Eclipse Child

Give me wings,

burn them onto my skin

Ink them on my arms

Let them shelter me from harm.

Give me wings so that I may try.

Give me wings so that I may cry.

Give me wings.

Let me fly.

-Far from the Maddening Crowd

Staying in this body for so long, is strange.

I don’t know how the male does it.

I don’t even know how long he has been acting this false part- pretending to be something he is not- and hiding within this pack.

I don’t even know his name.

But then again, he doesn’t know mine.

It doesn’t seem real that he is my mate.

I feel nothing of what Aunt Quinn, Katie or mom described to me.

No fire, no heat, no spark of life or sudden revelation of knowledge.

I felt nothing.

In truth, I had expected this.

Because I had beaten my emotions down so much, for so long, I didn’t think they would rise just by staring into another’s eyes.

And my theory had been correct.

Or maybe it just didn’t work on the fur side.

Maybe it had to be skin.

I had never heard of a mate story like this- where the meeting was done in the fur of the wolf instead of skin.

Staying in this body for so long is strange. It’s wrong.

It feels wrong.

I watch the male. He moves with the pack like he has been a part of it for a long time.

They also move with him as if he is one of their own.

I can tell because they do not treat me this way.

They are still wary of my movements, and the weight of their gaze falls upon me if I stray or venture to close to one of their own.

It’s not until the second day within this pack, that I finally realize something.

There is no Alpha.

Instead of having a leader, they worked as one. As a family.

The wolves themselves migrated with the following of the roaming elk. Taking note of their movements and copying where they traveled.

But each decision.

Each action and course of planning- was made by the group.

Even the male was allowed a say.

The oddity of the sight left me stunned for the rest of the day.

I could not comprehend such a thing, or even begin to wrap my mind around the information. Because there was no Alpha. No leader. They didn’t need one. They didn’t need someone to make the decisions for them. They could do it themselves. As a group. As a pack. As a family.

The male notices my dejection.

The tail that I am not bothering to pick up. The ears that are down. Sagging body.

He seems at a loss for what to do.

So when the wolves curl up, resting for the day so that they can go hunting within the night- he pushes me aside, pressing me down and into his frame.

It’s only then that I register how much bigger his wolf is compared to mine. As his body twists around me, creating a shelter from the cold north winds that traveled down the mountain.

A low whine leaves his throat.

I glance down to find his grey eyes staring at me, a question within them. But he won’t shift.

For some reason, this wolf has chosen to stay within his fur. Reject his skin.

I slowly, almost hesitantly, place my head down upon his stretched-out paws.

If we were in our skins, this would be an intimate position. But we are not. Instead the two bodies that we press together are not out of desire. It’s out of comfort.

I glance around at the pack, taking in the family structure that I had been trying to piece together.

Strange.

It was strange that the skin side desired power and dominance. Strange that we only thought it natural to blame these feelings upon our wolves.

We act like animals; therefore, it is because of our animals that we do so.

It felt even more strange, for me to realize, that maybe those actions were not like that of an animal at all.

***

The male takes me aside again.

He is teaching me how to hunt.

I’m able to realize this much as he shows me, almost step by step, the way to stalk forward. To be silent.

Deadly.

Anticipation runs through me as I think of what I could do with this knowledge. Rarely did warriors train their fur side on the art of silence.

It was always loud, ever-present violence that had been hammered into the mind.

But this male was showing me something else.

Something new as I took in his calm steps that moved across the ground. His paws that managed to not make a sound within the rocky ground and dead foliage.

He was teaching me a new lesson.

Silence was lethal.

Death did not always come in the form of battle cries and snarling canines.

It didn’t have to come in the method of ripping skin and screams of pain.

It could be quick.

It could be painless.

It could be quiet.

This time I am more successful. I show him the winnings of my hunt, letting him look down upon my two rodents.

I imagine approval running through those grey eyes. But then again, the wolf was hard to read. It could all have been something I had made up within my mind to appease my worries.

And like the other night, once he is done showing me, he pushes me back to the pack.

Our lesson of the hunt over.