The pack members who’d remained behind worked on window covers and wood splitting during the day.  And, they joined us for each meal.  We seemed to have developed a pattern, a boring one.  I knew it was ridiculous to feel bored—bored was better than bitten—but after the excitement of the last few weeks, the quiet was unnatural.

Friday morning I woke feeling grumpy and not alone.

Thomas lay on his side next to me, watching me as I opened my eyes.

“I warned you,” I said a moment before I pushed him off the bed with my hands.

He hit the floor with a thud but immediately sat up and scowled at me.

“I didn’t sleep in your room.  I came to wake you up.”

“You were in my bed without permission,” I said, getting out of bed.

He studied me while I straightened the sheets and blanket.

“You’re unusually upset.  Didn’t you sleep well?”

“I slept fine,” I said, turning to look at the clean clothes in my dresser.  I’d done laundry yesterday.  The men had finished the windows and planned a junk yard run again today to see if they could find anything they could repair and send with Winifred to sell.  I had absolutely nothing to do. Not only that, but as I’d anticipated, I saw very little of Mary.  Thomas checked in on me often but mostly stayed outside doing whatever he did.  I was lonely.

“Thomas,” I turned toward him, “I’m...bored.”

“You just lied.”

With a sigh, I sat on the bed.

“I’m lonely.”

He sat next to me, his arm barely touching mine, and looked down at his hands.

“Do you miss your family?”

“I try not to think about them,” I said.  Yet even saying that brought forth the image of my parents.  “But when I do, I miss them so much it hurts.”

“Will you go back to them?”

“No.  Never.  I love them too much.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you stay.  You have family out there and miss them.  Here you’ve been attack repeatedly, are resented by many, protected by a few...why stay?”

He turned and looked at me, his focused gaze unnerving me.  I kept my mouth shut.

“I think you’re hiding here because of what you can do,” he said after several moments of silence.

My heart felt as if it were trying to escape out of my throat.

He nudged me a little.

“None of that.  No one is going to make you leave because you’re different.  In fact, that’s a strong reason to let you stay.  You’re not just human.  You’re more.  Don’t be afraid to show that you can move things with your mind.”

Is that what he thought I’d done?  My stomach chose that moment to growl.

He cleared his throat and stood.

“I have a surprise for you.  But it means spending the morning with me.  I’ll feed you first,” he said.

I followed him downstairs and excused myself for a moment alone with the washbowl and bucket.  When I rejoined him, he had two bowls on the table, and I was surprised to see a carton of milk there, too.

“Milk?”

“It is.  Did you know after we wean, we typically don’t drink milk again?  It’s not necessary.  We seem to get what we need from the animals we eat.  Winifred believes it’s because in our other form, we tend to eat it all.”

Not a pleasant topic before breakfast.  He motioned for me to sit.

“So I was a bit surprised to learn humans drink milk their entire lives.  And tend to eat more vegetables than meat,” he said.

I looked down at my bowl and saw a familiar and well-missed sight.  Flakes with a touch of sugary coating.

“Cereal?” I asked in disbelief.  He nodded and handed me the milk.  I poured too quickly in my excitement and spilled a bit on the table.  I didn’t stop to wipe it up.  Instead, I grabbed my spoon and took a large bite.  The milk was tepid but it didn’t take away from the delicious taste.

“Mmm.”  It was the only sound I made for the next minute.  With an amused gleam in his eyes, Thomas sat across from me, watching as I devoured the cereal.

Even while drifting from town to town, I hadn’t managed such a simple treat.  It had been too long.  I slowed down to savor the last half, unsure how long it would be until I could have more.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked when I noticed his bowl remained untouched.

He reached for the milk and neatly poured a measure into his bowl.  I watched him closely as he took his first bite.  His brow drew down and mouth puckered in distaste.

“You don’t like it?”  I couldn’t believe he’d prefer whole rabbit over sugared flakes.

He finished chewing and swallowed.

“It’s different.”

I grinned at him, took another bite of my cereal, and tried to figure out a comparison to the taste before I swallowed.

“Haven’t you ever had honey?  You’ve had to come across honey bees out there.”

“We’re wolves, not bears.”

My startled laugh almost lost me the bite of cereal in my mouth.  I quickly finished chewing.  “If you don’t want to finish it, I will.  Where did it come from?  Is there more?”

He pushed his bowl toward me.

“I have made a few trips to the junk yard, collecting those coins from the seats of old cars.  When I had enough, I went into town.”

“Like that?”  I eyed his bare chest.

He shook his head.

“Winifred warned me that I’d need a shirt and shoes.  Why would anyone want to wear those on their feet?”

“Shoes protect our feet.  Humans aren’t as sturdy as you are.”

“I’m learning,” he said.

“You are,” I agreed.  He was learning what it meant to be human, and I knew it was because he hadn’t given up hope of Claiming me.  It warmed me to know that he’d taken what I’d said seriously.

He waited patiently as I finished both bowls of cereal and while I washed them.  Then he brought me outside.

“There’s a lot of ground to cover.  May I carry you?”

The idea of Thomas carrying me in his arms made my insides go hot and cold in alternating flashes.  I nodded.  He stepped close, crowding me, and then bent and picked me up with ease.  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.  He looked down at me, our faces not far apart.

“Hold on,” he said.  And then he ran.

Wind whipped in my face and stung my eyes.  I didn’t turn away from it, though.  I let go with my left hand, trusting him to keep me steady, and pushed the hair from my eyes.  Then I watched it all.

He wove between the trees with ease, lightly leaping over shrubs and bramble.  Animals quieted at his approach and scurried from his path when he neared.  I’d never felt so alive than those moments in his arms, beaten by the wind.

He ran like that for at least ten minutes.  When the trees started to thin, he wasn’t even winded.  He slowed to a walk as he stepped out into sunlight.  The trees before us had died with the expansion of the marsh and stood like large, dark sticks poked into the ground.  Birds flew overhead.

He’d wanted to show me the marsh?

He gently set me on my feet as I continued to look around.

“This way,” he said, taking my hand.

We skirted the edge of the marsh, the spongy ground giving just slightly with each step.  As we walked, making our way east, the weeds and reeds thinned and larger pools became visible.  The trees to our right suddenly disappeared into a large clearing.  At first, I thought it an extension of the marsh.  Then, I noticed the tall grass instead of reeds.

“Anton found this while trying to catch pheasants.  He was watching what they ate and checking if there was a food source we could gather and store for the winter...if we manage to cage any of them.”

The reminder of our attempts made me cringe, and I felt guilty that I hadn’t offered to help Anton again.

“We think this might be an old garden from the people who used to live here.”

Excited, I parted grass as I walked forward.  The grass outlined a very large and very weed filled garden.  Onions grew in a thick patch.  Wild, their green tops were much larger than their bulbs.  I found carrots growing in random areas toward the trees, away from the damp soil near the marsh.  There were some chewed on melons, a few small green striped pumpkins, stalks of multi-colored corn, vine beans, and many varieties of squash.