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“I won’t ask you where you came from or where you’re going. Been in this business long enough to know better.” She winked and tapped the side of her nose.
Harlow wondered if it was obvious she was on the run, of a sort, but realized she was probably just tired and oversensitive. This woman was likely just playing with her.
“I’m sure you’ve seen it all.” Harlow managed a half-hearted smile. She handed the woman her ID and paid her cash for the night.
“There you go, room seven. Head out of here, turn right, and you’ll come upon it soon enough. You go and get some rest now. You look like you need it.”
“Thanks, I will,” replied Harlow. She did as the receptionist said, finding her room and opening the door to yet more unfamiliar smells. Tears were about to come again, and she closed the door behind her, never feeling more alone in her life.
How did it all come to this?
Chapter 4
Harlow
Harlow’s eyes darted across the passing countryside, taking in firs and pines swaying in the wind. The afternoon sun beamed down on her from above, her eyelids quaking as she struggled to remain alert.
She shifted in her seat and harshly swung her torso, trying to undo the damage done by two days of sleeping in motel room beds. Her back popped with a satisfying crack. She had envisioned herself a wanderer when she left the pack, but two days of wandering had already left her fatigued.
The two warring semis in front of her, neither letting the other pass and slowing traffic for miles behind them, left Harlow feeling on edge, maybe more so than usual. She wondered if skipping her transformation might have affected her in some way. Elders always warned her about the possible repercussions of skipping a lunar event, but they were often vague about what would happen, to the extent that doing it was a social taboo.
Harlow pondered about being a wolf and its meaning for her in civilized society. Would she have a place in the ordinary world away from her pack?
She slammed on the brakes, her car now inches away from one of the leading semis. Behind her, several cars had laid on their horns in frustration at the traffic block, but possibly also, she hoped, to warn her of the oncoming collision. Harlow took a deep breath.
“Okay,” she told herself, “I guess it’s time to get some rest.”
Seeing a sign beside the road, she decided to take the next exit. She felt embarrassed, relieved to be alive, anxious, and terrified. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, keeping her from endangering herself further and nodding off at the wheel. She allowed herself to feel energized by every blade of passing grass, every pastured cow, and every shaking tree. It was all beautiful because she was alive to experience the world.
When the first drops of rain hit her windshield and then began to accumulate and obscure her vision, her full attention fixated on the task of driving. Signs pointed her to the town of Forest Crest, and something about the town name felt like providence. She swore she’d heard “Forest Crest” in a prior life or in a book she read, and it made her feel safe. Somehow, the name alone felt like home.
By the time Harlow had arrived in Forest Crest, beckoned by an assortment of trees that made this town seem cut right into a wood, the rain had accelerated, forming a street-stream of water that flowed like a river. Storm drains tried to capture the passage of rainwater but were overflowing. The bulk of the town lay ahead of her, obscured by a rain that clouded even Harlow’s vision. She could make out the outlines of squared buildings ahead of her downtown, and the worn brick roads desperately needed to be repaved.
Harlow was relieved she had stopped. She knew if she’d continued driving, she would have been putting her own life at risk.
After asking around at a convenience store on the outskirts of town, Harlow discovered there were no motels in Forest Crest. However, a small inn, the Golden Acorn, would gladly take her reservation. At the urging of the clerk, she stopped a few blocks down, just off the main road, to book a room.
Cracks had formed in the building’s exterior paint. Coats of paint had been reapplied in places, but it was the wrong white color, and against the dark shadows of the overlying trees, the difference between the new and old paint was obvious to Harlow. Curiously, she appeared to be the only one booking a room tonight. The parking lot was empty except for her vehicle and a very old, rusted brown Dodge Power Wagon.
“Fuck!” She rushed through the rain, having forgotten to bring an umbrella, and found her shirt and jeans completely soaked through and her hair drenched when she entered the front office. The desk was faux oak, and on the wall, a television displayed the night’s football game. Next to the door, an overstuffed newspaper rack clearly conveyed that despite nobody’s interest in acquiring the newspaper, this inn stocked it for hypothetical customers.
At first, nobody came to the counter, and Harlow became concerned she might not have a place to sleep in the pouring rain. She rang the front desk bell once politely and then grew a little less polite with each passing minute and each unanswered ring.
Eventually, a haggard man, appearing older due to the deep bags under his eyes, came to the front desk. He told her that he used to run this business with his wife and son, but his son had moved out six years ago and his wife had passed recently.
Harlow expressed her sympathy and apologized for rudely ringing the bell, but the inn’s owner said that in this weather, her concern was entirely understandable. He even offered her a discount.
Harlow paid the discounted price. She realized, with some distress, as she extracted the funds from her wallet that even the discounted cost strained her cash reserves. She wished the inn’s owner a good night and said she hoped his son returned soon.
Departing the front office, Harlow found her room on the second floor, opposite where she had parked. Frigid air filled the room, sending chills across her skin. She found the air conditioning unit set to fifty degrees Fahrenheit and wondered who could live in that environment.
The television unit had been partially pried from the wall, and it appeared even the remote had been stolen. In the closet, somebody had left a heavy green coat hanging up and a wadded-up pair of socks on the floor. Harlow noted she’d need to return that to the front desk later.
Removing her wet clothing, she transferred her shirt, jeans, and socks to hang on the closet rack. She shook her hair wildly in the restroom before realizing that the room came with a hairdryer and using that instead.
“Good enough,” she muttered when her hair was mostly dry.
Harlow was determined to get some rest. She clearly wasn’t at her best without it, and the consequences of missing a full moon were catching up with her. She lifted the scratchy comforter and the thin sheet off one of the twin beds and tried to find a position that felt comfortable. Thankfully, this bed was much better than the last two she had slept in the previous nights.
