Chapter 3: The Truth Comes Out

Willow tossed and turned. She couldn’t get comfortable. Her sheets twisted around her legs and eventually she kicked them to the floor. With a loud sigh, she got up. She checked her phone. 3:03 am.

“Ugh,” she said aloud and tossed it back onto her bed. She mussed her long curls and rubbed her dry eyes. She had only managed to sleep for about two hours before it had evaded her completely. Her body felt restless. Feeling trapped, she craved the open air.

Glancing out the window, the moon shone brightly, taunting her. She knew she wouldn’t be getting sleep tonight. She padded quietly down the steps. Her grandmother’s snores tore through the house, covering the squeaky wooden steps.

Willow stopped by the back door and pulled off her clothes, folding them neatly on the bench tucked away near the coat closet. Naked, she stepped outside. The grass was cool against her feet as she crossed the yard towards the forest. The trees beckoned to her.

She shook out her long hair and raised her face to the sky, the moon bathing her in its chilly glow. The pine tree branched brushed gently against her skin as she stepped into the evergreens. Her feet broke the needles on the forest floor, releasing their spicy, fresh scent. She inhaled deeply, feeling at home.

With one last glance at the moon, she let her true self come out. Her muscles rippled underneath her skin like quicksilver. She fell forward onto all fours and shaggy red hair ripped across her body. Her body jerked and with a sickening crack, her joints snapped and rearranged.

She shook her head once, her snout elongated, and her teeth lengthened into sharp points. With a burst of freedom, she let out a joyful howl. She hadn’t shifted in weeks and she felt exhilarated. Her exhaustion melted away as she broke out into a loping run.

Running until she foamed at the mouth, she stopped near the edge of the Estates, panting heavily. She raised her nose into the air and found his scent strongest here. The windows were dark, except a lone one near the top floor. She crept closer, her belly low to the ground.

Garin was sitting near the window, flipping through a large book. His hair was sticking up in many directions as if he had been continually running his hands through it. It gave her a sense of pleasure that maybe he couldn’t sleep because of their encounter as well. He threw the book down and shook his head, a look of disgust strewn across his face.

Hands on his hips, he looked out the window. His gaze seemed to travel over the trees to her house. She slinked closer, his scent burning in her nose. She knew she was too close, but she wanted to get a better look.

Moving closer to the gate surrounding the community, she peered through the hedges, getting a glimpse at his house. It was beautiful in an impersonal, abstract way. Large windows and metal were bent together to give the house an industrial appearance. Willow didn’t see any movement in the home. Everyone else must still be sleeping.

She decided to get a look at the other side of the house but to do so, she had to squeeze between the gate and the shrubs planted to hide most of the gate. She pressed her body through the small opening, forgetting that her wolf form was much larger than her human. With a growl of frustration, she was past the hedge and her body fell against the gate.

A hot, white pain shot through her side where she landed on the fence. With a yelp, she pulled herself away. The gate is coated with silver. She thought to herself. She was baffled. Her family had never hurt a soul and yet these…people moved into her town and planted their giant house on the hill, watching them as if they were wild animals in a zoo.

She felt a wave of deep-rooted anger rise up and a low, growl rumbled in her throat. They were smart to have this silver-lined gate. Those cowards. Her lips curled back in a snarl; her snout wrinkled. She wished she could tear something to shreds but she was still too close. She needed to get out of here, so she wasn’t burned again.

Creeping backward from her hiding place, she began moving slowly, wary of the dangerous gate. A branch cracked and she froze. Someone was close. They were walking near the fence, not quite stealthily but also not trying to be heard. She sniffed.

It had a scent reminiscent of Garin’s, but it was softer, not as sharp. She saw a figure approaching, something clutched in its hands. A glimmer of something sparked in the moonlight as the person walked closer. It was a silver-tipped arrow, notched into a small, deadly-looking crossbow.

The bearer of the crossbow, as he drew nearer, looked similar to Garin but his jaw wasn’t nearly as defined. He had the mass of the Brochade family lineage, he was huge. She would guess he was nearly 6’4”. He moved quitter than anyone of that size should. She supposed it was in their blood.

He turned his head back towards the house and Willow got a full look at his face, Miles. He was a few years younger than her. She had seen him occasionally in town, but they never went to the same school. His parents shipped him off to a boarding school in the city during the week. She turned her head to see what he was looking at. He was also staring up at Garin. He shook his head and few times and resumed his patrol.

Once he was past her, Willow ran quickly back into the forest. She knew that there was a treaty dating back many years that the Brochades were not allowed in this part of the forest. They were not allowed to hunt unless provoked after they had killed out most of her ancestors in a massacre a hundred years ago.

She still didn’t trust them. Provoked or not, they wanted to hunt her and her family.

She ran faster, the sun was peeking over the horizon and she wanted to be home before her grandmother was awake. She would get the lecture of a lifetime if Loriann knew where she had been. Pushing open the back door silently, she grabbed her clothes and quickly slipped into them.

She tiptoed down the hallway, leaving small wet footprints on the floorboards.

“Ahem!” she jumped, her hand to her chest. Her grandmother was leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed. “And where have you been?”

“I went for a run. I couldn’t sleep,” Willow said, feigning innocence and widened her eyes. Her grandmother scoffed and motioned for her to follow her back into the kitchen.

“Sit,” she said brandishing a wooden spoon towards the bar stools. Willow sat, tucking her feet under the rungs. Her grandmother pushed a cup of steaming coffee towards her. Willow wrapped her thin fingers around the chipped mug, savoring the warmth. Without her fur, the morning had grown cold quickly.

“I found something that I think you should read,” her grandmother pulled a worn leather diary from the pocket on her robe. “It is our history,”

“I already know our history,” Willow interrupted. Her grandmother scowled.

“Yes, yes but this is also the history of the Red Hoods,” Willow stilled as her grandmother continued. “This is a detailed account of every member of the Red Hoods going back as far as our family. They have hunted and stalked us for centuries. I know Garin is handsome and he has a nicer face than the rest of them, but he is still a Red Hood. It is in his blood to hate you.” She slapped the book down in front of Willow who just stared at it.

There was nothing on the cover to belie what was inside. She unwrapped the leather thong that held it closed and carefully opened it. The pages were yellowed with age and soft around the edges where it had been thumbed through many times. It surprisingly didn’t smell musty but rather spicy…like her and her house. She gave her grandmother a quizzical look.

“We smell like that to them,” she explained seeing the flare of Willow’s nostrils. “I burn the extra incense to help ward off any evil but even without it, we have a scent too. It’s probably how he recognized you. Well, that and your eyes,” her grandmother chuckled.

Even in the early morning light, Willow could see her yellow eyes glowing in the kitchen window. Her eyes were the most noticeable in her family. Her grandmother’s were a lighter amber and even her mother’s had been a deep tawny, but Willow’s were noticeable from across the room. Paired with her deep, red hair she had a hard time blending in.

“Maybe I should get contacts?” Willow murmured and gently turned a page.

Warren Brochade, 1915-2006. Kept residence in Maine. Five known kills.

Appearance: 6’2”, 250 lbs. Black hair, green eyes.

Scent: Musky, sharp

Wife: Marianne Brochade m. Willis

Dangerous

Passed in sleep at hospital

There was a picture posted beneath the description. Willow could see the family resemblance.

“This has every member of the Red Hoods?” she asked, amazed. Her grandmother nodded. A crunch of tires of gravel drew Willow’s attention from the book. It was only nearing six in the morning. She lifted her head and sniffed gently, oak and cinnamon. She groaned.

“You called Lyall?” she laid her head on her arms.

“Yes. You haven’t seen him in a few weeks, and I think it would be good for you to be around him. He will help distract you and keep you safe until this Garin leaves town,” her grandmother replied, matter of factly.

A short knock sounded on the front door and Willow stood to answer it. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing her intended.