Page 9 of Father of the Wolf

“My lack of status will cost our clan. I didn’t know. I am sorry.”

“You have nothing for which to be sorry. No harm has been done. Your mother was good and honorable. Take pride in her. As for the rest, never feel shame over that which you have no control. “

Several miles flew past before Dàn answered back. “I wish I knew of my father.”

“I would tell you if I could.” Athair felt Dàn’s bleak emotions, and they tore at him. If only he could offer him more. But Dàn yearned for knowledge that none left in the clan held.

“I know. I think my differences must come from him and I worry about who he might have been. Who I may yet become.”

“As much or more than any other, I am proud to call you son. You alone control who you become, not your mother or your father. You have more strength in you than you know. If you wish to use a family kinship, you may use mine or your mother’s. Many chose to honor their maternal line. No one would think that strange.”

And with more luck than they had any right to hope for, maybe Dàn’s father was a man from another clan and not someone different. Or something worse.

* * *

Hope sat at the kitchen table staring at the faded business card clutched in her hand. She had found the number of her psychiatrist yesterday. But should she call? How did one recognize the moment sanity slipped away? Was she crazy? Or simply crazier than usual?

More importantly… Was she going to turn into a werewolf?

The question sounded nuts, even to her. In the past, she had found ways to cope without becoming too delusional. Years of facing one day at a time had shown her that anything could be dealt with if it could be broken into small practical steps. But what was the first step when the world of fantasy suddenly merged with one’s own life? The first step in this should be to determine what was real.

Of what facts was she sure? She was attacked on the night of a full moon. She did see canines run into the alley before the attack. The attack included several spooky things, like the men’s and dogs’ ability to move without making noise and those strange eyes that glowed like they belonged to a night predator. After the attack, she’d seen the dog or wolf again. The woman, Sarah, had been found dead and torn up.

Hope had read so much about werewolves and even watched some movies, that the information blurred together in her brain. None of it confirmed the existence of werewolves outside of fantasy. She still had no answers and had made no headway on her first step.

Still, that was the only conclusion that she could think of to explain all the facts.

Either werewolves were real, and she might be one, or they were fantasy, and she was a lunatic. At least she had found the phone number for her psychiatrist. But should she call now, or wait for Granny to catch her with a chew toy?

There were many conflicting sources, but most agreed on one point: If a werewolf bit a person but didn’t kill them, he or she became a werewolf.

But what if the person bit the werewolf? Yuck.... Not a pleasant thought.

Not to mention that she had also been nipped and clawed, and the marks were slow to heal. She still didn’t know what that meant, if anything, but she checked for fangs each time she brushed her teeth. And what about all that hair? Was there a hair remover on the market with that kind of performance ability? If so, she had a great idea for an advertisement.

Chapter Four

Everything in Small Steps

Currents of Betrayal

Hope had to forget all the nonsense about werewolves. According to what she’d read, she wouldn’t know anything for sure until the next full moon came and went, hopefully, without needing a serious shave. At least she didn’t have much longer to wait. Thankfully, she should know one way or the other within the next few days.

Never mind that werewolves didn’t really exist. They were myths, not reality.

Was her mind trying to betray her again? After all these years of thinking she was getting by, was she now imagining werewolves? What would be next? Vampires, elves and fairies? As a child, she had always wanted to believe in unicorns. So maybe she could conjure up one of those.

No, she wasn’t crazy. Werewolves did not exist. Neither did unicorns, and that was a shame. She had to believe that a series of unconnected details paired with her exhaustion had simply played tricks with her already loosely wrapped mind.

Worst of all, Granny was beginning to look at her in that worried way and ask, “Are you alright, dear?” And mostly she was alright. Her injuries were better, leaving no lasting signs of the attack. Except for the urge to howl at the moon. Well not even that. Yet.

#

Athair and the boys traveled for three more days, and yet learned little about the members of the Bear Clan. Sundair and Domari clearly lead the group, and they allowed none of the others to interact with them. Domari went so far as to apologize for this lack of communication. She was only willing to explain that the Alpha Pair were her and Sundair’s parents, and that they would treat them fairly.

Athair was curious about the appearance the others took in human form. Their clothes were different, mostly decorative and of bluish colored cloth of various shades, which revealed enough of the women to make him blush. He still felt more comfortable around women with more decorum. He’d grown up with women in long dresses and still preferred to guess at what was under all that cloth rather than have their bodies exposed for all to see.

Several of the clan had colorful tattoos reminding him of ancient Celtic customs. The only Eagle Clan member who chose the skin art was Díon, who would do anything considered rebellious. Díon had the wonderful ability to control the fine details of his appearance, so the tattoos he wore could change daily and often did.

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