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Taking a deep breath, I walked forward. “Hello?”
I was greeted by the warm glow of flickering candles sitting on every hard surface. Unlike Sheila’s mostly temporary looking furniture, Greta’s tent had an actual bed, a solid wood dresser, and a little table with wood chairs. In the center of the floor was a red and gold rug. The whole place felt warm and inviting.
An older woman was sitting on one of the chairs next to the table. She rose when she saw me. “You must be Lola.”
“Yes, that’s me. You’re Greta?” I asked.
She smiled, creating deep creases around her eyes and mouth. Her hair was white and tied up in a bun on top of her head. A few loose wisps framed her lined face.
“Come in, please have a seat,” she said.
I followed her to the small table and took the chair next to hers. Without warning, Greta grabbed my face, her paper-thin skin felt cool against my cheeks and my eyes widened in surprise.
“I need to get a good look at you,” she said as she held a hand on each of my cheeks.
My eyes darted around the room as I sat there in uncomfortable silence, letting her hold my face. She moved closer to me, her nose inches from mine, her eyes narrowed.
Just as I was about to do or say something very rude, she released me. “Just as I thought.”
“What is just as you thought?” I asked.
“Your wolf is ready, but you are not,” she said.
“I’m sorry?” None of that made sense. If I could have shifted long ago to escape from my own personal hell, I’d have done it.
“You held off the shift,” she said. “It’s not good for your wolf.”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” I explained. “I was cursed.”
“Yes, yes, I heard. But curses only have power beyond a generation when we let them.”
“What does that even mean?” I asked.
“Were you the one who was cursed?” she asked.
“I couldn’t shift. I never even felt my wolf.”
“But was the curse placed directly on you?” she clarified.
“No,” I admitted.
“The shifter who was cursed would likely never break it, but for it to pass onto future generations, the cursed wolves have to buy in, they have to believe they are cursed,” she said.
“You’re saying this was all in my head?” I asked. “That’s insane. Don’t you think I’d have shifted if I could?”
“I don’t know, you tell me,” she said.
“My mom wasn’t the one cursed either and she’s never shifted. Not once in her whole terrible life,” I said.
“That’s because she gave up, and she taught you to give up,” Greta said.
My mom had given up. But she did that long before I was born, didn’t she? I realized I didn’t know the exact timeline of the curse. Was it before or after my mom had her first shift? I’d always assumed she’d never shifted but what if she had and then she stopped?
From my earliest memories, I recalled being told I’d never shift. That I was cursed, broken, no good. I’d been told it wasn’t even possible before I ever tried. But that wasn’t right. You couldn’t try to shift. The first shift happened. It wasn’t anything done on the part of the shifter.
“If that’s the case, why didn’t I shift at the full moon like everyone else?” I asked.
“Because you didn’t want to,” she said.
