Mistress of Blood and Fur

Chapter 11 - Scent and Sound

Grace

As we wait for the key dates Alpha Kele announced, we went into training. It has always been meant to be this way.

My parents made sure my brothers and I knew how to physically defend ourselves first. Well, it was Dad’s choice to let us understand that we should never strike first. We defend first. Then, if we see, we are still in danger, we fight back. My mother would have gone for investigate and attack. She’s the more aggressive one, but she has been trying to temper herself for us.

Here in Opium Hills, the wolves train when together in peace and in war. However, during the first few weeks, everyone was distracted by wooing the brides. Now that the choices are clearer, at least before the other brides arrive, they are back at what they’re supposed to be doing. Some still hope to make a connection with the other young women coming, but others have decided to stay and help protect the pack.

“I’m just here until the first few pups are born, and I’m outta here. I’ll help protect everyone, of course. If those cops are interested, others may begin prying into our business,” a wolf named Angelo said. He’s a doctor in the city, and he likes his life there.

For a moment, I feel some sadness at how many of us have chosen the human life when something else – a greater power – stirs within us. I remember how I constantly rebelled against anything wolf-related, even though I knew my parents were the last people to make me follow blindly.

“It’s all about balance,” my mom said. “Just think of being in a pack as being with a family you want to protect until the end.”

My parents go beyond that, protecting their friends who belong to other packs. They know that this modern world can be cruel to our likes, and some less noble packs will use it as a reason to lash out, to kill or be killed.

Onyx, Fox, and Dash have been keeping me company. Sometimes, I hear them whispering something about a rule against fighting. I want to respond most times, but I don’t because I realize they’re supposed to be out of earshot even for us, wolves. I notice that Onyx has somehow been steering the two away from me, but both have been stubbornly staying around. What surprises me is that he’s also keeping me at arm’s length. He’s being a friend most of the times, but he has never attempted to kiss or touch me. I wonder if he’s regretting what happened, and want to go back to where a human career waits.

The hearing thing has been becoming more intense lately. I may have to talk to Alpha Kele, or Great-Aunt Domino about it. I’m a scent wolf, and even that part of me is becoming stronger. I smell the wolves when they run in the forests, even from my hut. I need to control it because it’s driving me mad!

“It’s not madness, Grace. I just want you to start listening to me.”

It’s that voice again. If this is how some people meet their wolves, I’m afraid it’s insane. It’s a good thing Dad told me about the first time he started hearing his. He was already in his twenties, then. When his wolf came through, he thought he needed to see someone.

“Who are you?” I ask with my mind, even as I pose myself in front of the target. The finger tab feels comfortable and the quiver of arrows doesn’t feel like it weighs at all. However, everything else presses against me like a tangible weight – the rustling of wind, footsteps on a trail a kilometer away, and the cool air, belying the bright sun, on my skin.

“I’m your wolf. Name me, Grace.”

“I can’t do that,” I whisper, and I mean it. When I was younger, I hated my name. It’s too meek, and it doesn’t help that I’m naturally quiet like my dad. Even my mom doesn’t talk for no reason. We can be a quiet but not necessarily a sad bunch. I’m just coming out of my shell here.

“You can. You’re my mistress.”

“You’re my equal. Name yourself,” I say aloud, as I refocus on the target. The wind picks up. It’s going to be harder to get this right, but I want to practice at a time like this. When we have enemies, although I’m not wishing for them, we will have to fight under all kinds of conditions.

“Call me Greta,” she says, and I know what she’s trying to do. I chuckle. My whole body shakes when the chuckle gives way to giddy laughter. My wolf is trying to be one of the G Sloanes.

“Okay, Greta. What do you think about this mate’s thing?” I ask, as I let go of the arrow. It whizzes along the path I meant it to go. Then, it curves, the wind carrying it. It hits the board a few inches to the left of the target. f**k!

“You don’t curse, Grace.”

“I do now. I can,” I mutter, as I grab another arrow by the fletching.

It’s then that I notice that even though I’m slightly annoyed I didn’t hit the target, I’ve calmed down. Greta has made me calm down a bit. The sounds have died down a little, too, going back to their normal levels – whatever normal is for us.

“You’re one of them.”

I refuse to let her distract me more. I focus on the direction of the wind, and the target in relation to it. I’m going to get this in. I release it, praying that it will hit this time. It does.

“Yes!”

“Are you now ready to listen, Grace?”

“I thought I was your mistress, Greta. Why should I listen when you need me to?”

“Because it’s urgent. I can give you information that can protect you.”

“Uh-uh,” I say, walking toward the target to retrieve my arrows. I’m going to the martial arts room in the main house. I haven’t seen the boys for the morning, and it’s a little strange. Maybe they’re there.

“Grace, there are only a few wolves who can use more than one sense stronger than the rest.”

I stop. Wait.

“So, I’m special or whatever. It’s not making my life easier. I don’t want extra heightened senses. I’m struggling as it is. My mom and dad taught me that the best skills are the ones you pursue.”

“Human skills. Archery. Martial arts.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s not the power that’s important. It’s what it means that you must understand. Alpha Kele is one of the last ones with more than just one power. His named means “hawk,” and his eyesight, not just his sense of smell, is the best in the world. Think about it.”

“I didn’t realize you’re my personal Siri or Alexa,” I grumble.

“Who are Siri and Alexa?”

I burst out laughing.

“Are you now in a habit of talking to yourself, Grace?”

I feel myself blushing when I turn to see Onyx watching me with a big grin on his face.

“Just picked it up. Must be because I haven’t seen my friends around.”

“Your friends, huh? Are these friends you paint your toenails with?” he teases.

I pointedly show him my unpainted fingernails. I have no time for putting on nail polish. My mom would take me sometimes in the human world, but I could she was only doing it to keep up some kind of appearance. Sometimes, I want to cut my long hair as short as mom’s or Great-Aunt Domino’s. Enemies can pull long hair, which can also be snagged everywhere.

“Your mom thinks your hair is pretty,” Greta reminds me.

I nod at that, and exhale.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed, of course. I’ve no problem with you thinking of Fox as your good friend, because he’s a good one.”

“I miss his bacon and pancakes.”

“I can cook, too,” Onyx offers.

“Huh.”

He looks at me with mock-hurt, making me grin back at him. I cook for my family sometimes, but they’re not exactly something to boast about. They’re just the usual, at-least-they’re-not-burned, kind of meals.

“I don’t cook like Fox, of course,” he admits. “But I’m at least better than Dash.”

“You always compare yourself to him.”

“It’s hard not to do,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing.

“Hey. I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but I heard somewhere that your dad has mastered at least two senses.”

His face becomes full-on stormy, and I wonder if I’ve said something I will deeply regret later.

“Yes. Scent. Sight. Sound. The Elders have made a rule that the chief Alpha always has at least two or more heightened senses, if not witch powers. I only have scent. He’s disappointed in me.”

I wonder if that’s the reason Onyx decided the city is a better place for him. I look ahead to the main house. I’m supposed to be there now, getting into the martial arts room. Maybe we can go together.

“Why did you ask, Grace?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. It’s your hearing, isn’t it? Well, it can be one of two things. You may be a rare sense wolf like my father, or your wolf is simply emerging.”

“Must be the latter,” I say, comforting myself, but I can hear Greta grumbling in the background.

“It must be that,” he agrees softly, and I wonder if he’s reassuring himself. When he takes my hand, I at least give in to the simple pleasure of his company. I’m going to enjoy this because upheaval seems to be threatening Opium Hills.