I HAD A DREAM I WAS A WEREWOLF

     What hurt more than the pain that held onto her heart was to see her wife in pain. Hana missed the Estelle she had married, the one who laughed and enjoyed life and did not look so sad all the time. She figured the same could be said about herself – but she worried more about her wife than herself. “Elle, look at me,” she said softly, bringing their foreheads together. “You don’t have to be sorry. And no, we will never be the same again. But we will get better. We will find a way to be happy again. It will be a different happiness, but we will make it work. I believe in us – do you?”

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She revelled in the warmth of the other woman— the love of her life, whose touch was gentle and familiar, a tether to keep her from losing her way. In death and in darkness, it would be Hana’s voice that she trailed after, hands outstretched, seeking to be held one more time. Dark eyes flickered up, finding the seriousness in her wife’s gaze, before she nodded. “It feels so raw still, like it hurts to breathe.” She swallowed, “I believe in us, I believe in you.” Her hand drew over Hana’s hair, feeling the strands under the tips of her fingers as she whispered the same three words over and over, a mantra and a promise that through all things this one would not change: I love you, I love you, I love you.

The crow sits perched on a tree limb, an unknowing vessel that Lila has latched onto in order to peer in through the window of the building she intends to break into later. It’s not a perfect angle, but it is the closest she can find without giving herself away directly. But the winged creature is under no obligations to hold still simply for Lila’s sake, and soon she finds it taking off in flight, soaring further and further away from herself until— she snaps back into her body like a rubber band, consciousness returned and no longer sitting with the blankness life-sized doll on the park bench. Lila moves to rub her forehead from the brief strain, before noticing she is not as alone as when she had begun. The water witch jumps in surprise, her body shifting away from the other person instinctively. “Forgive me, I did not realize you were there. You frightened me,” she says, clutching at her chest lightly. ( @corinthbaystarters​ )

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After picking up a cup of hot tea, the werewolf had wandered into the park. It was somewhere peaceful and beautiful that she sought out to enjoy her drink, but it seemed as though everyone else in Corinth had the same idea, flooding the park with people and their dogs and children. She found a bench that only had one occupant, a lone woman who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, pleasant enough company for someone who preferred to simply be still for a while. Her initial greeting went without notice and as a result she settled in, sipping at the top of her cup. Then, as if struck by lightning, the witch moved, inching away immediately. “Sorry,” Estelle said, scooting over. “I tried to say hello. What were you thinking about, it seemed like you were a little lost.”

The soft smile that stretched over Kit’s lips reached his eyes as she mimicked his howdy and he felt his cheeks flush a bit, forgetting not everyone was from the south like him. Grabbing the cloth over his shoulder to wipe down his hands he headed out of the stall and approached her. The sun hitting his face warmed him up from the cold shade in the stalls, he let out a soft exhale from his nose and followed her gaze towards a nice grassy spot untouched by the animals, nice a lush. “Sure.” following after her he nodded along to her introduction, “That’s a lovely name, Miss Elle.” sinking himself onto the grass and crossing his legs underneath him he looked at the seemingly endless items she was able to pull out of her basket. Like Mary Poppins. He thought to himself. “Uh, I don’t think i’ve ever had eggplant?” he tilted his head to the side, “Ain’t that the purple vegetable?” 

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She enjoyed the company of younger wolves, they were as uncertain and unsteady as the colts that Erik housed in his stables— he was drawn to them in the same way that she was, it was in her inherent nature to be a caretaker. Estelle was no novice to impromptu picnics and as a result she began to heap food onto a plate: if Kit was anything like the others were, his appetite was endless, only matched by her enjoyment of cooking and her tendency to over prepare when it came to making meals. “The purple one, yes.” Stabbing the serving with a fork from her basket, she passed it over the Kit. “Let me know what you think. These days, my only taste tester is my wife and I’m pretty sure she just likes to make me feel good even if the food isn’t that great. I need total honesty.”

The description sounded gruesome. Though why someone would go to such lengths over a few possessions were beyond him. This sounded almost… Personal, a vendetta maybe. The electronics that had been stolen probably just a cover, unless the thieves were a pair of psychopaths as well. It didn’t matter now though, they were gone. More young lives that were cruelly snatched away for reasons that would never make him feel any better. His shot was gone quickly and too quickly Erik was refilling their glasses. The old wolf knew grief well and nothing about this needed to be about him, he had loved them as if they were his own, but they were not his own. They were hers and Hana’s. Infringing upon their feelings wasn’t his place, nor was it their responsibility to make him feel any better about it. “What can I do?” Erik asked instead, because there truly was nothing else to be said. 

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Estelle’s hand rubbed at her face, smoothing over the ridge of her cheek and biting into her jaw. She didn’t wish for his pity— and she was glad that he didn’t offer it. Instead, it was a solemn understanding that he bore on his features: he was an old wolf, as was she and she knew that life had not been kind to him at times. They understood grief intimately, they didn’t need to speak of it to know the pain that it brought. She took the next drink, feeling the burn of alcohol as she swallowed, eyes wincing closed before the feeling faded and her belly was hot again. “Nothing,” she said easily, finding his gaze— cerulean and unwavering. “It is enough that you are here, just to see you.” Estelle reached for his hand, and it was weathered from years of hard work, and slipped her own in it with a squeeze. “You are family, we needed to be with family again.”

“You are welcomed back any time.” It’s not really an offer Remzi can make, but he would dare someone to contradict him anyhow. Estelle had been much a staple of the pack as anyone, when he had first joined. Though he shied away from forming any personal ties for the longest time, she and Hana had always been kind enough to extend the invitation out to him anyways, and he hasn’t forgotten that. Time spent away means little, in the face of her family. “Come in, come inside,” he steps back, gesturing for her to follow him. It’s late, but it’s not as if Remzi gets much sleep, anyways. “What brought you back?” He asks, eyeing her curiously from the side. There’s a difference to her now, a sort of sadness in the way she carries herself that Remzi isn’t sure what to make of. 

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The Argos was a family that felt like a birthright to Estelle, her surname was Alanis and she had ties to the history of the pack that were significant— but it meant more that they would want her back, than the fact that she thought they would always hold a place for her. She followed Remzi into the gym, and dark eyes darted around the room, taking in the place that he had built all on his own, an empire for himself in a place she was sure he would have darted away from if given the chance. “We missed all of you,” Estelle answered, and she knew it was cagey— but it was late and she didn’t quite feel like crying, not yet. Her attention turned to Remzi, studying his features. “You look well, has this place kept you busy?” Her head tipped and she paired off a smile, “I trust you’ve stayed out of trouble?”

     Hana had been passionate about talking it out right after the disaster happened. She wanted nothing more than to talk about their feelings, but it had turned into the biggest mistake when for a second it looked as if they would break apart over it. Instead they came out stronger, but ever since she had grown cautious about voicing her thoughts and feelings. Hana thought intently about her answer as she let her fingertips brush against Estelle’s collarbone. Her wife’s words described exactly how she felt, and it hurt. It hurt to know they would never be complete again. “I thought it would be a good idea. And I still do, to some extent. It’s good to be in a different house, but the memories are still there. Maybe they’re not tied to a drawing on the wall or a hole in the floor but… when I make pancakes I still think of their laughter in the background, and when I’m in the garden I expect them to come running outside.” Hana’s voice faltered and she had to stop herself for a moment before she continued to talk. “It rips me apart when I have to tell people what happened. I’m not sure how many more times I can do that.”

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Under the covers, Estelle brought up her feet, tucking herself smaller as Hana reached out to touch her. There had once been a time when they had both bloomed in one another’s presence, but now she felt as though it was Hana’s warmth that was the only thing that kept her from falling apart at the seams. She didn’t close her eyes, not when it meant shutting away the image of the woman in front of her, but instead she swallowed thickly. “We’re never going to be the same,” she murmured, and the words fell like ash over a fire. “Our lives will always be different, they’ll always be a hole in it.” Estelle tucked in a breath. “I love you, so much. I’m sorry that this has happened to us.”

The new was not good and very shortly after Estelle’s expression fell, Erik’s too followed suit. He knew loss, he knew what it looked like - felt like. The way the color in Estelle’s eye clouded over, the manner in which the air between them turned rigid and hard, it felt like that. She took a seat and Erik followed after, mirroring her own movement as the old wolf sat down opposite the other wolf. Oaths of vengeance and blood would come later, he would find the people responsible and he would grind their bones into dust. Break them limb from limb and beat the remains into there was nothing left but puss and viscera. Rage flashed across Erik’s features as his lip twitched, a scowl formed over normally jovial eyes, but he stilled himself and the wolf that clawed for release within. They were children. Children. And now they were gone. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Erik said as he tipped his head towards her, deciding all at once that the bakery was closed for the day he flipped the sign and locked the door. “We’re drinking.” He said instead because he needed to be on his feet and occupy his hands that idly itched to rip apart flesh. Erik filled a pair of glasses of liquor he kept below the counter and slid one over to Estelle before he managed to sit back down. The baker was quiet for a moment before he asked at last and broke the silence that had etched its way into his features. “Did they suffer?”

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There was a table between them, and Estelle wished instead that she could have curved into Erik’s arms for an embrace, something to keep the ground from swaying below her or her stomach from flipping. She needed an anchor and without Hana she felt like something unmoored, slowly casting out to sea in the heart of a dark storm. They had tried to prepare themselves for this, knowing that telling each person in their life what had happened would feel like that day all over again, on repeat until everyone knew. Then, it would be the next cycle of sympathetic gazes and low whispers; nothing would be real until the wound closed and for now: it would not be so easily stitched. She reached for the glass gladly, sniffing to ward away the tears, to keep her dark eyes from growing too glassy in the company of an old friend. Before she spoke, she drank, perhaps too deep and enough to make her cough. “Yes.” The police report had told them that much, a double murder— the room had been a sea of shattered glass and broken furniture and all of it was covered in so much red: a blood letting that was caused by someone with intent. “Zoey tried, they said.” She was just a girl, a baby witch who had barely managed to get a grasp on her magic, it looked as though a tornado had torn through the room and it wasn’t enough. “I don’t know who it was, what it was. They took the television, and the computer.” A few electronics was all that their daughters lives had been worth, Estelle tipped the glass back. “We couldn’t be in that house anymore.”

    Hana had read and learned everything she could about grief and the loss of a child. But no lecture was close to the real thing. Nothing could compare to the way it felt to know that her desperate wish for their children to come through the door wouldn’t be fulfilled. Instead she moved closer to Estelle and rested her forehead against the other woman’s. “How could I ever forget his apple pie? It’s as infamous as our lasagna.” It was nice to talk about these things, to pretend like life was alright, as if they didn’t both have a huge hole in their hearts. “I wouldn’t say no to some apple pie tomorrow. If he’s willing to bake us some.”

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“Are you glad to be back here?” Estelle asked the question cautiously, reaching out to card some of Hana’s dark hair behind her ear. It was silky between her fingers, and she drew her thumb along the bottom swell of the other woman’s full lip— she was so beautiful, there had never been a time that she hadn’t of thought so. Everything in life, they had done together and she had whispered to the gods that she had adopted when the Alanis family had adopted her, thanks for it often. Whomever was in charge of her fate, high up in the heavens, had done her one good deed in a sea of disservices, and it was Hana. “Do you think this was a mistake?” It was hard to continue to talk about pie and lasagna, of dinners made with everyone around the table, when there would be two seats left unfilled, and two plates that would be untouched. “Everytime someone asks about them,” Elle tucked in a breath and found that it was shaky. “I feel as though I’m being cut in half, as if I keep saying it, telling them what has happened, I won’t be able to open my eyes and wake up from this dream. This will be real life for us, and they’ll never come home to us again.”

Kit had just finished untacking the horses and brushing them down, wiping sweat from his forehead with a swipe from the back of his hand. Patting the last ones neck, “Good girl.” and giving her a sugar cube. The sound of a human voice nearly had him jump out of his skin, not expecting anyone to be around. Taking the mare he’d been cleaning by the reigns he led her back into her stall before greeting the new stranger. Another werewolf. “Oh yeah. Howdy.” he flashed a smile and a little wave, watching as she pet one of the horses, clearly a friend to the ranch. “Yeah Kit Berker,” his eyes dropped to the picnic basket, and his stomach instinctively let out a low growl. “Yeah. Yeah I’m down to join you,” a warm smile tugged at his lips as he pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his back pocket, “uh I’m sorry I don’t know your name.” 

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“Howdy,” Estelle echoed, smiling at the greeting. A stray from overseas, Erik seemed to have outdone himself with collecting those who needed him and bringing them back to the pack. He had always been that way, with enough heart to carry them all. It was something that she aspired to now, to have people to take care of; a sense of responsibility felt as though it would drive her life back in it’s original focus, with her original purpose. “Come on then, we’ll eat on the grass.” She gestured towards the lawn, and began to move. “Estelle Alanis-Song, but it’s a mouthful.” Her head tilted and she set the basket down, pulling items and plates out, “You can call me Elle, if you’d like. Do you like eggplant?”

A familiar face was always a welcome one, particularly when Erik knew it came associated with little ones. The old wolf loved children, he’d lost his own two centuries prior and watching fellow pack members raise their kids among the Argos had been one of the many joys of his considerable life. “Estelle.” Erik said warmly, his smile and eyes equally bright before his irises dotted to either side of her before curiosity donned his expression. It was unlike them to miss a trip to the bakery, particularly when Erik was so apt to spoil them. “Welcome home.” He said fondly, “Where are the kids?”

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Warmth slipped from her expression, like rain down a window pane and she tucked in a breath. Despite the preparation that Estelle had attempted, the speeches that she had given herself in the mirror for when this exact question would be asked— it bodied her every time, making her feel as though she was slipping beneath the earth. Of course he wanted to know what was happening with them, the last time he had seen Lily she had been accustomed to clinging to his arm, and he had a bad habit of sending Zoey off with enough treats to ruin whatever dinner she had prepared at home. The wolf found a seat, settling into it before drawing her hands to her lap and letting out a breath that emptied her entire chest. “No one told you, did they?” Sorrow curved around the words, and she looked up at him, trying to find a way to put it together without dissolving into something incoherent. “Someone came to the house, when Hana and I were out. They’re—“ Estelle shook her head, and dark lashes fringed heavily with the threat of tears spilling over. “They’re gone.”

    It was a statement filled with pain, and it caused Hana’s heart to ache. Her eyes closed as she tried not to let tears form because of something as simple as the flowers that were the namesake for one of their daughters. “Just make sure not to trample all over my wildflower seeds.” It was a poor attempt at lighting up the atmosphere, but it was all that she had to offer in this moment. It was hard to be happy, especially in moments like this, in the grey in between zone of night and day and no eyes on them. But the idea of taking care of anyone sat in her chest like a knife, her daughters’ voices whispering in her ear that she was already forgetting them. But I’m not. Hana opened her eyes to look at Estelle again, smiling once more. “That’s a wonderful idea. I agree we should get to know them all better, too. What about this weekend? I don’t think we have any plans.”

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Estelle reached over, drawing her hand gently along Hana’s cheek. She leaned in, pressing a kiss gently to her lips, swallowing the promise to do everything with care— to do things without breaking anything. Each day felt like shattering though a layer of glass, rising inside a crystal coffin where she thought, for a moment or two, that things had not changed: that the girls would come barrelling in the room, that the world would continue to spin. The air would get used up and she would cut her skin on shattered glass and face the world, bleeding and crippled by loss. It would get easier, someone assured her, and she wondered what was worse: to feel the pain, or to slowly grow numb to it. She swallowed, tethered by Hana, her constant. They would survive this, they would survive anything, it had been her promise at the altar and it was one that she would keep. “This weekend then, I’ll tell Erik. He can start baking.” A smile touched at Estelle’s lips. “Remember his apple pie? Maybe I should bring us one home tomorrow.”

It’s late in the evening, Remzi isn’t expecting anyone to come by. The gym is already long closed, but he’s making a last sweep of the equipment to make sure everything is in order for the next morning. There’s hardly any foot traffic around here this time of night, so he isn’t expecting anyone’s arrival. Least of all a ghost from the past. But this one wears a smile, and offers warmth rather than a haunting. Remzi crosses the distance, opening the door wide, an expression of disbelief across his features. “Estelle?” It’s been years since he’s seen the other wolf, least he had heard she moved out into the country with her family, retired to a life of peace away from this city and he could not blame her for it. Remzi wraps her up in a hug immediately, patting against her back gently as he grins. “It’s good to see you, old friend. But what are you doing here?” 

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She lifted her hand, waving in the window before he swung the door open, pulling her inside with the warmth of an embrace. It’s easy to fall into it, to curve into his arms— Remzi was Argos, he was family. Estelle clutched at him for a moment, before she pulled back, studying a tiredness under his eyes, painted dark and unmoving (some things didn’t change, she supposed, but now it seemed as though it matched her own features) before wearing a smile of her own. “Hana and I are back in the city, we—“ How much was she able to say without choking on the words? The werewolf navigated the words with a hitch, swallowing down what she didn’t dare say until he asked. “We needed to come home again.”

     Hana knew the cycle of staying home too well. She saw it with many of her patients, but he had seen it with Estelle before as well. Staying home led to falling into a hole, which led to negative emotions increasing, which led to a depression cycle that was hard to get out of. But she still remembered how it ended the last time she tried to interfere — she remembered the yelling, the painful words. And so she merely resumed to let her fingertips brush against her wife’s soft skin. “Okay, if that’s what feels right for you,” she offered in a soft tone, twirling one of Estelle’s dark locks around her finger. Her lips curled up into the ghost of a smile, and she nodded. “That would be nice. Like a barbecue?” Fill the house with noise and laughter like it used to be, it was a wonderful idea.

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“I’m going to plant lilies in the front garden,” Estelle murmured, “And sunflowers against the fence. For the girls.” Their home was small now, without the extra bedrooms that held quiet voices, and laughter didn’t cling to the walls like the spaghetti that they had thrown from the pot when Hana wasn’t looking. She saw them, like ghosts sometimes, and she was glad to have not forgotten their faces— but still hurt for the loss. They had to move on, and she didn’t want Hana to worry, matching her smile with one of her own, just as fragile. “A barbecue, yes. There’s so many mouths to feed now, Erik has done his work at bringing every stray around the city to join the pack.” She looked up, “I think it would be nice to be important to them again, to be able to take care of some of the younger ones.”

“So you’re the one I’ve heard so much about,” Estelle said as she walked into the stables of Erik’s ranch. The horses were familiar to her and she reached out to draw her hand down the velvety nose of one of the mares who whinnied in response, turning her attention to the werewolf who stood at the end of the building. “Kit, right?” Her burdened arm was weighed down with a picnic basket, and she lifted it slightly. “I’m a friend of Erik’s, and the Argos.” A friendly smile curved her mouth, as she studied him in the same way that one did an animal prone to dart under bright lights. “Want to take a lunch break? I promise I didn’t bring pie, you’re probably sick of pie by now.”