Wolf-blood

Kingston

We sat there staring at the sign for who knows how long before its meaning suddenly sunk in. I wasn't home after all. I was in Kingston, a town ten miles from Dunderson.

Crap.

What are we supposed to do now?

This is a bad situation. We should leave.

But we can't leave. Admit it, you're tired.

Okay. I'm tired. That doesn't change the fact that we can't just walk into a town and say, "Excuse me? Can I sleep here?" You know why? Because we're a wolf!

Point taken. But why can't we just shift and knock on someone's door?

We'd be naked!

Okay, you have a point there.

So what are we going to do?

I guess we hope this town is one of the neighboring packs my father talked about. We find the biggest house, hopefully the Alpha's, and we scratch.

That is never going to work.

You have a better plan?

...No.

Nope. I say we go with your plan. It's as good as any.

Then that's settled. Let's find a hopefully Alpha.

So we walked along the edge of the forest, hoping against hope that we wouldn't be spotted. We walked towards the larger houses first, hoping to find the largest of them. When we did, we hit a road block in our plan, literally.

A highway?

We have to cross a highway?

Not happening.

We have to. The house is on the other side.

Indeed it was. We had followed the woods as far as we could until we found it. It looked suspiciously like my home in Dunderson, not quite a mansion, but definitely larger than a house. Only this one was fire engine red. Unfortunately, the forest did not run along side the house, but a highway right next to the house.

I hate cars!

So do I!

Really, Vox, you too?

What? I am a wolf, and enough wolves have become roadkill for us to be wary of the vehicles.

Well, get over it, because we are crossing.

No, we are not.

Two against one!

Oh screw this!

I looked both ways and sprinted across the road with both wolves screaming profanities in my head. When we had crossed safely, but they were still screaming I yelled at them SHUT UP!!!

They immediately stopped screaming and looked around.

Oh.

Yeah.

Right. We knew that.

Definitely.

I mentally rolled my eyes.

Alright, so now we have to scratch his door?

Yep, and hopefully he'll open up.

And won't kill us on site.

That too.

We proceeded to scratch at the door occasionally whimpering or howling for what felt like hours but was probably five minutes. Just when we were about to give up and take our chances in the woods, the door flew open. I looked up (and up, and up) at the tall man in front of me. He had on a flannel shirt, jeans, work boots, and a look of distaste. I didn't realize the look was directed at me until his gaze landed on my eyes. Strangely, the look vanished. He said, "You- I- *gulp* uh- c-come in."