“What are you thinking about?” He asks, winking at me. I scowl in indignation.
“I have no idea what was up yesterday,” I think with pain towards last night, bafflement in my features, “why I was acting that way.”
“Remember?” he prods, “the Shifter?”
In a flash, everything returns as his words trigger remembrance. The ghost from my dream, the pack of players. The fact that I am a… Seer.
And that I can take revenge on the murderers of my parents.
“Oh yeah,” I murmur, thinking of the fiery eyes that haunt my mind, encompassing all of my thoughts.
Xavier halts, his form perfectly still. “Someone’s coming,” he expresses in a frustrated whisper, “because of your big mouth.” I open my mouth to protest, but he just shakes his head. There is a blur of motion, the sound of a hand turning the knob, and…
Ms. Penn sends the door flying open, a crash resounding as it collides with the wall. “Why are you disturbing the other orphans’ sleep? You selfish, ungrateful girl,” she snaps, walking close to me. She sticks an accusing finger in my face, her claws too close for comfort. “Who were you talking to?” she demands. I shake my head, and she snorts. “I know you were talking to somebody.”
She scans the window, peering in hope that she will find some sort of incriminating evidence. “I know I heard you say something,” she murmurs menacingly, “just where is the thing?” Ms. Penn turns, and the answer to her question wags his tail. She gasps, noting the size of the wolf, the creamy, flawless fur he is blessed with.
But even she is not distracted for long. Holding her nose, she begins to cough erratically, trying to squeeze words through her fit. “Why… do… you h-have…. a WOLF in the bedroom?! I’m… a-allergic to… dogs!” she chokes.
“He jumped through the window!” I protest, but it is no use.
“You should have the window shut at all times!” The coughs growing worse, Ms. Penn grabs me by the arm, tugging me down the stairs. Xavier, in his beautiful wolf form, follows me with his head bent towards the floor. You better feel guilty, wolfboy, I think angrily, it’s all your fault.
I have always known, ever since the very first day I came here, that dogs are not allowed. It was the first phrase uttered when I arrived at the misshapen orphanage. I can still remember Ms. Penn all those years ago, with light brown hair instead of a faded gray, telling me I can’t bring my gorgeous little German Shepard puppy into the orphanage. He was my best friend, with silky smooth chocolate fur, who I had named Spotty because of the huge splotch of caramel color around his eyes. Because of Ms. Penn, Spotty ran away from the orphanage on that fateful day, never to return. And what hurt most was the fact that nobody with me cared enough to chase after him, Ms. Penn even holding me so I couldn’t go myself.
Ms. Penn, gripping my already injured hand tightly, drags me outside, Xavier following behind. “I don’t want to see your face,” she roars, “until after school. No early cleaning for you.” She shoves me, and I fall towards the ground, the air blurring around my form. I land on a furry back, and slightly smile. Sometimes it is nice to have a personal savior.
She gapes at the scene, the majesty of the wolf under me. “What about breakfast?” I ask quietly, trying to stand back up, but failing. My ankle hurts terribly, caused by Ms. Penn’s violent push.
“Get that… wonder dog to get you some,” she huffs, glaring at the source of her coughs. Xavier stares at her, unblinking, and utters a low, terrorizing growl that rips through the air and shakes her to the bone. She shivers, although the temperature is around eighty degrees, and retreats with a scowl back into her haven.
“Well, looks like I got kicked out,” I point out jokingly, rubbing my foot with my dreadfully sore hand. Xavier, mute in his wolf form, nudges me gently. “I can’t go,” I complain, “my foot hurts too much.”
He begins to morph, but I stop him by touching his ear. “Not here! Look at all the open windows! Anyone could see you!” He stops, thinking, then lays down on the untamed grass and whines.
“What do you want me to do?” I question, but no answer comes. Using my hands and knees, I crawl to him, hoping for some sort of indication that would lead me to realization. All he does in response is nod, even this movement regal.
Understanding finally dawns on me, and I pile upon his shaggy back, wincing in pain as my ankle brushes across his leg. He is so big that my petite self fits upon him perfectly, like a horse and its rider. However, what makes this so strange is the connection. When I lower my head to his back, my feet hanging off his heavily muscled berth, I can hear his heart thumping. I have to think to myself; this is Xavier’s heart. Frozen in time, this is one of the few that will beat forever. Somehow, at this moment, I feel an unfamiliar tug at my heart, a sizzle of energy. Is this the desire Xavier was talking about earlier? For I am experiencing it now; fighting desperately against this alien emotion pounding through me.
I tighten my grip around his neck, and then carefully say, “okay.” He looks up, at the beautiful blue sky, and starts to run into the deep, dark forest. “Not so fast!” I caution as his legs begin to blur, and he slows slightly. The horizon above us vanishes as trees as tall as the clouds start to multiply, and we are soon surrounded by them. I shudder a little as flashes of my memory surfaces; the hazy white figure with those gruesome, absolutely appalling eyes, charging at me in a scene much like this one…
We come to gentle halt, and I accidentally tumble off him, falling on my side. His body melts into itself, morphing into the handsome man that somehow manages to encompass almost all of my thoughts. With one masculine hand, he reaches to me and offers one hand. I take it and pull myself upright, all my weight resting on my uninjured foot. “You can’t,” he says suddenly, sweeping me into his arms. I am a little confused on what I can’t do, but I decide not to ask for any clarifications. “Stay here,” he commands as he sits me down on a rock, “I will get a first aid kit and some… clothes.” He looks at my shirt pointedly, scratched and dirty. A little rip is on the sleeve, overall making my appearance rather disheveled. Yeah. I need some clothes before school starts, or everyone will figure out that I’m practically a hobo.
“Okay,” I murmur carelessly, although in truth worried about being alone in such a huge forest. Xavier smiles, sensing my discomfort.
“As long as you have that ring, you are pretty much safe,” he nods towards the sparkling emerald on my finger.
“What does it do?” It is so conspicuous that I had forgotten about it since yesterday, but now that I look at it, it does look awfully like an engagement ring…
“It’s like a shield,” he explains, “when you are wearing an emerald, Shifters can’t possess you. I don’t need one because I am a werewolf.”
I say nothing in response. He offers me one more lingering glance, and then he vanishes into the forest among the towering trees, leaving me totally alone.
After waiting for a few dwindling seconds, I laugh. It is the first time in almost three days that I have been totally alone. And the thing is, a day ago, I was begging and begging for a moment like this.
But now, true loneliness enters my chest. I suppose I have become accustomed to his stalker-like attitude, his quirky laugh, his exceedingly alluring looks. Although I hate to say it, Xavier has grown on me.
Looking around at my surroundings, I smile as I spot a stream a couple meters away. The water almost crystal clear and not surrounded by pointy rocks, it will suit my purposes well. With a determined look, I grab a long, thick stick and use it as a cane. The beautiful oasis of slightly heated miracle water winks at me as I reach it, stumbling with my stick. Scanning the area once more, I become satisfied that no one is watching. Not that anyone would want to watch anyways.
I slip off my rugged jeans that are too big for me, pulling my shirt over my head. I place it in a small pile near the stream, and enter the water, my soul immediately calmed by the warmth enveloping me. It relaxes my muscles, my feet soothed.
I put my head underneath the surface, trying to disengage some of the dirt and leaves from my unruly hair. Grabbing a tuft of it in my cleansed hands, I examine it, trying to remember what my mother’s hair felt like. But the remembrance slips from my grasp, all feeling leaving my fingers.
The only thing that I am certain of, the only firm memory in my mind, is that my mother was an absolutely wonderful singer. Every night, she would sing me a short and sweet lullaby, the name unknown to me. If I concentrate deeply, I can still hear her voice, the sweetness in each of the notes she uttered.
The water swirls around me and I close my eyes, crossing my arms on the ground and putting my head upon it. I let my body dangle in the slow current of the river, soaking in its warmth. The showers at the orphanage are nothing compared to this. How does such a simple stream do this to me? I am so calm that I doubt even a luxury spa can relax me any more. My thoughts begin to grow hazy, my mind drunken with pleasure.
The voice of my dead mother sings to me over and over, murmuring the same intoxicating words that would get me to sleep every time. Opening my mouth, I start to sing along with her, not quite thinking straight. My volume grows as confidence brews. I try desperately to capture the beauty’s gorgeous tone, the melody floating between her lips. What is this feeling, ripping through me like a tidal wave? It is like Mother’s spirit is entering me, giving me the voice that mirrors hers.
“Very pretty,” a low, silky smooth voice emits, almost a song in itself. It awakens me from my daze, and the mysterious, beautiful utterance vanishes from my throat, as if it truly doesn’t belong there.
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