Chapter 7: While He Sleeps

A walk would be nice, she decided, not a run like this morning. Was it just this morning that she had been out? It had felt like a lifetime since then. She wouldn't shift, not tonight. It was too close to the full moon. She didn't want to tempt fate.

Tugging on a thick green hoodie, jeans, and woolen socks, she felt better. Calmer. More in control. She braided her wet locks into two tight braids and pulled on a grey knit beanie. The nights were growing colder fast and the last thing she needed was to catch a cold when she had to work the next week straight.

She sneaked down the stairs like a burglar on her stockinged feet. Peering around the corner, she saw her grandmother fast asleep, mouth agape, and snoring loudly. Her long hair was unbound and flowed around the back of the chair like kelp in the ocean, swaying slightly with every deep-throated rumble. Willow smiled, her heart squeezing and left through the front door, holding her boots in her hands.

Even though she wasn't in her wolf form, she felt no fear walking alone at night here. The forest's heartbeat was Willow's. The wind in the trees was the breath in her lungs. She belonged here. Not to mention, she could shift instantly and in that second, become the most dangerous predator.

She had never abused her ability, even as a teenager when the others teased her. She never shifted out of turn or intimidated the boys just because she could. She kept to herself. Nothing had changed she realized. She had maybe one friend and she had moved away years ago. They still kept in touch with the occasional phone call and through social media, but she hadn't seen her in years.

"We belong to the earth, even though we are extremely far from our home. Our kind was born far across the sea, on a stormy island. We were the favorite of the Vikings who brought us here on one of their voyages. We liked it so much, we stayed. There is more room to run here, to roam. Don't ever forget that we are one with nature. She birthed us. Despite what some may say, we are not an abomination. We are a gift from the gods,"

Her mother's melodic voice drifted through her mind and Willow found tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She missed her mother dearly. It had been nearly twenty years since she was murdered. It still felt like yesterday. The pain never went away, it just dulled in intensity.

Lights came into view and Willow realized she had traced the same path she had taken this morning. She stood before the gate of the Estates. Careful not to touch it or catch the attention of anyone looking, she climbed beneath the hedge she had earlier. It was much easier in her current form.

She sat cross-legged and gazed up at the Brochade estate. Garin's window was still lit, the rest of the house dark. She wondered, moodily, if he had brought that girl home with him. She wondered why she cared or why it bothered her so much. She supposed it was his scent.

How could someone so evil smell so good?

The light flickered out. She sat up straight. The house was now completely dark. She closed her eyes and listened. She could only hear the rustling of the forest, no human sounds. She stood and brushed her hands on her jeans. She wasn't sure what she planned to do but before she knew it, she was slipping through the gate.

Her slim form had no problem fitting between the bars, although she still tensed, feeling the burn on her hip from this morning. She froze on the other side, glancing through the darkness. Even though she hadn't shifted, her senses were still heightened.

She stalked towards the house, her body vibrating with nerves. With the grace and strength only seen in Olympic gymnasts, Willow quickly scaled the fireplace and pulled herself onto his balcony. She pressed her body against the wall just outside of the sliding glass doors that she had thought were merely windows earlier.

"What the hell am I doing here?" She wondered to herself, her heart beating a tattoo against her ribcage. She buried her face in her hands, feeling stupid and embarrassed. What if he was with that girl, she saw him with at the restaurant.

"Okay, one quick peek to make sure he isn't sharpening knives while staring at a picture of my family and I'll leave." She took a deep breath and slowly looked around the corner, taking in the room.

It was obviously a guest room. There were no personal touches anywhere, just minimalist perfection. The only furniture was a large bed, a dresser, a desk by the doors, and a bookcase. Three other doors lead from the room. She saw that there was only one figure in the bed, and it appeared to be sleeping. She didn't understand why this brought her a wave of relief.

He turned in his sleep and she froze. The moonlight caught half of his face, the other in shadow. Her heart caught in her chest as she watched him sleep. His lips opened slowly as he sank deeper into sleep.

She wondered what they would feel like, pressed against her own.

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Garin has strange, vivid dreams. He feels as if he is being chased through the forest, the branches whip him in the face and arms. His feet stumble over roots. His heart threatens to escape his chest as he pumps his legs harder. He doesn't know where he is going but he knows he cannot stop. Whatever is chasing him, is getting closer.

He can feel its fetid breath whispering against the back of his neck. He falls and cries out. It can't end like this. With a shove, he pushes himself to his feet and continues on. The forest is dark except the bright full moon shining above, mocking him as he falters in the darkness. A low, primal growl sounds from behind him and he sprints, his lungs burning and tears streaking from his eyes.

He breaks through the forest and is standing at a house. It is a simple white house with black shutters. He knows he has seen it somewhere before, but he cannot place it. He walks closer and the scents of clove and spice flood his nostrils.

It's hers. He has been chased from his home to hers. But why? It must be a dream. Glancing down he sees that he is in the clothes that he had fallen asleep in, his cotton briefs and a thin tee shirt. His feet are covered in grass, they are cold and aching. If it was a dream, how was he able to feel things. He felt the cold air nipping at his exposed skin, the breath he couldn't catch, and the fear. The fear was real. But how was this possible.

He turns when a branch cracks behind him. The shadow of a large wolf stalks from the tree line, it's back arched. It's the largest wolf he has ever seen. Its growl seems to shake the very earth.

"Please," he whispers. "I'm not like them." The wolf lunges, it's yellow eyes flashing in the dark.

He sits up with a cry, his hands outstretched.

he threw back the covers and stalked to the balcony. He threw open the door and walked out, peering into the dense forest below him. Everything was as it should be. There were no shadows of murderous wolves or of anything aside from the native pines. With a deep sigh, he leaned his hands against the railing and looked out over the trees towards her house.

Willow had just made it out of sight when Garin opened the doors. She was pressed against the outside fireplace, waiting until he went back to sleep. She tried to slow her breathing with a few deep breaths but all she was rewarded with was an intoxicating and pungent aroma of his scent. It was sickly sweet this close, and it seemed to fill her mouth.

She wiped her face against her sleeve, blotting away the sweat from her quick retreat. She couldn't imagine his face if he had caught her watching him like she was some sort of peeping tom. What the hell was wrong with her? This was too close. Too close.

He needed to leave town already, then she could go back to ignoring the family and about her life. She paused and listened, he had shut his door and latched it. Waiting for a beat before moving, she happened to glance through the downstairs window into their basement rec area. It was larger than her entire house.

As she was about to turn, something caught the corner of her eye. She walked closer, cupping her hands and peered in. It was a wolf head mounted about the fireplace, the words "Who's afraid of the big bad wolf" scrawled underneath. She felt ill. These people were the monsters, not her family. They were sickening.

She took her time walking home, her head reeling from the night's events. The image of the wolf's head burned into her brain. She mourned for whoever that had been, for the head has to be severed while they are still alive otherwise at death, they shift back into their human form.

A deep chill had settled into her bones. She wondered if it was time for her to move on. She knew her grandmother wouldn't. She would die here and be buried next to her husband. Maybe after she passed, Willow would leave. She didn't want to think about that either.

Arms hugging herself, she walked through the trees that had always felt like home and now she felt like a stranger beneath their branches. The Brochades were terrible, awful people. All Red Hoods were. She couldn't imagine an organization bent on massacring an entire race of creatures just because of hatred.

Garin's scent was still swirling around her even as her house came into view. She wanted to hate him but there was something about his eyes. She sneaked quietly back into the house. She felt as if she had been gone for hours but really it had only been two. Her grandmother was still asleep in her chair. Willow flicked off the tv and tucked a quilt around her, placing a small kiss on her forehead.

As she lay in bed, sleep closing in, she kept hearing what Garin's had shouted in his sleep:

"I'm not like them."