After the party the weeks of school began to blend into each other. I had established my daily routine swiftly and did my best to stick to it.
In the mornings I would go to the dining hall and have breakfast with Jess, Kiera and occasionally Kolt. Then I would attend my classes for the day, during which I'd bond with Kolt and early on had learned of his love for kickboxing. I had a short break between my lectures, one that Fox and Nathan also shared, so I would either eat lunch with them, or just have a quick bite in the library cafe. Then in the evenings before dinner I've taken up running on the beach or attending the kickboxing club with Kolt and Kiera. I'm not that great but it makes me feel confident and strong, and it gives me something to talk about with the twins. I saw Wick occasionally, in lectures or during nights out, but we never spoke. We'd just make eye contact before one of us gave a slight nod and looked away.
Running along the beach became my favorite part of the day. I release all my stress and frustration from school, or work off my homesickness after calling my mom and dad after class. And I always end my run sitting or laying in the sand somewhere, just listening to the waves and the rustle of trees. Some days, if I was too sore to run or just needed an escape, not an exercise, I'd bring along my paints and sketchbook.
Today, as I sat facing the lake and feeling the sharp chill of winter through my fleece, I took a moment to try and appreciate my life and where I was. Earlier in the day I had spoken with my sister on the phone, and she had told me all about her new apartment in Scotland, and what the weather was like and how kind the people were. I was so happy for her. Genuinely. But part of me felt bitter and ungrateful for where I was in my own journey.
I'd always felt that way. Like something had been taken from me, or that I was entitled to something I couldn't even name. In high school I chalked it up to bratty, privileged nonsense and pushed deep down inside. But being here, something felt like it was trying desperately to click in my mind what I'd always known.
Weirdly enough, my conversation with Wick seemed to trigger it. I hadn't thought about it in years, but hearing Fayelle's tale, how she sacrificed what she had worked for, fought for, it felt oddly personal.
Shaking my head and clearing my thoughts, I looked towards the tree line, where I had seen the wolf. I hadn't spotted him again, but every time I sat here I felt like I was being watched. As though it was keeping an eye out for me, protecting me. I knew I sounded like an idiot, but I trusted my instincts.
The next day after my History lecture I said goodbye to Kolt and walked up to discuss my irksome thoughts with my professor, Mr. Harrison. He was an older man, with white hair and spectacles that look like they've been broken and tapped back together one too many times. After the second lecture I introduced myself and expressed my interest in the class, and I'd become used to having wonderful chats about the lecture content with him.
As I made my way down the aisle and through the departing students my hand brushed against someone else's and I felt a shock go through my arm. It was so light, so fast, that I was surprised I even noticed. I looked up and was struck by silver and blue eyes.
Wick's face held so much emotion, so much anguish, that as he continued with the moving crowd and disappeared out the doors I felt my own face scrunch up in confusion.
Dr. Harrison was packing up his papers when I reached his podium and he greeted my warmly when he noticed my presence.
"Dr. Harrison, do you think I could ask you some questions about a local legend I heard?"
"Of course, Rose! I wrote my thesis in college about this very town, focusing on mythical and spiritual occurrences, so I believe I'll be of use." He adjusted his glasses on his nose and shrugged on his sweater.
I began to explain all that I knew about the legend of Fayelle, and the werewolves and the elite rebellion. I wasn't sure how much to divulge about where I had heard the story, but I was desperate to find more information to make this woman feel more like a far away fairytale than a past memory.
"Well I know exactly what you're talking about, and the painting, which I'm assuming you've seen with the details you've provided, is titled 'The Striking of the Vere.' The 'elites' you were describing are known in the legend as the Vere. Bitter, elitist and powerful, they refused to accept the name of Were and thus renamed all who 'fell from grace' as Vere."
He explained everything as though he was reading from an invisible textbook in his mind.
"Wait but what is the difference between the 'Were' and the Lycans, aren't they all werewolves?" I asked feeling slightly embarrassed at my curiosity.
"Oh no no no, not at all. See the Lycans were immortal, all powerful beings. They retained their bodies and positions for centuries. But the Were, they were the product of Lycans and humans. They were children of the two, who possessed what is known as an inner Wolf. This Wolf was a reincarnation, in a sense, of a fallen Lycan. The Were are simply a way to identify all Chosen's whose Wolves have awakened." He gave a small smile and I could not return it as my brain was frantically trying to process this complicated folklore.
"So you said the Chosen. They are humans, with Wolves," I stated slowly, trying to verbally understand how it all worked, "and if the Wolf in the 'awakens my they become Were, or basically a werewolf."
"Yes. But the Were are not just 'werewolves' in the modern day definition. Once they are awakened they are able to shift if they choose to, and they have enhanced speed, strength, and all that jazz." Dr. Harrison waved his hands around and then gave a stern, serious look. "But what makes them special is their Wolf. Their Wolf is the spirit of a Lycan. And these Wolves choose what human they will bless based on fate. Each Chosen is a good representation of what the Wolf was like as a Lycan. And so it's not just a random jump for the Wolves, they consult fate and the moon goddess herself before they choose their Chosen."
With my head properly swimming with information, I backed away from the podium and tried to fight off the impeding headache.
"Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Harrison, I should probably get to my next class now," I said adjusted my backpack on my shoulder and took another step back.
"You haven't even heard about the most interesting part. Each Lycan had a soulmate in their first life, someone the moon goddess hand selected for them to love and honor. Those soulmates were maintained in the transition to a spirit Wolf, and so when a Wolf picks their Chosen they are selecting some who would be the perfect partner for their soulmate's Chosen. And thus, when those Chosen become Were's, they search for their Wolf's soulmate, who is then their Mate. Wolves identify each other through direct, consensual contact, like holding each other's hands, so Were's help each other to find their Mates so that their Wolves can be at peace."
My head felt faint and something inside me was reaching for something, for someone. I became flustered and confused as I thanked Dr. Harrison once more and rushed out to the open air. I gulped in the oxygen I felt I was deprived and I leaned against the side of the building. I didn't know what was wrong with me, which made everything worse. The last thing I remember was hands gripping my own and then the sensation of being carried.
Eventually I guess I blacked out, cause the next thing I knew, I woke up from a cold sweat in my bed, with Jess snoring soundly 8 feet away. I sat upright and looked out the window to see the moon shining brightly through the misty clouds.
I had no recollection of getting back to my room, none whatsoever. And I was still wearing my sweatpants and sweater that I had worn to class. My shoes were taken off and left at the side of my bed, and as I checked my phone I noticed a few missed messages from my mom.
I must have stumbled home in a haze and just fallen asleep after class, my conversation with Dr. Harrison felt like hours ago, which it must have been since it the lecture ended at noon.
I curled back into bed and closed my eyes. I must be sick or something, and I might as well try to get back to sleep. As I began to slip away, a breeze floated in from the window and the smell of the forest lulled me even deeper. My hair was slightly adjusted away from my eye, and if I hadn't been so tired, I might have cared enough to see the figure jump back out from where he came.