist, pulled, and levered him over her own body, flipping him onto his back. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, but she didn't grant him any reprieve. With her hands still gripping his arm, she placed a foot on his chest and twisted, snapping the arm in two.
The male screamed. Not bellowed—screamed with a pitch that made her ears ring.
She let him go and saw something tumble from his limp hand. As the male curled up into a fetal position and began bawling like a little child, she saw what he had been about to give her. It was brightly-colored, and its delicate form had been crushed in the tumult. It had been a flower.
***
"Only sixteen!?"
Aunt Ruth nodded. Only this wasn't her aunt looking at her, it was Night Sky, the very-disappointed Alpha Female. Reilly looked up into her eyes and then the eyes of her mother beside her, looking for any sign of sympathy. But all she got was the seething anger of two Alphas beating down on her.
Reilly looked back at the whimpering male as Liam slowly walked him into the house. He had his arm firmly tied against his body for support. A guy that size, only a kid?
Night Sky took an "I'm trying to be patient, I'm really trying" breath. In a dangerously calm voice, she said, "We rescued him from BioPharm, Reilly. The poor thing still hasn't fully recovered from what they did to him."
"That 'poor thing' gave me the creeps!"
"Reilly! Show some compassion!" her mother scolded.
"Well I'm sorry, but how could I be expected to know his backstory? All I knew was some walking skeleton followed me into the forest and came up to me from behind. Then he just stood there staring at me. What was I supposed to think?"
Her mother rolled her eyes. "From the sounds of it, he was literally more afraid of you than you were of him."
"Well he certainly is now," Reilly sneered.
Her uncle's voice made her jump. "You shouldn't assume the worst of all men, Reilly. Do you think I would have welcomed Sam into our pack if he wasn't trustworthy?"
Great, now there were three of them. Reilly hung her head. She had no retort for her Alphas, and even if she did, she dared not press her luck with any more backtalk. She was in enough hot water, and her mother could very easily decide to take her back to California—in disgrace.
Odysseus pressed on, "Sam hasn't been able to tell us much about his life before the humans took him, but we do know he was homeless before that. Life as a lone werewolf is dangerous enough for an adult. Can you imagine how frightening it must have been for a child barely able to control his changes?"
Night Sky, as one mind with her husband, went on, "He's had no one in his life. He has a hard time just interacting with us, and he's scared to death of Hatchet and Roy. If he doesn't adjust soon, he may very well wind up an Omega. The fact that he actually approached you was a big step for him, and you may have just scared him into clamping right back up."
"And how was I supposed to know that?" she finally said. "If he's some kind of disadvantaged kid, then I admit maybe I jumped the gun. But he looked like a creep. And he'll be fine by tomorrow, anyway!"
"And that was an excuse to break his arm?" interjected a much rougher voice.
Reilly spun around into the looming scrutiny of Hatchet. His human form was no less intimidating than his wolfside.
She opened her mouth, then shut it. Arguing with her mother and aunt and uncle was one thing. Reilly knew better than to speak up to Hatchet.
"I didn't agree to train you so you could go around breaking kids' arms, Fortune."
"No, sir."
Hatchet turned around and stalked away. Over his back, he concluded, "You're not ready for my training."
She had almost slipped into a state of automatic submission, but those words set off alarms in her head. "But Hatchet, I-"
"No buts. Come back to me when you've grown up."
Grown up. The words stung. And here she thought she had done just that.
***
Sammy had to fight the desire to scratch at the burning itch where the splint rubbed his fur the wrong way. In a few days, the bone should be mended. By the standards of a healthy werewolf, a broken bone was just a day or two's inconvenience if set properly. But the cut on his arm was proof he wasn't healthy. At least that had healed enough for Elizabeth to take the stitches out, though he was now left with a long, massive scar. Like the mark on his forehead, it was another testament to his failures. At least the swelling in his arm was going down. This time, Night Sky had made him drink one of her concoctions, and the aftertaste still bored into his tongue no matter how much orange juice he drank.
It wasn't getting a broken arm which had shocked him (although it did hurt like hell). In fact, Sammy figured he was about due for a broken bone. After Night Sky had set the bone, the oddest thought had crossed his mind—Well, I finally got that over with. He had endured just about every other form of injury over the years. He'd even had his guts pulled out. But, strangely, no broken bones until today.
The door creaked, and Sammy lifted his head. He was expecting to see Night Sky, Odysseus, or even Liam. Instead, a young girl in wolfside came walking in and bounded onto the bed, coming to a rest beside his feet.
"Hi, Sammy. Sorry about your arm." The girl's bubbly nature belied her words. But her presence was welcome. She presented a familiar brown bag. "Aunt Ruth said you'd want these."
"Thanks, Madison," he said. If Night Sky had sent her in here, there had to be a reason. She didn't do anything without a deeper motive, Sammy was figuring out. If Reilly thought he was dangerous, then sending her little sister in here alone with him was a display of their trust in him for his benefit and Reilly's.
He pulled one of the foil-wrapped contents out and struggled to unwrap it with one hand.
"Here, lemme." Madison plucked it from between his fingers and quickly freed the chocolate Kiss within. A werewolf's hand-paws were slightly less dexterous than humanside fingers, but she managed. With a giggle, she tossed it into his mouth.
Sammy felt spiritually better as the earthy sweetness dissolved over his tongue.
"Hey, Madison?"
"Call me Mady."
"Okay. Hey, Mady?"
The girl flashed him a toothy grin. "Yes?"
"D' you know what 'The Order' is?"
"Of course." Her ears shot up. "Don't you?"
Sammy blushed under his fur. "This weekend was the first I ever heard a' it."
"Well, they're kind of like… werewolf police. They're special agents who travel the world, keeping our secret safe and killing vampires."
"Oh." He considered this. Sammy had always wondered how werewolves managed to keep themselves secret. Likely, the people in this Order had to do some pretty unsavory things at times for that purpose. He remembered Odysseus and Hatchets' rescue of him. They had killed quite a few humans that day. It was disconcerting to think about, though Sammy didn't feel sorry for his captors. But at the same time, the world of werewolves now seemed much more complicated.
"An' your sister wants to join them?"
"Yep. And she's going to be the best soldier in the Order since Hatchet."
Sammy grimaced. "Y'know it was her that broke my arm, right?" he asked finally.
Her ears wilted. "Yeah. She doesn't like boys."
"Now you tell me." His head sunk into the pillow. "At least her hatred isn't personal, I guess." He replayed the encounter behind his eyelids. The worst part, even worse than the physical violence, was when she called him stupid. Sammy didn't think he was stupid. Behind in his education, yes, but he couldn't have survived for as long as he had by being stupid. Still… the word stung. Ever since discovering more of his kind, Sammy had lived in perpetual fear of being scorned by his new packmates, but this was the first time anyone had shown him such hostility.
"Oh, no, probably not. Her daddy hit her when she was a kid. And then Mommy chased him off. We're actually half-sisters. And then when she was about my age, her daddy came into our territory and attacked her. He even bit her up! And when she got away he ran her right up a tree before mom came in and killed him. Ever since then, she hadn't trusted boys. My daddy says it's 'psychological'."
"Well maybe she should see a shrink." There were psychologists for werewolves out there. If anyone understood the importance of mental health, it was a secret society of beings who had to keep their dual natures in check. The problem was, it was a high-demand field and not exactly a career you could advertise for at job fairs. After his rescue, Sammy had been deemed high enough a priority to be assigned a therapist, but their sessions had to be held over video calls. Sammy had chatted with him for an hour a week for the first three months, but after that, he was deemed "recovered" enough to figure the rest out on his own. He wished he had the same confidence in himself.
"I'm not supposed to know all that," Madison added. "So you didn't hear it from me."
Night Sky's painkillers were starting to creep into the back of his skull, pushing out further thought on the subject, as well as any other thought. "Think I'm gonna nap now," he mumbled.
But Madison was undaunted. She leaned over and planted a doggy kiss on his cheek, then settled in beside him to join him in his nap.
Well. It was nice to know not everyone looked down… on…
***
Sammy scrambled up the veranda and crept below the windows, keeping out of sight until he made it to Elizabeth's room. After carefully peeking up to make sure he didn't startle her, he gently rapped on the window until she looked up from her medical textbooks.
She was dressed in just a tank top and a pair of shorts, her massive, bushy hair pulled back and barely bound with a scrunchie. She got up, padded to the window, and stood back as he slid in, landing on all fours.
"You okay?" she asked. "How's the arm?"
"It's okay," he said. Elizabeth had removed the splint earlier that afternoon, and Sammy had gone for a long-overdue romp in the woods. He'd even managed to catch and eat a partridge, chomping down on it twice before swallowing it whole. Both Night Sky and Elizabeth often told him he shouldn't do that, but old habits die hard. He rocked back onto his hind feet, squatting and looking up at her.
"So what are you doing coming to my room at almost midnight?" Elizabeth was like a miniature version of her aunt, though perhaps a little more bossy than the alpha female. No, maybe not more bossy, but… less subtle about it. An alpha female was supposed to co-rule the pack with her husband; Elizabeth just acted like she knew better.
And in Sammy's case, he found that reassuring. She was ten years his senior and looked out for him, and on occasion, saved him from embarrassing himself in front of the rest of the pack by telling him when to knock off bad behavior. She was his social safety net.
"Fortune's downstairs. I thought I'd sneak in this way."
She folded her arms and scoffed. "She been giving you more crap? I'll have a talk with her."
"No, no no," he said, shaking his head. "I'm avoidin' her so she doesn't get the chance."
Elizabeth's not-impressed-glare made him shrug sheepishly before falling back onto all fours and making his way towards the door. "Anyway, thanks for lettin' me in, g'night."
"Hold up," she said, and Sammy froze in his tracks.
"When was the last time you bathed?" she demanded.
"Uh…"
"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're not going out there smelling like rotten melons and partridge-breath. Humanside, bathroom, now." She snapped her fingers and pointed through her personal bathroom's open door at her bathtub.
Head hung low, he turned around and started working on that. He'd been wolfside since the hunting accident and was eager to change, but he had also been pent up at home for days with a broken arm and needed to run before that. Still, once he had resumed a human shape, he stood up and flexed his arms, his legs, even his jaw, like someone putting on a suit they hadn't worn in years.
He followed her pointed finger into the bathroom. It wasn't that he disliked bathing. He just tended to forget that this was a resource now readily available to him. She followed him in and began running the hot water. While it warmed up, she pulled out a towel for him, and then several bottles. "Use this to shampoo your hair, and then this will condition it. This is my favorite body soap, use as much as you want, and don't forget to scrub your pits and wash under your foreskin." She looked into his eyes as she added a washcloth to the pile in his arms. "And don't blush. Nurse, remember? Let's just both consider ourselves lucky I don't have to sponge-bathe you."
That mental image made his face twitch before he nodded in agreement. He accepted the bottles and retreated behind the curtain. Under the blast of warm water, he hesitated until he was sure she wasn't about to jump in with him. But as soon as he heard the door close, he smiled and got to work.
She was back at her desk as he emerged from the bathroom, tossing a couple pills into her mouth and chugging them down with a bottle of water.
"What're those?" he couldn't help asking. There were three orange bottles on her dresser.
"Oh, just my antidepressants, hun. Don't worry about it," she said in a tone that seemed flippant, but she said it at a speed that discouraged follow-up questions. She stood up, with a hairbrush in hand. "Sit," she instructed, and motioned at the bed with her brush.
He hesitated this time, if only because he was still in a state of undress, but sat down on the edge of her bed. She climbed on behind him and got to work on his hair, starting with short, gentle strokes along his split ends between his shoulders.
"You'd make a good alpha some day," he said. "'Nightingale, Alpha of Argo.' Nice ring to it."
"Pff. Like I don't have enough on my plate as it is."
"I'm a handful, huh?"
"Nah. Just a work in progress."
He felt the brush pause mid-stroke, and the weight of his damp hair lessen as she lifted it up. Sammy winced, knowing what was coming.
"You've been pulling on it again, haven't you?"
He didn't answer. Didn't need to. Even though his long hair hid it when down, there was no denying the bald spot on the right side of the back of his head. He could feel Elizabeth's gaze on it.
"I'm sorry," he whimpered.
She dropped his locks and reached around. In her hand lay a heap of broken hairs that she had brushed out. More than a normal brushing would remove. And that didn't even include the strands that had fallen down the drain after shampooing.
"Hun, you don't owe me an apology. You're doing it to yourself."
"I'm not even aware half the time when I'm doing it!" he wailed.
"I'm not surprised. It's called 'trichotillomania.' Obsessive-compulsive behaviors are one of the most common forms of coping with trauma."
"D'you think I should just cut it, then? Maybe shave it off so I don't have nothing to pull?"
"At the rate your hair grows, you'll have to shave it every time you shapeshift. Besides, you look great with long hair. But we should do something about it."
"Like what?" He was desperate for solutions. Sammy knew he was a headcase. No matter the excuses for it, he didn't like displaying such obvious signs of it.
"Well, I bit my nails til I was fifteen. What finally got me to stop was keeping them trimmed short. Let's see if keeping your hair braided might stop you from messing with it."
"A braid?" He scrunched up his face, even though she couldn't see it from behind. "Aren't braids just for girls?"
Her sudden yank through a cluster of knots served as a negative answer. "Where'd you get a silly idea like that? Just trust me on this."
He took in a deep breath and went quiet for a while. Of course, he trusted Elizabeth on everything.
The grooming proceeded apace. He found himself focusing on the blinking red colon on her digital clock. The clean detergent smell of her soft sheets. The feel of her hand on his shoulder for leverage as she worked on his tangles. If it weren't for the occasional violent pull on his scalp, he would have fallen into an almost hypnotic state of relaxation. He just shut his eyes and focused on the feeling of her warm hand on his skin. It had been so, so long since anyone had touched him in such a loving manner… he could feel the warmth of it radiating through his chest…
"Elizabeth?" he asked suddenly. "Am I creepy?"
The brush stopped. "Is this about Reilly?"
Sammy's head dropped in the affirmative. Maybe it was because it was late and he was tired, maybe it was the proximity of the only person he felt he could really open up to… he tried to keep stoic, to not show any weakness before his alphas, because they no doubt already saw him as helpless and a liability. But his dam was cracking, and he needed to release the pressure now before it crumbled. In a wavering voice, he said, "I keep seein' the way she looked at me when I talked to her. I know she's got… issues, but… she doesn't look at any of the other men in the pack with the same disgust. I know I'm ugly, an'... an' I don't know how t' talk t' girls, but…"
"Stop," Elizabeth ordered, and Sammy shut up. She put down the brush and wrapped her arms around him, and even though he was bigger than her, she somehow pulled him onto her lap. "No, you're not creepy, hun. Forget about Reilly, she's not qualified to judge you. Anyone who's gone through the things you have would come out of it with some... social handicaps, but they're not anything you can't overcome with time."
He stayed quiet. Something inside him said she was wrong, that he wasn't as strong as she thought, but he dared not disagree with her. He just shifted around so he could get into a position that allowed him to rest his head on her shoulder.
"Some day you're gonna be a real heartbreaker, just you watch. I've got faith in you, and I know how much you hate to disappoint people."
"Thanks, Big Sister," he mumbled. "I'll try not to let you down."
***
In the dining room, Sammy's mouth silently sculpted out the words as he made his way through the book on animal husbandry, occasionally pausing to look something up in the dictionary. The late afternoon sun shone through the windows, providing good reading light but also beckoning him to go outside for a run. But he refused to go out until he made it through the chapter. He was trying his hardest, but he had five years of schoolwork to catch up on, which sometimes got discouraging. This book wasn't part of Night Sky's curriculum, but if Sammy couldn't be a master hunter, then at the very least maybe he could pull his weight around the ranch. Thus far, the alphas had entrusted him with small, odd jobs that anyone could do, but he was going to have to contribute more around here eventually.
A shadow slid over him. It wasn't hard to notice, being cast right over the open pages that had his full attention. He looked up at the backlit silhouette of a very frightening man. As his eyes adjusted, he found himself under Hatchet's scrutiny. It was like the abyss staring back.
"Odysseus tells me you're an eager learner."
Sammy's mouth went dry. Even though Hatchet had helped save his life, he knew that hadn't been the old man's intention. It was Sarah they had been looking for, and Sammy hadn't even been a consolation prize. Thus far, he had managed to avoid any one-on-one encounter with the grizzled old soldier, and Hatchet had always had better things to focus his attention on than Sammy. Until now.
Sammy mustered a nod.
"Well, he asked me to take over your P.E.. Come with me."
"P.E.?" Sammy asked, but he obediently shut the books and stood up. Odysseus had asked this? Did that mean that he cared about Sammy's development? Or was he simply handing him off?
"Physical Education. I'm tired of watching you skulk around here. You're still thinking like a victim, so I'm going to teach you how to take care of yourself." Hatchet led him out the back door, into the back yard where he had laid out several brand-new foam mats laid out in a large square.
"And how are we gonna do that, sir?"
"None of that 'sir' crap. I got enough of that in the army. We're packmates. You call me Hatchet when we're here and Robert when we're out in public, cub." The old man shed his shirt, revealing a chest as pitted with scars as his face. "But never, ever call me Bob."
"Yes s- Hatchet."
"And to answer your question, we're going to start by teaching you how to defend yourself. We'll alternate days between combat and weight-lifting, put some muscles on those scrawny bones of yours. As time goes on, I'll teach you different combat techniques for your human and werewolf forms. Both have their advantages." He paused. "You do know never to transform in the middle of a fight, don't you? You stick to whatever form you're in."
Yet another thing he was ignorant about. Sammy's face heated. "Uh, no sir. Whuh-why not?"
"There's that 'sir' again. And it's because your skull's at its most fragile while it's reshaping itself. Any blow to the head could cause serious brain trauma, if not kill you outright. I've seen it happen."
Of that, Sammy had no doubt.
"Now, bare your claws."
"My claws...?" Sammy looked down at his still-human hands.
Hatchet sighed. It was not a pleasant sound. "That's how we said 'go werewolf' in my day, kid."
"Oh." Sammy cringed. Hatchet no doubt thought he was an idiot. Gah, he should have known what the old man meant. "Okay," he added.
He dropped down onto the ground beside the mats and removed his boots and socks, setting them down beside him. His T-shirt he bunched up and put on top of the boots. He then shut his eyes and rolled his head back, taking three deep breaths before he willed the change, pushing his body into the process even though now he really did not want to. When it was done, he stood up on shaky legs, noting that Hatchet had also changed.
"Take a minute to get steady on your feet," he said. "Now look, this is gonna get painful at times, but I know you can handle it. Soon as you're ready, step onto the mats, and stand like I'm standing…"
***
Back in the late 70s, Odysseus' father had bought one of the first Betamax machines and established a monthly movie night for the pack. As a tradition, it had gone in and out of practice in the interim decades. These days, movie night was an irregular practice, but Odysseus' sister had insisted on reviving it for the last night of her visit before she and her husband went back to California sans their daughters.
Of course since everything was about Reilly and she was a big science fiction fan, Odysseus had Roy buy the new Star Trek movie and bring it in from town.
The pack's meeting room took up a good chunk of the second story, and three of its walls were lined with worn-but-still-plush couches with beanbag chairs scattered around the floor. A big-screen TV dominated the far wall, and underneath it was a library of digital entertainment that included a couple game systems with an armory of controllers to select from hanging on both sides of the TV. Sammy was watching Liam, Gerry, and Madison as they finished up a MarioKart grudge match when the pack started filtering in.
People started pairing or even tripling off on the seats. Hatchet entered and gave Sammy a nod, which he returned. When Elizabeth arrived, she made a deliberate beeline for Sammy and plopped herself down beside him, which was apparently a custom now.
“How’s your eye?” she asked him, though casting Hatchet a withering gaze.
Sammy blinked, bringing his fingers up to feel around the rim of his black eye, which was still a little tender. “I’ll live,” he answered cheerfully.
By the time the first starship blew up and the music soared to the emergence of the title, she was leaning into him and he had his arms around her. This aspect of pack life had been easier to acclimate to than he had expected. Once he started being touched and touching the others, he had realized how utterly touch-starved he had been. While everyone still maintained and respected personal space to a certain extent, the amount of physical contact one werewolf allowed with another communicated their closeness. For two casual acquaintances within a pack, hands on shoulders or arms or casual shoulder bumps during interactions were common, sometimes even craved. But for a best friend or a sibling, well, one frequently found themselves tangled in the other's arms, especially when they had nothing better to do. Every now and then they would lean their heads in and breathe each other's scents. It was amazing how much that seemed to satisfy Sammy's inner wolf.
And then the couch plopped behind them and Sammy felt a smaller presence wriggle in under his arm. Madison, once again wolfside, had come to join them. Sammy wrapped his arm around her and welcomed his new other best friend into the pile.
The fact that he smelled a waft of annoyance from Reilly just made it even better.
Sammy was starting to nod off by the time the movie was finishing up. Wrapped in his warm blanket of affection, it was hard to care about anything beyond that. The story didn't exactly make much sense, either. Sammy might have been playing catch-up with his schooling, but even he knew that if two planets were close enough that Spock could see one blow up from the surface of another, that planet would be destroyed too. It had even been a plot point in one of the old movies. It kind of annoyed him that the writers assumed their audiences would be too dumb to notice.
Reilly was the first to speak when the credits started rolling. "Well that was pretty stupid, right?"
There were a few noncommittal grunts and a few murmurs of agreement. Sammy sat up and glanced back at Odysseus, who had bought this movie just for her. How could she be so ungrateful? But then Sammy noticed the humorous smirk on the alpha's face.
Reilly went on unbidden. "I mean, they have a cadet about to be drummed out for cheating on a test, and then they promote him all the way through the ranks and past everyone who's been serving longer than he has, and put him in charge of not just any ship, but the fleet's flagship? Come on!"
"Didn't he cheat in the old movies?" Sammy spoke up without even thinking. He pulled away from Elizabeth and Madison to sit up straighter. He didn't know why he was defending this film, but the fact that Reilly was getting so worked up about it made him want to dig his heels in.
Reilly whipped around to squint at him. "Yes, but he wasn't made captain immediately after. In the original series, Kirk was specifically stated to have worked his way up to captain after proving himself for years."
He shrugged. "Maybe Old Spock convinced command that the crew belonged together on the Enterprise."
She snorted at that. "Oh, that's weak. There's no way Starfleet Command would feel beholden to the status quo of an alternate reality."
"Why don't we just chalk it up to bad writing?" Liam piped up. "I mean, this movie is from the same two geniuses who brought you the Transformers movies."
A few people in the room chuckled. Reilly just threw her hands up in the air and sat back down while others moved in to play Halo.
He wasn't sure why, but Sammy felt like he had won that encounter. At the very least, he now knew for sure that she couldn't make him back down.
***
After her parents left, Reilly thought that now she would feel like an adult. Instead, to her surprise, she felt slightly adrift. Having lost out on her chance to train with one of the greatest warriors alive, right now she wasn't sure what to be doing with herself beyond daily chores.
Madison kept insisting Sam was a nice guy, but she liked everyone. Reilly actually admired that about her baby sister, to a point. She was far too trusting. At least Sam kept his distance. She should have felt more smug about this, but Sam was just so… pitiful. Not pathetic. But pitiful.
It was dusk, that time when all creatures of the night start to feel restless. Reilly went into her room and traded her clothes for a sports bra. Many women let it all hang out when they were wolfside, and Reilly wasn't concerned about modesty, but she hated the way they bounced around when she ran. She grit her teeth and let her body flow into her stronger, more dexterous, more powerful wolfside. Bones expanded and shifted position, and she rotated her ankles and flexed her toes to avoid discomfort as her feet restructured. She cracked open her maw as her face grew outward into a muzzle, the expanding throat area allowing more air to flow into her lungs, which she needed and gulped down with heavy, raspy breaths. The transformation was not painful, but the entire body's rebuilding itself all at once could cause some unsurprising discomfort. Red fur the same color as her hair tickled as it sprouted all along her body. If Reilly had to describe it with words, she would liken the effect to showering in ice water. She looked at herself approvingly in the mirror as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and made a quick adjustment to her bra. Granted, a monotone coat was not considered as beautiful as a patterned pelt, but...not many werewolves were fully ginger.
"Has anyone seen Mady?" she asked her family as she got outside. Uncle Nicholas was strumming a guitar, accompanied by Hatchet's harmonica. Aunt Ruth was wolfside and grinding up some herbs while she enjoyed the music. Liam and Gerry were playfully wrestling in the grass. Boys.
There was a moment of mental mulling about, as everyone searched their memories for the last time they'd seen her. Madison somehow could defy the laws of time and space and be several places at once. She was constantly bouncing around the pack, seeking whatever attention she could get; her nickname back home was "Were-corgi."
"Oh!" Aunt Ruth exclaimed. "She and Sam went out for a run in the woods."
Ugh. "When was that?"
"Several hours ago. Now that I think about it, they didn't come back for dinner."
Something pricked the back of Reilly's mind. "And that doesn't bother you?" she asked.
"They probably caught a rabbit or something out there. Sam's pretty resourceful when it comes to small game."
Sam, Sam, Sam. She was getting so sick of hearing about him. And she did not like the idea of her kid sister out in the woods alone with him, despite what her aunt and uncle said. "I'm going to go look for them."
Uncle Nicholas paused his music and looked up at her. "Play nice," he said in a tone that sounded friendly, but was full of subtle Meanings.
"Of course, of course," she said, then dropped to all fours and took off running.
***
Odysseus watched Fortune until she was enveloped by the woods. As he continued strumming, he turned to his wife and said, "I think you may be wrong about those two."
Night Sky chuckled. "Have I ever been before? They may have gotten off to a rough start, but just you wait 'n' see."
Hatchet's harmonica stopped. "I've got no truck in this, but when it comes to these matters, I wouldn't bet against your wife, Nick."
"I guess time will tell," Odysseus said, before switching to a livelier arrangement that wasn't so harmonica-friendly just to annoy Hatchet.
***
Sam's scent was easy to follow. All she had to do was track the smell of salt and chocolate. But as she closed in on them, an alarming wailing pierced her ears. Reilly recognized that cry—Madison! Her heart began to pound, almost drowning out the sound of the cries that compelled her. What was that monster doing to her baby sister?
Her pursuit lead her closer to the edge of the pack's territory, where the young were forbidden to venture when wolfside, lest any humans might spot them. Finally, she emerged into a clearing and found Sam looming over her sister. Madison squirmed around underneath him, alternating between canine whimpers and human sobs.
"Hold still!" Sam snarled. Snarled. "You're just making this harder on yourself!"
NO! PROTECT!
Reilly bellowed and launched herself at Sam, knocking him away from her sister. "I knew it! I knew it!" she shouted as she slashed into his shocked face. "You're just some kinda monster! Freak! How do you live with yourself?"
She felt warm blood bubbling under her claws, but that wasn't enough. She would break more than his arm this time! But Sam recovered faster than she expected. He batted her arm away and knocked her off. Reilly growled and kicked him in the gut. Sam took the blow, but didn't crumple like she expected. Unlike the last time, he was handling himself. He was fighting back.
Sam was atop her before she knew it. "What are you doin'?" he shouted. He grabbed her by the wrists and no matter how much she struggled, he managed to keep her pinned. "I'm tryin' to save your sister's life, you crazy idiot!"
"Reilly!" Madison screamed. Reilly glanced over at her sister and realized her leg was caught in the biggest bear trap she had never seen. Blood was everywhere, soaking her fur and splattering around the earth. "He's telling the truth!"
Sam lifted himself off her and took a defensive stance, but Reilly had the fight knocked out of her. She rushed to her sister's side and grabbed at the teeth of the bear trap. But it wouldn't budge.
"Oh my god, Mady, I'm so sorry," she sobbed as she struggled futilely with the trap. But the fight had sapped her strength, and adrenaline was failing her. No matter how much energy she willed into her aching muscles, the metal monster's teeth remained firmly lodged in Madison's leg.
A second pair of hands joined hers. She looked up through teary eyes into the face of Sam, still leaking blood from where she'd slashed him—Why was he still bleeding?—and suddenly, he didn't seem loathsome or pathetic. Instead, she could see a smoldering determination in his eyes to keep her sister alive.
"W-we pull together, okay? On three," he said. "One, two, three!"
Between the two of them, they were able to pull the clamp open. Madison screamed more as the teeth retracted from her mangled leg and even more blood came pouring out, but she quickly scooted herself free. Reilly and Sam pulled it all the way open until it locked in place, then quickly removed their fingers.
Sam moved faster than Reilly expected, scooping Madison into his arms. He cooed comfortingly as the girl wept.
He looked right at Reilly. "The answer to your question is, I dunno."
"What?"
"You asked how I live with myself. The answer is, I dunno. Habit, I guess." There was a fire in his eyes that she had never seen before. "I'll carry her as far as I can. You run ahead and get help," he ordered her.
Reilly could only nod her head and obey.
***
Aunt Ruth's medicinal skills were once again brought to play, and she soon had Madison's leg and Sammy's face plastered and bound in healing herbs.
A couple hours later, cars started pulling into the driveway. Reilly assumed everyone was dropping in to give her sister their well-wishes, until Odysseus started stacking wood in the firepit. She could smell his anticipation as he and Gerry built up a bonfire, and then people started emerging from the House in their formalwear, black robes and shirts swishing all about as the pack buzzed with activity.
Around ten o'clock, everyone gathered, wolfside, around the fire, including Madison. Elizabeth came out, holding Sam by the hand. He had his yellow hoodie up in an attempt to obscure the bandages on half his face. They'd had to shave his fur off around the wound so the bandages had something to adhere to. Reilly winced with a fresh wave of guilt. If her claws wound up leaving permanent scars...
"What's goin' on?" Sammy asked, looking around.
"Sam, come forth," Odysseus beckoned. He and Night Sky stood in the center of the gathering in front of the fire, both wearing the traditional pack scarves draped over their shoulders. Argo's was blue, white, and blue bars, with a red "A" at each end. Every werewolf pack had its own scarf, a subtle sort of flag to be worn for special occasions, such as visiting other packs, summits, weddings... and naming ceremonies.
Reilly watched as he obeyed, jaw agape. Didn't he know what this was?
"You have saved the life of one of ours," Odysseus declared. "And in so doing, showed a heart and a determination that will make Argo stronger. Do you desire to howl with us, to hunt with us, to live with us?"
He bowed, but kept his head tilted up, eyes glued on the alphas. "With all my heart," he said in a breathy, small voice.
"Then I, Odysseus, and my mate, Night Sky, bid you welcome to our pack. As someone rising from the ashes of their old life, you will henceforth be known to your brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles, as Phoenix, of Argo."
Just as they had for Reilly a few days ago, the entire pack threw their heads back in a triumphant howl.
And the newly-dubbed Phoenix stood up straighter, and looked around in awe, before he, too, burst forth in deep, triumphant song. Reilly saw the glimmer of firelight reflect from the tears falling down the unbandaged side of his face.
And all she could think was, Son of a...
***
The next day, neither Phoenix or Madison had so much as a scar, both to Reilly's massive relief. She drove out to town and purchased the most expensive box of chocolates she could find, the kind that came in a box with gold-foil embossing.
When she came back, she found Sammy behind the house, headlocked in Hatchet's arms and being lectured on how to free himself. Well, that explained that. Hatchet saw her and released his new pupil.
"Take five and catch your breath, Phoenix. I'll be back with some juice in a minute." He walked off, leaving the two juniormost members of the pack alone.
"Um, hi," she said quietly, as Phoenix toweled himself off. He was covered in sweat, but Aunt Ruth was making him shower after his sessions now. Besides, the smell wasn't all that bad. Reilly had smelled worse.
"What d'you want?"
"Wow. Abrupt. Okay, I guess I deserve that. But that's what I'm here for. I wronged you, and-"
"You broke my arm an' attacked me for helping your sister," he said flatly. "I don't care what issues you got, that's no excuse for that."
Humiliation burned. "Madison told you, huh?"
Phoenix just continued to stare at her with his arms folded. This wasn't the scared kid trying to offer her a flower. The tables had turned completely.
It took all her courage to hand him the box. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. You're a good guy, Phoenix."
She left him inspecting the box and fled for her room. Better to end this awkward hell on a victorious note than stay and embarrass herself further. She'd give him some time to decide whether or not to accept her obeisant gesture.
***
Sammy waited until she was out of sight before deflating. He wasn't sure when he had started holding his breath. His legs began to shake from fear and adrenaline and he leaned against the wall for support. The confrontation had tapped all the resolve he had. He wasn't afraid of Reilly any more… but boldness did not come naturally. Putting on a brave front was even harder than developing solid courage. He didn't think he was better than Reilly, only that she was worse than him.
Sammy opened the box and sniffed. Chocolates? Did Reilly think he was some kid who could be bought with sweets and everything would be better? He didn't have much pride to speak of, but he was still capable of feeling offense. And she hadn't even bothered to get the good stuff, either—she could at least have sprung for Hershey's. As far as apologies went, Sammy considered this half-assed.
He shoved the box into the kitchen's communal pantry on his way to the shower.
***
Dear Uncle Nicholas, Aunt Ruth, and everybody else,
I realized I still have a lot of growing up to do, so I've decided to join the Order now instead of waiting around here for a year. Thank you for your hospitality, and I'll be back someday, when I'm not such a screw-up. I've been trying so hard to grow up that I was forcing it. But I'm still clinging to the attitudes of my childhood. My offensive attitude was just a bad disguise for the defensive one underneath, and it's time I finally, really, put it all behind me.
Sammy, please watch over Madison for me. She's just as much your sister now. Mady, I love you so much and I want you to be proud of me. That's why I need to do this.
Yours always,
Reilly
She lay the letter down on the living room table, then carried her suitcase out to her car and threw it in. Once buckled in, she programmed the address for the Order's recruitment center into her GPS and hit the gas, giving the ranch one last look in the rearview mirror. She wasn't running away, she told herself, at least not from her family. It was her childhood she needed to escape. She had been trying so hard to act like an adult, but it was really a matter of mentality. Now, she was going to have to sink or swim—and, if she was truly worthy of the name Fortune, she would swim leagues.
