Chapter Five

Wynter

They had to go shopping, of course, with such an important event coming up. I did not point out that pack runs were not about clothes because there would be none on them most of the time. Many of the pack members wouldn’t go to any such effort, merely wearing whatever they had on already before shifting and dashing off into the woods after the alpha and other pack royalty. The guests would also be at the lead, at least at first.

Not that I’d been on a pack run, per se. I had been too young and not shifting yet, back when I actually attended the gatherings, and had stayed by the fireside with the other younglings, watched over by those who were ancient and no longer wanted to “tear around like a bunch of dolts, upsetting the entire area with their foolishness.”

Even as a child I knew that meant they wished they could “tear around” like dolts as well, but their aging bones and muscles even as a wolf couldn’t keep up with the others. So, they got stuck watching the children. But what might have been a loss to them was an opportunity for those of us who were willing to sit down and listen to the stories they told of the once upon a time when they were out there with the others.

It sounded amazing, fantastical. And I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to join.

Something unlikely to ever happen now. The whole forbidden-to-shift thing…

After my family drove away toward town, I looked at the list of tasks they had been so kind as to assign me so I wouldn’t “get bored or lazy” while they were gone. Because I worked full-time for my single meal a day and shed to sleep in, the house was pretty immaculate. Most of my day was spent cleaning up the messes they made, so I trudged upstairs and hung up all the clothes they’d tossed around, placed their shoes neatly by pairs on their closet floors, and folded things that needed to go in the dressers. If I waited too long to do this, they would stuff it all in their hampers and I’d be washing things that had not even been worn. In some cases, the items still bore their store tags. To her credit, Stepmama didn’t throw her clothing around much. Probably because she paid for it—with my daddy’s money, but still.

But once that was done, so was I. It had been many days since I’d had any time to myself, and even if I got in trouble for not finishing their endless list of pointless chores, I would take advantage of a few hours of peace.

Slipping downstairs, I picked up a handled basket from the kitchen and went out the back door. The forest was so close, I could hear the little animals and birds before I passed the tree line. There were so many of them, living free there. Squirrels and rabbits and bluebirds, cardinals with their brilliant red plumage. Little rodents scuttling in the fallen leaves. Larger creatures, too. Predators like a few non-shifter wolves, bobcats, hawks. I’d even seen a mountain lion once or twice.

I wasn’t afraid of any of them. Maybe I should have been, but the big animals had never menaced me so far. Perhaps they could feel the wolf I was not allowed to manifest. A scent maybe? A presence.

As I walked, I watched for things I could pick or pick up for the kitchen, in case I was interrogated later about what I did with my time. There were some nuts and a few berries still to be found, not at their best, but they would still be good cooked, even if a bit dried out. Mushrooms, herbs…soon there would be nothing as the nights got colder and colder and everything shut down for the winter.

But, for now, I could still find enough to make my trip “worthwhile.”

To me, just being here, breathing the sweet autumn air and listening to leaves crunching under my feet and the chirps of birds that either had not left for the south yet or would winter here provided the best musical accompaniment.

I marched only as far as the red oak, the limits of where I was allowed to wander. Sitting under the tree, I leaned back and settled into a quiet place inside myself. When I hadn’t moved for a while, the animals appeared from wherever they went as people tramped through and went about their business. They were mostly still gathering food, the smaller ones, and the larger would be asleep in the day, except the coyotes, but I didn’t see them a lot. Unlike in the fairy tales, the creatures did not come and sit on my shoulder or curl up in my lap, but they came pretty close, and I appreciated them letting me be part of their world, even for a little while.

My stepsisters were all agog over those visiting alphas—who they hadn’t even met yet. But maybe they would find their mates among them. I didn’t see how I’d ever meet mine, but at least if the two of them mated, they’d leave, and my workload would go down.

***

Mending was the absolute worst. My stepsisters and stepmama had made an art out of overbuying and excessive shopping and yet, there was always mending for me to do. Piles of it. A hole in a shirt, elastic to be put on a pair of pants that wasn’t quite fitting, tears in dresses they wore around the house while they fed on wild fantasies about a prince who would come gather them up and save them from this life of lying around and never doing anything but complaining.

I had a chair outside, near the front entrance but out of sight of anyone passing while I did the sewing. Some of the clothes were beyond repair, but they insisted I do it anyway.

Mostly, I thought they made me mend clothing as a way to add to my workload, nothing more.

As though I needed more to do.

I tipped my chin up to the sun and blew out a long breath. In truth, I was envious of their freedom, their right to choose what kind of life they lived.

But most of all, today of all days, I envied their shifting ability. I had the same gift, or at least, I assumed I did. There was certainly a beast inside me, wanting to get out.

Over the years, she had sent me images through our bond. I had dreamed of running through the woods, the sun at my back, the warm dew of the morning against my paws. My nose scenting every flower petal, every other animal, every type of tree. I could scent rain incoming on the horizon.

But those were all puffs of air to me. Some days, I could remember the dreams, replay them in my mind over and over, living vicariously through her fantasies about running and being free.

Not being able to shift was simply another facet of my life that I had to make peace with. No one had ever told me why I was forbidden to shift. Maybe something was wrong with my animal. Maybe I wasn’t a good wolf. I had heard of wolves who went rabid and killed off entire packs before they were stopped.

As my wolf stirred within me, trying to nudge her way out through my chest, I tried to keep working. If one of my stepsisters or my stepmama returned and saw me not busy, they would certainly deny me a meal and, judging by the way my ribs were outlined by my skin, missing a meal was out of the question. I constantly struggled to have enough energy for all their jobs. Some days were worse than others.

Sometimes, I dreamed about leaving here. Finding a mate who would treat me less like a slave and more like a person. It was silly to entertain, really. I didn’t deserve all the things others had. They were beautiful and well-spoken. They always knew what to say when someone came to the door or when they encountered males on their walks.

I wouldn’t know what to even say to a male who wasn’t the baker or the man who delivered groceries from the market.

Maybe a male would just come in and sweep me off my feet. He would take me to a castle where I’d be fed and pampered and he would tell me he loved me every day.

Contact was what I missed the most. Contact and hearing someone tell me they loved me. The last time I heard someone tell me they loved me was Daddy, and it was on his deathbed. That had been almost a decade ago. Maybe longer. Sometimes, the days, the months, the years all ran together. I had to keep track of my age and the month with a marker on the wall of my shed.

I missed the warmth of a hug. I craved a touch of any kind. My father used to nudge me with his shoulder when we were joking around.

His laugh would melt chocolate from a distance.

Maybe I deserved to be alone. All the mistakes I made, and I wasn’t really good at anything besides cleaning and cooking and according to my sisters, I was bad at those things too.

I’d trade this entire life of mine for a breath of freedom. A second of it. Except no one had offered that trade. Not even a breath of it.