Page 38 of Wolf's Mate

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We both remember Sven. It doesn’t take us much more than a few moments to remind ourselves of the carnage that animal leaves behind him. You never know what to expect of him. He sounds all nice and polite, then you turn your back to him and he’ll stab you before you can blink.

“Alright then,” Anderson breaks the silence first. “I’ll go back inside. Unless you want me to take over?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Go see how she’s doing. She’s probably confused by what just happened and how I reacted. Try to explain the situation again, just don’t mention anything about what we talked about. That’s a conversation for a whole other time.”


His reply is brief, and he quickly disappears from my sight. I take a deep breath, wondering why I reacted like that in the first place. Slowly, a long forgotten green-face with deep, elongated claws shows itself. I didn’t even know it still existed inside of me. And yet, here is it. Brought to the surface.

“You like her…” the voice speaks into my ear.

The voice is my own, and yet, it’s not. It is the voice of my wise self, the voice that has been silent for such a long time, simply because there was nothing it could say. Now, I hear it, and it feels like a new dawn.

Chapter 18

A few days pass by without much happening. I suppose that is a good thing. Sometimes, we all talk about irrelevant things. Other times, we are all lost in our own individual thoughts, thinking about all those things that used to make us happy back when we were actually living our lives, and not hiding away. But, necessity makes victims of us all sometimes. And, I can’t complain. They have been taking such good care of me. Fynn brought us some snacks and special foods we told him, so it’s all about the little things nowadays.

But, at the same time, there is just too much pressing down onto me, and I feel like it is getting harder and harder to breathe. This place is safe, but it is slowly becoming claustrophobic. I’ve never suffered from any such ailment, but even the strongest minds can succumb to such pressures.

One afternoon, I notice that Anderson is sleeping soundly on the bed opposite mine. He looks so peaceful. Covered with a thin blanket, he is facing the opposite wall. His breathing is rhythmical and steady. I wonder if he is dreaming. I am. Every single night. And, it’s always one of the two extremes. I’m either buried in some coffin, and Sven is shoveling dirt on top of me, screaming that no one will ever find me again, or I’m back home with my dad, in his study, and we are leafing through the family album, with this whole nightmare completely behind us.

I wonder if that moment would ever come. I wonder if I would ever see him again. But, I need to stay positive. I can’t let depression sink its teeth into me. I just can’t.

So, I tiptoe outside, and run into Fynn, who is on guard duty.

“Nice day,” I say, as he gazes at something in the distance.

A few birds are chirping somewhere far away, and they catch my attention. I see there is a small path around our hideout, maybe even a nearby woods. I wonder if I’d be allowed to take a walk, as the place has become suffocating, despite the fact that I know both of them are trying to make it pleasant for me.

“Rain’s coming,” he tells me.

Only then do I realize that he is looking into the horizon. The sky over us is blue, so light blue that you wish to dive right into it, without even looking. But, the horizon reveals something more menacing. Dark grey clouds are clustering together, and that is never a good sign. Still, they seem far away, probably a whole day away.

“That might not be so bad,” I smile. “It’ll freshen up the air a little.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, and I guess I don’t expect him to. Expecting things from Fynn is close to madness, mostly because he never reacts the way you expect him to. He doesn’t have normal people reactions. His are always over the top. You just try to steer clear of it, even though that is the last thing I want to do. I want to get to know him, but I have no idea how. He’s not the least bit interested in small talk, and that is basically the only thing we can do around here. How does one approach him? How does one show him it’s OK to let your guard down and just relax for a while?

“Listen, I wanted to ask you something…” I start, twirling a loose strand of hair around my index finger, something I always did with my dad. The action used to bring me back to the past, to my childhood years, when I would mostly get everything I wished for. All I had to do was point at it and it would be mine.

He turns to me, his eyes piercing, but at the same time looking through me and all around me. It’s like he is trying to frame me into the surroundings, so he gives me all the attention I need, not once neglecting to notice what is going on around us.

“I noticed there is a small path around here,” I continue, slightly hesitant, pointing somewhere behind him. It doesn’t seem like something he’d agree to, but one needs to ask if one is to be given, right?

“And, I was wondering if I could maybe go take a quick walk? You know, just to clear my head a little and - “

“No,” he cuts me like a knife. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I know that, but…” I start, but I’m not really sure where I’m going with this one, as all I have are my wishes, and not proper arguments.

My father always said that in order to convince someone of something, you need to make them see it from your point of view. Then, they would usually agree to go along with whatever it is you are asking of them. However, if all you had were feelings, then achieving this was slightly more complicated. Still, if you have solid arguments which make sense, then you’ve got it made. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of those cases.

“It’s too dangerous to separate, and especially for you to go anywhere on your own.”

My gut is telling me that he is right. We’re here for a reason, and that’s not to be tourists. We need to hide. We need to stay safe, if we want to survive. And yet, my body is screaming for the solace of the woods and the shade of trees, if only just for a few moments. I can’t be locked up any longer. I feel like I’m going crazy.

I sigh. If I share any of this with him, I doubt he would understand. He is just too practical. I doubt he ever does anything just because he feels like doing it. No. There has to be a good reason behind it. In a way, he is a lot like my dad.

This is why I know I’ll require a different strategy, and this one comes from my mom. You simply give your opponent two options, both of which are actually what you want, and you let your opponent choose the one he or she wants. The end result is the same - you get exactly what you wanted, but this way, your opponent feels like they were in control the whole time. This of course, isn’t true, but it doesn’t matter, does it?

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