The thing is, I'd rather hang with real wolves than weres any day. Another reason I've been stalling.
The pull north feels like gravity. But I'm pretty certain whatever waits for us there are more weres. And I'm scared because every time they catch our scent, they turn violent, chasing after us like we're nothing but prey. It's happened so many times since I died.
That's still how I think of it: the night I died.
I wouldn't trade Beep for anything. Before her, I was drowning in loneliness. She changed everything. I have a friend, a companion, a guide. Support. Even though, yes, sometimes we want to kill each other. But I no longer wish I could change what happened to me.
But the night she came to mewasthe night my old life died. The night I lost the only family I've ever known. Even if my dad was an asshole, he was all I had.
I still have nightmares, wake up screaming, like I can taste the blood in my mouth, that mysterious wolf's citrusy, earthy rain scent coating my tongue—can still feel his teeth shredding my flesh.
I'd rather die than let some mangy pack of werewolves finish what he started.
Leaving the mall behind, I walk through the suburban neighborhoods until the houses become more sparse, more rural. After a few miles, I hear the sounds of nature right at the edge of the woods. It's not a forest, but there are enough trees to get some peaceful sleep for the night.
I walk another mile through the dense brush when I hear a deer. Beep pauses, freezing me in place. We stare at each other, the deer and me—her big doe-brown eyes, watery and lucid, as her life flashes before her. But I'm not going to chase. She smells my wolf, but my french-fry-sated-breath must reassure her, because she darts away, confident I won't hunt her. She's lucky Beep's not in control.
Meat for days,Beep contests.
"We don't need meat for days, psycho. We just ate." She knows I'm still hungry, but I'd never admit it.
Disgusting human food. Full of chemicals.
"I will take tasty, salty fries over Bambi any day. We are never killing Bambi. Do you hear me?"
I do not know this Bambi.She pauses.The salt was good. Still. Next time, kill deer. Meat for days.
Her sentences are getting longer. Probably all the arguing we've been doing.
I don't know what I'd do if she tried to kill a deer. Not that a rabbit or squirrel is any better, but that's way less blood and I think we do a pretty good job of killing them fast, so they don't have to suffer.
Beep and I haven't been in a position where we've really wrestled for control. Usually one of us has a pretty good reason for relinquishing. Hopefully, we won't need to test that.
I'm still getting used to this whole shifter, werewolf thing. It would be easier if there were another wolf I could talk to. To ask questions. Someone to tell me that everything's going to be okay, that we're not in this alone. I don't even need community. That feels like way too much to hope for.
I just want someone to look me in the eye and tell me I don't have to struggle anymore. That the man who did this to me, to us, won't ever hurt us again. That Beep and I will findsafety somewhere, and that we'll find a way to live this new life together.
Sighing, I trudge deeper into the woods. It's dark now. I find a nice fallen log with a rotten notch deep enough to house a family of foxes.
My, how my standards have changed.
I peel off my clothes, tuck them into my bag, and arrange the hook perfectly so it'll be easy for Beep to grab in the morning before we leave. I think she's starting to realize that the more she leaves my shit behind, the more I stall, so she's getting better at carrying my human things.
It takes a while to transform. It's an awkward shedding of my skin, like neither of us knows how to relinquish or take control, so we do this uncomfortable dance, letting the magic filter through our bodies. Several minutes later, after much panting and sweating, my knees bend, but I land on a hind leg, the pads of Beep's wolfy feet digging into the earth.
Beep gathers as much forest debris as she can, methodically creating a mound of leaves, pine needles, and soft moss. Something deep inside me—my omega—hums with satisfaction. Beep burrows into the nest, curling tight, letting the leaves settle over us.
I think Beep's knowledge of wolves is limited to what she's experienced through me. She doesn't seem to understand wolf hierarchies, and she definitely doesn't have all the answers. So, the first time she tried to explain this feeling I have inside me—this raw and precious vulnerability—I dismissed it. But as time passed, and the more other wolves referred to me asOmega, the more I found myself settling into the title.
I get this feeling—an urge, really, like an insistent thrum beneath my skin—and it sharpens every sensation, every touch. Beep says it's my omega nature emerging. I can feel how other people feel, like their emotions are within me. It's a core, primalpart of my existence. A glowing ember in my chest. I feel protective of her, too, like she's too gentle for this world.
Beep is her—my—protector.
It's an odd feeling. But warm. Nice.
Beep is sentient—she has her own, separate consciousness, and through magic, we share a body.
But my omega isme, just a deeper part of myself.
