Page 39 of Ravaged Wolf
Of course, everything blew up. My parents raised a powder keg.
Each realization lands on me like a blow, knocking the very last remnants of denial and indoctrination out of my brain, until I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk, clutching my water bottle and lunch bag in my shaking hands while my heart cracks on a random Monday morning.
I lost my mate, but he’s still alive, and even if he hates me, he’s mine.
My heart feels freshly ripped from my chest. I’m not sure why.
Inside the infirmary, someone drops a tray loud enough to be heard through the doors. I blink, dragged back to reality, and as I gaze around to get my bearings back, my eye catches on a neon green flyer on the enclosed bulletin board with its little slanted roof. I read it, expecting an advertisement for nursing aide orientation—which must be due since there hasn’t been one since mine over a year ago, and we are perpetually short-staffed—but instead, it reads MOON LAKE – OLD DEN GOODWILL EXCHANGE.
As I stare at it, I feel that strange wind blow at my back.
Well.
If I was waiting for a sign—
There it is.
8
IZZY
With the notableexception of dealing with Mom and Dad’s epic meltdown, signing up for the goodwill exchange is easy. I fill out a form. I go to an orientation where a council member explains that our mission at Old Den is to advance the three Rs—rapprochement, rapport, reconciliation—through the three Ss—skills, service, and support.
Moon Lake is sending people with medical and mechanical skills—for some reasonnotreferred to as the two Ms—and Old Den is sending us scavengers who, if I understood the council-speak correctly, are going to engage in talks with our leaders about normalizing relations. No one seemed optimistic about that. I imagine at this point, the scavengers would rather skin their own wolves than rejoin this pack, especially since they’ve already hauled all their homes out of the bogs.
My parents think the whole thing is a farce, and that the pack is better off without the scavengers. Of course, they say this in between complaining about the extra hours they have to work and how everything from trash removal to building maintenance seems to be falling apart.
When I first told them what I was planning, theyforbade it. They said if I left, I wouldn’t be welcome back intheirhome. Then, the next night, we had dinner at Uncle Howell and Aunt Catrin’s.
Dad told them how I applied, like the crazy mess I am, but that of course, I’d thought better of it. Uncle Howell got really flustered. Apparently, the program is Madog Collins’s pet project, and he’s been really concerned at how few people have signed up. If I bow out, he’ll notice, and he’ll want to know why, and that is the kind of attention we don’t need now that things are so precarious.
Mom and Dad couldn’t say anything after that, and now, two weeks later, I’m in a van driving down a dirt road, hours from home.
My stomach is a barbed wire ball of nerves, and I’ve already sweat through my collared shirt, even though it’s a lightweight cotton, and it’s only June.
I’m terrified. I’ve never not had a room to hide in. I’ve never not had a routine. Hopefully, they’ll tell me what to do right away. All the unknowns have me on the edge of panic. The only thing keeping me somewhat steady is the weird kernel of fluttery warmth in my chest. I can’t quite nail down what it is—one second it feels like anticipation, the next like hope, and then sheer terror.
Luckily, the three other “ambassadors,” as the council is calling us, are not the talkative type. One is a nurse from the infirmary. She prefers human methods, so we don’t work together often. The other two are males from Facilities. Did they know Trevor?
Is he going to be there? If he is, what do I say when I see him?
Does he hate me?
I’m almost tempted to search out the bond, but what if I do, and all I sense is disgust and regret?
He must wish that I wasn’t his mate. He must curse Fate.
What if I see him, and I flash back to that night and run for my life again?
What if he chases me?
My heart thumps harder and harder, and by the time we get to the end of the dirt road we’ve been bouncing along, I jump out of my seat. I’m the first one down the steep steps, and when I see why we stopped, I’m so thrown that I stop in my tracks, causing the male behind me to leap to the side so he doesn’t plow me over.
The male whistles, catching sight of what surprised me. The road hadn’t ended, per se. There are several huge felled trees laid across it so that we can’t pass.
On top of the trees, three males and a female are perched. It takes me a second to recognize them, but when I look closer, I know them from Moon Lake, but they havechanged.
The male who looks most like I remember is Cadoc’s second, Seth Rosser. He’s wearing khakis and a T-shirt, and he’s standing straight with his legs planted and his shoulders back. Typical Seth. He’s younger than me, but like Cadoc, he always had the authority of someone a lot older.
