Chapter 1
“Yes, it is best you be not friends with anyone. So you don’t expose our nature, you stupid mutt.”
Tyrea 15 years old
The day my dad died was taco Tuesday at the 24 hours Mexican bar I was working at. I had been standing at the door for a solid three hours, fielding broke and way past tipsy college students from customers who actually wanted to buy from our Caribbean inspired menu. The crowds were steadily getting bigger over the night due to the fact that we were also the only place in town where you could Mexican food - or really any kind of food – past 10 o clock at night.
While our small town in the swiss alps was famous for great skiing slopes in the winter and bottomless lakes perfect for escaping the heat of the city in the summer, it tended to shut down once the sun went down, only opening its eyes again when the first rays of sunshine broke over the mountain tops of the valley. Only our bar - Peppe Sotos Mountain Tacos - or “Peps” as the locals called it, was open for the hungry tourists that descended on the main street in town after the slopes closed.
I loved working at Peps if only for the reason that he had taken a chance on me - no one else in town had wanted to do so. Not that was surprising to me. We had always been outsiders. As far back as I can remember, the people in town wanted nothing to do with my family. It was just the way it was. But Pep - he had taken one look at me, by desperate green eyes, my cotton dress wrinkly and saggy from overuse, my hands jittery and sweaty, begging him to
just.
give.
me.
a.
shot.
- and told me in his from to many years of smoking rumbly voice: “Mija, try this fish taco. Bueno, no?” And that was that. My job from then on included opening the bar after school and taking the orders from the people standing outside waiting for a place to sit inside. A job that involved a lot of standing around, waiting for customers, much to the displeasure of my wolf.
"OMG. I’m starving. Ty girl, please release me from this boredom. I really thought working at this taco joint would involve more eating.” - Simea piped up. “Srsly. If we wouldn’t need the money I would have bailed a long time ago.” I didn’t answer. There was no use arguing with my wolf when she was hungry.
The day my dad died my mum didn’t call me on my phone once to tell me the news. I found out from someone I went to school with me. By that time my dad had already been dead several hours, having been mauled by a bear in the forest. It had apparently even been in the news, as usually there weren’t any bears in the area. The boy from school walked up to my spot by the door, pulled pork taco in one, his girlfriend on the other and said (quite gleefully): “Aren’t you that girl from up the hill? Funny your working today - since your dad just died and all. Must really need the money, huh.” Without a word he wandered away and I was glad. I was glad because he would have otherwise seen what was so clearly reflected in my eyes that moment: relief.
“Pass me the holy water. My prayers have been heard.” Simea having none of my inhibitions finally piped up.
Tyrea: 5 years old
Daddy stood over me, his voice like thunder and his fists balled to fists almost as my head. Cherry, the dog I had found abandoned in the woods and brought home had pooped on the doorstep of our forest cabin and
he
did
not
like
it.
He told me he didn’t like it by kicking my into the kitchen table. He told me he didn’t like it by kicking Cherry really, really hard into her fluffy stomach so that she was now lying barely moving under the table. His hand was lifting once more to strike me across the face when I heard the noise of Mommy coming home from her morning run to town. Daddy turned, already gearing up to turn his anger on a more willing victim. Because Mommy loved Daddy. More than all the stars in the sky. More than all the fish in the sea. And definitely more than me.
“Tyrea. there is only your Daddy for me. Your Daddy and the life in the valley. We can not strive for more because fate will not give it. And even if it did, I would not want it. You will one day understand.”
At five years old my heart was already irrevocably bruised - from giving too much love and receiving too little of it back. So instead of getting up, bashing through the door of my hiding spot and pleading my way through what was looking to be another big family fight, I stayed. I stayed right there through the screaming (my father), the crying (my mother) and the whining (Cherry). When all was quiet, I crawled out and picked up Cherry and buried her in the forest. I never cried again.
Tyrea: 8 years old
I was standing in my parent’s bedroom in my hand a faded picture. On the left sat a bearded man with thick glasses and piercing green eyes. He looked a bit like my Daddy but with lighter hair and better teeth. On his lap sat a woman with wavy blond hair who had a loud-smile on her face. The man was also smiling but only with his eyes. I had never seen people so happy. So so happy. Happy like it’s your birthday but your parents remember and there maybe even is cake, first-seconds in the morning happy when you hear all the birds, last-page in the book happy when the ending is better then you ever thought. Not-Daddys hand were slung so tight around the torso of the women that it was a wonder she had room in her lungs left to laugh. I just wanted a part of it - so I kept it.
Tyrea: 10 years old
“Tyrrrrrrea!” Mommy was screaming from the porch like a banshee. Running up to her, dirt across my cheeks I gave her an impulsive hug. It had been a great afternoon. I had gone running in the forest, finding (and eating) berries, taking a nap on the forest floor and finally chatting to Cherry in her mossy grave. Cherry had been my constant companion since she had died. Jumping next to me all the way to school and waiting for me till it ended, like the good ghost doggy she was. “Your Daddy is coming home in half an hour. If you are not clean until we have dinner with him, you only have yourself to blame for his antics.” She said while untangling herself from me. That what she called his mood. Antics. Even when Mommy was hurt. When she hurt from bites and scratches and hits - antics. I hated antics. So I ran inside, cleaning my skin from dirt until it bruised while all the way feeling my wood-happiness drain from me with every pass of the cloth. But I knew it was better like this. Because what happens in the woods, stays in the woods. That’s what Daddy always said. That night as I was standing by my bedroom window I found a single leaf on the window sill as if the woods itself were defying my Daddys words. And when I picked it up, my hand warmed as if I was holding a little sun in my hands. Although I could still hear the growling of my father’s wolf form mounting my mother’s much smaller wolf in the room down the hall, I felt save for a moment.
Tyrea: 12 years old
I had always known that we were wolves of course. Just like I had known that I mustn’t tell anyone. Not at school and not in town. “Yes, it is best you be not friends with anyone. So you don’t expose our nature, you stupid mutt.” So that’s what I had done. Not made friends, not gotten close to anyone. Except Cherry of course. (But that didn’t matter because she was a dog. And dead.) It however became increasingly hard once Simea blessed me with her presence on my 12th birthday. Simea, my wolf who is so loud and proud that I sometimes wondered that people can’t see her right through my eyes. Sometimes I think the moon goddess must have look down from her shiny throne in the sky, saw the lonely wolf girl and must have decided that I needed a wolf who was everything I wasn’t: loud. opinionated. funny. and fearless. So she picked Simea. On my wolf birthday, the 12th birthday, a door was blown open in my mind and Simea ran through. The second I felt her in my mind, my fierce protector and eternal companion, I knew that I would never be alone again.
"I am Simea, your wolf and very bestest friend. I have been sent by the moon goddess to assist you in your - our live. I see you are in a right mess. We will fix that” Simea said while sifting through my memories. “Aha, the shy woman over there, is she our mother?” - “Ummm…”
“How are you feeling?” Mommy said, standing in my bedroom door. “I…I’m not sure. I can hear her in my mind.”
“Tyrrea. Tyrea! Lovely name btw. Loveliest of names really. You should be proud. Let’s go outside. I need some forest-time!”
“Well, I should hope so. She is your wolf after all.” Mommy answered with one of her rare smiles. That moment there were heavy steps on the stairs and my heart sank. The second Daddy showed up behind Mommy, Simea mentally sharpened her claws and I could feel her pressing against my skin. “I head you got your mutt, mutt. She as useless as you?” Daddy growled.
"Uuuh. That guy should really come with a warning label. Forrrrrest-Time please. I get really antsy indoors.”
I stood up and walked by him, eager to shift in the forest and let my wolf loose. The second I past Daddy by however, he shrank back as if I hit him. Simea had stared right through my eyes and whatever he had seen, had put the fear of the moon goddess in him.
