Endless Secrets

When I wake up, Marisol is still sleeping and Lionel is nowhere to be found. Drowsily, I stand up and look up – the horizon is a dark pink color, slowly fading into blue. The sun isn’t fully above the horizon, but it’s begun its ascent. Letting out a yawn, I lean forward and stretch. My limbs are still stiff from sleeping, but it’s nothing that walking around a bit won’t fix.

I walk over to Marisol and prod her lightly with my paw until she finally lets out a high-pitched whine and opens her eyes. She glances around, confused, before looking up at me.

“Where’s Lion?” Marisol uses the nickname affectionately; she’d been calling him that since we first met her, months ago.

I shrug. Lionel, I think, wondering where he is. I’m already itching to get moving again, not wanting to stay here for long. We’ve been trying to get to Washington for months now, but there’s always been something we stopped to look at. When Lionel and I first arrived in America, he had nearly begged me to stop in New York City. He wanted to look at the Statue of Liberty, which meant that we had to spend a couple extra days there, getting fake IDs. We weren’t technically in the United States legally, as I didn’t want to get whatever was needed for us to have an extended stay here. But no one had to know about that.

After New York, we’d gone north, to Canada. I hadn’t wanted to use human transportation, so we instead went through the Canadian countryside. It was there we met Marisol. At first, we thought she was a lone wolf, so I was rather cautious about getting around her. However, she had sensed us and reached out towards me with her mind. Normally, I’m incredibly cautious and take a while to trust someone. Marisol, however, I knew I could trust her the first time we spoke. It didn’t take long before she joined Lionel and I.

She was slowing us down a considerable amount, but I surprisingly don’t mind. It wasn’t as though she was slow; she just complained to the point where, if I didn’t stop, I’d have gone insane from her whining. Still, in the short time I have known the girl, I’ve grown to care for her like a sister – something I’d never had. Despite the complaining, in the long run, she has never given up. I know she’s thought about it. I’ve given her the chance, asked if she wanted to leave. I know now that she’d rather be with us, growing stronger, rather than being alone in the Canadian wilderness.

It isn’t like Marisol is useless, either. I can remember countless times when she has brought Lionel and I to our senses or calmed us down. Despite being rather childish and known to throw insane tantrums when she doesn’t get her way, which frankly scares the hell out of me, Marisol was quick to either pull us apart or help resolve our petty arguments.

Almost as if the thought of Lionel summons him, a large dark-brown wolf appears in the corner of my vision. I walk over to him, about to shout at him for not letting me know he was leaving, especially when I so desperately wanted to get moving. Then I see that he is carrying three tan rabbits from his jaws, and I start to feel guilty. He was only watching out for us, making sure we were fed before setting out on our journey once more.

When he sees me approach, he drops the meat at my feet and sends me a hilarious lopsided grin. To anyone else, I’m almost positive that grin would terrify them – but I cannot help but to let out an amused snort. He drops to the ground and rolls around in the dirt. I roll my eyes at his playfulness; sometimes I wonder if he’d been a Labrador in a past life.

Silently thanking him with a nod of my head, I call Marisol over. By the lack of disgust that would normally appear in her eyes, I can tell she’s getting used to eating raw meat as a wolf would. We’re no more than them out here, anyways. I can’t remember how long it’s been since any of us have been as human as we can be.

Lionel glances at me, waiting for approval. We finally dig into the meal and leave shortly after. After a couple hours, we emerge onto a cliff overlooking the Pacific. We’re at the edge of the continent, finally. And we’re so close; I can feel it. The air here is thick with salt, but it smells nice. I’ve always loved the smell of the salt water, though I preferred the Mediterranean over this. Probably because it will always be my home, no matter what I think or do.

Another couple of hours pass, and the sun is now high in the sky. As we jog down the coast, I start to smell something that only grows as we move closer to it. It smells oddly like us – a pack of shapeshifters, I decide. Is it the Quileute tribe, or is there another pack around here? My father has told me about the pack, mostly about how unusual they are. They have a truce with vampires living nearby – their natural enemies, what they’re born to defend against – and from what I’ve discovered in my years of traveling, they are the largest pack of shapeshifters known. I would not be able to guess exactly how many members they have, but I would guess it is well over twenty, maybe even thirty.

I’ve also heard, again from my father, that a couple of the members have split off from the rest of the pack. Something like that is unheard of where I come from. One member leaving to become a loner, perhaps, but never has another pack been formed. I’m curious about it.

My friends start to notice the smell now. They cast uneasy glances at me. Lionel trusts me in my judgment to travel through their territory that we will undoubtedly be traveling through, but Marisol is nervous; she doesn’t want to be attacked. She should know by now that I would never let that happen, if I could avoid it.

Faintly, I hear a low growl from the woods, followed by a howl. Slowing to a walk, we continue along the shore and wait for the strangers to show themselves. I can hear the thumping of paws running our way; more and more join until the sound grows to a faint thunder.

Marisol lets out a whine. I turn and glare at her – we don’t want to look weak. But she’s noticed what I hadn’t until this moment – yellow eyes glaring at us from the trees. I stop and glare back, daring them to approach. I can tell their alpha isn’t with them; they’re unsure of what to do. A moment passes, then a massive black wolf is walking towards me.

A couple wolves follow closely behind them, until they all stop just ten feet away. I know he’s trying to intimidate me, but wouldn’t work. They’re scared of me. I’m different than what they’ve seen before; tall, lithe, dirty white-silver fur, red eyes glaring at them. One of them whimpers quietly as I train my blood-red eyes on them.

I’ve always liked having this effect on others. It took Lionel and Marisol a long time to get used to it.

Finally, the black wolf speaks to me though the mind. I’ve always wondered why only the alphas can speak to each other in this way. Is it possible to open the connection to Lionel and Marisol as well? But I have a feeling that this sort of connection is different, perhaps on a different level than a pack’s communication.

“Who are you?” He growls, baring his teeth.

“I am Silvia D’Angelo, of Italy. And who are you?” I keep my voice pleasant, despite his obvious aggression.

“Sam Uley. Quileute Alpha.” He replies, a bit kinder once he knows my name. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve heard a lot about this area – about you, actually. How you’ve created an alliance with vampires, how you’re leader of the largest pack known, how so many of your members have imprinted when it’s something so rare.” I pause, letting the fact I know so much about him sink in. He’s confused. “I’m curious, Sam Uley. I want to see how your pack works. How everyone interacts.”

That couldn’t have been a bigger lie – I wasn’t here because I was curious about the shapeshifters who still called themselves werewolves, a term normally offensive to us. But I had a feeling what I had said would benefit me; he couldn’t say no to what I was inferring. He was as curious about me as I claimed to be about him. Sam Uley hadn’t met any other shapeshifters in his lifetime. He hadn’t even left Washington. It was natural for him to be curious.

“Welcome to La Push, Washington, Silvia.”

Grinning, I follow Sam Uley into the forest. Lionel and Marisol aren’t far behind.