Inside Out. Amy Lee Burgess
I experienced when confronted by the sight of Bethany’s urn and the knowledge that I hadn’t saved her after all.
If I’d been a day earlier in figuring things out would that have made the difference?
Women of the Pack could bring only one pregnancy to full term. The process of the birth rendered us barren. We could have multiple miscarriages, but once we carried to term, that was it.
Children were cherished, precious resources. Beloved by the entire pack when they were little and guided to adulthood with affection by all the adults.
Twins were more common, but Bethany, like me, had been a single child.
Gina and Ron had no remaining child to comfort them. They were alone now and their most valued contribution to the Pack was gone in so many scattered ashes.
Gina broke down in the middle of the circle and had to be led away by Rosemary Young so Ron could take her place. He managed to get through what he wanted to say, but to me it was so much lip movement. The blood pounded in my ears far too loudly for me to hear anything.
Grief infected the mourners in the circle. Tears poured down male and female faces regardless of pack affiliation. The women from Nightclaw sobbed just as hard as the women from Maplefair.
Jossie went last and, when she had solemnly scattered the last of the urn’s contents and placed it upside down on the ground, she unselfconsciously stripped off her modest dress and Wal-Mart cotton underwear so she could drop on all fours and shift.
Five minutes after Jossie had shed her clothes, more than half the mourners were in wolf form. Grey wolves, red wolves, black wolves, all shades between and one, gorgeous pure white wolf—Kathy Manning.
As one they sat back on their haunches, tipped their heads back and filled the forest clearing with eerie, ululating wolf song.
Those in human form threw back their heads and joined in. Most of them could mimic the real wolf song to near perfection. Paddy’s voice rose above them all—strong and wild. Murphy’s howl was not as loud but indistinguishable from the sound that issued from the dark gray wolf which sat beside him.
I could not join in. Even if I’d wanted to try, my throat was clogged with grief and guilt.
I stumbled away from the circle and started back down the trail to the dirt lot. The pure white wolf kept pace with me and when we’d left the tragic wolf song behind, I said, “Kathy, you realize your clothes are back there, right? Are you going to the after gathering nude? Is this your newest fashion statement? I think I have a spare pair of heels in the trunk if you want.”
The wolf sneezed and bumped the back of my knee with her head. I kept walking.
She bounded ahead of me a few paces, whirled, and then went down on her front paws, butt in the air. Her tail wagged furiously. Was she a dog or a wolf?
“You want to play?” I shook my head. “This is a funeral. Wolves are so dumb sometimes. You’re twenty yards away from the circle and you’ve already forgotten why you were there, haven’t you?”
The wolf yipped and tossed her head.
“That would be my wolf anyway. Who knows what you’re thinking.”
The wolf pounced on me so that she managed to wrap her paws around my neck as if she hugged me. She exhaled slobbery wolf breath in my face and swiped her moist tongue across my nose and mouth.
“Disgusting.” I gave her furry chest a push, but she was a solid block of muscle. When she gave my ear a lick with her tongue, I couldn’t help but smile. Damn wolf.
“I am not going to play,” I told her firmly. Another push, but she would not budge, so I started to walk and she was forced to hop backward on her hind legs. Wolves are not made for maneuvers like that, so she retaliated with a mock growl and another slobbery lick.
My push had more force this time because she got down. She blocked the path with her body, but I stepped around her and kept going.
She whined and I hesitated, but then started forward again. Another whine, this time punctuated by a high-pitched yelp.
I stared at her. She wanted to play. A girl’s ashes were scattered on the forest floor a few yards away and this silly wolf wanted to play. I shook my head.
She whined again, tail tucked between her legs, downcast and bereft. I had a fleeting image of my own wolf as she cringed and cowered before the wolves of the tribunal. More images of her as she ran with Grey, Elena and Vaughn’s wolves in the days when she did want to play.
Why did Kathy’s wolf get to play and mine didn’t? Why did she get to forget that three minutes earlier she’d been a mourner at a teen’s funeral while I could never escape? Would my wolf ever have the capacity to understand someone else’s grief or joy? Would she ever be able to walk by the side of someone in human form and try to comfort them? No. No, she wouldn’t.
Kathy’s wolf crept toward me, eyes hopeful.
A stick cracked and Murphy and Paddy appeared out of the shade.
The white wolf whined softly.
“She’s worried about you,” said Murphy. Kathy’s wolf trotted to his side and sat. Almost absently he reached down to put a hand on her head and she leaned into him trustingly.
“’Tis rude to leave the circle when the wolves sing,” Paddy told me, as if I were some clueless idiot. “It’s disrespectful of the dead, Constance.”
“It was hard enough to be there in the first place. But the wolves made it worse. You don’t understand, Paddy, your wolf is normal.”
Murphy flinched.
Paddy looked up into the canopy of the trees overhead as if for inspiration or perhaps some small measure of patience. “You’re so goddamn stubborn, Stanzie.”
Chapter 4
“Let the feckin’ thing alone,” Murphy snapped on the drive back to Boston. Paddy snatched his hand away from the radio dial and muttered something acidic beneath his breath. The tension in the car ratcheted up.
“Stanzie, there’s a rest area ahead. Do you want to stop?” Murphy asked and Paddy blew out his breath.
“Damn it, man, it’s already frigging midnight. We’ve stopped twice already. We might as bloody well sleep in the frigging car at this point.”
“It’s all right. We don’t need to stop.” I kept my eyes closed. I’d tried to pretend I was asleep but Murphy knew damn well I never slept in a moving car.
“Don’t you let Paddy keep you from stopping if you want to.” Murphy cast a malevolent look at Paddy, who glared back.
“I’m not keeping you from stopping. I’m just trying to point out it’s getting late and we’re all knackered. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can go to bed. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
They exchanged another antagonistic glare and I almost said I did want to stop. Anything to get a break from their bickering. What the hell was with them? They’d been tense all afternoon after Bethany’s funeral. Jossie and Vaughn had gathered the pack together at the farm house for a backyard picnic. Murphy and Paddy had spent the majority of it avoiding each other. Paddy had been my constant shadow and had never left my side. At first I’d thought Murphy had been avoiding me, but as we drove back to Boston, I’d become more and more suspicious it was Paddy, not me, Murphy hadn’t wanted to be around.
We arrived at the condo close to one in the morning and crept up the stairs into the living room. I went straight for the bedroom, and Murphy and Paddy followed me.
We slept three in the bed again even though there was a spare room. Paddy didn’t hesitate to strip off his clothes down to his boxer briefs and crawl beneath the covers. Murphy’s mouth tightened but he didn’t protest. He shed all his clothes while I put on a nightgown.