The Wild

Epilogue

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 ly·can·thrope [lahy-kan-thruh-pee] noun 

 1. a delusion in which one imagines oneself to be a wolf or other wild animal. 

 2. the supposed or fabled assumption of the appearance of a wolf by a human being. 

There's a little wild part in everyone, but werewolves—lycanthropes—don't get their reputation from spontaneity, or impulse. It comes from the beast that thrives off of them, body and soul. Living among them made me more than just aware of the darkness man succumbs to when they embrace wilderness. After a while, I came to understand it inside and out, and weave my way through their minds, and pick them apart piece by piece until I knew the crevices of their minds and the way they function.

It's mutiny, and with no one to tame it, they'd end up like Tyler. Or worse.

What was worse was that I couldn't turn it off, not easily, anyway. I imagined my mom had gotten the hang of it—being able to stop the omniscient shadow following them all around—but as of late, I couldn't. I still wasn't comfortable. I could never be alone in a place like this, but it wasn't always terrible.

When I picked up and left with Brian and his—or rather, my—men, I didn't go alone. Brian convinced me to convince Bennet that it would be for the better if he came, and Amaya too. It took a long chat to sway his parents, who weren't used to being empty nesters. Eventually they caved, and now Amaya, Bennet, and I were all living together in the same house. When I asked Brian how it was possible for him to snag such a sweet pad, he had put his hands in his pockets and gave me an uncomfortable look. It wasn't that difficult to put two-and-two together.

Just like I'd claimed Tyler's position, I took his house, too.

As expected, it didn't sit well with his father, who, the second Brian took me to introduce myself, refused to see me again. He had spat at me and told me to burn in hell, but Brian was adamant on gaining me an actual teacher who knew what it took to lead a pack. Still, Tyler's father hated me through and through, and I hadn't seen him since. I'd heard of him, though—oh yes, I sure did.

I didn't sleep at night because that was how the pack functioned. The night was when they were given free range of the premises, which was roughly 600 acres that covered small canyons, barren lands, and fertile forests. Near the edge of said land, was a village. I assumed that at one point, the village had been filled with regular, ordinary humans until the Alpha who came by inadvertently changed their lives forever. Now, most of the pack members lived in the town, or in the secluded estate off in the distance where I made peace.

Brian told me that Tyler didn't shift often, and that it was perfectly okay for me to walk among the wolves as a human when night came. I didn't feel comfortable with the options of shifting or walking in the midst of the darkness, surrounded by blood-thirsty wolves—I could feel it clear as day. Even in their human forms, they couldn't suppress the desires of their wolves. Most of the time, I sat on the back porch, staring over the vast planes of fields and watched the moonlight sometimes shimmer across the rippling of the wild silhouettes on the horizon.

I couldn't get myself to believe that it was all okay, because I could hear all the stubborn resistance, and it's push against my skull at night when I couldn't stop myself from lingering on Tyler's father, and his bitter mind. He loved his son, but even that was overshadowed by the obsession that flickered like a light, on and off, day and night, resilient to be buried. When I came here, one thing became very clear:

He pined for Mary constantly, and he cursed the day I was over born from the second he heard the news. He'd sooner see my throat slit before he ever fully accepted Tyler's death. And for that, I was constantly on guard.