The Pier

The story of my namesake always made me feel warm inside, and it made me love my hair early. I was the only person in all of Stay’s landing with red hair, which could have so easily been a curse. It was long, curly and wild- it often took ages to do anything more than a simple bun or braid, but the curls helped make it look a little more put together. I smiled inwardly as I gazed at my locks in the mirror, quickly snapping out of my trance and pulling them back in a thick braid out of my face. I quickly brushed my teeth, washing the stale coffee aftertaste away with the cool mint. I dabbed some chapstick on my dry lips and swept some mascara over my long eyelashes. I was lucky that my features had otherwise retained my Italian father’s genes- my eyelashes were long and dark, my eyebrows full. It made getting ready in the mornings so much easier. The train mostly stopped there, though. While my mother was tall and lean, tanned like my father, but I had grown up small. Even now, at 17, I stood at a modest 5’3, and had pale skin to compliment the wild hair. While I wouldn’t say I was curvy I did have more frame than my mother. My boobs, while still small, had filled in enough to fill a t-shirt, and my hips and butt jutted out from my small frame, completing the slight curved line. Even my face seemed mismatched in family photos, with both of them having thin, angular profiles compared to my round, heart shaped face. I swept some bronzer across my high cheekbones, determined to pretend that the sun had kissed my skin. At last content with my appearance, I grabbed my phone and bag and hopped on my bike for the breezy downhill trek to the docks. 

The hills in Stay’s Landing were lined with trees, jutting out from the earthy rocks of the mountainside. This terrain was not for the faint of heart, and everyone in town had toned thighs and legs from the constant inclines. We had magnificent hiking trails and even better views. If it weren’t for the innate remoteness of the village, I imagine this town would be littered with tourists basking in the beauty. 

My favourite place in town was an old pier set off from the docks. The wood had long weathered away, it was creaking and rickety and would sway in the gusts of wind, yet I still trusted it to keep me dry. It was set a little further out from the rest of the docks, and a rock formation hid the rest of the beach from its view. It was there, in the middle of it all, but still felt so completely out of view. Other locals always gave me weary looks as I stepped out onto the pier, they all expected it to collapse with one good wave. Their hesitance confirmed that this pier was mine, undisturbed. 

Oftentimes I would spend my days off here, reading and dreaming. Stay’s was such a small little village, and while it had once held a strong and sturdy pack, circumstance and numbers had dwindled in the last few years. Around the time I was born our Alpha, James, had been killed by rogues breaching our territory. From the sounds of it, quite a few rogue attacks had hit over the span of that year and we had lost a lot of members. Our Beta, Friedrich, had admirably run the pack in James’ wake. James had been unmated, and had no heir. The responsibility of the pack laid to Friedrich. Unfortunately our numbers were dwindling, and a lot of the strong, unmated wolves had found their mates in other packs, and left Stay’s Landing. Beta Friedrich and his human mate, Jan, had been unsuccessful in producing children long before taking on pack leadership. While this is rare among our kind, it is not unheard of. Jan had passed away from illness when I was around 10- I remember it as my first real brush with death. She had worked at the bakery in town and used to sneak me the “uglies” as she called them- cupcakes or cookies that the decoration didn’t sit quite right. I remember not understanding why she had gotten so thin and lost her hair, but I remember feeling the ache of sadness matched across our tiny town in her wake. Once you lose your mate your heart never heals, and Beta Friedrich took Jan’s loss hard. He ached for a long time, and looked more withered every day. When he died in the drippings of this past winter the town mourned, but we also rejoiced in the knowledge that they would be reunited once more.

We didn’t have an Alpha after that. It was like our allies simply forgot. As our youth reached 18, mating age, they would leave Stay’s Landing, travelling from pack to pack in search of their mate. They would settle down, maybe become a warrior- but never return. Everyone left in town was old wolves and their kin. While a few younger wolves still ran about I hadn’t really befriended them. I smiled at the young man that worked at the butcher’s shop, but I don’t know as though I ever knew his name. Some young teens helped bag groceries at the General Store or could be caught sunbathing. They were all destined to walk away, and what remained of the Ember Pack of Stay’s Landing would die here, doomed to be forgotten. 

“What a depressing thought!” Sage, my wolf, growled. I laughed, she was usually the one with the dark wit, where I remained the positive one. We melded well together. 

“You can’t tell me it isn’t true!” I bit back.

“Doesn’t make me pleased about the thought.”

I smiled at the tickle in the back of my brain, knowing it was time I let Sage come forward, stretch her legs. Like an excited golden retriever the idea of a walk stirred her once more in my mind. 

“Let me forward now, I’ll get us to work on time!” 

I chuckled, “And what will we wear once we get there?” 

Sage huffed, reminded that we’d be without a paddle if we shifted with no change of clothes available. I smiled as she grumbled in my mind, “How about I let you go for a run tonight? After work? It’ll be dark and a little cold but-”

“Say no more!” Sage quipped excitedly. I made a mental note to ask Mains for the key to lock up tonight. I was fond of this top and I’d rather shift without ruining it. That was the good thing about living in a remote town made entirely of werewolves - they could run freely in the streets. Sage and I preferred the mountains, though, we tried to climb as far as we could and look out into the dips and valleys of the surrounding towns. We never longed for the horizon- but I did wonder what was out there. 

The feeling of longing twisted in my stomach, I pushed it away and returned to my book and the remaining hours I had before work. The sun beat down as I stared out across the long pier, breathing in the sweet salty air. I balled up my cardigan at my lower back, using it as a pillow as I sat back against a pillar at the base of the pier, pulling out my book and enjoying the summer morning. I let the peace wash over me in every crashing wave, breathing deeply as the words on the page lulled me to contentment. I easily  lost track of time, the melodic beat of the poetry matching the crashing of the waves. I was stirred out of it by the chime of my cellphone in my pocket, alerting me it was time to heave way and head to work. With a sigh and one last glance at the ocean, I gathered my things and grabbed my bike for the long uphill trek to the bookstore.