Little Wolf

I had a schedule, a routine that had fallen easily into place when I turned 14, and Wyot and I took over our parents’ search. I got up every morning just before the sunrise, dressed and found my way to the research center the clan had set up years ago when their small huts and cottages grew too cluttered for day-to-day life. Wyot, on days when I needed a little persuasion out of bed, would jump onto the bed with me and lick my face, kneading at my shoulders and back with his paws. Those days were more often than not. We would then spend the day poring over every manuscript, biography, and fictional book that hinted towards spells and curses. We’d have two breaks, one for lunch, and then one for dinner before we finally retired long after the sunset. Six days a week, sixteen hours a day, we followed the routine, searching for our cure to no avail. And we would keep searching until the day our children took over, as we had for our parents.

I hadn’t been given a choice, never had and I never will. This life was thrust at me, and I was expected to search through every archive and database until we found a cure, which hadn’t been found in the centuries since the curse. But it was our job and our destiny to keep trying, to unlock the secret to the curse we brought on ourselves.

“Wyot,” I whined, his rough tongue worrying at the space behind my ear. It was one of those mornings where my bed was warm and the air was cold, and my ambition level was so low I didn’t even want to open my eyes. “Five more minutes.”

I’ve given you ten. It’s time to wake up and greet the day, before Elder Damaskes has you strung up for disobedience, Wyot’s familiar voice entered my head. It was the only way he could communicate with me, his wolf form lacking proper speech.

“At least I wouldn’t have to get up right now,” I murmured. He could hear me if I just thought it, but I couldn’t let myself become like the Elders, speaking only in their minds, sharing information telepathically, only speaking aloud around the fire every year on Feast Day. Their hearts, their pride, their humanity had been shattered at the failure to find the cure. They’d devoted their lives to this cause, and it was fruitless. I refused to be one of them.

Don’t make me drag you out of bed!

“As if you could,” I grumbled, pulling the pillow over my head and blocking him from further nosing at my neck and jaw.

Wanna bet?

Before I could react, Wyot had pulled back my blankets and moved over to my side, burrowing himself underneath my stomach and pushing me towards the edge. I didn’t weigh much, and Wyot was a strong, lean wolf, able to push me straight off within a minute. I lay pitifully on the wooden floor, letting out loud, obnoxious whines as Wyot gracefully leapt off the bed. He lay down beside me, nosing against my jaw and licking fondly at my jaw.

Time to get up, Tayt. The sun is rising, so should you.

Wyot, part of the Deku line, was a gorgeous young grey wolf, his fur thick and his eyes matching my own pale blue. When we were bound, our eyes changed to match, my turning from a dark brown and his from a golden brown. We exchanged family symbols as well, him wearing the Degas feather tied into his fur while I wore the Deku ring on my finger. He was my best friend, my life partner, and right then, a pain in my ass.

“How poetic,” I grumbled, pushing myself up off the floor and heading towards the bathroom, snagging my towel off the top of my hamper.

You don’t have time to shower, he reminded me.

“Alright, but you’re the one with the wolf senses so don’t go complaining to me when you have to smell me all day.”

I’ll live. Let’s go.

Begrudgingly, I followed Wyot out of my small cabin and to the research center like we did every day. We took our seats, like we did every day. And we started where we left off the night before.

We read.

We scribbled down notes, or rather I did. Wyot would tell me anything worthy of note, since wolf paws were not capable of holding a pen. There wasn’t much, though. I’d been part of the research team since I was 14, and we’d only managed to fill up a handful of notebooks in the few years since. Nothing really was of much importance, and if it was, it always turned out to be a dead end.

Nonsense and dead ends, this was my life.

We found nothing.

And then, we found more nothing.

Nothing, more nothing, and guess what, even more nothing.

The minutes ticked by slowly, the hours passed glacially, and nearing our dinner break, we still had yet to find anything even relating to our situation.

“Well, this is just as pointless as it was yesterday,” I stated, slamming the book I’d been reading shut. “Where do we even get this shit?”

The scouting team thought it might, Wyot started.

“Yeah, I know. The scouting team thought it might hold something of relevance, but guess what, Wyot, it doesn’t. Just like this entire center! There is nothing of relevance. Our families have been searching for centuries and yet, they have found zip, zilch, nada, zero, a big goose egg.”

Do you have a problem with our mission, Tayt? The voice of Elder Damaskes rung through my head. I stumbled back out of my chair as Wyot rose from where he was laying at my feet.

“Elder Damaskes!” I yipped.

She’s just tired, Elder. We had a late night last night, and she’s not at her best right now. She doesn’t mean it. Wyot tried to apologize but a withering glance from Elder Damaskes, an old, bitter man with slumped shoulders and angry eyes, sent him skittering back behind me.

You aren’t trying hard enough, Tayt Degas, if you think that nothing in relevant. You are just a stupid girl who wants to ruin our family, and you aren’t trying.

“I’m here every day! I’ve given up my entire life for this goddamn family! If you don’t think I’m trying hard enough, you do it!”

Elder Damaskes’s hand swung out and slapped me hard across the cheek before I had even registered what I had said.

Don’t you dare! You’re the reason Wyot will stay in his wolf form his entire life! You’re the reason that your entire family will fail, you and people like you! We’ve given you a home, and we’ve fed you. We’ve clothed you, and you aren’t even willing to work for the things you have been given. You will be the death of our proud lineage, Tayt, and you will live in shame.

He stalked out, my cheek still stinging as the door slammed shut.

I collapsed into my chair, tears falling freely from my eyes.

Hey, hey, shhh, Tayt. It’s okay. Elder Damaskes is just frustrated. He fell in love with his partner, and she couldn’t ever love him back.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Wyot. I don’t want to be a researcher, and this clan is becoming too small for me and the Elders.”

Don’t talk like that. It’ll get better.

“No, it won’t.”

Wyot licked at my pant leg and I turned back to my book, the plan already forming in my head.