You wake with a start, the crisp salty air of your waterfront apartment working its way into your nostrils, clearing them. You recline in a full-bodied stretch. Slowly getting to your feet, you cross the room to glance at yourself in the mirror. A human face stares back at you, the full-length crack in the mirror splitting you in two as always. Your hair is greasy and unkempt, but its color shows through in a natural…
You run your hands through your hair, trying to put its disheveled red mess in order as best you can.
The werewolf forms of many in your pack mimic the physical attributes of their human forms. Of course there is an exception to every rule. You can almost picture your wolf in the other side of the split mirror, its thick coat of fur a striking…
After the lucidity of the dream, you almost expected to wake shifted into your lupine form, half the sheets and pillows unconsciously devoured to fuel the ravenous hunger of the change. You tilt your neck to the side, feeling the muscles snap and pop. Your whole body is sore; you haven't had this bad a sleep in months.
The sharp clatter of ceramics being laid out in your kitchen fills your head with a fog of confusion. Did I bring someone home last night? You can't remember.
The adults frown on that sort of thing, but you're in that nebulous middle ground between youth and adulthood, and you've been living on your own for a few years now. The elders couldn't take care of an orphaned pup forever after all, and you haven't minded your newfound privacy all that much.
You shake your head to clear the cobwebs. It must have been a crazy night if I don't even remember what happened. Maybe Lapu brought me some of that moonshine he brewed up last week? Did he manage to convince me to drink it? That would explain the headache. Hangover from hell.
"You're finally awake! I thought you'd never get up after I dragged you back here last night. It took over eight hours for your body to fully heal."
Dena? What is she doing here?
Dena's slight form emerges from the kitchen, holding out a plate of ham and eggs. Her long brown hair is unkempt, hanging from her head in matted strands. "I hope you don't mind that I dug into your kitchen. I was starving." She pauses to gulp down a large piece of ham. "The blast nearly severed your leg, and the impact of the water didn't help much either."
Blast? Impact? Oh no no no…
"So it really happened? All of it? The warehouse?" you gasp.
"We don't need to talk about that now. Your food's getting cold," Dena says, her face scrunched up in memory of the previous night's excursion before turning back to the kitchen. "You have a lovely home! Most of the waterfront houses are a wreck, but you've fixed it up beautifully! I'll admit though—I'd hoped that my first time visiting would be under more…pleasant circumstances."
Your breath catches in your throat. Of all the times for her to come out with it… You suppose you can't blame her though. A brush with death is a very forceful reminder that time is fleeting. You clear your throat to speak. "Dena…"
Dena closes her eyes for a moment, breathing in and steadying herself. "Of course, of course. It was selfish of me to even think about something like that now of all times. I'm sorry, Decaarr, I hope you can forgive me. I know the timing could have been better, but after seeing what we saw last night…I just didn't want to wait any longer to ask. Knowing that something like that is waiting for us out there…I want to make everything I can of each day. What was it that Elder Ahote says…'Carpe Diem'?"
She pauses. "I'll admit, I think I'm just saying anything to keep from thinking about it…. I want so badly for it to be a bad dream." She slumps down into a kitchen chair, dropping her half-eaten breakfast onto the table with a clatter.
"Why would they do it, Decaarr? Why would our mothers and fathers, our elders and packmates let the humans do that to them? I don't…I don't understand."
You try to comfort her, but there's little you can say. You feel lost in a way that you haven't felt since your mother passed away all those years ago, as though your innocence has been torn away for a second time, leaving only burning raw flesh for grim reality to scour.
If this is what it means to become an adult, you want nothing of it. But there's no turning back time, is there? you think. We can only make the best of the time that we have.
Dena breathes deep, composing herself into a mask of serenity, a crack in the facade here and there. Slightly reddened eyes, an uncertain twitch at the edge of her smile. But it should suffice to fool the adults.
"We should get going," she says. "We'll be expected at our lessons soon and we don't want to give Instructor Lonan any reason to think we've been up to anything unusual.