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They were bright flashes, moments that prickled against my skin.
I remember a pack. There were six of us. One was an Alpha, strong and kind. She pressed her nose against my hair and breathed me in.
One was her mate, an older woman who, when she laughed, would tilt her head back and grab her sides.
One was a woman named Denise. She was quiet and beautiful. When she moved, it was like she barely touched the ground. I asked her once if she was an angel. She picked me up and tickled my sides.
Her mate was a black woman with bright white teeth and a wicked smile. She had a garden. She gave me tomatoes and we ate them like they were apples, juice and seeds dripping on our chins.
The other was my mother. Her name was Beatrice. And she was the most wonderful person in my entire world. We slept in the same room. She would whisper to me at night and tell me that we were safe here, that we didn’t need to run anymore. That we could have a home. That she would never let anything happen to me. I believed her. She was my mother.
I didn’t understand why we were running or for how long we’d done so. There were nights when we’d slept in an old car that she prayed over before she tried to start, saying, “Come on, please, god, just give me this.” She’d turn the key and the engine would sputter and sputter, and then it would catch, and she’d crow, slapping her hands against the steering wheel, grinning brightly at me as she said, “See? We’re okay. We’re okay!”
Denise found us sleeping in the car off a dirt road, hidden behind a copse of trees.
My mother woke me up, clutching me against her chest. I looked outside the windshield to see a strange woman sitting on the ground in front of the car.
She waved at us.
“Wolf,” my mother whispered.
The car wouldn’t start.
It didn’t even click.
The strange woman cocked her head at us. She spoke in a quiet voice, but my ears were sharp, and I could hear her. She said, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
We’d found ourselves in another wolf’s territory.
She took us to the Alpha at an old cabin that had two chimneys.
My mother held me close.
The Alpha’s eyes flared red.
My mother trembled.
I said, “Do you have any food? We’re hungry.”
The Alpha smiled. “Yes. I believe we do. Do you like meatloaf?”
I didn’t know what meatloaf was. I told her as much.
The smile faded. “Why don’t we see if you like it? If you don’t, we can make something else.”
I loved meatloaf very much. I didn’t think I’d ever eaten anything so good before. I ate until my belly ached.
The Alpha was pleased.
We stayed.
The first night, my mother curled around me. She kissed the top of my head and whispered, “What do you think, cub?”
I yawned. I was tired, and sleeping in a bed for the first time in a long time felt good.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think so too.”
Days passed. Weeks.
