Moon-Call (Lone March #7)

Chapter One

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"If you weren’t around, none of us would have anything to live for. What’s life without hope? You give us all hope."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Scared it might not be true, scared that it is…Either—both."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Your pulse has quickened. Is something the matter?"

"The things that aren’t said…between the lines…"

"Vous défie toutes les assomption."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"You defy all assumptions."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Are you planning to go somewhere?"

"Gone he has now to a place to be still."

"What if I got up and ran away down that road?"

"Well, I’d stop you."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"I think…I think I’m gonna be okay now."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"No goodbyes."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Our dream…The bottom line…What do you think…"

"Keep yourself safe. Or else you make his death futile."

"We were meant, in some capacity, to be together in this lifetime."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"I think you’re capable of doing just about anything on your own."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Can you sleep?"

"How are you sleeping, Miss Howe?"

"She’s not sleeping."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"If you weren’t around…What’s life without hope?"

"I think you’re capable of doing just about anything."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"I think…I think I’m gonna be…"

"Scared it might not be true."

"She’s not sleeping."

"A place to be still."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"No goodbyes."

"Are you planning to—"

"What if I ran away?"

"Scared that it is…"

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"The bottom line? Read between the lines."

"Or else you make his death futile."

"Either—both."

"You defy all assumptions."

"I think…I think..."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Your pulse has quickened."

"She’s not sleeping."

"Your pulse has quickened. Is something—"

"Can you sleep?"

"She’s not sleeping."

"Is something the matter?"

"How are you sleeping, Miss Howe?"

Whhuuh! I sat bolt upright and blinked into the thick night. The humidity in the air stung my sleepy eyes and clung to my skin like plastic wrap.

March? Greyson’s drowsy voice cut through the thick air and then he was beside me.

Hey. I’m fine, I panted.

I didn’t ask but the fact that you felt the need to tell me makes me think you’re not, he said. You woke up gasping.

My answer was simply to keep huffing as I got my breathing under control.

You had the dream again, didn’t you? He raised a hand and swiped his palm across my upper chest, which was bare because of my tank top. When his fingers left me, he held his hand out delicately, like he was holding something, then flung it at the ground. You’re covered in sweat, he said.

Yeah, well, that happens. I’m a hybrid of two of the were-animals with the highest body temperatures. I get hot.

He shook his head as he cupped my face and used his thumbs to rub away the moisture on my cheeks and chin. No. His hands ran down my neck and curved around my shoulders, down my arms, till they slid off at the ends of my fingers. Again he flung his hands out, shaking off my perspiration, only this time making a point to look me in the eyes as he did. That’s not gonna work this time. If you’re having bad dreams, you should—

I know, talk to Gaia about it. I have.

You have?

I mean I will.

He frowned at me but didn’t get the chance to say anything.

Everything alright? asked Jasper, walking up behind me.

Just trying to have a private conversation with my boyfriend, I snapped.

I heard you gasping.

Okay, maybe we weren’t having a conversation; maybe we were doing something else private, something that would make me gasp. Take a stab in the dark as to what that could be. And then turn around and go back to your sleeping bag, and stay out of our personal business.

Why don’t you just tell us what this dream is about? he asked.

‘Us’? I asked with a laugh. Don’t fold yourself in with Greyson. He’s my boyfriend; you’re nothing to me.

He paused, nodding his head like he was begrudgingly accepting this fact. Nice, he said while he walked back to his sleeping bag.

Oh, you wanna talk ‘nice’? I twisted around to face him head on for the attack. How about you fucking lied to me for a month and tried to kidnap me?

He turned back to defend himself. I didn’t—

Guys, Greyson interrupted calmly, it’s the middle of the night; let’s not wake everyone up. There’s plenty of time for you two to bicker while we’re hiking later.

Jasper raised his hands in defeat and walked back to his bag.

I ignored Greyson’s comment and waited for Jasper to lie back down. Then, I asked, Can you pull your bag a little closer to me, Grey? I would feel better if you lay with me.

Sure. He was already next to me but he closed the two-foot distance between our sleeping bags and snuggled up to me.

Is everything okay? whispered Brigham in a raspy, sleepy voice. He was on the other side of me, several feet away and lying at a slant.

Yeah, it’s alright, I assured him. Go back to sleep.

He rolled over and I could tell from his breathing that he was asleep in under a minute.

I wrapped Greyson’s long arm around me and stared down at the ground far below our campsite, up in the peaks. There was no use in closing my eyes. It was like the voice—the one that sounded like Saxon—from my dream said: I’m not sleeping.

We had been out of Texas for over a week now, and in Colorado for the last five. When we fled Wycherley, Greyson’s instinct was to take us north, for no other reason except that it was the opposite direction from the cat lair in Austin, and it would lead us out of Texas and away from the territory of Greggor’s pack.

When we crossed over the state line, into Arkansas, we stopped for the first time, taking cover in a cluster of trees, and everyone caught their breath. Then, Greyson asked me which way to go from there and I finally had to admit that I didn’t know. Saffron was, of course, annoyed and pissed off about it, but then that’s just her normal emotional state…

Nine Days Earlier

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

Saff, just keep it to yourself.

No, Jasper! She insisted—you all insisted that you had to go on this damn trip and this was so important for the world and ending the war but you don’t even know where you’re going??

Okay, you have to keep your voice down, Greyson whispered.

Don’t tell me what to do, wolf boy! she shouted.

Jasper put a hand over her mouth and pulled her away from us, while she kicked and screamed through his hand the whole time.

"What do you know about the mission? asked Brigham patiently. Maybe we can help figure out where to go from context clues."

I…I don’t know, I said hopelessly. …There’s water.

Water? asked Brigham.

Yeah, somewhere around the place we’re looking for there’s water.

Well that narrows it down, doesn’t it? asked Saffron sarcastically.

I sank to the ground. I just need to meditate and think about it but I can’t right now. I’m too tired to think.

It’s okay, said Greyson. It’s been a long day—for all of us. We should rest.

And where are we supposed to do that? asked Saffron.

We’re too exposed here, said Brigham. If we keep heading north, we’ll run into the Ouachita Mountains in a couple hours, if we keep up the pace we were at before we stopped. We could hide out off one of the trails and sleep there.

Good idea, Brigham, said Greyson before looking at me. What do you think?

Sounds good to me.

These trails are manmade? asked Saffron.

Yeah, said Brigham.

Okay, so there will be like hotels or a resort or something for the freaks who actually enjoy all this wilderness, right?

…Um… Brigham looked at Greyson.

Aris put a hand on Saffron’s shoulder. I don’t think so, love.

What? she said.

"Those freaks who enjoy the wilderness? Well, they’re out there to enjoy it. They don’t want hotels and they have no use for resorts. They go out there to camp, live off the environment," Aris explained.

That’s idiotic! Not to mention unsanitary! The rest of you may be used to living like that but I’m not—and I’m sure as hell not going to start now.

Then go home! Jasper snapped at her. No one forced you to come with us and no one wants to hear your non-stop bitching. I think we’d all be better off if we just went our separate ways now, before you get too far from home.

That shocked look was on Saffron’s face again. Jasper’s complacency about whether or not she stayed with him must have unnerved her and continued to surprise and hurt her.

Maybe he’s right, said Aris gently.

I hated to agree with anything Jasper said but if doing so could help get rid of Saffron it was worth it. "He is right, I said. You don’t belong here—no one wants you around anyway—so you should just go. Besides, you won’t last two days, living out in the wild so you should go now before you get in too deep and over your head. That felt pretty good to say but I couldn’t help adding, Princess," to the end of that sentence.

A tense silence followed, where Saffron, with her eyes bugging out, decided she wanted to have a staring contest with me. I didn’t flinch and I pretended I was boring a hole into her head with my eyes. She was the one to break first, looking down, like she’d suddenly become preoccupied with something. Her gaze moved subtly to Jasper, and then they stared at each other for a while.

What’s the nearest city to this mountain range you’re talking about? she asked, without looking at anyone in particular.

Mena, I guess? Brigham answered.

Aris, she said, you’re the least likely to be recognized. Most of the wolves don’t know you, and only a few cats would recognize you if they saw you.

I suppose that’s true, said Aris.

"So when we get near the mountains, you’re going to break off, go to that city, and find some place with camping supplies. I’ll make you a list of what I need but the number one thing is a sleeping bag. I am not sleeping on the ground."

I exhaled angrily. How long are you going to keep this up? Trying to prove us wrong, I said. How long before you finally give up and go home?

Her arms folded, she turned away from me, looking in the direction we’d been running. Are we going to stand around here all night, talking, or is someone going to lead the way to these mountains?

Unfortunately, no one could argue with that. Greyson told Brigham to take point, since he seemed to know the area, and we resumed our earlier speed and headed north.

When we stopped in the place we intended to set up camp for the night, it wasn’t long before Aris caught up to us. He dumped the supplies on the ground and we saw that he’d gotten enough sleeping bags for all of us. Both Saffron and I questioned him simultaneously, asking why he’d bought so many. Saffron didn’t care about our comfort, just her own, and I had no intention of accepting any kind of gift from a cat. But Aris made the good point that our scents, trapped, for the most part, in a sleeping bag, would be less likely to linger, and thus less likely to be picked up by anyone hunting us. With Greyson’s concurrence I didn’t have much of an argument. They were, unfortunately for my own pride, right.

We spent the first day trekking through the Ouachita Mountains in Arkansas, then we veered northwest and traveled through Oklahoma, Kansas, and into Colorado. Greyson suggested we get up into the Rocky Mountain National Park, where we could stay hidden and rest while I continued to prod my brain for geographical answers (answers, by the way, that I was convinced just weren’t there). He told me that if I was going to have a good meditation, a deep meditation, I would need to remain in one place for more than a few hours. Part of getting to the stillness is to become still yourself. And you can’t do that if you’re in constant flux. I argued that my first time visiting Gaia—and the best success I’d had getting there afterward—was by running, the very opposite of being still. Then he explained that he wasn’t just talking about physical movement but psychological as well. He said I was mentally in flux, because of all the stress, and that staying put for a while would help calm my nerves. Again, I argued that staying in one place too long would probably worsen my stress because I’d be worried about us getting caught. But he assured me, with a kind of confidence I couldn’t fathom but also felt compelled to trust, that we would be safe if we were cautious, quiet, and stationary as much as possible.

So the next few days, we stayed in Colorado, while I tried to complete my assignment from Greyson. But no matter what I did or how hard I tried, I couldn’t get to the stillness. It was like the time before my first visit all over again—I felt like I had no clue how to get there, which made it ten times as infuriating because I had been so many times before. At first, I told Greyson the truth about not being able to get there. But he started asking so often that I got fed up with having to disappoint him so I stopped being so honest with him. It didn’t ultimately affect him to know whether or not I actually made it to my garden…so I started telling him I had…even though I hadn’t. I didn’t necessarily feel good about lying to him but it succeeded in getting him to stop bugging me about it, which was what I’d wanted. I told him I wasn’t getting any answers from her, which technically was true, so he assumed that meant Gaia wanted me to figure it out on my own.

What I really needed to do was recall that dream. But it was fuzzy and none of it gave me any definitive answers about what to do next or where to go. All I had to go on was that there would be a body of water nearby the place with the women. If Melissa were here, she could help; she probably remembered more from the dream than I did, and even if she didn’t, she seemed to have pretty sharp insights into what it meant. But there was no point in thinking about that; Melissa wasn’t here and she couldn’t be here anyway. If she was away from the adult ravens for too long, she would contract Separation Syndrome again, which could kill her.

At that point, staying put began to work against me, instead of for me. As I knew would happen, I grew uneasy about being in one place for so long. Greyson’s assurance was capable of winning out for a few days but beyond that it started losing confidence from me. Then Jasper wanted to take my side, which in turn made the other two cats chime in (although, Saffron wasn’t really silent before then) so Greyson gave in to us and we picked up again. I still didn’t know where we were supposed to go but I kept with the idea that anywhere north was good because it put more distance between us and Texas. We kept in a westerly direction, crossing the border into Wyoming. Taking care to avoid the Great Plains, which would leave us too exposed, we headed up to Yellowstone. I was kind of excited to see it. I used to watch documentaries on the National Parks whenever I was sick as a kid and I always wanted to see Yellowstone especially. But we wouldn’t exactly be enjoying it. Every person, every animal would be a potential enemy.

Once we’d set up camp that day, I began rummaging through my bag for the old history books I’d borrowed from Wycherley, thinking—hoping—they might be able to spark my memory into recalling my conversation with Melissa while I was last reading, in which we shared with each other the dream we’d both had. I hadn’t actually opened the bag since initially checking it the first time we stopped so I had largely forgotten what was packed. Then the little black leather book tumbled out. To my own shame, I actually questioned for a split second what it was. Then I remembered one of the things I’d gone back to my room for before leaving Wycherley. My mother’s diary. All that time after Quinn gave it to me and to this day I’d still never opened it. It was a little scary, the thought of peering into my mother’s private world—especially with her being a stranger to me. All I knew about her was what I’d been told from Quinn and Brady. And, knowing this journal was written around the time she got pregnant with me, I was even more afraid of reading her secret thoughts. What if she hadn’t really wanted me? What if she’d considered the alternative? That would be an incredibly difficult and painful thing to read.

But then I thought about how this journal came to me: through Gaia’s urging. She’d been trying to help get this journal into my hands for five months—maybe longer. It must be important for some reason, beyond just learning more about who my mother was when she was my age. And then I remembered what Quinn said. He thought that when Gaia told me to learn my history she meant just that—my history, where I came from and the histories of my parents. Somehow, learning about the past was supposed to help me deal with the present and the future.

I took the first watch that night and waited till everyone had fallen asleep, then I pulled the book out, took a giant breath, and opened it.

The first few entries were typical teenager stuff: gossip, boys, sneaking out, complaining about parents, etc. It was weird, thinking about it being written by my mother. To me they were just words from a teenager; I never knew my mother, so I had no other context to put her in besides what was written here, in her words.

It wasn’t long before Brady came into the picture and she started writing about seeing him for the first time, sneaking around with him, going out with him…and so on. There were even a couple entries where she talked about the fake names they used when one of them would call the other. Brady was John Dawson and Andy became Susie Johnson. Not very creative but it seemed to work on their parents. That stuff was fun to read but when she started giving detailed accounts of their alone time together, I wanted to skip ahead, or at least skim but I couldn’t. I had to be as thorough as possible so as not to miss anything that might end up being important—I mean, who knows what pertinent information she might let slip in the middle of a paragraph describing the first time she kissed my dad? I tried to pretend they were other people, but it was pretty hard when she kept using Brady’s name. After the entry about the first time they had sex, I felt like I’d done my due diligence for the night and tucked it away, hoping I wouldn’t have any creepy dreams about them when I got to sleep.

"Ready?"

I get down on the ground and lie flat on my back. We are just on the edge of the hill. The grass is lush and dewy. I squint against the sun and smile. Yeah.

Without a word, he reaches his arms behind his head, grabs my hands, and rolls his body over the hillside, taking me with him. I yelp with surprise but the sound collapses into an easy, unbidden laugh, which swirls down the hill ahead of our tumbling.

We lose speed quickly once on level ground and stop only a few feet after the curve of the hill. He lets go of my hands but we continue to lie there, head to head, while I squint at the sun. With his black eyes, he is impervious to the sunlight’s effects that even I, with my brown eyes, feel.

"I didn’t think I’d be seeing you today," he says.

"Why not?"

He shrugs a shoulder. I hear the grass swish against his tee shirt. It’s just since your visits have been so sporadic lately…

"They have?"

"Yes. The grass swishes again. He’s rolled onto his side, craning his neck to look at me. You didn’t realize that?"

This makes him nervous. It makes me nervous too. My continued presence here is only guaranteed as long as I remember things. If I start forgetting it can all slip away.

"I…I guess I did," I lie, trying to remember. Why can’t I remember what kept me from coming?

"What did we do last time you were here?" he quizzes.

I think hard for a minute, willing myself to recall it. Swimming. In my relief that I remember, my voice is overloud. He doesn’t say anything so I ask, Right?

"Yes, that’s right. After a minute, You had me worried there for a second."

"Worried? Really?"

"Well, not really. I suppose I don’t worry much."

"You never worry, I say. Except about things being in the sky."

"It’s a figure of speech."

"Right. So, figuratively speaking, you were worried about me forgetting. He gives no reply. Several minutes pass in silence and then I tell him. I finally opened my mom’s journal—even read a few entries."

"Oh? And how do you feel?"

"I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet that it’s my mom. I mean I know she wrote it but when I read it…I don’t know. I just feel like I’m reading someone else’s diary, you know?"

"You may find it’s better for you to think that way about it."

"You think?"

"It may help you to cope with the reality once it’s finally sunk in. A little distance from it."

"Yeah, I say. I think you’re right. I’ll try and remember that."

"Also remember to keep on reading, regardless of your feelings. Gaia wants you to learn all you can."

"I know, I know. Let’s talk about something else now. Giving too much attention to my mother’s diary will only make me dwell on the fact that it’s hers and that I’ll never get to know any more about her than what’s contained in those pages. I want to know something new about you."

"I’m fairly certain you know everything already."

"I’m absolutely certain that I don’t. He sighs. But nice try. I think about what to ask him. Oh, I know: Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"One, he says. I’m the younger of the two. But I have many cousins."

"I don’t have either—cousins or siblings."

"But you have a pack full of friends and family, as well as your human friends."

"Yeah, and it’s probably for the best anyway. If I had a sibling they’d be suffering through the same stuff I am right now. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone."

"You’re special, he says. That’s not something you should regret, regardless of the downsides."

"I’m so sick of that word, I groan. I’m putting a moratorium on the use of that word in our conversations together for the unforeseeable future."

"Whether or not we use the word, the definition remains true for you. You can’t ignore it forever."

"Our chats used to be so easy and light. What’s with all the heavy?"

"Your life has gotten heavier, he says. Thus, it only follows that your time here should reflect that."

"No, I argue, it only follows that my time here should be even more carefree than before, to make up for the craziness in my life."

"As you wish, he says. What shall we talk about? The weather? The color of the grass? Or perhaps I should say what I like in French and then you won’t know the difference between light and heavy."

Slowly, I raise my hand over and behind my head, then I give him a quick swat on the back of his head. We both chuckle and I hop up and offer him my hand. Come on, let’s—

"—to live for. What’s life without hope? You give us all hope."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Are you planning to go somewhere?"

"Gone he has now to a place to be still."

"What if I got up and ran away down that road?"

"Well, I’d stop you."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Your pulse has quickened. Is something the matter?"

"Vous défie toutes les assomption."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"You defy all assumptions."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Keep yourself safe. Or else you make his death futile."

"We were meant, in some capacity, to be together in this lifetime."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"I think you’re capable of doing just about anything on your own."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh—

Em, Greyson whispered, gently jostling me. Sorry to wake you but you were mumbling in your sleep.

I rubbed my eyes. I was?

Yeah. And we gotta keep quiet if we’re going to stay in hiding.

What was I saying?

No real words, just mumbling. He handed me a bottle of water. As I drank he asked, Did you have the dream again?

Uh…yeah. But not the whole time.

What do you mean?

I mean that for the first time since leaving Wycherley I dreamt something other than that awful repetitive nightmare all night. First I had a dream about— For some reason I didn’t want to tell him about Ash. "Something. I dunno…then it got interrupted with the stupid nightmare and then, thankfully, that got interrupted when you woke me."

Well that’s progress, he said.

Yeah, maybe tomorrow my other dream will last even longer. Maybe it will eventually edge out the nightmare altogether.

Let’s hope so, he said, patting me on the back before taking a quick swig of the water and replacing it in his bag. When he lay back down, I snuggled up to him and put my head on his shoulder, steadying myself on his peppery scent.

Chapter Two

Melissa

"Phantom of the Opera, Cats, and…uh…the third longest running Broadway show is…Chicago?"

Now that’s hitting on all eight! Keep it up and this will be eggs in the coffee! said Ruthie.

Yes! said Jessi

What did she say? asked Deckard.

Context clues, said Melissa. Her tone is happy. That means Jessi got it right.

Oh. Good job, babe. Deckard offered a hand and Jessi gave him a high-five.

Alrighty, let’s see… Ruthie tapped a finger on her chin. Name five major Broadway composers or composing teams.

Okay, said Jessi before letting out a slow exhale, Rogers and Hammerstein, Steven Sondheim, Andrew Lloyd Weber… She wiggled her pinky as she thought, getting ready to tick another name off with her hand. Oh! Uh, Gershwin and Gershwin…and…Lauren and Lowe’s.

Ruthie hung her head and sighed while the boys laughed.

I remember them, said Deckard. They’re the ones who did that show with all the songs about DIY.

Ethyn chuckled. "Yeah, My Fair Home Improvements, right?" Now Ethyn high-fived Deckard before looking at Melissa to share the joke with her.

Melissa wanted to join in—she would laugh at every joke Ethyn made, even if it wasn’t funny. But this one was at Jessi’s expense and the two of them were still on shaky ground where their friendship was concerned. Plus, Ruthie didn’t have a sense of humor when it came to her new project with Jessi. Melissa couldn’t help a small smile but otherwise her expression was one of warning to the guys not to piss off Ruthie.

Heavens to murgatroyd! Ruthie exclaimed. You three stooges are liable to cut my cucumbers and color me red if you don’t chill your chat! She pointed her finger at each one of them in turn—Ethyn, Deckard, and then Jessi. "No, no, and no. First, it’s Lerner, not Lauren, and it’s not Lowe’s, just Lowe, no ‘S’."

Well, I was close—I got the initials right.

"‘Close’ won’t cut it with the Dallas Conservatory, Jessi Martin. You’ll be there tomorrow, don’t you realize that? We’re leaving first thing in the morning—I hope you understand the gravity of this situation."

Jessi rolled her eyes. Yeah, yeah, I get it, okay?

But Ruthie ignored her and kept talking. And even if they did let in someone with a lack of jets as subterranean as yours—

Hey!

"—they have test scores. I practically had to ace their entrance tests just to be considered for their summer program. Now, I want to be there myself but, y’know, sometimes your rod rakes the gravel even when your wheels are whispering. So this is just the way it has to be! But I won’t have you throwing lead through my reputation and any chances of proudly putting this on my college applications in one fell swoop!"

It’s not fair, said Jessi, throwing herself onto the blue wraparound couch in Ethyn’s entertainment room. I don’t wanna go to Drama Camp. I wanna go after March.

Melissa had never seen Ruthie this outright angry before. She stretched her fingers out then clenched them into fists. Her voice was tight and her tone clipped. It’s the ‘Summer Theatre Program’. This is a highly competitive, highly ranked summer-long curriculum with an intensive concentration on Musical Theatre. Not something you can call ‘Drama Camp’.

Maybe you should just go yourself then—I’ll probably ruin it, said Jessi. I think I’ll be better at finding March anyway.

Yeah, said Deckard. I’ve been a good sport about this but it’s not exactly an airtight, foolproof plan, is it? I mean, what if you parents show up for family weekend? I know you talked them into skipping it but what if they change their minds and decide to surprise you, what then?

They won’t, said Ruthie. And even if they did, the ship’ll still hold water—it’s not impossible to avoid them. It’s a big building and Dallas is a big city.

And the sky is blue, said Ethyn. That doesn’t mean everything will go exactly as planned.

It has to! snapped Ruthie. She took a breath and calmed herself down. It just has to.

There’s really no alternative, said Melissa. "The only way Ruthie can go after March is if her parents think she’s spending all summer at cam—the Dallas Conservatory—as originally planned. And I don’t know how many more ways we can say this but…you guys can’t go. You’re humans. It’s dangerous enough for weres but you could get killed. I still don’t even know how I’m going to be able to go."

You can’t, said Ruthie. After contracting S.S. once, you’re more susceptible to getting it again. If you leave the ravens, you’ll stack up faster than a souped up screamer with a Jimmy on the Payroll.

Who’s Jimmy? Deckard asked. But he got no answer.

Ruthie continued, That’s why this plan has to cook like a hockey puck.

What? asked Jessi.

What does that mean?? asked Deckard.

Again, Ruthie just went on. Because I’m our only hope of helping March with her mission. Out of this group, I’m the only one who can pull off a clean sneak and survive an attack of droppers.

This is so unfair, said Melissa. How come foxes get to come of age at twelve and ravens have to wait till nineteen?

Ruthie gave her a sympathetic look. Sorry, Mel. It’s the pits. I wish you could go, too. She went back to quizzing Jessi on everything from Schoenberg to Shakespeare. But Melissa found herself asking the same question she’d been asking herself for weeks. What could she do to change the situation? If only there was a loophole. If only there were some way to keep S.S. at bay or just delay it even. If only there were some way to trick her body into thinking she was of age for a while.

Suddenly, Melissa had a thought. Why hadn’t it come to her earlier? She pulled out her cell phone. I’m going to step outside and call the ravens. Saxon wanted me to check in, she lied. Outside the room, she did a quick search on her phone, found the number, and dialed. Hello. I was wondering when you close today?

The bell on the door tinkled when she pushed her way through. As always, the scents of sage, sweet grass, lemongrass, and cedar hit her immediately. The music was heavy with pan flute and drums, and the sounds of wind and birds. She was the only customer in the small shop, which was lit low with accent lights scattered across the ceiling. Melissa knew the man’s name. Walter Sturm was the owner and operator of the Caddo gift shop, Spirit of the Pines: Novelties and Treasures. Because she knew him, she had no reservations about stepping right up to the counter.

Hello, Mr. Sturm. My name is Melissa Glasswell. I don’t know if you remember me but—

Sure do, he said. You are the girl who bought the boninite and had me sharpen it into a very fine arrowhead.

Right, she said with an uneasy laugh. And the ritual candles but that was a while ago.

Yes, I remember. What can I do for you today?

Well, I’m not sure. She stared at him for a minute, deciding how to broach the subject. Then she just went for it. I’m a were-raven. He stared at her in silence. But you probably already knew that. There was no emotion on his face. …Just like I know…that you’re a raccoon.

Your intuition is good for your age, he said. I was careful never to touch your hands when you were here. Or is that what gave me away? he asked with a small grin.

Melissa shrugged a shoulder. I don’t know how, I just kind of knew.

Well, how can I help you today, Miss Glasswell?

Okay, uh…as you may or may not know, ravens come of age at nineteen. And I’m only sixteen. But my mom is going to be gone for a while and I’m worried about getting Separation Syndrome. So I was wondering if there was something you had that might be able to help. You know, with my age problem.

You’ll need to talk to Lily about that.

Lily?

Lily, you got a customer, he called.

In a moment, fingers parted the beaded curtain behind the counter and a woman came through. She was about the same age as Mr. Sturm—early forties. Melissa thought maybe they were married but she saw no wedding rings. The woman had long, thick, dark hair pulled into a neat braid. Nothing in her face looked Native American but Melissa figured the hairstyle was for the benefit of the customers, to make her look the part of someone expected to be seen working in a Native American gift shop.

Hello, she said in a quiet but steady voice.

Lily, this young lady wants to know what she can do about Separation Syndrome. She’s a raven.

Is she now? Her eyebrows lifted with surprise. Well, hello there, fellow traveler. I’m Lilith Roak. She freely offered her hand. Melissa didn’t expect that but she was glad because she couldn’t tell what kind of were the woman was. She didn’t get a raccoon vibe from her, like with Mr. Sturm, but she knew this Lilith was were, that was for sure. When they shook, Melissa nearly gasped. The woman was a spider!

Yes, said the woman proudly. A parson spider to be exact.

I didn’t even know were-spiders were a thing! I mean, I didn’t know they existed.

She only smiled and waved Melissa back to the room behind the counter. Ms. Roak gestured to two chairs at a small card table and then sat down herself in the remaining chair. Worried about Separation Syndrome, are you? she asked.

Melissa nodded. She didn’t want to talk anymore than she had to, afraid she would say too much.

May I ask why?

Crap, thought Melissa. I’d rather not say if it’s all the same.

So you’re running away from home then?

No—I didn’t say—

The woman lifted a hand and cut her off. There are only a small handful of reasons to worry about Separation Syndrome. Your demeanor tells me yours is not because you’re alone in the world with no family, nor that your family has planned to take several extended faraway trips without you. Melissa blinked nervously but said nothing. Relax, Lilith said. Fortunately for you, I don’t care.

So can you help me? I’ll try anything.

It’s good you feel that way, said Lilith, standing and walking to a cabinet in the corner behind her. Because there is only one sure way to hold off S.S.

"But there is a way! I knew it!"

"There are a few methods but only one that is guaranteed to work. She pulled out a box from the cabinet and began sifting through it. The others… she trailed off. They don’t work for everyone and they don’t last as long. But this, she said, turning suddenly to face Melissa and holding a small bottle between two fingers, will absolutely work."

What is it?

It’s a solution. Both literally and figuratively. She sat back down. It’s called gí̱ransi̱ tou neroú.

What’s it called in English? Melissa asked skeptically.

Aging Water.

Hm. So what do I do with that? Drink it?

No. You inject it. You will feel it working within the hour. The effects will be fully set in twenty-four hours after taking it.

Twenty-four hours? That’s definite?

The woman nodded.

Great! I’ll take it! Melissa said brightly. Wait…did you say ‘inject it’?

Yes.

Melissa had never had to give herself a shot and she didn’t want to start. Like with a needle?

I can’t think of another way, said Lilith. Would you like to know how it works?

Sure.

There is a gene in the body that controls the aging process. This solution will be drawn to that gene. It will attach itself to the strands of DNA and, for lack of better phrasing, trick your body into thinking it’s older than it is.

Interesting.

There are some known side-effects you should be aware of.

Okay…

She rattled off a list long enough to give Melissa a second moment of doubt. As if the injection part wasn’t enough, now she had to worry about a bunch of side-effects. The list included damage to the vocal chords, hallucinations, discoloring of the skin and hair, and even death.

Nearly all of those are extremely rare, said Lilith. However, I suggest weighing the pros and cons before making your decision. We open at nine o’clock in the morning. She stood up. I can hold this for you for one day.

Melissa stared off into space, lost in thought. She could decide not to take it, cut her losses, and stay home. She could just wait on updates from Ruthie, spend all her time wondering what was happening and worrying about the outcome.

Or she could risk it, take the plunge, inject the potion, which would ensure she could go after March and help with the mission. Taking the potion would guarantee she wouldn’t get S.S. and die. Although, she could still potentially die from the potion itself.

But she had been feeling a strong need to be out there with March, figuring out what their dream meant and using it to save the were world. She had to go. The reasons to take the solution outweighed the reasons not to. And that was all there was to it.

No, said Melissa. I don’t need to sleep on it. I’m sure. I want to buy the solution.

Lilith nodded, led her out to the store, and took her fifty dollars, reminding Melissa that it was a non-refundable purchase. Melissa reached the door before she turned back. I forgot to ask—how long does this stuff last?

Lilith smiled. Forever.

Chapter Three

We’d been in Yellowstone for a day and a half now and although I was having a nice time and feeling the most relaxed I could probably get under the circumstances, it had yet to open up my mind so I could get a clear picture of where we were supposed to go. In the last couple of days I had been bouncing between polar opposite feelings on the unknown destination issue. Most of the time, I felt a stifling anxiety over not having the answer, figuring out how to find the answer, and then doubt that I ever would. But sometimes—much less often than the worrying—I had brief spurts of confidence or complacency, or both. I would find myself thinking, I’ll figure it out. It’ll come to me somehow. Why worry this much? I just have to be patient. Maybe I was just too exhausted from the stressful thoughts and all I could manage were calm thoughts. Maybe what I mistook as complacency was really just fatigue. But I decided these calm thoughts were, more than anything, a mere coping mechanism for my body, just to give me a few moments’ reprieve from the stress. Not because I truly deep-down believed these things.

But at the moment, I was having one of those complacent feelings. Greyson was in the middle of a deep meditation session so Brigham had to be my bodyguard. Normally when I took a lake-bath I had Greyson to stand guard, for obvious reasons, but he’d had another one of his ‘strong pulls’ to be in the stillness (he got those often). And I couldn’t wait for him since it had been a whole day since I last rinsed off. Even though everyone in the group had scents that could be picked up and recognized, I still had to do everything I could to eliminate—or at least lessen—my own. The others might be misinterpreted as just a group of were hikers; mine would be instantly recognized because I’m the only were-wolf with a feminine scent signature and because I’m the only Hybrid.

Having this thought made me wonder something. "Brigham, what do I smell like since I’ve become a hybrid? I know I technically always was one but I mean since my first change."

Hm. Well, I don’t know, it’s hard to describe. It’s definitely different than it was before but I can’t really say how.

Okay…well just think about it and say the first words that pop into your head, I suggested.

I guess it’s…okay…this is gonna sound weird.

Go for it, I said. I’ve gotten pretty good with weird.

He chuckled. Yeah, I guess so. Uh, well, you kinda smell like the stillness.

…

"Or my stillness anyway."

…So what does your stillness smell like?

Gaia stuff? He said it like a question. I guess like smells from Greece or something. The Greece from my imagination anyway.

So like myrtle trees and the ocean and stuff?

Yeah, I guess so.

Alright. I’ll take it. It was strange but I could do a lot worse, smell-wise.

So are you any closer to figuring out where we’re supposed to go since we got to Yellowstone?

Not really. If anyone else had asked me that—including Greyson—it would’ve pissed me off. But not coming from Brigham. I knew he wasn’t trying to pressure me into solving the puzzle or preparing to give me advice on how he thought I should go about solving it. And I knew he wasn’t judging me for my ignorance either. With Brigham everything was on the surface. He was honestly just making conversation. Knowing this made me more apt to carry on with the subject. "I’m working my way through my mom’s diary, which is supposed to help somehow, though it hasn’t yet. And I’ve done a little more studying in the were history book. Beyond that, I don’t know what to do, short of tracking down some kind of dream interpreter."

You’ll figure it out, he offered. "I know you will. So don’t worry too much, okay?"

Thanks, Brigham. And you caught me during one of my bouts of confidence so I’m really not worrying as much right now.

Good. I heard him rustle from behind the tree he was sitting against. His head popped into view but he still faced away from me. He wanted to stress a point but he was still respectful enough to keep his eyes averted. Because Gaia wouldn’t send you on a big mission without giving you the tools to help yourself get there. And she wouldn’t send you if she didn’t think you could do it.

I stopped and smiled in his direction. Thanks, Brigham. It’s nice to hear that.

I mean every word.

Our talk came to a lull then and I went on giving myself a violent scouring. As I dipped the loofah back into the water, I heard a crunch sound behind me, like someone stepping on a stick or a pine cone. I turned at the sound but didn’t get the chance to ask Brigham if he’d heard it too. Apparently he had. He was already up from the ground and running in my direction. I shot down into the water to cover myself and watched him leap up and take his lupine form midair as he dove into the water a few feet away from me. In seconds he was on the other side of the lake and he jumped out and darted around a large rock. I couldn’t see him anymore, only hear his fast footfalls. I swam back to my clothes and was getting dressed to follow Brigham when more footsteps suddenly sounded and they were getting closer.

Go back to the campsite, said an urgent voice as it rushed past me. It was Jasper. Get the others—pull Greyson out of his damn meditation practice and tell him to get his ass in gear!

There wasn’t time for arguing. On this, at least, we agreed. There was a time and a place for introspection and spiritual reflection and it wasn’t while we were on a life-threatening journey across the country. Greyson would just have to learn that.

When I reached our campsite, I saw Saffron flipping through a magazine Aris bought for her last time we were near a convenience store. She had to have read it cover to cover a few times by now; the pages were wrinkled and worn out. Aris was lounging next to her, talking away while she gave little response and no signs of interest. Greyson was where I’d left him—cross-legged in the middle of the campsite, perfect posture, eyes closed and relaxed expression.

I seized his shoulder and shook it. Wake up! I said. It wasn’t technically the correct phrase to use but it was the first thing that came into my head. Greyson, come on!

He blinked his eyes open, looking like I’d just thrown a glass of cold water in his face. What is it?

Someone by the lake—might’ve been watching me—might be a cat or something—just come on! I blurted inelegantly. And you two, I said to Saffron and Aris, let’s go!

What does the person smell like? asked Greyson as he followed me.

I don’t know—it’s not a scent I recognize.

When we got back to the scene, Jasper, in his human form, and Brigham, in his wolf form, were wrestling a huge bison. The bison took his gigantic head and swiped it to the side, hitting Jasper in his abdomen and knocking him at least twenty feet back. Brigham had more luck by avoiding the head and climbing onto its back. He was digging his claws into its sides when Greyson and Aris rushed forward to help.

Change back to your human form, you coward! I shouted as I stepped forward. Show us your face!

Greyson and Aris were on each side of the bison’s head and they each had one of its horns, trying to keep its head from batting at them.

I was about to shout something else but Jasper had come back and started talking first. Nope, he said. He had his chance. We told him to change back while you were gone getting the others. He didn’t listen to us and he’s not listening to you. So we’re done here. Suddenly, Jasper morphed both hands into his leopard paws and held the claws to the underside of the bison’s neck, pushing inward and just on the verge of puncturing the flesh.

When the other three guys saw this, they all stopped. The bison wasn’t struggling anymore anyway.

Whoa, hang on, Jasper, said Greyson. Let’s just—

This is not the time to spout that peace, love, and harmony bullshit, said Jasper gravely. This is life and death—ours or his. It’s not gonna be ours if I have anything to say about it.

Jasper! I shouted angrily. You can’t just start killing everyone that invades our campsite!

I didn’t realize we had an open invitation for anyone to join our group, he retorted.

Violence isn’t the answer, Jasper, said Greyson in a quiet voice, as if trying to calm Jasper down.

Not ten seconds ago he was actively trying to kill us, said Jasper.

That doesn’t mean—

Greyson was interrupted when the bison started making grunting sounds and jerking its head around. He was trying to get out of Jasper’s chokehold but his paws were steady as a rock. Within seconds, one of its erratic movements accidentally pushed its neck forward and we all heard the fatal sound. A horrifying minute went by where the only sounds were the bison’s gurgling and choking, and the splattering of its blood hitting the ground. Brigham slid off its back and stepped away. Jasper’s paws dropped to his sides. Greyson looked down and sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

The bison fell over and once he hit the ground, he shuddered back into human form. He was pale and skinny and looked to be in his early to mid twenties. Greyson squatted next to him but he didn’t need to check his pulse. We all knew he was dead.

Right, said Aris awkwardly, better start looking for a place to bury him.

Brigham walked off with Aris as Saffron turned to go with them. I’m not getting dirt caked under my nails, complained Saffron.

I stood there, staring at the body. Greyson rose back up so then all three of us were staring at it. Without looking up, Greyson spoke evenly to Jasper. I’d like to think that wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t jerked his head. I’d like to think you would’ve realized the mistake you were about to make and put your claws away before anyone got hurt.

There was a pause. We all just stared at the bleeding, lifeless form. Then, just as even-toned, Jasper said, You might like to think that. But, no. I still would’ve killed him. He turned and walked away and as he passed me, he looked me in the eye and said, And I’ll do it again if I have to.

"Someone’s dead," I say, hugging my knees with my chin tucked behind them.

"When did you get here? asks Ash. I didn’t see you coming. I don’t say anything and after a minute he registers what I’ve said. Did you say someone is dead?"

"Yes. Dead. A person. Who is no longer living."

"May I ask whom?"

"I don’t know. I don’t even know his name."

Ash is more interested now and he comes to sit next to me. And how did he die?

"Jasper cut his throat with his claws. Ash is silent and he watches my face. Technically, the guy got himself cut by moving his head around. But it doesn’t matter. Jasper would’ve done it anyway, he said as much."

"Was this person trying to hurt you?"

"I don’t know. I guess. But who knows? He was in his animal form the whole time so he couldn’t talk to us."

"Well, maybe— Ash cuts himself off when he seems to hear or see something and he looks up at the sky. He licks his lips nervously before turning back to me. I think we should change the subject. Is that alright?"

I look up where he’s been looking. As usual there is nothing but a clear blue sky. Why?

"Because this isn’t a fun conversation and you come here to have fun, don’t you?"

"When I was here a few days ago you said that since my life has gotten more serious it means that our time here together would automatically get more serious too," I argue.

"And I believe you said it only follows that your time here should be even happier than before, to make up for the craziness in your life."

"Hm. Touché. So what do you want to do then?"

"We could take a hike up this big hill I know," he suggests.

I shrug. Okay.

He takes my upper arm and pulls me up from the ground. Come on, it’s this way.

When we get there and start hiking up, he begins explaining something about rock formations but I’m completely preoccupied. Yeah, I hear what you’re saying and that’s really cool but someone is dead, I say, as if the two subjects are part of the same conversation. Ash pauses and looks at me thoughtfully. How am I supposed to just go merrily about my business when someone’s dead because of us—our group?

Ash lifts a hand as if to calm me and steps closer to me. Okay, I understand you are upset. But you mustn’t speak anymore about it.

"Why not? I say, my voice sounding louder than it really is because his is so soft in comparison. I thought you were my friend? Aren’t friends supposed to help and comfort each other?"

After staring at me for a minute, he says, I can’t be a normal friend to you. I’m sorry; you’ll have to seek solace elsewhere.

"Why? Why can’t you be a ‘normal’ friend?"

"That is one of those questions we’ve talked about before, the ones you’re not allowed to ask."

I sigh. Ash, come on. This is just a dream, right? What difference does it make?

He seems to consider this. Yes. It’s just a dream. But your sadness and anger have no place here. If you can let go of those things then I can certainly talk to you about this dead boy in a calm, non-emotional way.

"Well I don’t know how to do that right now."

"Then why don’t we resume our walk?" He offers me his arm. I want to say ‘no’ but I can’t seem to make myself so I take his arm and listen to his geology lecture.

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"No goodbyes."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Keep yourself safe. Or else you make his death futile."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Can you sleep?"

"How are you sleeping, Miss Howe?"

"She’s not sleeping."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Or else you make his death futile."

Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…Guh-Gung…

"Your pulse has quickened. Is something the matter?"

"How are you sleeping, Miss Howe?"

How did you sleep? Greyson asked. I don’t know how he knew I was awake because my head was on his chest, facing away from him, and I’d only just opened my eyes.

Not well at all, actually, I admitted as I rose up.

Me either, he said.

I frowned and looked into his eyes. I was about to bring up the dead boy but somehow Greyson read my mind and beat me to it.

I know, he said, cupping my face in his hands. I’m torn too. I can’t reconcile one side of my feelings with the other.

What do you mean?

"Half of me is thinking that guy was trying to kill us, he would have. He would’ve killed you. Killed or kidnapped you. And I don’t think there was much chance of any of us persuading him to do otherwise. But the other half of me is horrified that this happened. Death," he said, like he still couldn’t fathom it.

Suddenly, Brigham joined the conversation. He must have been listening. The thing is, I’m really sad about it, too, but even if Jasper hadn’t pulled out his claws, what choice did we have?

We both looked over at him. Not killing him would’ve been a choice, said Greyson.

Not when there’s a war going on that she’s at the center of, Jasper interjected from behind us. He was standing up, screwing the top of his water bottle back on. He must have just gotten back from refilling it. Let’s be clear on something real quick—I don’t like what happened anymore than ya’ll do. But it had to be done. It was us or him.

Not necessarily, I said. We didn’t get the chance to talk to him and see what he wanted—maybe he—

"He wanted to kill you, March, said Jasper. Or take you to someone else who would eventually kill you. I’m not gonna let that happen. There’s only one way to make sure it doesn’t happen when someone starts attacking us. You guys knew what you signed on for with this trip, right? Or you should’ve." He walked off and none of us said a word.

I hated that I didn’t have anything to say. But sadly, he was making a good point. This was war. And I had to be willing to do what it took to see this thing through to the other side. Because we had to win. It was vital that I complete this mission from Gaia. As far as I was able, I wasn’t going to let the scum of the were world win another war.