3. Breaking the Ice

Escape feels forbidden, but it happens easily. We sprint through backyards we don’t belong in together, hopefully going fast enough that nobody has time to spot us.

The thought of being caught doesn’t even scare me. Our great escape is… fun. We laugh as we sprint over the green lawns under our feet.

”You’re trespassing.” Ewan scolds as we jump over the Montgomery’s azalea bushes. “How dare you? People don’t like a strange wizard running through their backyards.”

He’s clearly only teasing me since I scolded him for trespassing earlier and yet I can’t help rising to the bait. ”I’m not a stranger. They’ll all know me as the son of—” We aren’t supposed to reveal any other details about ourselves, even if he already knows where I live, but that isn’t what stops me.

If anyone gazed out onto their lawn at exactly the wrong time and spotted me traipsing across a neighbor’s property, running wild with a strange man… they’ll all know exactly who I am. Any neighbor would complain to my parents and tell everyone. Oh my god, that’s actually so much worse than being an unknown trespasser. Now I am a tad scared.

But not scared enough to stop.

“I blame you,” I say. “You’re a terrible influence.”

”Yeah,” he agrees. “I’m real broken up about it.”

”Somehow I don’t believe you.”

”This is the first time I’ve seen you smile, so clearly something is going right.”

I nearly stumble over the last hedge keeping us from the road. He reaches out, but I hold up my hands and manage to regain my balance on my own.

He’s right too. I already feel better. Lighter. However, we’re both suddenly unsure of what to do next.

We trade shy glances. Ewan offers to drive us to wherever we’re heading and he leads the way to his vehicle. Arriving at his truck takes a few minutes. Fortunately his actual clothes are there and he quickly changes while I look away as common courtesy dictates. I know exactly what sights I’m trying to avoid seeing again and that doesn’t help calm my suddenly rioting nerves.

He trades the business casual clothes for worn jeans, a V-neck white shirt, and a checkered flannel. This style suits him much better.

We pile into his vehicle in search of adventure. And then it hits me. I’m really heading into the unknown with a man I barely know. I like what I do know about him, but… Are we really doing this? Am I? What have I gotten myself into?

I feel the seatbelt holding me in, feel the truck cruising over the road, but it doesn’t seem real.

The grand homes we pass are tastefully extravagant, rarely displaying modern architecture or anything built in this century or the previous. A place where old money families live comfortably. Money does matter here, but reputation, legacy, and always presenting a pristine image matters just as much.

What would my mother think about all this? God, I’d rather not consider such a dismal subject… I can’t resist checking my phone. They must already know I’m gone. Percy Brass returning by himself after being sent to fetch me is a dead giveaway. The real question isn’t whether my mother has tried to reach me but how many times.

There are four missed calls with voicemails that I don’t bother listening to. Our spontaneous escapade will end too soon if his wolfy ears hear the messages clearly and I die of embarrassment. I do check the text messages, all seven-eight of them and counting.

Mother: Percy had trouble locating you. Please return to the house at once.

Mother: Did you leave on purpose? We have company. This is terribly rude.

Mother: What in the world has gotten into you? Are you playing a game? This isn’t funny. Come back to the house. Immediately.

I shudder and can’t bring myself to read the rest. A couple of messages from Marty are there too. They aren’t exactly better, only much less frigid.

Marty: I don’t even… what is happening? First you need clothes for a man who isn’t you. Clothes like a shirt and pants. For a possibly NAKED man. Now you’re gone. Are the two related? You’re still Jack, right? There’s no chance you ran off with a naked guy. Right?

Marty: Your mom’s reaction is priceless, but I’m too scared to be caught recording her rant about this ‘childish stunt’ or your ‘late onset teenage rebellion,’ so you’ll just have to imagine her face for yourself.

Marty: Seriously though, let one of us know there’s no reason to be worried about whatever you’re up to. This isn’t funny anymore if you’re in trouble.

Marty: And you owe me all the details later.

Unfortunately, I can imagine my mother’s face too well. I have nightmares about that face. I usually bend over backwards to avoid it. Part of me is tempted to tell Ewan to turn the car around. I wonder if I made a mistake.

No. For the first time in too long, I feel in control of my own choices and my own future. If not long-term, then at least for the day. I can’t stop now.

Jack: Needed a break. I’m okay. I’ll be home tomorrow.

I send the message to both my mother and Marty. Then I look up to see where we’re going.

Ewan drives towards the highway. I live in a small suburb about fifteen minutes from a larger city. The city is the best bet for two travelers seeking adventure or at least something to do for the night. I smile when we pass one edge of the university campus before reaching the highway. Huh…

“What’s going on?” I wonder.

“Nothing. Just driving.”

The truck cruises down the road, a tad too slow for highway travel. We’re in the farthest right lane and other drivers keep changing lanes and going around us. Ewan must worry about me having second thoughts. He’s ready to turn the car around at a moment’s notice if I give the word.

My phone beeps as new messages come in. I turn it off and do my best to relax. That’s the point of our trip after all.

“Go faster,” I say. “You’re driving like my Elemental History professor and he’s 103 years old.”

Ewan snorts and speeds up. Off we go.

* * *

We aren’t on the highway long before Ewan spots something as we approach the city. He suggests we hit an upcoming outdoor shopping center and I agree.

There are rows of popular stores, chain restaurants, and a movie theater. The place is always busy during nice weather, and a fair crowd exists already, eager to start enjoying their weekends early.

”What now?” I ask.

”Food?” he suggests.

We decide on sub sandwiches and chips, easy enough to travel and eat outside with. Mine is garden veggie filled with lettuce and peppers and greens. His has a few veggies and a double helping of salami and pepperoni.

Our shared appreciation of earth magic brought us together so being out near the earth seems best, though there isn’t really anything natural about the open courtyard lined by shops and restaurants.

”What now?” I ask again once we find a table and start eating.

”Well, we can busy ourselves with our food and pretend this isn”t kinda awkward or we can break the ice.”

I’m not sure what the protocol is for this… there probably isn’t a protocol. We wanted a night of fun and easy with a virtual stranger, not people who know us and everything in our lives. We still need to be a bit familiar with each other. Who is the man I’m sharing this adventure with?

“Second one,” I decide. “I’d like to know a bit more about you.”

”Good,” he smiles over his food. “I’m not really a beat around the bush type of guy.”

”What kind of guy are you?”

”Regular,” he says immediately, then corrects himself with a quick grin. “If a little wolfy. I like watching sports with the guys and family dinners on Sundays. I’m 28 and come from a small family. I only have one sister but a large pack. We’re all really close, so it’s like having a bunch of extra siblings, cousins, and nosy neighbors.”

The affection he feels for his family and pack is obvious as he talks about them, and the picture he paints of himself is so personal. Okay, not personal in the sense he’s spilling dark secrets. But it’s about him and the things that matter to him. It’s refreshing. He happened to leave out all the frills and accomplishments that people in my family’s circles think of as vital statistics.

Still, I have to ask, “What line of work are you in?”

“Construction,” he says. “It pays the bills and I enjoy working with my hands.” Building something physical by hand, creating anything the human way, is a subject I know literally nothing about. He must see that on my face. “It’s not just about hammering nails and laying drywall. There’s probably more in common with magic than you might think.”

”Oh really?” I raise an eyebrow but he doesn’t take it back.

“You start with a picture in your mind,” he explains. “Or a blueprint in my case, and it’s about carefully putting everything together to get the right result. Magic and construction take preparation and thought to create something that people can both use and enjoy.”

It’s a nice gesture that he tried to frame his job in terms I can relate to. His description of magic being both enjoyable and useful is exactly how I wish it could be. I often find myself casting for other reasons, all practical and about furthering my knowledge more than anything else.

He sets his food down and gives me his attention. “What about you?”

“Oh, I do some research work at the university in the magical studies department. But becoming branded is very much a full-time job.” I rattle off the words and stare at the children playing on an artificial patch of grass nearby. Then I realize it’s quite possible he wanted to learn more about me and not just what I do.

“Honestly, I haven’t had much time for a personal life lately.” I wince at the words and take a sip of my drink. “Which is silly. An element can help us wield magic but also takes a toll if we’re not in harmony with the element and ourselves. You’re supposed to have a solid support system in place and a life outside of being a wizard, in theory. Or at least some understanding of who you are and what you want.” I sigh. “Since we can’t even take the test until we’re 18, however, we get a little overeager when we’re finally eligible for branding, hoping it will happen immediately. We dive into studying and lose sight of the rest. I’m no exception.”

”I thought you were dragging your feet earlier.”

”That’s probably part of the problem,” I groan. “One minute I wish it was over and done with and the next I just want a little more time. Though I suppose that has as much to do with—” I cut off.

”What?” He asks. Not pressuring me, only ready to listen.

”My parents,” I answer. “No one should rush into branding, but it would make things easier. If it were over and done with, then they’d relax.” Once I became an icebrand like them. “They’re eager for me to follow in their footsteps, so they put a lot of pressure on me.”

The words are true. I still feel guilty and terribly ungrateful. They”ve given me a comfortable life and every advantage for the future. In return, I’ve always been the good son and done what was expected of me. I enjoy making my parents proud and ice magic comes easily to me.

It’s only recently I’ve realized that every hoop they’ve given me to jump through gets me one step closer to the future they planned out for me, and I can’t just be a Blanchard. I have to be Jack too.

I’m not sure Jack will be enough for my parents. But Ewan seems to like me just fine.

”Your family isn’t you,” he says. “It’s your life and your element. Isn’t that the point, that you select what suits you best?”

”Yes.” I lean closer like I’m offering him a secret. “Though you might be surprised by how many branded people that belong to wealthy, well-respected families with centuries upon centuries of tradition find that the element that suits them best just so happens to be the one that also helps them live up to their familial obligations.”

He thinks it over and stretches, leaning back in his seat. “Well, I’d tell you to say screw them and do what you want to do.”

”But you’d be lying?”

”No, it’s probably good advice,” he admits. “Except wolf shifters have trouble with that too. Actual wolves, it turns out, are less pack oriented than most people think. But us werewolves aren’t the same. It’s tricky to find that right balance between respecting your alphas and doing what’s best for the pack and being true to yourself.”

While I’d like to be a friendly ear and listen to his troubles like he did for me, I’m much less skilled at it. “Is, uh, is that what you’re struggling with?”

“The part we’re having trouble with is figuring out what’s best for the pack.” He thinks for a minute, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “Uh, our alphas are pretty great, they don’t just lay down the law and expect us to follow blindly.” Wonder what that’s like. “But once they do make their decision, that’s it. I’m the one making my case for my side, and I only get one chance.”

One chance at what? I find myself forgetting about my food and drawn into his story.

”We have a problem,” he says. “If we keep fighting and trying to solve this problem and failing, we might lose everything. If we admit defeat, we’ll still lose a lot. Too much, some say, but the pack will survive together and we’ll be able to start over somewhere else. So, that’s the question. Do we give up our home to save the pack, or do we fight for what’s ours and risk it all?”

”Which group are you in?”

”I say we stay and keep fighting. All we need is one solid lead, the right piece of the puzzle and we’re back in business.” He sighs. “But if we never get that… we can’t continue like we are much longer. My alphas are my—” he coughs. “Well, I’m really close to them and I know they want to stay and keep fighting. But they have to consider what’s best for the pack, even if it means something no one likes.”

“So, if surviving together is better than the pack falling apart, then they have to decide how much they’re willing to risk and when it’s time to walk away.”

”Exactly.”

His pack is facing a big decision and he’s trying to make his voice heard. He hopes what he thinks is the right thing will really help the pack and not doom them all. I’m strangely honored he trusted me with this. It sounds like a heavy burden to bear alone. That’s why he needed a break and proposed this night off with me.

We sit in silence for a few moments, thinking over everything we revealed.

”So,” I speak up. “I have my whole future on my shoulders, which includes my family’s legacy, and you have the future of your whole family and whole pack on your shoulders. No wonder we needed a break.”

He looks at me with a strange expression. Then he shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

I raise my drink cup and knock it against his in a toast. “We’re quite the pair.”

“Cheers.” He knocks his drink against mine in return.

Now that we’ve shared what brought us here and voiced some of our troubles, they do feel farther away. Ewan’s slouched in his chair, comfortable. I try to stuff down the faint glow of pride in my chest thinking that I helped just by agreeing to this night off with him.

“This isn’t how I pictured getting away for the night,” he says. “But I’m glad we did this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I planned on shifting and running. That’s the good thing about being a werewolf,” he explains. “If human life becomes too much, you can take a break from everything cluttering up your brain. The wolf and the human are two sides of the same person, but each has its own priorities, so it’s like a different perspective. As a wolf, you care more about your immediate surroundings and what’s going on in front of you. It’s easy to lose yourself in the noise of the forest or wherever you’re at, to run and feel the air rush by. Nothing else matters.”

He looks at me, sees how captivated I am by him and the picture he paints, and lets out a dry chuckle. “That’s also how I ended up chasing a scent into a stranger’s yard and scaring you half to death.”

“Being a wolf sounds incredible,” I say softly.

“Yeah, it’s freeing.”

”That’s what I want,” I declare. “Freedom.”

”Okay.” He nods and reaches a decision, pushing his food away. “Here’s your chance. What would you do right now if you could do anything?”

“Anything?” I ask playfully. “What if I say we should shave our heads or jump off a bridge?”

His gaze is loaded, eyeing me like he’s trusting me with the weight of something monumental. “Anything.”

The decision suddenly seems so important. I suppose it is. It isn’t every day I take a break and enjoy doing something for myself. I can’t remember the last time it happened. I can’t turn into a wolf and run through the forest at night, howling at the full moon, but this is still some measure of freedom.

Before I start pondering my options, I realize I’ve already decided. The decision, it turns out, is simple.

”Oh, I know exactly what to do.” I turn to him, now swept up in the possibilities. “And I need your help.”

Ewan grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.”