1 Wolf’s out of the bag (1/2)
It became an awkward moment. I let go of my cousin's shoulder and stepped back a bit. Running Elk obviously needed a moment to take it all in.
”You ok?” I asked.
Running Elk shook his head, taking half a step backward. It took a moment before words managed to spit their way out my cousin's throat. ”Ok? Damn, cuz, you always played up the wolf you were named after, but to actually be...”
Running Elk paused, his eyes a little wide. I gave him a small smile, shrugging my shoulders a little. The times I'd daydreamed about showing someone what I was couldn't compare to actually revealing it to my cousin. The nervous fear in his eyes had me worried.
”I'm still me. You've known me your whole life. My being able to become a wolf doesn't change who I am, who I've always been.”
My words seemed to reassure him.He snorted. ”True, you've always been... wolffish.”
We shared a grin. So many times we played together in the woods as young children, with me pretending to be the wolf I truly was. Running Elk wagged a finger at me. ”You never even hinted that you were a real frigging werewolf!”
”Council said not to tell anyone,” I said with another shrug.
”Not even me? That hurts cuz. And your mom, man!” Running Elk let out a nervous, choked-down chuckle. ”Not quite the spirit I was looking for tonight. And to think she named you Little Wolf! No wonder you liked story-time so much! Did you pose for the covers...oww, damn, cuz,” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm and glaring at me.
I felt bad for my instinctual jab, but mom's books were a tender subject. Both my dad and Grandfather had tried to convince my mom not to print them, for different reasons. Myself, I defended anything to do with my mom, now more than ever. I sighed, looking down in a bit of shame. I knew better than to let my emotions get the upper hand.
”Sorry, cuz.”
”Aw, it's alright. The books are awesome, and your mom...”
Another long silence. Running Elk took in the grief still in me, finally looking away. When he looked back, his eyes were filled with an appraising look that went on until I began to get uncomfortable. I moved back against the small rise behind us and sat down. It took a moment, but Running Elk finally joined me.
”The other wolves?” my cuz finally asked.
”Just regular wolves, 'cept dad,” I replied.
”You sure?”
”Human wolves wouldn't want to fight for den territory,” I explained with a shrug. ”It would be cool, though, finding someone else like me. Can't picture someone who could be a man wanting to live out here as wolves though, raise their kids out here.”
”Your dad was the big black one? Stupid question, of course he was,” Running Elk answered himself, giving a small disparaging snort. ”Silly of me to ask if Uncle Black Wolf was the big black one.”
”Yeah,” I replied with a grin. I couldn't think of anyone that called my dad by his proper name. Everyone in the tribe called him Black Wolf.
”He's not a timber wolf,” Running Elk said thoughtfully.
No, dad wasn't like the thinner, lithe, and usually grey wolves found in and around the Rocky Mountains. Dad's wolf was stockier than the wolves found in America, completely black. My own wolf form was mostly black, with whites, creams and greys in my neck, paws, and underside.
”European wolf, cuz,” I told him, ”straight out of the Black Forest.”
Another silence filled with unasked questions and a troubling look. I knew how analytical Running Elk was. He'd think things through until he had the shortest question that would give him the most valuable information first.
”Any werewolves in the rest of the tribe?”
”No,” I pause, ”except dad bit mom, way after they were married. She wanted him to. Council members are the only ones who know,” I added.
A grunt was all I got in response, followed by another long pause.
”You're wrong.”
Running Elks pronouncement startled me. Did he mean he knew of another werewolf, or that someone other than the Elders knew? Neither of my assumptions made sense.
Running Elk and I had often played our own 'who done it' game, similar to Twenty Questions. Playing this familiar game with my cousin, even in these bizarre circumstances, helped bring things back to a bit of normalcy.
Yeah, werewolf with a ghost mom, normal.
We'll get to that eventually. Right now, I didn't even want to deal with it, no matter how absolutely great it was having that last mangled image of her replaced by tonight's ethereal vision.
So, what was I wrong about? I grunted to indicate that he should enlighten me.
”We didn't dream, and your mom doesn't qualify as an animal spirit guide,” he told me with exasperation.
Ah, my little joking quip from a moment ago. So, still no spirit guide for me. Nothing like disappointing Grandfather, again. Then I cheered up a bit. I wasn't out here for my dream hunt.
”You still have time,” I told him.
”Hmm.”
The silence was more comfortable this time, settling into the pauses that were natural for our word game. Still...
”So, your mom.”
”Yeah,” I sighed.
How to describe what it meant to see her again, to feel her love? Maybe there was more to the supernatural world than just me and dad.
”Wish I knew more, cuz.”
”Hmm.”
The silence drew out. Running Elk and I would break the world record for being talkative, I thought sardonically. We seldom needed words to communicate the important stuff, we were that close. Usually all we needed was a few looks and hand motions.