I turn in the other direction and head toward the stairs, choosing to satisfy my stomach over my curiosity. I reach the downstairs hall, but there seems to be no one else in the house. At least no one I can see.
They must all be in their rooms.
I casually enter the kitchen, feeling more comfortable here, seeing as it's one of the few rooms in the pack house that I know.
I sniff the air, scanning around for any meal that can help satisfy me. There's nothing in sight, which seems weird. In fact, the kitchen looks like it was just fully cleaned.
My stomach groans, propelling me toward the fridge. I open it to find a large roast chicken, just sitting pretty.
“Man, I'm so hungry.”
I rip off a thigh and devour the meat from the bone, not caring at all that it's cold. The chicken tastes like heaven in my mouth, making me moan softly from the meaty goodness.
I pull off the other thigh against my better judgment before making short work of that too.
My mind finally begins to calm down a little, which comes with some clarity. I glance down at my fingers, watching how my claws slowly retract.
What? When did they come out?
I slowly bring my hand to my face, sensing that my eyes have changed as well. So much for control.
“Okay,” I admit, “I've done enough damage here.” I close the door and jump when I see Molly standing behind it. “Jesus!”
She laughs. “Don't worry, you'll learn how to focus your senses so you don't get snuck up on like that.”
I look down at my greasy hands and sigh. It feels like I've literally been caught red-handed. The older woman sees this and goes to one of the tables to retrieve a paper towel. She gives it to me and I smile gratefully.
“Thank you. I'm sorry about the chicken.”
“What? Don't be. It's for you and Grant… although, I'm sure you would've enjoyed it more if it were warmer.”
“I'm glad I didn't know because I'm not sure I would have shared.”
She giggles, a sound that's both comforting and relaxing. “Then I'm glad you've got such a strong conscience, because I'm pretty sure Grant hasn't eaten a thing even though I've told him to do so over and over.”
So he really doesn't listen to anyone?
“It's this appetite,” I sigh, moving to a counter and leaning against it. “I don't know how to control it.”
Molly cocks her head to the side. “Have you ever met a bodybuilder before?”
“Huh?”
“You know, all those big muscly guys.”
“Yeah, I know. I'm just not sure why you're asking.”
“Well,” Molly rubs her hands together. “Those guys eat all the time. Their body has a lot of work to do, and they need fuel. Your metabolism is sort of like that, but so much faster. It doesn't help that all your senses are heightened too, and—” Molly pauses when she sees my sad expression.
The woman walks toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “My point is that this is normal. It may not seem like it, but there's nothingwrong with you. You're just hungry. That happens. Feeling bad about something as simple as eating isn't going to help with this journey.”
My shoulders relax. “Yeah… yeah, you're right. Thank you for talking to me and being so kind.”
“Did you think you'd be yelled at or something?” she asks, amused.
I shrug. “I didn't know what to expect.”
“I guess that's fair. We're a family here, we weren't joking about that. I want you to be as comfortable as possible. If you need anything, just let us know. Besides, you're basically our boss.”
