Page 57 of Mated to the Wolves

He’s twice my size, my nips are harmless. He bats me around with his giant paw and evades my attacks. I crouch low to the ground waiting for an opening.

Launching forward, my claws dig into his flank. He tosses me away and I slide across the wood with a yelp.

Loping over, he pins me down and places his teeth around my neck. Yielding, I relax on the ground. My fur melts away and my bones shift back. Dazed, I sit on the ground.

“When you need to work out your aggression, you come to me.” Panting I nod as I remain on my back trying to catch my breath. Limbs loose, and head clear, I’m ready to tap into my intuition.

Running, playing, and wrestling have their place in our society. I’ve lacked that during my previous four years.

“Are you okay?” Kirk asks.

“I was out of line earlier. I’m sorry.”

Kirk offers a sad smile. “There’s a reason I don’t practice healing any longer. We’re two-souled creatures in some ways. The wolf and the man must be in harmony. Treating our kind requires physical and spiritual assistance. I can’t administer that these days.”

I sit up. “It’s not like you created the disease and unleashed it on us.”

“You know how helpless you felt when they forced you back?”

Kirk’s haunted expression gives me the chills.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Multiply that by about a hundred.” Shoving his hands in his pockets he gets a faraway expression. “I’ll leave you to your painting now.”

He drifts away like a spirit not bound to our plane. Fascinated by his complexity, I ponder his strange demeanor as he ambles away.

Getting to my feet, I finish my setup and move inside to fill a mason jar with water and drag one of the wooden food trays out to keep things within reach. Mixing my paints, I study the blank canvas.

I grab a large brush and go in with green. A large tree forms. Allowing my subconscious to take over, I glide the paint across the canvas. I pause to swap out brushes and colors, growing hyper-focused.

When my wrists begin to cramp, I pause and become aware of the sun setting. Stunned by the hours that have passed, I shake out my hands.

The rectangle has a drawing of Fenrir. The great wolf with His burning red on-black eyes seem to peer out from the canvas from the great wolf’s spot in the crater on the volcanic rock-laden island I’d seen before.

Chained down, he has bright yellow lines that extend to the five people I’d painted on the perimeter of the painting.

“It’s us,” I whisper. “How are we connected to you?” My arm burns.

I shove the arm of my dress up, revealing a glowing gold triangle.

“Did you just mark me?”

The pain recedes and I feel the rightness of the words. A breeze blows in and caresses my face.

I tilt my head up and hear whispers. Closing my eyes, I concentrate and the voices grow louder.

The answers are in the book. Find the passageway. I remember the hidden section beneath our old home from my dream. Excited, I rush into the house.

“What happened?” Cadoc jumps off the couch instantly ready to charge to the rescue.

“We’re going on a field trip as soon as the sun sets boys and girls. I received a message.”

“Where are we going?” Bo throws his controller onto the couch.

“We’re going to the site of my old home.”

“Why?” Fell’s brow wrinkles.

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