The Missing Wolf

Chapter 1 - The Last Night

"Ella, are you nearly ready to go?"

It's the voice of my mother, echoing up the stairs to me. Her tone is gentle, but there's the subtle edge of a woman in charge that lingers in the precise, crisp way that she speaks.

I turn to face myself in the mirror once again. My skin is pale, almost gaunt. The off-white tone isn't complimented by the sickly-sheen of sweat that glimmers on my forehead and skin. My cheekbones - arguably the most dominant feature on my face - are overshadowed by the huge black circles that form rings around my pale blue eyes. I look unwell, stressed. My hair, blonde but limp, hangs flatly down to rest on my shoulders. The whole image of myself is a mess.

"Nearly," I call in response. It's a big lie - but what else can I do?

It's the eve of my 21st birthday, and it's the last chance I have to bring out my wolf. She never arrived, like everyone else's wolf did. My friends from school, from college - they all found their wolves at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen... Alison was the last one, arriving at nineteen. My situation is practically unheard of - everyone's wolf comes in as a teenager. I'm the latest bloomer to ever bloom... assuming that my wolf arrives tonight, that is.

I turn away from the mirror, picking up my hairbrush and quickly raking it through my hair as an attempt to add some volume. I can already tell it's a fruitless attempt - the hopelessness I feel is written all over my face. Frustrated, I throw the brush across the room. It lands on my bed, skids across the duvet cover, and then disappears down the other side of the mattress, gone forever.

"Knock, knock," a gentle voice says. I turn around to see my mother's head poking through a c***k in the door.

She looks like me - or I look like her. We both share the same blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Her skin is pale like mine, but her complexion is clearer, and she has two rosy splodges, one on each cheek, which give her some flushed colour. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror from the corner of my eyes, and have to hide my grimace.

It's like she can sense what I'm thinking.

"You look beautiful," she tells me, stepping into the room and gently shutting the door behind her. The latch clicks softly, and I can tell she is doing it to exclude my father from this conversation. I know that he's only a couple of rooms away, and that - thanks to his wolf - he would be able to hear the entire conversation, if he wanted to. But my family isn't like that. Boundaries are something we can all respect.

"I do not look beautiful," I tell her, with a wry smile. "I look like I've been in some kind of an accident."

It's true. Even my outfit - heavily ripped, faded blue jeans, still marred with grass stains from earlier in the week, and an ill fitting black t-shirt - does not look anything even remotely close to beautiful. But then, it isn't mean to. It's practical, given our plans for the evening.

Mum sighs heavily, and then smooths down my hair with the palms of her hands. She's still smiling slightly - though I can detect some worry behind her eyes. I can understand why, given the curse.

My pack is the Bluewater Pack, and for as long as our memory goes back, there has been talk of a curse. The story goes that, on the day that one member of the pack cannot shift into their wolf, a terrible event will besiege the land and the entire pack will be lost. Because of the heritage of the curse, and the long memory of the Elders, it's something that instills fear into everyone. About five years ago, there was a girl who turned twenty and still hadn't shifted for the first time... the council and the Elders convened, and they banished her. I don't know what happened to her. Nobody does. Her name was Abigail.

The only reason that I haven't been banished is that nobody knows I haven't shifted yet. All of my friends believe that I shifted for the first time when I turned nineteen - and that was only because we planned it. My mother and father made the decision to fake my shifting, so I took a week off college and hid in the house for the entire time. I went back with heeled boots and a bolder attitude in an attempt to convince everyone - and nobody really thought twice about it, thankfully.

But now, we were at the last possible second before we could expect the curse, and so things are becoming a bit more drastic.

"It's going to be fine," Mum says, and if I don't look at her too carefully I almost believe her. "We're setting off in five minutes. Ethan's cleared the western perimeter for us, so we won't be disturbed either. And Jess is going to be here any second now."

For the first time, a small smile appears on my face. Jess is my best friend and, aside from my Mum and Dad, she's the only one who knows that I haven't shifted. She was invaluable in making sure that no one found out I hadn't actually shifted when we faked it nearly two years ago... and she's the closest thing I have to a sister.

Mum gives me a quick peck on the cheek and then exits, and I turn back to the mirror once more, sighing with defeat and yanking my hair back into a ponytail. It hangs there, lifeless, but at least it's not brushing against my face anymore.

"Admiring yourself?" a sarcastic voice says. I turn around to see Jess hovering in my doorway, complete with a cheeky grin.

She's more petite than I am - about five foot two - and she's my opposite in pretty much every other way with regard to appearance. Her hair is jet black, shiny, and it falls into neat little ringlets down to her waist. Her eyes are dark hazel and they often glitter with mischief. She's dressed in khaki cargo trousers and hiking boots, complete with a black t-shirt to match. Somehow - as always - she looks a lot more put together than I do.

"Something like that," I reply, turning away from the mirror and pulling on my boots.

"Hey," she barks at me, and I look up. Her tone is serious, and so is her expression now. "We're going to find your wolf, you know. It'll all be alright."

She manages to sound completely blase, and incredibly worried at exactly the same time.

I chuckle softly. "Yeah, alright. Let's see."

Jess's eyes meet mine and we stare at one another. Neither of us speak, but it's like there's a silent communication that seems to flow between us - all of my worry, all of hers... the unanswered, yet terrifying question of... what happens if I don't shift?

Mum's voice echoes up the stairs, cutting our slightly tense interaction short. "You ready?"

I break the eye contact, straightening up, all suited and booted.

"Ready," I reply.