3 Ch 3 Connected (1/2)

Loping back toward home in the pre-dawn darkness, shoulder to shoulder with my dad,gave me such a feeling of comfort and completeness. We had connected up during the night, getting to know our new neighbors. Dad and I had left the new pack behind, the two of us hunting for small game and playing together.

Dad and I were so close physically that our shoulders or sides touched most of the time. We would part for the occasional leap over an obstacle then come back together again. We had the same pace, similar height now, although he was still huskier than I was and a bit taller in the shoulder. I could only hope that we would be closer emotionally as well. I know he loved me, but the last year, especially the last few months, had been hard and lonely with Mom gone.

Our home was on the outskirts of our community, right up against the woods. Dad led the way along the row of bushes to the opening in the crawl space under our trailer, ensuring privacy for wolffish excursions. Dad made the leap up through the opening he had made in the floor of the spare bedroom. He was shifting even as he made the awkward jump up. By the time I had scrambled up and finished shifting in the hall, he was already opening the fridge, shaking his head at its sparse offerings.

”How long was I out there?” he asked, his voice a bit rough from lack of use. He pulled out what was left of the lunch meat.

I finished sliding on the pair of shorts I nabbed and threw him his before answering.

”About a month,” I answered as I pulled out the bread. ”Don't forget the mayo and mustard while you're in there. People were beginning to talk, wondering if you'd be back for the start of classes in a few weeks.”

He took the time to set everything on the pine table, started to close the fridge door, reopened it to grab the milk, before closing the fridge tight. He finally got around to putting on his shorts.

”That long? I'm truly sorry, son, I thought it was only a week, two at the most. You must have thought I'd abandoned you.”

There was remorse and pain in his eyes as he turned to me. We had done nothing but continually snap at each other then act like nothing happened since Mom died. We'd both be apologetic, then before long we would be going off on each other again. The cycle had been continually repeating more often for the few months before his extended run. The thought that he had caused me pain while lost in his own sorrow tortured him. I was quick to reassure him.

”Nah, I know you needed some time, and a bit of space. I think we both did,” I added softly.

I had looked down in a bit of shame over our behavior without even thinking. Looking back up I couldn't help but grin, trying to keep my tone a bit cheerful without overdoing it.

”Uncle Two Feathers had me over often enough for dinner, and even Grandfather invited me over a few times.”

Making it sound like I had been invited by my uncle was stretching the truth a little. Running Elk had literally and forcefully dragged me out of my house again and again to join him on his summertime excursions. He hadn't given either me nor his parents any choice but for me to join his family for dinner for most of the last month.

Grandfather on the other hand was a different story. I knew Grandfather was a touchy subject. The old chief still had mixed feelings about his only daughter's choice of a spouse, even after all this time.

Grandfather saw my father as a stranger, not of the people, and only tolerated because my mother loved him. That my father was bound to the wolf, as my grandfather saw it, caused a bit of awe mixed with concern. As much as I knew my grandfather loved me, I think the old man also resented my very existence. He never liked the changes my mother desired in order to be able to give birth to me.

I figured maybe it would be easier if I got everything out at once. I tried to be nonchalant about things as I put my sandwich together across from him.

”I was kinda surprised Grandfather approved of the job offer I got while you were out.”

A quick look of surprise coupled with the pain and guilt of abandoning me during his own grief washed over my father's face. I flashed him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

”Glasses,” he said, pointing with his chin while his hands worked on the sandwiches.

I could tell by the glance he gave at the empty sink that he was pretty sure I hadn't bothered using a glass while drinking down the carton. I could almost hear what mom would say every time she thought I was sneaking a drink without bothering with a glass. He was silent as he gave the milk a quick sniffed to make sure it hadn't spoiled before emptying the last of it into the two glasses I had set on the counter.