Ayla: Always an Alpha

Chapter 33 - Peace Offering

~Killian~

6 Weeks Later

As I had for the past six Sundays, I found myself at the library. It was my routine, one I refused to acknowledge as such. Wake up, go for a run, shower, bring my laptop to the library, connect to a VPN, and browse the supernatural news outlets and forums.

First, checking to see if anyone had any leads on my location, I searched my name.

Only a few days into my stay in Alaska, my mind began taking nightly trips elsewhere. I hadn't dreamed since I was a kid, but what greeted me as an adult was not nearly as pleasant.

At first, there were no faces, just figures, blotches that yelled and begged and grabbed at me. Then, one day, the figures abruptly jumped back from me. In my dream, I turned, and ended up face to face with Sir. The first time he manifested, he silently led me away from the amorphous mass until we came upon a body. It was so long dead that its skin had turned purple and its fingers curled into themselves. Sir began to prod at me, pushing me closer and closer to the body until my shoe hit its leg. I looked at it again, and it was Ayla's pale face staring up at me. Her frozen eyes were fixated on the sky.

After that night, the circumstances varied. Sometimes Sir talked, sometimes he yelled, sometimes he taunted me, and sometimes he laughed. Sometimes there were other people. Sometimes there were blobs. But eventually, Ayla would show up, always long dead.

Waking up to the realization that it was just a dream was never reassuring enough.

Thus, the second part of my Sunday ritual began. After exhausting the search on myself, I closed my laptop and resisted the urge to search Ayla's name. As per usual, my willpower was not strong enough to carry me out the building, so two minutes later, I flipped the screen back up and typed her name in, Ayla Huxley.

I read anything new and then typed in another variation - Huxley Tennessee, Alpha Ayla, Hatchie River Alpha - the list went on. By the time I finished, it was midday.

I left the library, dropped my computer off at my rental, a small cabin in a quiet neighborhood, and headed to the pier. Although it was a sunny day, it was still frigid, so very few people were milling about. Ignoring the only other two people on the pier, I made my way to the end, opened a beer, and cast my line. I wasn't going to catch anything. At this time of year, the good stocks were in the lakes, but for me, fishing wasn't really about fishing, it was about the peace and quiet.

When I first came to town, it was ice fishing season, which was fun for a time, but even that small joy didn't make up for the short days and long, cold nights. After tossing and turning all night, I'd wake up in the morning in the dark, I'd work on site all day in the cold, and then I'd come home again in the dark. I'd chosen Alaska because outside of Hawaii, it was one of the few states I had no prior history in, but it was beginning to feel like I'd chosen the harshest state in which to start my life over. I should have chosen someplace warmer.

While I'd spent most of my life alone, I'd always either been training or on an assignment. For the first time in over a decade, there wasn't something else that I should be doing, and I wanted to relish it in spite of the harsh conditions, which is why I tried to completely ignore the giggling kid that pattered up to me. For someone so small, he sure made a lot of noise. The wood deck clattered as he bounced his feet.

"You're new!" he exclaimed. "I'm Charlie!" He plopped onto the bench next to me and started digging through my cooler. "You haven't caught anything. Sal hasn't caught anything either. But I don't think he's really trying. Are you really trying?"

"Charlie!" Clearly out of breath, a woman appeared at my side. Red colored her otherwise startlingly pale cheeks. "I'm so sorry. He really doesn't understand boundaries yet."

She closed my ice box and began to lecture the kid. "Charlie, how many times have I told you that you can't touch people's things without asking?"

Charlie ignored his mother. Blonde curls bounced around under his hat as he bobbed up and down in his boots. "What are you hoping to catch?"

For someone with a kid that size, his mother seemed quite young. She made a face of apology. "Come on, Charlie. Let's leave the man alone, okay?"

Although his mother gently nudged at his back to get him moving, Charlie didn't budge. Instead he put his little hand out into the air and announced again, "I'm Charlie! What's your name?"

"Peter," I replied, not grabbing his hand and hoping he'd leave now that he got the information.

He waved his hand. "Peter! My dad says you're supposed to put your hand out when you meet someone. Did your dad not teach you that?"

"Charlie, honey, not everyone shakes hands." The kid's mom kept trying to usher him away. "Come on, let's go eat our lunch."

"Bye Peter!" Charlie exclaimed, waving.

The mother took Charlie over to the next bench and began to unpack items from her bag.

I tried to ignore the sound of the energetic kid dancing around singing "picnic" like he was some sort of broken record. It was clear that Charlie's mother had her hands full trying to keep her kid entertained. He seemed the type to have a room destroyed in the two seconds your back was turned.

Just as I'd begun to pack up after having given up on trying to achieve a new state of peace, I heard someone approaching me. A sandwich appeared in front of my face.

"A peace offering," the mother stated. It was clear Charlie and her were related. The same blonde curls escaped from the hood of her parka, forming a little halo around her head. Apology was evident in her blue eyes while her lips formed a kind smile. "To make up for the chaos."

"No need to apologize," I answered. "I've got somewhere I need to be anyway."

That was a lie, but I didn't see a need to make the woman feel bad. Taming her son was enough work. In fact, behind her, Charlie had started to squawk at the herring gulls. Insulted, they flew off the pier to go somewhere where a tiny human couldn't bother them.

The woman placed the sandwich next to my ice chest. "Well, then you can take it to go."

I nodded.

Clearly not put off by my lack of social skills, she smiled wider. "I'm Steph, by the way."

"Peter."

Steph laughed. "Yeah, you mentioned. I'll see you around then, Peter."

~~~

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Fun fact: Charlie was given the name Charlie because I couldn't get "Charlie!! Charlie bit my finger" out of my head. This kid seems the type to bite fingers, so it worked. I totally did not imagine the name yelled out in a British accent every time I wrote it. Not at all.

Question of the week! What's the weirdest dream you've ever had?