Page 69 of Wanted

“Oh darling.” Ms. Elsie takes me by the arm, like she always does when she’s about to impart information only she knows or understands.

As we continue on our path, she relays story after story of storytellers from their pack whose fate was less than favorable.

“Eventually, the practice fell away but now you’re here to revive it,” Linda says.

“I’m not a storyteller,” I tell them as I slowly withdraw my arm from Ms. Elsie’s hold.

“I’m an anthropologist and the histories of past or even extinct civilizations interest me. I just had to quit my internship because of…” I toss out my arms and glance around, indicating the entire craziness that’s shrouded me ever since I went to Florida.

“But I figured that while I’m here I might as well create a gift for you all to be able to pass down to your next generations or even continue it,” I explain. “That’s all.”

The three women fall silent, looking between one another.

Ms. Elsie is the first to look at me again. That unwavering smile is there. “Well, let’s get you the supplies you need.”

I’m grateful that she doesn’t push the subject. I mean, I didn’t want to tell them, yet again, it’s not definite that I’m even a wolf.

Yes, my hunger continues to rage a little out of control, and the restlessness in my body has grown and there are continuous sensations that run throughout my body that I can’t begin to put words to but…

My thoughts trail off because I don’t know how much longer I can keep denying what looks like it’s my fate.

“There’s the stationery store that was closed the other day,” I say to the women, pointing. “It’s open now. I’m just going to run in and have a look around. I’ll meet you all back at the tech store afterward.”

Linda takes a step forward as if she’s about to say something but Ms. Elsie puts her arm out, stopping her.

“We’ll look for some tablet options for you to choose from,” she says.

I let out a sigh of relief. Though I enjoy the company of just about everyone I’ve come in contact with in the pack, I really need a few minutes to myself at the moment.

The stationery store is just across the street. A bell rings as I pass through the door. I’m greeted by a woodsy smell that reminds me of pine and aspen. I became familiar with the scents in the few weeks I spent in Colorado.

Yet, here I’ve been able to pick up on scents more accurately and much more quickly.

“Welcome.”

A beautiful woman with long, dark glossy hair appears from behind the glass counter. Her smile is friendly as she asks, “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a couple of notebooks to do some written recordings,” I say.

“We have a variety of notebooks.” She directs me toward the wall that demonstrates the array of drawing pads, bullet journals, writing journals and more.

“These are perfect,” I say, picking up one of the bullet journals as well as one of the lined writing pads.

“Are you working on a school project?” she asks.

“No, I’m going to create a written history of the community…” I bite my bottom lip. I don’t know this woman and while many people who own stores in this area are wolf shifters themselves, not everyone is from the Nightwolf pack.

She continues to look at me expectedly. Then she squints her dark-brown eyes. “Are you from the Nightwolf pack?”

My eyebrows nearly touch my hairline. “Me? Oh, no. I’m just staying here for a little while.”

“With Chance?”

The tone her voice takes on makes me turn to her. I look her up and down, noting again how pretty she is. A possessiveness I can’t quite place overcomes me.

“Yes,” I answer.

Suddenly, this woman who came across as friendly when I first entered changes. Her eyes narrow.

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