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“The white Alpha?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think it means?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” It could mean anything. Or nothing at all.
“Did you recognize it?”
I shook my head.
“And there were others.”
“A lot of them.”
“And they were howling.”
Singing, I almost said, but caught it at the last second. “It’s like they were calling me.”
“I see. Was there anything else? Anything different?”
Yes. The gray wolf with black stripes on its face, carrying a stone in its jaws. I’d never seen it before. I pulled my hand away from him and rubbed the juncture between my neck and shoulders. “No,” I said. “Nothing else.”
I thought he believed me. And why wouldn’t he? I was always honest with him. He would have no reason to think otherwise. He said, “You’ve always struggled with finding your place. It could be just as simple as a manifestation of wanting somewhere to belong.”
“I belong here. With you.” The words tasted like they burned. Smoke and ash.
“I know. But you’re a wolf, Robbie. You need more than what I can provide. These bonds you’ve made with the pack… they’re temporary. To keep you from turning Omega. It’s a strain on you. I can see that, even if you can’t.”
I smiled tightly as I turned back toward him. “It’s enough for now.”
He patted my knee through the blankets. “If you’re sure.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“I am. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He laughed again. “Sleep is an elusive thing for me these days. It happens when you get older. You’ll learn that one day. It’s late. Or depending on how you look at it, early. Try to get some rest, dear. You need it.”
He stood with a grunt, his knees popping. The sleeves of his nightclothes pulled back on his arms, revealing old tattoos that seemed dull and faded.
He was at the door when he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Whatever you tell me, it would stay between us.”
“I know.”
He nodded. I thought he was going to say something more, but he didn’t. He closed the door behind him, and the floor creaked as he walked down the hallway of our small home toward his bedroom.
I listened for his heartbeat.
It was slow and loud.
I turned over on my side, arms underneath my pillow, my chin resting against my wrist. My bedroom’s only window opened on a lonely stretch of woods.
The dream was already fading. Where once it felt vibrant and alive, it was now mostly translucent. I could barely remember the taste of sap on my tongue.
I listened to Ezra’s heartbeat as I closed my eyes.
I didn’t dream again that night.
it was enough/quiet as a mouse
