A Wolf Among Thorns

A Crisis of Identity

What the hell!? Ava’s heart hammered furiously against her ribs, her tongue lolling out as her wide canine mouth panted her terror. The whites of her eyes stood out against her dark fur. She lurched backward, sides heaving, and knocked over the lamp beside her bed with her tail, making Pixel yelp in alarm. Her massive paws scrabbled for purchase on the smooth tile floor and her side smashed into her bed. She lay there dazed for a moment, until a low whine roused her. She found Pixel staring into her face, her little eyes round and wide with concern for her mistress. Ava thumped her tail weakly against the floor, returning Pixel’s sniff and filling her nostrils with her dog’s soothing, warm, earthy scent. Trembling in every limb, she managed to scramble to her feet once more. Ava stood still, head hanging, trying to get her bearings.

Calm down, Ava! she scolded herself. This can’t be happening! …but it is, and you’ve got to deal with it. In the old stories, all the werewolves could shift back.

Werewolves! This wasn’t possible, and yet it was happening. If Ava had shifted, that meant she couldn’t be human… which meant that her parents and sisters weren’t her real family. Ava reeled at the shock of her sudden realization. She whimpered softly and tried to remember what the old stories always described the werewolves doing in order to shift back. She screwed her eyes shut tightly, pushing through her despair to picture her human body as she’d always known it. Her bones began to c***k and reform, and she nearly uttered a feral howl in her agony, only managing to bite her tongue at the very last second. At least, this time, she knew what was happening and that it would be over relatively quickly.

I did it on my first try, Ava thought, a brief flash of triumph thrilling through her in spite of everything. She slowly stood as though in a daze, scooping Pixel into her arms and sitting down on her bed to take stock of her situation. The puppy's warm tongue laved her face comfortingly as she stroked her fur softly. "Oh, Pixel," Ava sighed, voice trembling slightly as she rocked her body back and forth. "What are we going to do?"

Gradually, as the shock wore off, clarity returned to Ava's mind, and she began mentally taking stock of all her options. "I thought werewolf shifters were the stuff of legend," she whispered to Pixel, then barked a self-deprecating laugh. "Clearly not. And equally clearly, my parents aren't actually my parents, and my sisters aren't actually my sisters. My whole life has been a lie." Ava clenched her fists. "Did they know? Is that why I'm always pushed to the side, or is that just how I am? Surely they’d know I wasn’t theirs… but whose am I, and why did they raise me?” She buried her nose again in Pixel’s fur, taking a long sniff. “If I’m a… a werewolf, that means I must have come from a pack. I wonder who they were and why they didn’t want me.” Ava shook herself off slightly. “But thinking that way won’t solve anything. I must have some sort of abilities, probably fast healing.” Wait a minute, she thought. This must be why I’ve always been able to sense the Blight where no one else can! In that moment, Ava felt enormously relieved that she hadn’t shared this information with anyone. No one could find out. The Dasterian government didn’t concern itself too deeply with the affairs of the common folk living on farmland and in the wilds, as Ava’s false family did; but she knew full well that one whiff of something slightly different would be taken as a threat and she would be eliminated or worse. They had always been paranoid, but now, with the Blight attacking creatures left and right all across Oros, decaying their minds and bodies until they became little better than mindless killing machines, they would be far more on edge. Rumor had it that the few scientists the government had were being worked half to death in order to find a cure, or at least a way to contain it, to no avail thus far.

She could stay, or she could run and try to find out where she came from. Ava wasn’t at all certain she was equipped to survive for weeks or months in the wild, even in her wolf form, but she couldn’t stay, either. She didn’t know what the government would do to her if they realized they had a werewolf living in their midst, but she had a feeling that it wouldn’t be pleasant. She couldn’t put her family at risk by staying; with a sudden twinge in her heart, she realized that she also didn’t trust them not to sell her out if they knew the truth.

Her mind now made up, Ava found it easier to move. Trembling in every limb, she grabbed up her favorite clothing and began stuffing it methodically into her large leather backpack. Her sturdy black boots went on her feet, along with her favorite fluffy cotton-candy-pink socks. She folded up her favorite green tank top into as small a packet as possible, putting on a faded burnt orange one instead in case the shift overtook her again unawares, and then also stowed away her favorite denim shorts. Her hand paused briefly over the one family photo that she had, and she frowned at it. Her own too-bright gaze reflected back at her from the paper, her parents’ and sisters’ staring straight down the lens as well. Ava shook herself slightly, pocketing the photo. She also took the tiny plastic unicorn figurine Mrs. Bohannon had given her years ago after they’d first met. Mrs. Bohannon. She wasn’t getting any younger, and Ava wouldn’t be able to return for some time at least. Her throat closed up again, tears threatening to spill over. No! Ava thought fiercely to herself. I won’t cry, I won’t. I will find a way to see her again… if I survive. She had to get moving, to leave before dawn rolled around and revealed her efforts.

Quickly Ava padded to the door of her room, easing it open ever so slowly so that it wouldn’t squeak. She poked out her head, glancing up and down the corridor. All clear, thank goodness. On gentle feet, she glided noiselessly to the deserted kitchen, riffling through drawers to find supplies she could take. Two loaves of bread, half a wheel of cheese, and five apples all disappeared into her bag before a familiar creak sent her heart into her throat. Without thinking twice, Ava threw her bag into the cupboard and shut the door, pretending to be scouring the drawers for a late-night snack; and not a moment too soon, for May’s mocking tones soon drifted to her, pitched low though her voice was so as to avoid waking their parents. “Sneaking around, Ava?” May spat scornfully. “What are you doing up so late? Stealing food, are you?”

“May,” Ava hissed, eyes narrowing to venomous slits as she regarded her false sister. “If you start up with your same song and dance again, I’ll tell Dad you were sneaking his chocolate chips again.”

May recoiled as though Ava had slapped her. “You wouldn’t!” she whisper-screamed, her eyes ablaze. “He wouldn’t believe you over me!”

“Oh, wouldn’t he?” Ava snorted, taking a threatening step closer to her tormentor and baring her teeth. “He’s seen you practically inhale them when you think he can’t see you. My dog has better self-control than you when it comes to food. Tell him, or don’t, but you know as well as I do who’s going to be the one to get in trouble for messing with Dad’s food.”

May’s face paled. “I hate you,” she hissed, then turned and fled down the corridor. Ava heard her door slam and breathed a sigh of relief. Good riddance, she thought wearily as she retrieved her bag and finished packing food. A brief flash of guilt assailed her as May’s accusation hammered at her conscience, but she knew that her parents… No, not my parents. The people who raised me, she reminded herself, would be able to afford to buy more. She tiptoed back to her room and took one last glance around at the room which had been hers for as long as she could remember. She took Pixel in her arms and clipped the leash to her collar for added safety; the normally wriggly pup was unusually solemn as she picked up on her mistress’s mood. Ava growled low in her throat with determination. She pushed open the window, leaped through it to land soundlessly on the turf beyond, and disappeared into the night.