Page 13 of Claimed By the Alpha Pack

Grace

~ Of Wolf and Man - Metallica~

Mid-September

I woke up before the crack of dawn and slip into my camouflage before heading out into the woods to hunt. Walking quietly, I step along the cleared path, heading to the tree stand I had set the night before. It feels like forever since the last time I took time for myself. The familiar chill runs down my spine as anticipation builds as I get closer to where my stand is. I haven’t been able to hunt since Grandpa died, and it killed me every season not being able to return to the woods to hunt.

Arriving at my tree stand, I use the haul line to tie my bow to so I can safely pull it up into the stand with me. Silently I climb the steps I screwed into the tree, making sure my clothing doesn’t get stuck on the tree bark. I push the seat of my stand to fold up so I can climb up and stand on the platform. From my right pocket, I pull out the strap that I will secure my harness to the tree. Reaching around the tree, I wrap the strap and secure it in place using the buckle system it has. When I’m sure it’s secure, I clip my carabiner to the loop before unfolding my seat and sitting down. I extend my right leg out and use my foot to hook the haul line so I can pull my bow up. Several moments later, I have my bow in my lap and my release secured around my wrist. Now, all I have to do is wait another twenty minutes until legal shooting time.

In the distance, I hear the snapping of branches and I turn to look in that direction. Drawing in a slow cleansing breath, I focus on my breathing, calming my heart rate. Beyond the blueberry bushes on the other side of the creek, several deer are walking down the path. Glancing down, I check my bow and release over before refocusing on the deer’s movement.

When the largest doe steps into the clearing, I draw my bow back and anchor my release to the corner of my jaw. There’s a strange comfort to feeling the pressure of my index knuckle anchored at the corner of my jaw. Patiently, I wait for her to come into range before I take aim and let the arrow fly. The impact of the arrow is audible and the doe falters before taking off running.

Quickly I lower my bow to the ground and return to watching the doe as she wobbles, then fall over in my line of sight. I check my phone and wait an additional fifteen minutes before I climb down. Glancing around, I make sure none of the wolves have caught onto the fact I just killed a deer in their woods. I already know where she fell. I choose to track her to recover my arrow.

Half way between where I shot and where she fell, I recover my arrow then close the distance to her body. One of the big things I learned from my grandfather is to give thanks to the animal that lost its life to feed you. Silently, I offer a prayer over her body, then drag her back towards the cabin. A couple hundred yards from the cabin on the edge of the wood line, a stone slab sits. It’s the same slab my grandfather would have me leave offerings to the wolves in the area. The same one I left the chicken on last night and saw the black wolf. He gave me the deer this morning. I absolutely believe that.

The old oak tree near the slab I affixed a pulley up in its branches to make quartering the deer easier. Hoisting her up is no easy feat. Once she’s at a good height, I pull my knives and transport bags from my backpack. The break down isn’t that difficult and I decide to keep the hindquarters and back straps for myself. Carefully, I take the front legs, neck, and ribcage and place it on the slab. As I return with the guts, a pitch black wolf walks out from the underbrush.

My heart is hammering in my chest. My breath hitches as I stare at this large predator stare at me with golden eyes. It’s different seeing it in the daylight. He looks different from the one last night. There’s something about the way it’s watching me, as if to say it won’t harm me. Slowly, I step forward and set the intestines and heart on the slab, then back away carefully. “Thank you for letting me hunt in your woods.” I lower my head slightly, not taking my eyes off of the wolf. “I took only what I need to feed myself and left the rest for you and your pack.”

Never give a wolf your back. I hear my grandfather’s words in my mind and keep backing towards my backpack and meat. The wolf takes several steps forward, then stops watching every movement. It tilts its head to the side as if studying me. When my backpack and meat are in front of me, I bend down and pick them up. I keep backing up till the wolf is out of sight.

I make it back to the cabin and touch the silver chain my grandmother told me to drape over the door frame. Hang silver on your door … Don’t leave your house on a full moon. Whatever you do, stay away from the Murphy boys—they’re animals. Grandma’s advice rings in my head as I take my spoils into my grandfather’s old hunting cabin.

The processing part of the hunt is less exciting and takes half my morning up. Grams and Andrea arrive at the house around one with Ashina in tow. My daughter is babbling along as her eyes search her new environment. “Let her loose on the floor. She’ll be fine.” Smiling, I look up from the meat on the butcher block and over at my grandmother.

Grams lays down a soft blanket and several toys for Ashina then comes to join me at the island. Andrea remains at the large bay window, looking down at the slab at the bottom of the hill. “Still doing the offerings?” A knowing smile crosses her lips as she looks at me over her shoulder.

“Some traditions shouldn’t be forgotten. After all, the wolves were here long before me and will be long after I’m gone.” My gaze remains trained on my knife as I clean up the cuts of meat I returned with.

“That can’t be a whole deer. Where’s the rest of it?” Gram’s tone tells me something is bothering her.

“There was a wolf.” A soft sigh escapes my lips. It was a magical moment for me. Something felt right about the wolf being there.

“What do you mean, there was a wolf there?” Grams slaps her hands down on the prep station and stares at me.

Gram’s question aggravates me more than it probably should. Dropping the knife on the cutting board, I make direct eye contact with her. “There was a large black wolf that approached the slab. He wasn’t aggressive. It was like…” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “He was studying me.” Furrowing my brow, I look back at my cutting board.

“I don’t like it,” Grams says before moving to sit at the dining room table.

Laughing, Andrea shakes her head before sitting near my daughter. “Elinor, you’re so superstitious. You’ve got poor Grace hanging silver chains around her door.” Still laughing to herself, Andrea flops on the floor, letting my daughter attack her.

Before Grams says anything, I decide to chime in. “After I’m done here, I need to go into town and look for a job.”

“Ooooh, you can come work with me! It would be awesome to have another cool chick to work with.” Andrea’s eyes light up as she sits and turns to face me.

Huffing, Grams turns away from me to face Andrea. “That’s a Murphy business. I don’t want my granddaughter mixed up with the Murphy boys. You know how they are, Andrea. Womanizers, the lot of them!” Crossing her arms over her chest as if that would make it law.

If Andrea rolls her eyes any harder, I think they would have fallen free of her skull. “If they’re womanizers, what am I? I date A LOT.” Tilting her head to the side, she practically challenges Grams to answer her.

“You’re looking for Mister right. They are man whores.” With great finality, Grams leans back, sure that she won.

“There’s no difference in what I’m doing versus what they are doing. Everyone deserves to find their person, their mate. No one should be alone.” Andrea’s tone is heavy with pain and heartache. Quickly, I set down my knife and wipe my hands on my apron before rushing over and hugging her tightly.

Several soft trembles rack her body before she returns the hug just as fiercely. “We’ll find our people.” My words fall softly so that only she can hear me. I’m not sure if I said it more for me or her.

“I hope you’re right.” A huffed out laugh escapes her lips. “My cousin is quite smitten with you. You’re all he can talk about,” Andrea says, pulling away with a wicked grin on her lips.

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