Chelsea and I were inseparable. As Arlen led us through the house, we stayed glued together like two lost children. I let her shower first, standing watch outside the bathroom door of the room Arlen had indicated was mine. I was touched by the thoughtfulness, but even though I knew I was safe here, my old instincts prevented me from being completely relaxed in an unfamiliar place packed with my own kind. I could hear Chelsea singing in the shower, she seemed happy to have arrived, true to her radiant nature. Arlen came into the room, laid some clothes on the bed and crouched down in front of me. I could never get used to the idea that she was my father's mother. Werewolves lived much longer than humans, but the woman in front of me didn't look a day over thirty-five or forty, whereas I was
