“Yes. Yeah. Yes. Of course.” It was broken up with tiny little gasps.
“We never needed him. We survived.”
“Did we? Did we?”
I took her by the hand, pulled her up. Wrapped my arms around her shoulders. Led her to the front door. It was cold outside, so I kept close. I was warmer than she was.
“Don’t be afraid,” I told her. “Don’t ever be afraid.”
She looked up at me, so many questions in her eyes.
So I looked up at the night sky, my head tilting back.
And I sang.
It wasn’t as good as the wolves. It never would be, because regardless of what I was, I was closer to human than anything else. Thomas had told me as much when he’d taught me deep in the woods. But it was strong, that howl, even when my voice cracked. I put everything I could into it. My violet anger. My blue sadness. My green relief, my fucking green relief that he was gone, gone, gone, and I never had to wonder about him again. There would be no more what ifs. There would be no more whys. There would be no more suffering because we were not alone. My father had said I was gonna get shit, but fuck him. Goddamn him. I loved him so much.
I put it all in that song.
And even before the echo had died through the trees, there came an answering howl from the house at the end of the lane.
Joe.
And then another. Carter.
And Kelly. And Mark. And Elizabeth.
Thomas was the loudest of all. The call of the Alpha.
They heard my song and sang me one in return.
“Oh my god,” my mother whispered and pressed closer against me.
There was a crash in the distance. The pounding of paws and claws on frost-covered leaves.
Violet was anger.
Blue was sadness.
Green was relief.
And through the trees came the flashes of orange. The flicker of red. The colors of familiarity and family and home.
I could hear them in me and they said, we’re here BrotherSonFriendLove. we’re here and we are pack and yours and nothing will change that.
My mother whimpered at my side, holding me tightly. She was trembling.
I said, “They would never hurt you.”
She said, “How do you know?” She sounded rather breathless.
“Because we’re pack.” I pulled away from her, shushing her gently as she tried to hold me back. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s okay.”
I never looked away from her. I walked backward down the porch steps, slow so I didn’t slip on the ice. My breath fanned out around me in puffs of white. It was cold, but the moment I stepped foot on the frozen ground, I was surrounded by warmth. The wolves brushed up against me, yipping excitedly, nipping at my fingers and hands and arms. Joe jumped up on his hind legs, paws on my shoulders. He licked my face and I laughed and laughed.
Thomas sat back, waiting. Eventually, he gave a low growl. The others stopped moving around me and moved aside. When he rose to his feet, I heard my mother gasp.
His steps were slow and deliberate. He came up beside me and laid his head on my shoulder, wrapping his neck around mine, his nose running along my skin and hair. A rumble came from his chest, quiet and pleased. It was the first time I’d called them on my own. He was proud of me.