Foundling

For a minute, I just lay in bed. I close my eyes again while enjoying the sound of the night through my open window. It’s June, and the cicadas are as loud as ever. I need to get a move on soon, however, so I quickly get out of bed and get dressed.

This is part of my usual morning routine. I get up ridiculously early every day to go running. It’s the only way I get any time alone to myself and every second counts.

My room is in the attic, and as I sneak down the stairs hurriedly, I pass Howie’s room. His snoring penetrates any wall and confirms he is still asleep. It’s only 4.30 am anyway.

I quickly pass the doors to my parents’ rooms on the landing of the second floor. It’s always been that way; Mother says she sleeps better, and father likes to read in bed undisturbed. By their scents I can tell they are also still in bed. They usually get up when my brother does, and today seems no different.

When I creep down the last flight of stairs, I slip a hair tie off of my wrist and gather all my thick black hair up in a ponytail. My long bangs fall out of the updo and tickle my nose. I blow hard, and they part to each side of my face. Getting bangs was such a bad idea. Never again!

I grab my running shoes and head outside, quietly closing the door behind me.

The sun isn’t up yet, and the settlement is silent as I make my way towards the tree line surrounding the houses.

Greywolf is a small pack consisting of just over fifty wolves. The packhouse and family houses are huddled together in the center of the pack lands by Los Padres. We’ve been here since it was founded by the first Grey alpha many hundred years ago. Although our numbers have dwindled, we are still upholding our traditions and way of life. This means we are a very tight-knit group of werewolves that live together, work together, and eat together.

I love my pack. I do! Yet, I am desperate for this relief from people I get in the morning. I feel like it’s the only time I can breathe properly. Running gives me an excuse to be alone. Plus, it helps me stay in shape.

I pick up the pace as I reach the trees, and soon the clearing is far behind me.

While running, I let my mind wander. I go through my list of chores for the day, what I need to get at the store, what clothes I’m going to wear, and the people I need to talk to. Once that is out of the way, I get a bit winded, so I try to find another topic to occupy my mind.

As I look around for some inspiration, the moon comes into view through the canopy. It’s crescent and glows dimly, soon losing the fight against the growing daylight. I wonder what the Moon Goddess is planning for me. I’m 26 years old, still living with my parents and brother. My wolf should have manifested ten years ago but I’ve never been able to shift.

The Lady of the Night deals us our cards as fits us, and she never gives us more than we can handle. I’m sure there is a reason for why I can’t shift yet and that this is only temporary. My devotion is unshaken and with time, I’m sure, she’ll find me ready to get my wolf.

I pass a fox trail and decide to follow it for a while to train my senses. I’m able to pick up scents and my vision and hearing is better than an ordinary human, which is proof that I am in fact a werewolf. However, my senses are weak and no better than an ordinary dog so I like to train them in hopes that it might trigger my wolf to appear one day.

Before long my mind wanders onto a well-trodden path of its own. My potential fated mate. It’s childish to linger on it and imagine what they might be like, but I can’t help myself. We have all grown up on the tales of our parents’ first meeting, or awakening as mates. The likeness to a fairy tale, the romance, the feeling of coming home - it’s something we all crave.

It does happen that wolves get far into their lives before meeting their fated ones, but that is rare in my pack. Howie is eight years younger than me and unmated too, but we’re all sure his girlfriend Narin is his mate. She turns 17 in a week, so they will be a mated pair soon. My parents are both the same age and found each other at a mixer that the neighboring packs throw every year. I have attended every one of them since maturing but no luck so far.

I reach the lake marking the halfway point of my run. I climb up on my usual rock, cross my legs, and stare at the reflection of the fading moon in the water. I do this every day. It calms the restlessness I feel inside me. I try to meditate, but usually, I sit here, fantasizing.

I wonder what they look like. I don’t care about my mate’s gender. I trust the Goddess and know she will find me someone who is perfect for me. Maybe they’re tall. I think I would like that. That way, they could hold me in their arms, and I could lean my head on their chest. I don’tcare what they do or how strong they are. I just hope they’re kind. My mate probably has a great smile. A warm and inviting smile that could light up the room.

A gust of wind brings me out of my trance. I have to get back.

The run back is always easier, and before I can even enjoy it, the first house comes into view.

By now, it should be about 5.30 am, and the night watch is coming back. They have spent the last six hours patrolling the borders. The watch is made up of our warriors and is the reason we can sleep easy. I see Cole and Harry, old classmates of mine, exchanging journals. After this, they will go home and compare reports to see if there’s something strange or amiss.

I nod as I pass them. It goes unreturned, their sleepy gazes following me with uninterest. They don’t seem to be in a talkative mood anyway.

When I sneak back inside our house, I quickly head up to the bathroom and shower before my brother gets up. I make it just in time because as I open the door again, I’m staring into a hairy chest.

I look up into Howie’s sleepy eyes.

“Sorry, Yuli. Didn’t see you there.” He smirks.

Even though Howie is the youngest, he’s nearly ahead taller than me. Mother says it’s inevitable because I’m a woman. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but the fact that he’s tall just because he’s male annoys me.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”I smile sweetly, letting his comment roll off of me.

Howie grunts and rubs his eyes. As he does, the muscles on his chest and in his arm tighten. He really is huge. He has always been athletic and was accepted into warrior training immediately after he got his wolf. In the last few years, he has packed on a ton of muscle and become quite capable. Rumors are, the only ones rivaling him in strength now are the alpha and beta and that he’s favored to be the future beta himself.

I sigh.

“Hurry up, or you’re gonna be late.” I make my way past him and up to my room.

I quickly change into my favorite pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. It’s still pretty chilly out, so I throw on a flannel I have inherited from Howie. The sleeves are a bit long, so I fold them neatly. Then I grab my sneakers and head downstairs.

By now, my parents are up. Mother is in the kitchen packing lunches while father is reading a book by the table. Howie requires a lot of food during the day, so mother is packing him three meals to eat between training and other duties.

I take a deep breath.

“Good morning!” I say as I walk over to the fridge to prepare my own lunch.

They both smile back before resuming their morning routine. We have all settled into this practice years ago. It suits us all to have a pattern to follow, and the silence is pleasant.

“I will help your father out in the clinic today,” mother says after a while. As she says it, I notice she’s packing an extra lunch box into a bag.

My father is the pack’s doctor. You would not have guessed by looking at him. He is a big man, with muscular and hairy forearms and a scruffy-looking beard. His hair is dark and unruly, so he typically ties it back, but straggling hair always hangs in his face anyway. I heard that he used to be a warrior but took over the job when my grandfather, Dr. Archer Sr. died. Apparently, my father used to help out in the clinic a lot when he was young and was, therefore, the most qualified to take over. He never received any proper training, but he has since gained the respect and trust of all the pack members.

Since my father is the only one working in the clinic, my mother helps out when they have a patient to look after or receive equipment. It’s an acceptable job for a female, under her husband’s supervision. Several children even call her ”nurse Archer,” and she has long since stopped correcting them. Her warm and inviting demeanor suits the honorary title anyway.

Howie and I have inherited our dark almond-shaped eyes from our mother. Her round face too. However, my mother is small and almost seems frail. She never takes up much space and always looks out for the people around her. She’s the perfect mother and mate.

“Okay. I’ll do the chores after work then.” I put my lunch in my bag and grab my customary apple.

The peaceful morning is brought to an end by my brother’s thunderous footsteps running down the stairs.

“Let’s go!”