I dream.In the dream, I’m sitting beside Caleb on the porch of the cabin. He looks older, a few more lines around his eyes, some lighter hairs peppered through his dark curls, but he looks happy.I hear laughter. In front of us, running around on the grass, are two cubs. Our cubs. A boy and a girl, currently chasing each other back and forth across the stream, splashing as they jump.“I always wanted to bring my own cubs here,” Caleb says, reaching over to take my hand. “They’re adorable,” I say, stroking his hand with one finger. I’m wearing a ring, I notice. One with blue gems in it.“I’m so glad Arnold figured out how to split the amulet,” Caleb says, noticing me admiring the ring. “Now everyone in our family is protected.”I see two dark stones, each hanging around the necks of my children. No one can ever betray them. They are the future of this pack, intelligent and kind, born to be leaders. Neither of them will grow up like I did, ridiculed and ostracized.
We head south, away from Flagstaff and down through the deserts of Arizona. It’s so much different from the pine trees and mountain trails of Flagstaff. I see tall stone mountains, brown with bare rock, not covered in a green carpet of trees.On the back of Nash’s motorcycle, I watch the desert fly by. Tall saguaro cacti dot the landscape, their arms reaching toward the sky. They’re so much shorter than the massive trees on the Flagstaff mountains, but somehow they look just as majestic.I could make a life in the desert, I think. After all, what better place is there for a lone wolf like me? Most big towns and cities already have an established pack of wolf shifters, but this area is so remote and lonely that I could get by without anyone bothering me.Leaning against Nash, letting the wind tangle my hair, I try to imagine life on my own as a desert dwelling lone wolf. I already know that in my wolf form, I can fend for myself, even if my white coat won’t afford much camoufla
We get up early the next morning. I feel much better, especially after sleeping with the rabbit pelt, but Nash looks like he slept miserably. I notice him tucking the pelt into his motorcycle helmet as he packs up and gets ready to leave.“Here,” he says, tossing me my own helmet. It’s silver, not black like his, and smaller, so it’ll fit me. “When did you get this?”“When I was out for burritos last night.”“Oh. Thanks.”Nash just flashes me a tired smile in response. We check out, dropping our cactus keychains in a metal box that’s already turning hot in the morning sun. On the way down south, we ride all the way around Joshua Tree National Park, desert wind whipping my hair back as I take in the almost alien landscape. Squat, gnarled joshua trees fill the fields, and the horizon is taken up by bone white mountains rising in the distance. It’s beautiful, but to be honest, I’m ready to get out of here. Despite the fact that I wear a protective amulet, the anger
Nash takes me to a place called Corey’s Fry Shack, which is accurately named - it’s just a tiny little building near the boardwalk. We both order “animal style” burgers, which not only come with extra meat and a delicious tangy sauce, but also a huge paper plate of fries and a chocolate milkshake that’s so thick they don’t even bother giving you a straw, just a spoon with an extra long handle.We sit on the beach, balancing out food on our laps. The sand is warm against my legs and the ocean seems impossibly blue, stretching out toward the horizon like a polished opal.Neither of us speaks for a while as we tear into our burgers. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until Nash mentioned food, but I absolutely devour my lunch before starting on my chocolate shake.“I have to admit,” I say, licking a thick dollop of chocolate milkshake off my spoon, “this is pretty great.”“Didn’t I tell you?” Nash seems pleased with himself. “Best burgers in the world.” He smears a french fry
Nash, being from the area, knows a spot where we can cross the border into Mexico without much fuss. I was almost hoping that we’d need to shift into our wolf forms, because I’m curious about what Nash’s looks like, but then we’d have to leave the motorcycle behind, and it’s clear that Nash won’t be parted from his beloved bike.So we zip through some dirt roads, mostly hidden by a rocky outcropping. Nash waves at some guys at an outpost near a barbed wire fence, and they wave back, seeming to recognize him. I wonder, not for the first time, what else Nash hasn’t told me about his past.Why is he so familiar with secret border crossings? Why was his pack so willing to believe that he would be behind a murder plot? Why is he so unconcerned with my Omega status?None of that matters, though, because my first priority is getting somewhere safe. Now that we’re in Mexico, I feel like I can breathe a little easier. Wolf shifter packs typically respect national borders, and since I’m
We play in the waves until the sun starts to go down. It’s cooling off, and we probably shouldn’t be on a private beach after dark, so we make our way back into the shallows, climbing out onto the sand. Nash shakes himself off vigorously, and I laugh.Back in human form, we lay on the sand for a while, watching as the sunset paints the horizon in dazzling oranges and pinks. Sure enough, there are actual dolphins visible out in the water, their dark shapes jumping and twirling in the dusky light.“I suppose we ought to find you a place to stay,” Nash says, helping me up with one strong hand.“I actually saw a cute little cottage on our way to the restaurant,” I said, “with a sign in the window saying that it was for rent.”“Let’s go check it out, then,” Nash says. Back on his motorcycle, leaning against his back, I can see a tiny tuft of fur from the rabbit pelt peeking out from under his helmet. It’s pure white, with no stain or anything, even though he wears it in his
When I wake up the next morning, I’m cuddled up next to Nash, who’s sleeping soundly. His chest is warm, rising and falling with his breaths, and his hair smells like ocean air.I feel great, and he looks like he does, too. Nash blinks awake, smiling softly at me as he rolls over and runs a hand through my hair.“Morning, gorgeous,” he says, and I return his easy morning smile. “Right back at you,” I say. “You look great this morning. Really.”“I feel a lot better,” he says with a yawn. There’s a pinkness in his cheeks and a brightness in his eyes that I haven’t seen ever since he first picked me up.“That moon rabbit pelt must be some strong magic,” I say. “We both slept with it in the bed, and now we’re back at full strength.”“Uh, Sarah,” Nash says, looking confused. Then he points to the corner of the room, where he’d tossed his motorcycle helmet before climbing into bed with me. Poking out of the helmet is a tuft of white rabbit fur. He never put the pelt unde
I’m so proud of Nash for having the courage to return to his pack. We decide to wait a few more days to really gain our strength back, so we spend some time cuddled up in the cabin together and frolicking on the beach.I’ll miss Baja, but it’s clear that Nash belongs in San Diego, and if we go back there, I’ll still be able to go swimming in these incredible beaches and eat amazing seafood.Plus, I won’t need to learn Spanish. Nash has been doing all the talking, explaining to the lady who rented us the cottage that we actually need to leave but will pay her for the entire month. She seems sad to see us go, but puts her hands on our shoulders and prays a blessing over us in Spanish.It’s human religion, not werewolf magic, but it warms my heart all the same. Finally, it’s time to get back onto Nash’s motorcycle and head for San Diego. We take the scenic route, around cliffs and beaches, the sea air in our hair. He keeps the rabbit pelt in his helmet, and occasionally I cat