Page 119 of The Lone Wolf Café
But Rowena, being the sweet, loving partner that she was, always pulled me into a tight blanket-cloaked embrace and told me everything would be alright. As I nuzzled into her breasts, with her fingers weaving their way through my long red hair, I believed her.
And once morning came, I made a beeline over to my own cottage to check on my mother.
I wanted to make sure she slept well and was feeling better. But part of me needed to know that she was still there. That she actually was here, alive, and this wasn’t all just some stress-induced fever dream.
My mother led me into the cottage, which hadn’t changed much since I’d last slept in it. My few belongings were still tucked in the corner, with several bags of snacks plopped on the rotting counters and the musty windows slightly cracked open.
“It’s so clean in here.” My mother noted, admiring the old, warped hardwood floors. “Considering how old the place is. You did a wonderful job with it.”
Then a breeze whirled at my feet, and Aria materialized into her small, airy form. She let out a remarkably loud squeak for such a tiny creature and climbed up the fabric of my dress, eventually settling on my shoulder.
“An elemental?” My mother’s thick red eyebrows raised. “My goodness. That’s incredible.”
“I didn’t even know what bonding was.” I chuckled and patted Aria on the head. “She chose me anyway.”
“Because she knows how special you are,” my mother concluded. “And what a big heart you have.”
She paused, looking down at the stack of witch mythology books next to the blanket and pillow.
“I see you’ve been studying.” She gently tapped them with her foot. “You must know quite a bit about your witch heritage by now.”
“There’s still a lot to learn,” I replied. “There always will be.”
My mother nodded, her smile fading as she suddenly looked distraught again. I wondered how much she’d been able to learn about her own witch heritage. But if she had only been able to visit her now-deceased mother in secret, it probably wasn’t much.
She was silent, still staring down at the witch books, when I mustered up the courage to ask her a burning question.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I meant to ask…” I shifted awkwardly, afraid of the implications of my next words. “Do female werewolves… ever take other females as mates?”
My mother fought back a chuckle, but it came out anyways, a sly grin creeping across her lips. “It’s that half-werewolf… Duncan’s girl, right?”
“I…” I fumbled for words as my cheeks flushed red.
“Sweetheart,” my mother lovingly scolded, that sly smile still on her face. “I’m not blind. I saw the way she comforted you when the three of us spoke last night.”
“But… will the werewolves accept me being with her? I know same-sex pairings aren’t really part of our traditions.”
This time, my mother didn’t bother to hide her scoff. The disgust on her face was palpable.
“I mean, these are the same werewolves who said I was mad and tried to keep my heritage –ourheritage – a secret,” My mother replied. “Times change, and some traditions are made to be broken.”
I smiled, and her unpleasant frown softened. I noticed the slightly wild, rebellious glimmer in her eyes, and I wondered ifshe saw it in mine. She was right. Werewolves were far from the only creatures out there, and our way of life wasn’t theonlyway of life.
There was a knock on the door, and since I was only a few feet away, I spun around and answered it.
Rowena was standing on the porch, looking beautiful as always in her lacey black dress and purple corset, with her black cape hanging ominously over her shoulders. And next to her was Adrian, dressed in jeans and a comfy wool coat. He almost looked human – if not for his crescent-moon earrings and the multicolored, polished gemstones hanging around his neck.
“Adrian was looking for you,” Rowena greeted, her eyes shifting from me to my mother. “Both of you, actually. Mariah is requesting your presence in town hall.”
“Oh.” A small bubble of anxiety formed in my stomach. It was time to formally discuss the events of the night before.
My mother quickly prepared to leave, lacing up her boots and slinging her borrowed cloak over her shoulders. We were all silent for a few moments as we left the cottage and ventured down the dirt pathway to the town square.
Stray maple leaves crunched under my feet, and as I looked up, I noticed the fiery autumn trees looked more sparse than usual.
