Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

The thread snapped and disappeared.

Joe said, “Dad.”

Hair sprouted along his cheeks. His face began to stretch into his half shift. His lips curled. His teeth lengthened into spikes. He tilted his head back and sang the song of the Alpha, eyes wide and burning red.

open wounds/the way home

RICHARD WAS gone.

Osmond was gone.

Robert Livingstone had never appeared.

Most of the Omegas were dead.

Those that lived had fled.

But, of course, I wouldn’t even think about that until later.

THEY KNEW.

The others.

Even before they found us under the oak trees, they knew.

They would have felt the moment he died just like I did. Probably even more so, given that I was still human.

It was Carter and Kelly who burst from the trees first, running on four legs, high-pitched whines pouring from them. They skittered to a stop once they saw us: Thomas, still against the grass. Joe, on his knees, head bowed over his father, claws at his sides. Gordo, leaning against a tree, face in his hands, his tattoos glowing brightly.

And myself, numb for my mother, now a body under a blanket.

For Thomas, body still warm, blood still leaking.

Carter unfroze first, coming over and running his nose up Joe’s arm. His neck. His hair. He breathed in and out in short little bursts, taking in the scent of his new Alpha. His coat was matted with blood, and he favored his right front leg, but he kept pressing against his brother.

Kelly finally moved toward them, his eyes wide, mouth open as he let out little yips, like soft barks over and over again. He left Carter and Joe alone and collapsed at his father’s feet, nosing against his toes. His calves. Eventually, he laid his head on his father’s legs and trembled.

Mark came then. In human form. While the other wolves were nude, he wore tattered pants, frayed and ripped and spattered with grime and gore. Open wounds were healing slowly, and he had a nasty-looking bite on his right shoulder where it looked like a large chunk had been torn away. He took a stuttering step toward Thomas and the others, but stopped, hands curling into fists at his side. Instead, he went to Gordo first, whispering something I couldn’t quite make out. Gordo didn’t look up, but shook his head. Mark’s eyes darted around the tree line, eyes hard and jaw set.

And then she came.

She moved slowly, whether from grief or injury, I couldn’t tell. A shattered heart can be heavier than a broken limb. She was a wolf, which I selfishly was thankful for. A wolf’s face can only move so much like a human’s. The sorrow that etched on her face as a wolf was nothing compared to what it would have been had she been human.

I didn’t think I would have been able to take it.

I was cold.

My teeth were starting to chatter.

Carter had stopped rubbing up against Joe and was now nudging his father, making these sounds in the back of his throat as if begging for his father to get up.

Kelly whined against his legs, trying to bury himself in his father’s scent.

Joe breathed heavily, nostrils flaring, hands leaking blood from where his claws had cut into his palms.

Mark stood watch.

Gordo slumped against the tree, head on his knees, tattoos moving wildly. The raven flew up one arm and disappeared into the sleeve of his shirt. It appeared on his neck, wings spreading up to his ear.