Chapter 3 — Norma's Point Of View (POV)

*Norma's POV*

If she was a male, I'd say that perhaps he was in seek of a mate. Maybe he had certain views, standards, and reservations towards relationships that had made him unable to find one among city folks.

I thought it was absurd for one to think and act on abandoning rich city life and opt for one in this town as a possible means of seeking fulfillment. There was very little one could enjoy in Yellow Moon compared to.

She possessed a certain charisma that had no visible rooting other than her physical fitness and tall stature. It was the way she carried herself like there was something she knew that everyone around her just didn't. At least maybe all of us she'd come to meet in the town. Her hair bore a resemblance to mine in the sense of having a grey streak that stubbornly fell over an eye. Her face...I was hoping the moon would forgive my dirty fantasies of her, but then I'd never come across a person so different, cold, and good-looking. The fact that she seemed unaware of her beauty was even sexier.

I felt her eyes, rise from the book she was reading, as they followed me to the wall where I went to put a couple of things in the way I felt they should be. The arrangement of vinyl records that seemed to serve as part of the interior decor didn't appeal so much to me in that format and it gave me the impression that whoever had put them there hadn't caught sight of the rack near the shelf.

Her voice came when I took the first one off the wall, and I'd been partly expecting it.

"Um, I do think they're much better off that way, Norma."

She used my name in a very familiar way that kind of threw me off guard. As if she'd known me for years.

"Oh," said I, "I had thought they'd be better stored up there you know," quickly pointing to the rack. I felt like a young schoolgirl being accountable to the principal for a questionable deed I'd done. One that conflicted with the school's rules. Her confidence created a nervousness in me that I couldn't explain at the moment. Maybe it was because she was playing the masculine, or because I considered her physically attractive. I just couldn't tell at the moment.

I heard her get up from the settee and turned to see her approaching. I couldn't help but notice how close she'd come when she stopped, and it took my mind off the fact that she had something to say. A story about the vinyl records perhaps because I'd figured they were hers and that they must have held a lot or some sentimental value. The previous silence might have seemed awkward and maybe she was trying to make up for it by starting a conversation but then I felt that silence was much better.

"It's a form of art don't you see? The way they sit on the wall. They add color to it and the room altogether as a part of the decor." she said.

"Oh, I understand. I guess I'll leave them there then."

We also shared the same eye color. All members of a certain pack were characterized by those: like the gray pack members all had gray eyeballs. In addition, we all had that stubborn streak of hair that was shorter than the rest and falling now and then over our right eye.

I nearly thought that we'd kiss. She'd come so close. The flight of fantasy was that we'd both lose our guards and fall into a kiss as wild as that of two passionate and inappropriate lovers, partaking in very sinful pleasure. It was all going on in my head and the importance of art was all that flowed out of her mouth as our eyes held each other. I stood as if numb, or frozen. I felt the breath from her lips on my nose. She soon caught the knowledge of the situation and withdrew.

"They're functional too because I listen to them for some sort of therapy. Leaving them there makes it easier for me to make a choice whenever I need to as opposed to the selection stress a rack could impose on me."

"Okay, ma'am."

Poppa came in that moment with a worried look on his face. A one that he wanted us both to see. His lips sagged in a way that made his thin mustache look like a bent copper wire.

"You don't look good, Uncle Lupe. What's the matter?" she asked, snatching the moment before I could.

"I should think that there is," he answered and then turned to me. "Did you by any chance smell it? I'd come across its footprints on my way back and I'm sure they'd run down here which means it's close. Much closer than we think."

"What is it, poppa?" I couldn't have smelt anything in the previous minutes because my senses had been occupied.

"A hollow." He replied in dialect, throwing Winter off the conversation instantly. It wasn't like he had meant to do so but it just happened to be that he spoke much more in dialect whenever he was nervous, agitated, or aroused in any form. She still had to learn the pack's dialect and had a very long way to go. She turned to me for enlightenment.

"The hollow is some sort of creature, Winter."

"A beast?"

I nodded. She didn't show a sense of panic, fear, or concern in her look or voice afterward. I presumed she was yet to grasp the graveness and danger of the speculated situation and I tried to make it more vivid. That it was not just an ordinary beast we were talking about but a dangerous one. Besides, she hadn't grown among the packs so I was pretty sure that she didn't have a wolf yet. I had been a late bloomer — as it was with most gamma females — and had first seen my wolf at twenty-three. Although I had no idea what place in the socio-sexual hierarchy of the pack she belonged to yet. Poppa hasn't mentioned that either so it was normal for me to presume that she didn't have a wolf yet as a lot of city-bred wolves were like that. Some never even got to see their wolf all through their lifetime because they'd ignored its voice for so long in their heads in a bid to change or suppress who they truly were.

"Not just some ordinary beast, Winter," I explained, "we're talking about a hollow-grizzly here."