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ONE | NEW TOWN

I set down my worn, black duffle on the fold-up cot I've called my bed for the last five years. My new room is simple, white-washed walls bare and silent, like so many others before them. And they'll stay bare while I'm here, lugging around decorations all this time would have been a bad idea, considering I've been on the run since I was ten. I pull out my phone, an old bulky model that I bought at a convenient store last week before I left the last town. The black rectangle flashes at me as I examine it - waiting for the daily call that I receive around this time. As if on cue, the screen lights up with a blocked caller ID and I answer it almost immediately.

"Made it in one piece, huh?" I ask casually, laying back on my creaky cot as the sounds of rustling leaves replies.

"More or less." A female voice answers after a moment. She sounds tired, more than usual anyway. My eyes fall closed as I listen to the sounds on the other end of the line, footsteps on pavement, trees rustling in the fall wind in the background, the more distant chaos of a school playground and the gentle burble of running water. If I stay really quiet, I can almost see her too. She'll be wandering the streets of a quiet town, eyes trained on the sidewalk ahead as she talks to me. Her strawberry-blonde hair tied up securely in a bun, silvery streaks of age threading through the brilliant color and her crystalline blue eyes watching the trees and streets vigilantly - warily. "I assume you're settled?"

"More or less." I murmur back, knowing she's probably scowling at my reply and chuckle a little to myself. "I just got the last of my stuff from the car, I'll finish settling in once they turn the water and electricity on in a few hours." I tell her, smiling a little as my eyes open again. I hear her stop walking, the sounds of the town filling the silence for a moment.

"I wish I could have been there to help you at the last town but-"

"I know, mom." I cut her off, closing my eyes again, letting the fading light from outside slowly turn the white room a bloody orange. "Our combined scents would alert the Pack." I repeat what she taught me from when we first split up four years ago. We'd stayed together for all but one year while I recovered from my trial, one measly year before our combined scents alerted the Pack to our whereabouts and we had to separate. Only one out of almost seven years we were together. Then again, there was that time in Brooksfield when I'd been hospitalized for a couple of weeks, she'd stayed with me then, too. But only for a few days. Not that I'd ever bring that up ever again, but we've learned even a second near each other could alert the Reinier's to our location.

"I'm close." She finally says, changing the subject easily, and I can hear her walking again, her pace has quickened into a more silent sound. The way it does when she's agitated. "This Pack I'm looking into is normally pretty good about taking in strays, so maybe they'll have us too. I'm meeting with their Alpha tonight."

"That sounds promising." I say, but there's no enthusiasm in my words. She's been 'close' before. A few years back she'd found a Pack that was willing to take us in - until they found out who we were running from. Instead, they alerted our old Pack and we were almost caught. Again. I haven't trusted any other Wolven since then.

"I'm trying, Wisty." She sighs, the sound harsh after the silence. She sounds exhausted, maybe not physically, but emotionally, and I have to say I can't really blame her. I'm sick of this, too. Maybe even more than she is since this entire mess is all my fault.

"I know, mom." I breathe, running my hand over my face and through my hair.

"You're starting school tomorrow, aren't you?" She changes the subject again, and I let the old topic go, twirling my fingers through my long red curls absently. Maybe I should cut it? I'd let it grow out since we left the Reinier's, but maybe it's time for another change? Maybe not.

"Yeah, I got my schedule already and anything." I pull a folded paper from my left pocket, opening the sheet before she can ask. Mom always likes to know my schedule - just in case. "Home room with Lewis, Physics with Shannery, Algebra II with Harris, American Lit. with Hale, Latin with Jin, American History with Barnaby, Choir with Jones, and PE with Lyle." I read out.

"Hale and Jin?" Mom's voice suddenly becomes emotionless and I realized she's stopped walking and I frown, looking back over the list and locate the names.

"Yeah. For Am-Lit, and Latin." I sit up, listening more intently as Mom's breathing becomes more regular - like she's trying to control herself. "You now them?" She's never so controlled unless it's for a reason, like when we left, she used the same tone. Like she's trying not to give something away. Like she's purposely not telling me everything.

"If they're the same two I'm thinking about, yeah. From a while back - before we left the Pack, I knew them," Mom trails off, like she's deep in thought now. "They're good people, last I heard they'd joined a new-age Pack. Azure, I think." She sounds thoughtful now. "I gotta go now, Wisty. I'll call you tomorrow." Weird.

"Alright." I murmur slowly, wondering what she's not telling me. The line goes dead and I look at the flashing time, just under three minutes, before it fades out and I put the device back in my pocket. I glance at the duffle by my door, it's filled with my clothes and a few toiletries I've collected over the last few years. I lean over the cot and pull the heavy black thing onto the bed beside me and open it, starting the familiar process of unpacking.

As a Wolven - half Wolven, anyway, I've learned that fashion really isn't worth spending precious money or time on. Not when every time I shift said clothes tend to be shredded. After five years, I still haven't figured out how to shift with my clothes on, a skill most purebred pups learn after a year. It makes shifting awkward to say the least, having to strip down and redress each and every time. Maybe that's why I've been avoiding it for the last few months. I've been more anxious in that time, I'll admit, and there's a constant anger from my Wolven side. My Wolven instincts being suppressed like this makes me feel a little crazy. On edge, and all my senses are more hyper aware. I haven't had a decent night of sleep in weeks, every noise wakes me up.

Of course, in the last town, slightly larger than this one, I'd been avoiding shifting because an entirely different reason. There had been a larger night population, humans seemed to own every hour of the day, and night belonged to the other Wolven in the area. Shifting on the other Pack's territory would have been like throwing an armed grenade into their homes. But that's not while I left. I'd broken one of mom's rules, one of the easier ones to keep, but because of that, I learned first hand exactly why she'd enforced it. I had made a friend. Now, it's not making friends that mom disapproves of, it's the bond that comes with it, the obligation to look after another person that's dangerous. That's why I left, I'd almost exposed the existence of Wolven to a human because of certain things I could explain to her. Now she's in a mental institution.

My hands pause over a little shoe box, a soft rustle of papers inside as I set the thing down my lap soothes me, like the sound of rustling leaves or the pages of a book. I open the box, letting the hinged lid tap against my knees as I pull out a stack of photos. Dating back from the very first town mom and I stayed in to the present, a Polaroid of the entrance to the town from my car's windshield. Bright, multicolored leaves frame the welcome sign, 'Welcome to Kiwina!' In fancy black calligraphy.

When moving to a new town, mom decided that we would close our eyes, and throw three knives at a map from at least thirty feet away, then go into the town in the very center of the triangle. It made switching towns more exciting and a lot harder to track. This time this town was located on near the ocean. Because the Reinier Pack is also on the east coast mom and I had been avoiding getting too close to the ocean. But we've been to too many towns closer to the center of the States and the west coast isn't exactly a safe area for stray Wolven.

I begin flipping through the photos, remembering the instance where I'd taken each one. From the train leaving the last town, just outside city hall with my old human friend in the last town, the entrance of the last town, the hitchhiking route I'd taken before that, and so on until I reach the very last - well, first, photo. Vibrant green trees hover on the edges of a flattened land, a stream running through the huge property and lots of, mostly red headed, Wolven are going about their daily business. The ocean can be seen just beyond the houses on the far right, the sun shining happily above, and everything seems so happy. That was the morning before my tenth birthday, the morning before I was sentenced to death by my family and escaped with my mom.

My skin begins to ache at the very thought of that night. Wolven have accelerated healing abilities, with the exception of being attacked by one of their own Pack. That's why most Pack's deal with their issues internally. I glance at my sleeved arms, the jeans that stretch down to my socks stare at the ground. The few inches of visible skin on my hands aren't so badly scarred, but they're are a few, thick and puckered pink lines that have been very hard to explain to concerned adults. Not to mention the ones on my neck. So long as I'm still apart of the Reinier Pack, my scars will never truly heal.

At least this town is still up north, meaning wearing long pants and turtlenecks is acceptable.

I put the photos back, shutting the lid and storing the box under my bed. The cot groans as I stand and stretch before making my way down the pale hallway and into the kitchen. A box labeled kitchen sits on the island where the sink is and I shuffle over to it. Mom always insists that I try to remain self sufficient when I can around human towns, so she taught me about basic pant care and hunting. Apparently, purchases of large amounts of food is one telltale sign a person is Wolven and a major way you can be tracked - especially by Hunters. But we've been careful and Hunters are rare, normally going after Wolven without Packs.

I fish out a few potted plants from the box and carry them outside, going to the little greenhouse on the edge of the property. I'd picked this place specifically because of the location and fact that it came with a greenhouse. The windows are dirty, covered in dead leaved and filth, but the inside is clean enough. A work bench has been set up and lines one wall of the house, the far corner has a few bags of fertilizer and empty pots, a hose snakes around the entire room. I set the pots down on the table top of the bench, checking on each one to make sure they haven't picked up any pests on the way here. Tomato, potato, berries and the last container holding a variety of herbs is all that I was able to bring from the last town. I'd had an entire mini garden at the last house, but unlike this place, it'd been farther south where the weather didn't affect the plants as much. What with the unexpected move, I was only able to bring a few plants with me. I'll have to start over again, maybe this time I'll try to keep at least a few more in pots for a faster getaway.

My eyes catch sight of the trees a little farther away, leading to the outskirts of town where a small forest seems to call to me. The longer I stare at the fall colored leaves, a few evergreen trees sprinkled here and there, I feel my Wolven side long for a hunt. I hear myself let out a little whine as I turn my back on the trees and march back inside the house, promising myself to go hunt if all goes well tomorrow. Moving to a new town has been stressful enough to where, as the sun disappears behind the trees and night falls, exhaustion settles over me. After a quick shower I change into a tank top and shorts, unable to stop myself from staring at the horrifying scars from my childhood that mar my pale skin. The bathroom lights are bright and unwelcoming as I stare at myself. Dark sapphire eyes warily glide over the angry red lines of puckered skin that still haven't fully healed, they're grouped more closely together the closer they are to my torso.

I look down at my legs, my curly red hair falling into my line of sight and making the scars stand out all the more. I freeze, the bright red reminding me of the night I was cast out when there had been so much blood - my blood - everywhere. I close my eyes tightly, feeling the scars now throbbing phantomly against my skin. I shudder, reaching out and flipping the light switch. Before opening my eyes again and making my way back into my room. I collapse on to the cot, relaxing a little as the familiar groan of the old frame greets me and nutty my face in my thin pillow, praying this whole mess will be over soon. I dare to hope for a moment that everything will work out with the Pack mom's found. I dare to let the thought of seeing my mother again warm the cold of my past and close my eyes against the rising moon as the soft light filters into my room.

And for the first time in ten years, I drift off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

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