《The Werewolf Councilman's Mate Sought Death [Slow-burn Dystopian Dark Romance]》


 Chapter One: The Freedom of the Nightingale

    I adjusted the strap of my oud case in an effort to avoid fidgeting. There were only about fifty people in my year from my ward, but the line felt as if it would go on forever and forever. Leyla, my older sister, told me I should have just left it at home in case the werewolves confiscated it, but I''d shrivel up and die before that happened. So here I was fidgeting with my strap over and over again, willing the people in front of me to hurry up and board already.


    I mean I wasn''t even allowed to wear my nice performance clothes. Instead we all had to put on the same boring old grey suits that all humans heading to the capital were required to don. Even if we were allowed to talk¡ªno excuse me "fraternize"¡ªit wouldn''t do me any good. That would require friends, of which I was sorely lacking from anyone in my year. It was a less than one percent chance that I would be chosen, but it didn''t mean the next couple months would go by any faster.


    The only thing that let me really know I was still alive was the glare from the guy standing behind me. At the very least the burning rage in his eyes at my fidgeting gave me some solace. Like everyone else in my year, I didn''t even really know his name. All I did know was that he was having a worse time than me and that had to account for something.


    Eventually though, all good things come to an end. The werewolf holding a tablet was a woman, but much taller and more graceful than any human woman could ever be. Even if her eyes weren''t golden, there''s no way she could have been anything other than a werewolf.


    "Name," she deadpanned.


    "Ranna Hakawati," I answered, finally controlling my fidgeting hands.


    She looked at me and frowned, pointing to the oud strapped to my back. "What''s that?"


    "My personal item." I turned my head, lowering it slightly, just like my mom taught me. "Have the regulations changed since last year?"


    "No." She looked down into her tablet, relaxing at my show of submission. "What is it?"


    "An oud."


    She furrowed a brow. "And what on Earth is that supposed to be?"


    "A human instrument. The cousin to the lute and distant relative of the guitar."


    She narrowed her eyes, causing the gold to light up like burning sunlight. "Are you allowed to have a musical instrument?"


    Without lifting my head, I answered, "I''m a Hakawati. My family are legal storytellers."


    tap, tap, tap. "Don''t take it out of your room or after lights out."


    "I wouldn''t dream of it."


    Finally, she freed me by saying, "You''re in room three, bunkbed four. Your instructions will be there."


    I mumbled some meek thankyou and stepped into the train. The sleek metal and design reminded me of when I would go with my extended family to perform for the governor. There was none of the sameness and monotony to human designated homes. Rather, the floor was a carpet that was not only soft, but a bright crimson color. The walls, similarly, were in shades of gold and brown. A part of me wanted to just stay and gawk, but I had annoyed the boy behind me. If  I didn''t want to get "accidently" knocked over, I''d better move.


    I walked fast enough that it wasn''t running, but that I could move through the various train cars at a decent speed. Eventually, I did get to a room marked "Dormitory 3". They were even nice enough to make a bilingual sign in Arabic and the Werewolves'' common language. So it looks like what Layla said about the current councilor of our district being kinder than his predecessors wasn''t a complete lie.


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    Before I could think more on it, I caught sight of the boy I''d annoyed from the corner of my eye. Quickly I slipped in, grateful that our different genders would at least protect me from any petty revenge.


    Inside were four bunkbeds with numbers attached to them. I climbed up to the one on the right side with the number four plastered to the wall. It was a lot fluffier than I was expecting, even having a pillow. Below it was a bag filled with a couple changes of clothes and hygiene supplies. Next to it was a folder with documentation. Like the door outside, it was also bilingual.


    To my surprise, a quick scan told me that the translation was a one-to-one. Just in case there was some hidden trick though, I read the common language. After pages of instruction about protocol in the capital, were details about the testing we''d have to go through. I quickly passed over that information once I realized it was the same thing that had been repeated to us for the past twenty-five years.


    Finally in the back was the schedule. It would take us three days to arrive to the capital so the first page just listed meal times and lights out. The next page was far more interesting, if I was being perfectly honest. For there it listed details about our registration and testing in the capital. There were even some slots allotted for free time. Even if as humans we were banned from having money outside of our registered wards, this was a once in a lifetime chance to see how the other side lived.


    When Layla came back from her testing, she spent weeks talking about how the werewolves there made even the governor look like a pauper. There was the likelihood that she was lying to me in an attempt to hype up her experience, but I''d be lying to myself if I said that a part of me wasn''t curious.


    To distract myself from my budding impatience, I took out my oud and began tuning it. It was as my fingers were finishing up some scales that a trio of girls walked in. They looked at me and my instrument and then ignored me, deciding to talk to themselves. It was as if they were giving me silent permission to play and sing for them in the background.


    Never one to disappoint, I sat up straighter, my fingers dancing maqams far older than history could ever remember and as the other girls chatted about dreams of being chosen, I sang a tale of a nightingale and the young girl who set him free. After all, were we not like that nightingale, forever caged until the day we die?


    These small few months would be the only taste of freedom any of us would ever dream of. Even so, we were more fortunate than the weeping nightingale: Unlike the bird in the tale, we had never known true freedom, preferring the safety and comfort of our cages, no matter how wretched he people I sang about would have found our lifestyle to be.


    Then the song ended and one of the three looked to me. A girl with deep brown eyes and hair as curly as mine. Yet where mine was long and braided back in a simple style that did not go against protocol, hers was cut short to her chin.


    It was this girl who asked, "What happened to the Nightingale after he was let free?"


    "I don''t know," I answered truthfully.


    She blinked. "Aren''t you a storyteller?"


    "My surname is indeed Hakawati," I said. "But the future of the Nightingale has not been passed down, whether in writing or verbally."


    Another girl next to her, one with mousy small features, asked, "Then what do you know?"


    There was a biting tone to her question. Ignoring it, I answered, "Although I do not know what happened to him, I like to think that he was happy."


    "Why?" It was the first girl who spoke that asked this question.


    "To me, my future is with my family and cousins and the other storytelling clans. It is the future which I have wanted for my entire life." I paused for effect. "Likewise, the future that the Nightingale wanted lay outside his cage. Since he worked so hard for it, I like to think that he was surely happy for gaining his heart''s desire."


    The third girl, one with sharp blue eyes and brown curls with streaks of gold, asked, "Don''t you want to be a mate?"


    "No," I shook my head. "I''ll leave that fate for someone else."


    She nodded and three girls dismissed me, deciding that I wasn''t some threat to their daydreams. As if any of us had a choice on who would be chosen.


    Not that it mattered. Since they left me alone, it gave me time to practice my maqams and mentally go over memorized poetry and tales. Hopefully the rest of the trip would pass me by just as peacefully.

 Chapter Two: A Meal with a Foreign She-Wolf

    Without my siblings, parents and cousins timed seemed to stagnate. It wasn¡¯t that we were treated poorly or any of us were foolish enough to start something. In fact, we were given three meals a day larger than anything any of us had ever experienced.


    Even my family could only afford meat twice a week, but in the past day every single meal had some sort of beef or chicken component. Looking at everyone else in the girls¡¯ dining car, it was no wonder the faint glimmer of want lit up everyone¡¯s eyes. If they managed to be chosen as a mate, they could eat like this every day.


    Since I had no intention of getting used to this food, I picked at the beef on my kebabs and instead finished off my rice, hummus and salad. Unfortunately, one of the werewolf guards came up to me. Another woman, but different than the one who checked me in.


    This one was fairer with hair that was more orange and straighter than the typical dark red curls native to this district. Faintly, I wondered if she was a mixed-blood or moved here because her mate was from our district.


    As my mind formulated my own opinions about the she-wolf, it became clear that she was not planning on leaving. Mentally sighing, I sat up straighter, avoiding eye-contact as I asked, ¡°Is there something this lowly one may help you with?¡±


    ¡°Is the food not to your liking?¡± Her Common Language was accented. So she was indeed a foreigner. In that moment, I was never so glad as to have been born a Hakawati.


    I put down my fork and bared my neck. ¡°This lowly one is but a mere mortal. My palette is a bit too unrefined to digest everything.¡±


    From the corner of my eye I could have sworn her eyes widened. It was gone so fast that I would have thought I made a mistake if she didn¡¯t comment, ¡°You speak well for a human. Who taught you?¡±


    ¡°I am storyteller. If my family could not accurately communicate with our generous masters, we would not be able to eat.¡±


    She laughed like a madwoman and when it ceased, she sat down, saying, ¡°I give you permission to raise your head.¡±


    As soon as I obeyed her orders, she pointed to my food. ¡°Now eat before I force it down your throat.¡±


    Naturally, not only did that mean I¡¯d have to consume food I did not want, but I¡¯d have to do it as all the other girls from my ward snuck secret glances at me and the bored werewolf. When I made it back, Leyla and everyone else were going to make fun of me until the day I died for this.


    Very slowly I cut into the kebob with my fork and knife, reluctantly putting it into my mouth. It was good. The meat was juicy and the assortment of spices had a pleasantly hot bite to it. Still, I kept my face impassive as I chewed, swallowed and repeated these basic actions.


    After my third or fourth bite, the she-wolf asked, ¡°What¡¯s your room assignment?¡±


    ¡°Room 3, bunkbed 4,¡± I answered truthfully.


    She took out her phone¡ªsomething only werewolves and their mates could own¡ªand tapped away at it. ¡°According to your records, you¡¯ve been behind on your socialization quota since you¡¯ve boarded. Have you been taking your hormone pills?¡±


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    ¡°Every morning after breakfast, same as I¡¯ve done since I had my first cycle.¡± I took another bite of the kabob. If nothing else, eating would save me from the humiliation of this conversation.


    ¡°Then why do you spend most of your allotted free time in your room?¡± She propped her chin under her arm. ¡°Why, even now, are you choosing to eat alone?¡±


    Instead of answering her, I asked, ¡°May I have permission to ask you a question?¡±


    ¡°Although the humans in this district are known for their boldness, you are the first I have met who dared to ask me a question.¡± Just as I was sure I¡¯d made a mistake and she was going to beat me on the train ride back home, she said. ¡°But I¡¯m bored and there¡¯s nothing to do until we get back to the Capital. If you promise to entertain me, I¡¯ll let you ask your questions.¡±


    In my excitement I accidently let out a small smile which broke protocol. Yet, what was I to do? The only thing I was moderately talented in was entertainment. It was like she had gifted me a proverbial bone.


    She eyed me with deep suspicion, but before she could change her mind, I asked, ¡°How long have you been in the eleventh district?¡±


    Quiet. The silence was so long I was sure she was going to ignore my question, but then she said, ¡°If I¡¯m speaking honestly, I¡¯m only here until my sister finishes giving birth to her litter and before you ask, the reason were even having this conversation is because I¡¯m filling in for her.¡± She paused. ¡°Is it really your place to be curious about where I come from?¡±


    ¡°Probably not.¡± I shook my head with a chuckle. ¡°And yet in my people¡¯s stories there is a tale of a woman who once went beyond her place, collecting stories from books and people, even if her only true duty was at home.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s the point of doing something like that?¡±


    ¡°At the time there was likely no true reason. She was merely fond of learning, but in the future it would serve her well.¡± When the werewolf nodded at me to continue, I leaned in like I was about to reveal some grand secret and said, ¡°For you see in the future, the king of her land would fall into madness, killing a would-be bride each and every night. It would only be her stories which would bring him back into the realm of the sane.¡±


    ¡°Not bad.¡±


    I tilted my head to the side, ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°I am wolf enough to admit when something has gone around my expectations and your story has peaked my curiosity, even if it shouldn¡¯t. So tell me little storyteller, what does any of this have to do with you going against your socialization quota?¡± Just as I opened my mouth to respond, she added, ¡°Or why you think you are worthy to know about my life?¡±


    There was a veiled threat in her tone which made me choose my next words carefully. ¡°All the humans on this train belong to my ward. There is no story for me to collect so I recount and practice my stories in my room. Likewise, you are unknown to me. If I may be granted the mercy of hearing your tale, it would make this trip all the worthwhile.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Amusement laced her tone. ¡°And what would you like to know?¡±


    ¡°Closed off as we are, I would like to know of the district you come from. How it differs from life here and of the people and masters who dwell there.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± She put down her hand, shifting her posture slightly. ¡°Don¡¯t you have any wish to be chosen as a mate?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I shook my head. ¡°I could never dare to dream to be worthy enough to stand beside my masters. All I wish for is to have a story or two to return home with.¡±


    ¡°And then what¡¯ll happen then?¡±


    I was quiet for a bit, contemplating her question, but finally I answered, ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll return to my family, telling them of the foreign she-wolf I met, writing down all that have passed between us. I may even compose a song to accompany this meeting and in a few years I¡¯ll apply to be assigned a mate and be allowed to have children of my own.¡±


    She asked, ¡°I have heard that your kind are greedy. Do you not wish for more?¡±


    I shook my head once more. ¡°Perhaps to you this life of mine may be simple, but for me it is my dream and aspiration.¡±


    She laughed once more. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Ranna,¡± I responded. ¡°Ranna Hakawati.¡±


    She stood up looking down at me. ¡°Ranna Hakawati of District Eleven, I am Elva Ulfur of District Three. This conversation hasn¡¯t been the worst but mealtime is almost over. I will remember your name.¡±

 Chapter Three: A Reason to Live

    To my surprise, Elva did not seek me out during free time or even during dinner. From our conversations, I was sure she was going to ask me to tell her some stories to alleviate her boredom. At the very least, her attitude lead me to believe she would check on me to see if I was meeting my socializing quotas, but she didn''t. Not that it bothered me much. Without the added stress of having to entertain my betters, I was given more time to strum my oud in semi-solitude.


    When I really thought about it, this was the first time in my life I was really alone. There were no screaming baby cousins running around, no mom to nag me to finish my memorization work, no Leyla to tease me or even practice with me. There was just me and although I had my songs and stories to comfort me, the thought of having to deal with solitude for the next couple months was more than a little daunting.


    Still the day continued so I ate and practiced and sang and recounted until it was time for lights out. It would have been nice to say being away from home filled my dreams with memories of my home, but I rarely remembered my dreams. Tonight was no exception.


    When the alarm sounded for us all to wake up, most of the morning proceeded as normal. I got up and in line for the shared shower. Always the last one out, I took my time walking to the dining car, picking up my allotted breakfast, water and hormone pills. When I sat down in an empty booth, I reached for the pair of sealed pink pills, only pausing when I spotted a flash of bright orange heading my way.


    This time the she-wolf plopped down in front of me without any comment. Wondering, if this was some sort of game, I quietly opened the plastic wrappings placing both small pills on my tongue before taking a huge gulp of water. After all, if I spoke first, she might take that as a sign of rebellion and what I wanted was some some stories, not for myself to become the story.


    "So you really do take your pills," Elva commented.


    Biting into my sandwich of fava beans and scrambled eggs, I chewed slowly to buy me a few precious seconds of contemplation. After swallowing, I wiped my mouth with a napkin. "Is there a reason why I wouldn''t take them?"


    "There''s someone I know of who would prefer taking a beating over swallowing his needed medication." I stayed silent, waiting for her to continue and like a spell was cast over her, Elva said, "To be honest with you, I don''t know how human-wolf interactions are treated here, but I''d normally never talk with one of your kind out of choice."


    Then why did you approach me first? Instead of voicing my inner thoughts, I simply regarded her with open curiosity, allowing her to feel in control of the conversation.


    Like clockwork, Elva revealed, "But the day after I arrived, someone back home told me that I''d been matched and with a human of all things. I haven''t met him yet but from what I''m told, you both have similar personalities."


    "How so?" I looked downward as I spoke, focusing on the texture of the flatbread.


    "They say he never had any problems until he was called to the Capital for testing. He was quiet and filled in his socialization quota in his ward, but like you, he seemed to prefer solitude to company once he left his home." She paused, glancing around and then whispered, "I am told that rather than waiting for me, he has tried to run away three times, gone on a food strike and that even when beaten, the spark of rebellion always remains in his eyes."


    Not entirely sure how to react to this, I watched as she leaned back into the leathery seat. "So tell me Storyteller, why would someone willingly hurt themselves over and over again when they could be offered a life far grander than anything they could have ever achieved?"


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    Perhaps a different person would have cared more about betraying her own kind, but I had no ties to this man or anyone in District Three. He was not my kin nor my friend nor my mate. Even if we did have a similar temperament, there was no reason why I should threaten my wellbeing by lying to his mate so that he may have some peace of mind.


    So I answered, "In our stories are those people where no matter how much you beat and torture them, they will never give in, choosing to suffer until their death rather than to betray their ideals. It is likely that your mortal mate is of this sort."


    "Are you trying to tell me you are also of this sort?"


    "Perish the thought," I chuckled. "I have never been so strong. If I was in the same proverbial boat as your mate, I would sooner off myself."


    Elva frowned. "I cannot and do not want to understand why someone would choose such an ending, but in your opinion what are the reasons why someone in my mate''s position would cling onto life?"


    After taking another bite of my sandwich, I asked, "First, may you tell me how the humans are treated in the third district?"


    "Of course." She leaned back, a faraway look in her eyes. "To be honest and it might be because of the climate, but your Councilman is much more lenient with mankind than anyone in my ward would be. Naturally, this doesn''t include our mates but District Three is a land of ice and snow. Our summers are short, but even then we have a midnight sun. Likewise, our winters are long and the sun rises for only a few short hours a day.


    "In such an environment, our Councilman''s duty is to the werewolves first and all other creatures, even¡ªno especially¡ªhumans are an afterthought. It is why our laws are strict, even to other werewolves. In such an environment, any traces of rebellion are immediately dealt with swiftly and without mercy. The humans know not to ask for more than what they are given because even that is more than enough." She looked into her hands, a deep frown marring her strong and beautiful features. "He is not from some other district. He should know what would have happened to him if he wasn''t my mate so why is he acting out like this?"


    "Perhaps even in the existence you find so pitiful, there is something which he values enough to go against you." It was as if I could see the gears in Elva''s mind turning by way of her jaw clenching and focused glowing eyes so I continued, "It is only by the grace of your kind that we may continue our stories, poetry and songs. Yet in those tales, the victor is not the strong. Rather it is the people who are weak and struggle to hold onto what little they have who know how to weep and love the strongest."


    "Stop speaking in riddles," Elva all but barked out.


    "Very well." I bowed my head once more, but my words were clear and firm. "In any relationship, force will lead to an undesired outcome. Rather, if you want to bring him to your side, you need to see the world as he sees it, not as how you, yourself, perceive it."


    Elva demanded, "Give me an example."


    "In your district, do the nightingale roam the trees?"


    Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What on Earth is a nightingale?"


    "It is a bird," I began. "Yet, in my people''s stories, we have elevated it to a symbol of freedom and love."


    She tilted her head to side. "What is so special about this bird?"


    "They say the nightingale, much like our masters, only loves once." I looked up at her, smiling softly. "And that it knows hundreds upon hundreds of songs. Yet, it shall only ever sing for its beloved. No matter how you try to capture or beg it, it will not sing for another."


    Elva leaned back, pushing her hair away from her face. "What a foolish creature."


    "Yes," I agreed. "I suppose you can say that, but like the bird I speak of, we humans cannot help cling onto what is ours, no matter how much happier we''d be if we just let go."


    Just as Elva opened her mouth to respond to me, a bell rang out letting us know that breakfast had ended. This time it was my turn to stand up and walk away, leaving her to whatever it was werewolves with uncontrollable human mates thought about.

 Chapter Four: Lullabies and Bus 42

    As before Elva did not seek me out. Not even when the train finally stopped did she approach me again. I suppose that was to be expected though. It was like the poets said, "Meeting and parting are an inevitability".


    A robotic voice on the intercom said, "All humans are to depart the train with their documents and personal item only. Leave all other materials on the train. I repeat, all humans are to depart the train immediately with only their documents and personal item."


    I zipped up my oud and triple-checked the folder they gave me. Only then did I climb down the metal ladder and exit my room. Scanning the train car, I saw a couple other stragglers by a now open door. Getting in line, I was at least grateful by how much shorter this line was. Instead of the dozens of people in front of me, there were only three. Meaning in no time at all, I was in front of a werewolf with a tablet on hand.


    This one was a male, hair cropped short and dispassionate gold eyes. "Name."


    I answered, "Ranna Hakawati."


    "Ward Number"


    "Fifteen."


    "Papers."


    I handed him my folder. He looked through my documents, handing them back to me and tapped away at his tablet. "You''re on Bus 42. When you exit the main station, pick up your map and proceed immediately to your designated bus."


    I mumbled a "Yes, Master." and stepped down the stairwell for my first look at the Capital. Even though this was just the station, it could easily fit fifty of the train stations back home. If I lifted my head above the sea of grey, I could even see several other trains which had likely arrived around the same time as the one I just descended from. Unlike myself, however, a lot of people had spent the trip up to the Capital bonding and filling in their socialization quota.


    Meaning the sound of chatter and footsteps created a loud and bustling atmosphere completely foreign to me. What was even stranger was how the werewolf guards not checking everyone''s papers and assigning bus numbers just sort of stood to the side with bored looks on their faces.


    So this is what Leyla meant by reality being different than expectations. Not having time to think more on this, I clutched the strap of my oud case with one hand and my folder with the other while following the mass of graphite clad people. All the while, I kept my head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without catching anyone''s attention.


    It did give me a lovely view of the marble tiling. The color was a mix of white and gold. The extravagance made me frown a bit. Would the governor and her family even be able to afford this much marble?


    Just as I was going to ponder the question more, I narrowly missed getting shoved to the ground and trampled. Even though I was short by even human standards, I focused on moving swiftly, weaving through the hundreds, if not thousands of bodies. By some miracle, I made it to a stand with a bilingual sign which read "Maps. Only one map per person. Violators will be dealt with swiftly and without mercy."


    I quickly grabbed one and tried to orientate myself, but unlike getting here, I didn''t have a mass of people to guide me towards a specific location. Instead there were groups of people headed towards ten different exits which led to different buses. Damn it! If I knew this was going to happen, I would have forced myself to socialize, even if I knew the people I picked would only talk to me so they could curse me out behind my back.


    Should I ask a guard for directions? I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. The last thing I''d allow would be to led to my bus in front of a crowd of strangers like some lost child. Besides, my mom always said that every problem had a solution. As long as I calmed down and thought about things rationally, everything would be okay. In contrast, allowing my emotions to overtake me would only worsen my current predicament.


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    So I took a deep breath, humming the tune to a lullaby my mom used to sing me whenever I got scared from a nightmare. I hadn''t had a nightmare in years, but when I was a kid, they used to be really common for me. Maybe that was why I couldn''t dream much as an adult.


    "Focus Ranna," I muttered to myself, effectively pushing away thoughts of nightmares and dreams.


    Somehow those words combined with the familiar melody helped me to drown out the noise and crowds surrounding me. I''d have to ask my mom where she learned this tune the next time I saw her. For now, though, I looked at the map, the "you are here" marker and my intended gate. Then I looked around me, a sinking feeling starting in my abdomen at how my genetics meant I''d never be able to tell right from left in this place.


    Even with my hormone meds, my heart rate began to elevate and my breathing took on an irregular rhythm.


    Don''t panic. Don''t panic. Don''t panic. You are a Hakawati and we do not have panic attacks in public.


    The last thought woke me up enough to close my eyes and focus on breathing in and out until my heartbeat resembled something more normal. Only then did I open them up again to look around me once more. The crowd was still thick with people picking up maps before wandering in seemingly illogical directions.


    I hummed louder, safe in the knowledge that no one was paying attention to me. It was only just as I was about to swallow my pride and look for a guard that I looked up. There right in plane sight, above everyone, were signs with matching gate numbers to the ones on the map. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hide my laughter from how absurd it was that I couldn''t see something which was right in front of me.


    When I was talking with Elva, it was a risk to even joke about suicide, but she wouldn''t have trusted me if I didn''t speak plainly. I would likely never see her again so it didn''t matter what she thought about me as long as she didn''t report me as being mentally unsound. Here though, there were too many witnesses who could put me in serious trouble if I acted or said anything outside of the ordinary.


    So even though I wanted to do nothing but laugh at my own foolishness, I bit the inside of my cheek and checked the map for my gate. Buses 40-49 were in Gate 4. To give myself more room, I put my files in my oud case, in the place I usually kept sheet music, zipped it up and strapped it to my back, crumpling the map slightly between my two hands.


    Very slowly, I maneuvered through the train station, constantly bobbing my head from the map in my hands to the various signs and hallways. Eventually I did make it to the gate and breathed a sigh of relief.


    Unfortunately, that was the exact moment a robotic voice on the intercom said, "This is the last call for buses 40-49. If you have not boarded, the bus will leave without you."


    Even though Leyla was the athletic one and I was more comfortable sitting with books or with my oud, I sprinted, reaching the evergreen bus just as the doors closed. In fear, I banged on the door, yelling "Wait! Wait! I''m still here!"


    Just as I was sure I was going to get abandoned, the doors opened up and an elderly werewolf woman looked down at me with hands on her hips, speaking in an accent of the common language familiar to all. "You''re late."


    Baring my neck in a sign of submission I mumbled incoherent apologies, hoping that if I looked pathetic enough, she would show me some mercy.


    She sighed, causing me to dig my nails into my palms in an effort to hide my smile of victory. In the next breath she said, "Find an empty seat. Girls sit on the left side of the bus."


    I lowered my head, muttering my thanks and gratitude as I found the lone empty seat in the back of the bus, next to a girl who was pretty enough to almost be mistaken for a werewolf. The only thing that let me know she was human were her gray eyes.


    Not wanting to repeat my mistakes, I gave her a shy smile. "Hi, I''m Ranna from the fifteenth ward. What''s your name?"


    She looked at me and just as I was sure she was going to ignore my weak attempt of a greeting, she said, "Warda from the nineteenth ward."


    When I was going to say more, the bus began to move and the older werewolf woman clapped her hands, standing up. "Ladies and gentlemen, for most of you, your time in the capital will be but a fleeting dream. However, there are those among you who may be found worthy by fate and the Goddess to be a mate, making our Capital or even a city in a different district your permanent home. Regardless, from this moment on you are all representatives of the humans of your ward and I expect you all to behave with dignity and grace.


    Now, it''ll be about an hour before we arrive to the sector which will house you for the next few months. Before then, are there any questions?"


    Complete and utter silence.


    "Excellent," the she-wolf said. "Then you may discuss amongst yourselves while here. Once you exit this bus, however, you are to obey each and every instruction given to you."


    When there was more silence, she said, "Do you all understand?"


    "Yes, Mistress," we all said as if we had time-travelled back to school-children.

 Chapter Five: Tailors and Storytellers

    When the bus began moving again, silence overtook Warda and me. Remembering my purpose here, I said, "My family are storytellers. What do yours do?"


    She looked at me and when I was sure I had asked the wrong question, she said, "We are tailors for the governor of our ward."


    "Then we are not so different."


    "Oh?" She arched an eyebrow. "How so?"


    "My family often performs for the governor of our ward." I paused. "We have seamstresses and tailors in my ward but this is the first I have heard of a private one for the governor. If it would be alright, might you share your family''s tale with me?"


    "I am no storyteller."


    "You need not worry," I assured her. "I only wish to bring home some tales after I inevitably am sent back home."


    "Where would I even start?"


    Now, I had her. Out loud, I said, "I have always found the beginning to be an excellent place."


    "Seven generations ago, back when the Age of Man was coming to an end, my family were weavers and tailors," Warda began after a long silence. "Unlike the people of his village, my ancestor stayed with those who could not leave: the elderly and the orphans, sewing for them as everyone in his family had always done. They say that even though his hands were soft, they soon became rough from farming and hunting when few others were able."


    "There''s a storyteller in you yet," I smiled up at her. "So tell me, what did your ancestor do when the werewolves came?"


    "He marched straight up to their army and he said, ''Only my family remain with the elderly, disabled and orphans. We do not care for any war or revolution. Only that we may live out our pitiful existences peacefully.''


    "And from out of the crowd emerged the general. He walked to my ancestor and asked, ''What is your name?''


    "''Mahmoud.''


    "''And what is your occupation?''


    "''I am a tailor by birth, Al-Khayat is both my surname and my trade.''


    "''Are you married?''


    "''My wife has been weak since she brought my twins into the world.''


    "And then do you know what the great and grand werewolf general did?"


    I shook my head, left to right, excited at the prospect of being able to bring home this tale.


    Warda said, "He laughed, leaving my ancestor who was prepared for death unable to move and then the general said, ''I am in need of someone to mend my clothes. Serve me and you and your children shall carry on your name''s occupation for as long as my bloodline continues."


    I watched as Warda leaned back into her bus seat and then said, "What a marvelous origin story. I swear to you that it shall not be forgotten."


    "Thank you, but now it is your turn. Tell me, how was it your family came to be storytellers?"


    "I suppose it is only fair to return the favor." I chuckled and sat up straight, balancing my oud on my lap. "In the Age of Man when there was neither district nor ward and the lands were known by many names only remembered through poetry and tales. When there was an Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Lebanon and more names than we could possibly understand, my ancestors were scholars. Their occupation was to learn and teach the stories and ways of their ancestors, even if most of the people in the Age of Man wished to forget.


    "Then news of war and werewolves came. It is said that in that time, my people were no stranger to war. They had seen the coming of war as one watches the ebb and flow of an ocean''s waves. Yet this war was different than all the rest. My ancestors watched as their collogues abandoned their institutions, great nations fell and poets died and one among them had a thought." I held up a finger here, putting on a show for not only Warda but the various others sneaking secret glances at my performance.


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    "What was it?" Warda asked. "His thought, that is."


    "He thought that he, his wife, their children and their cousins and uncles and so on were all men and women of talent. They knew the stories and songs and how to perform and dance and so on. So he gathered them all up and he told them, ''This world is going to hell. For as long as we are alive, let us give everyone the dream of happiness and memory.''


    "So it was that they gathered all their books and poetry and instruments, purchasing a few caravans and some camels and horses¡ªfor by then fuel for cars was difficult to obtain¡ªand gathered all the family. It is recorded that they traveled from nation to nation for ten years, always evading so and so army. In each place, people welcomed them and offered them food and rest."


    Warda interrupted, "Why would they do that when they have less than what even the poorest man has?"


    "Hope," I answered. "For you see, they were in pain and tears and suffering but whenever they saw my ancestors'' caravan come in, everyone in that forsaken place could pretend that for a little while there was neither war nor suffering."


    "And what happened when they got caught?"


    "It was said that when there was nowhere left to run, my ancestor said, ''All plays must come to an end. Don''t you all want to see the finale?''


    "And with those words, everyone nodded their agreement at the one who had brought them so far, watching as he went out to meet the army they all had feared for so long. He did not cry and he did not scream and he did not beg. Rather he stood atop his caravan and said, ''Salamtikm, what brings you here on this fine morning?''


    "For a while there was no one to greet my ancestor, but then one among them, taller than all the rest came out. He looked at my ancestor like he was lower than the dirt beneath his shoes and asked, ''Who on Earth are you?''


    "''Gibril is my name.'' my ancestor paused. ''Tell me, would you all like to see a play?''


    "''Do you have any idea what is going on in the world right now?'' The look of disdain was palpable on his face.


    "It was at this moment that my ancestor knew the general before him was a kind man. For if he was truly cruel, why did he not kill my ancestor and all in the caravan with him? So the gears in my ancestor''s brain began to twist and turn.


    "Until finally, he answered, ''Why yes, there''s a war, but it is in times like these that stories and plays and all that come with it are needed more than ever.''


    "''Is that so?'' the general said. ''Then fine, show me your play, but know that if I find your performance to be unworthy, you all will be declared liars and I will not hesitate to tear each and every one of you limb from limb.''


    "My ancestor smiled. ''You will not regret it.''


    "Then he descended into the caravan, calling his relatives in the accompanying ones to squeeze into the small one where he, his wife and children resided. In that tight and cramped space where they could not move, they discussed and spoke and argued about what show would please and entertain one who was only half a man."


    Warda asked, "And which one did they go with?"


    "No one knows." I shrugged.


    "What?" Warda''s face was completely flabbergasted.


    "This was seven generations ago and our family records all vary. Some say he performed a rendition of "The Hunchback''s Tale" from A Thousand and One Nights. Others say he did a modern comedy a poor man who fell in love with a rich man''s daughter. Still others say they performed something of my ancestor''s own making. Whatever the case, they set up a makeshift stage, tied down their camels and horses and performed.


    "It was said the general and his men laughed and cried and were moved to the point that they could not deny the need and want for more performances. At the very very end of it, the general clapped and everyone took a bow, no one entirely sure if they would live or die. For in those days all of mankind believed that werewolves were as fickle as humans.


    "Finally, the general asked, ''What is your family name?''


    "''We threw it away long ago,'' my ancestor replied.


    "''Then I shall call you Hakawati, in honor of your language and in memory of this performance. Follow me and I swear that all present may continue telling their stories until my bloodline has come to an end." I paused before concluding, "This is my tale and now I have told it."


    "How funny," Warda said.


    I tilted my head to the side. "What is?"


    "Although our histories differ in their origin, they both end the same."


    "Yes," I laughed. "I suppose that means that we are not so different from one another."


    And she laughed with me. It was just as I was beginning to think that maybe this trip would not be so bad that the bus screeched to a halt. Simultaneously, something big and loud crashed into the front of the bus, spraying streams of red all throughout the window shield.

 Chapter Six: Nothing Wrong

    Looking back, there were many things I could have done differently to avoid what would happen next. If I had met my socialization quota, I would have never talked to that she-wolf. If I had swallowed my pride and asked for directions, I would have likely missed Bus 42''s departure. Yet, in the end, none of those things happened. No, the following events were a consequence of my own will and actions and to say otherwise would be to deny myself as a human being. Besides, there was always the likely scenario that such actions would only have delayed the inevitable.


    For in that moment of blood of gore, an accented male werewolf''s voice boomed, "Everyone out and at attention."


    We all looked to the elderly she-wolf at the front of the bus, unsure what to do. At the very least our hormone meds kept us from immediately screaming and running. However, given what happened in the train station, who knew how long until the tell-tale signs of panic would set in.


    She stood up. "Everyone, stay seated. Let me see what the commotion is about."


    For once, none of us so much as nodded. We all just sat there staring blankly. We all had parents, sibling, friends and the like who had come before us. Yet not a one had ever prepared us for a situation like this. Luckily, she did not reproach us for showing disrespect. Rather, she walked to the front of the bus, grabbed the driver''s intercom and asked, "On what authority do you have to stop us?"


    "I have authorization from District Fifteen''s Councilman to search and capture an escaped convict from District Three so get out and let me search."


    "Look elsewhere," the she-wolf said. "Other than myself and the driver there are only humans on board. They''re all newly arrived from our district''s wards for the mate selection. You will not find who you are looking for here."


    "Get out now while I still remember how to keep protocol." The threat in his voice caused a few of us to start looking around at each other. What could any of us have done to have angered a foreign male werewolf? Was anyone really that idiotic?


    Another more jovial male voice said, "What my companion here is leaving out is that if we''re wrong, you can continue on your way and if we''re right you will have helped in preventing an inter-district conflict."


    "Do you have any form of identification?" The she-wolf asked, but how she was able to keep calm was beyond me.


    I couldn''t really see from my vantage point and with all the blood, but they must have flashed something to prove their legitimacy because the she-wolf said, "Alright."


    She then turned to us and told us all to file out in an orderly manner. I slid out, leaving my oud on the bus and waited for Warda to join me. Call it cowardice or female bonding or whatever, but I''d rather go with someone I exchanged stories with than walk alone. What was odd though was how the one behind her¡ªsome boy with thick glasses that hid half his face¡ªheld up the rest of the line (few as it was) until I moved forward. He didn''t try to move around or go in front or even complain at how slow we were being.


    "Hurry up back there," the she-wolf called.


    Brushing it off that the boy was likely just stalling, we picked up our pace to line up in single file. Since we all had our heads bowed, I couldn''t get a good look at their faces. Next to me, Warda''s hands were shaking, but the boy on the other side of her was somehow able to keep his hands still. Again, I brushed it off. There were some wards that served as military bases and the humans there worked as servants, growing up among violence and executions. He was probably just one of those unlucky people. I was just being paranoid and that wouldn''t help anyone.


    For a while, we all just sort of stood there, most of us shaking and fidgeting while trying to strain our ears as the elderly she-wolf discussed something with the two foreigners. Since none of us had the enhanced hearing of a werewolf, it was naturally futile. That was when the whispering began. I wasn''t the first and I couldn''t make out what was being said, but when a couple people started, it was natural for everyone else to join in.


    So while keeping my head down, I asked Warda, "How long do you think they''re going to keep us like this?"


    "I''m not sure. My brothers never had this happen to them." She looked at me from the corner of her eye. "Any of your siblings ever talk about being stopped like this?"


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    "No." I shook my head. "My sister went to the selection last year so if there was any weird test like this, she would have told me about it."


    "Unless she wasn''t allowed to."


    I paused. "I had not considered that¡ª"


    "Quiet down," the she-wolf suddenly shouted. "We can still hear you."


    The whispering immediately ceased. It was soon replaced by the sound of a single pair of footsteps. The black shoes from my vantage point were smaller than a male werewolf''s so it must have belonged to the she-wolf.


    My suspicions were proven true when her voice boomed, "Everyone lift up your heads and hands behind your back. This will only take a moment and then we''ll resume our schedule."


    I shared a look with Warda and it was funny how quickly people latch onto others when placed in undesirable situations. All of us were strangers but from the corner of my eye I saw several other people exchange similar looks. Then we all lifted our heads and assumed the she-wolf''s desired position, losing the fleeting moment of comradery.


    They were pale. That was my first thought at the two male werewolves. They were even paler than Elva. Not only that, but even among werewolves, they would have been giants. Yet their builds were different. The one who was a couple of millimeters shorter was leaner with long black hair tied in a ponytail while the other one had blond hair cut to his chin. His build was also larger, as if he could snap us just by touching us. In contrast, the dark haired one had a sort of controlled rage to him.


    From experience, I hoped that the larger one would come. After all, stories taught us that it was the one who seemed smaller and weaker whom we should fear and watch out for the most. Unfortunately, it looked like they would be approaching together.


    Ranna, everything is going to be okay. You haven''t done anything wrong. They aren''t coming for you. The mental mantra helped to steady my heartbeat until a loud scream sounded next to me.


    Just as I turned to see Warda on the ground, her hands scrapped and bloody, I felt a hand around my neck¡ªa clawed hand. As if time moved in slow motion, I traced the hand to the glasses-covered face of the suspicious boy behind Warda.


    Simultaneously, the larger blond werewolf started growling while looking at the fallen Warda. He only stopped when the man accompanying him put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something only a werewolf could hear. Whatever it was worked and the larger one stepped back, but his eyes never left Warda.


    I looked up at what was surely a werewolf, feeling my bladder full as I said, "I think there''s been some sort of mistake."


    The claws tightened around my neck, not enough to break skin, but just enough to let me know that words wouldn''t save me now.


    Shit! Shit! Shit! Things weren''t supposed to end like this. This was supposed to just be a fun memory before returning to my ward. Was I really going to die here? I didn''t even get to say goodbye to my mom and dad because the governor had some guests so they had to stay overnight with some of our relatives. This wasn''t how things were supposed to go.


    "Let the human go." The dark-haired werewolf''s voice cut through my chaotic thoughts. Was he going to save me?


    "No, I don''t think I will." From the corner of my eye, the one holding me hostage grinner. "And I think you''re going to let me go."


    "Why on Earth should I care about the life of one measly human?"


    I had never in my life seen such cold eyes. No, he wasn''t going to save me. He was really going to let me just die. This was really the end for me. As tears pricked my eyes, I felt a humiliating dampness between my legs.


    The cause of my distress looked at me revulsion. "Did you just piss yourself?"


    My face flamed. I had thought that at the very end of my life I''d at least be able to keep my dignity, but no. I was going to die and not as some strong and brave hero, but as a coward so afraid that I couldn''t even control my bodily functions.


    So consumed was I with my thoughts that I didn''t even notice the werewolf in front of me shift until a big mass of fur lunged at us. Before I could even process what was going on or where I was, a loud crunch reverberated in my ears. I looked to the side meeting the golden eyes of a too large wolf that tore the head off of my would-be captor before spitting it out. My eyes followed it until lifeless golden eyes stared back at me. The situation was made all the more real when his clawed hand fell limp.


    The wolf removed himself from atop of me and pulled the corpse away from me. For a while I was entranced, watching as he tore and mangled the corpse limb from limb, spraying blood, entrails and all manner of internal organs on me and the surrounding foliage. It was only when he had finished and the corpse was beyond recognition that the smell of iron and raw meat assaulted my senses.


    I looked at my hands, soaked in blood which did not belong to me and I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. It was only when my throat was raw and sore that I hunched over the grass vomiting everything I had consumed on the train. Mercifully, I did not have to see the aftermath of the loss of any reputation for darkness soon overtook my senses.

 Chapter Seven: Correcting a Mistake

    I sat up with a gasp, blurriness forcing me to fall back down into a cloud. Logic and reason told me that clouds cannot sustain a person''s mass, but there was no other way to describe this softness. Not even the beds in the Governor''s servant rooms were this fluffy and those were the nicest beds I''d ever laid on.


    To distract myself, and in an effort to regain my vision, I put my hand in front of my eyes, clasping and unclasping a fist until I could see all the details of my skin. By some miracle the trick worked. So despite the pounding in my head, whatever happened to me couldn''t possibly be so bad. Naturally it was when I relaxed that memories of blood, death and violence flooded my head. I couldn''t recall the faces that well, but I remembered the gold eyes of the black wolf tearing into flesh and bone.


    This time, however, I bit my lip until I iron flooded my mouth. The bitter taste provided me with the clarity needed not to embarrass myself more than I already had. As I sucked on my self-inflicted cut, my eyes darted every which way in an effort to orientate myself. I was in some sort of bedroom, but the bed I was on was large enough to fit four grown human men or two or three male werewolves. Likewise, the room was brightly decorated, a myriad of greens and golds and large enough to house my living room plus two bedrooms. This was even when I factored in how my family''s house was one of the largest human dwellings in my ward.


    On the thought of color, I frowned, looking down at my sleeve and then at my clothing. Gone were the bloodied and soiled gray garments, but instead of a new one or even the simple white pajamas all humans wore, I was in a lavender nightgown. Yet who would dare dress me in something so delicate and bright? Unmated humans couldn''t wear bright colors, not even when some of us performed as storytellers. Although our performance clothes were a bit nicer, they were still always in shades of white, brown and grey. Even black was considered to opulent.


    "It must be some sort of mistake," I muttered.


    Thinking on it more, it had to have been a mistake. Our hormone meds normally kept us from being too emotional but the shock and gore of what happened coupled with the stress of almost missing my bus and entertaining a bored she-wolf for a couple days was too much. I must have been sent to some sort of infirmary and someone must have moved me by mistake. Maybe there was another mate with similar features and they thought it was me. After all dark curls, bronze skin and hazel eyes were terribly common in District Eleven. Sure I was a little chubbier than the average human, but Warda had confirmed that the governor of my ward was not the only one who favored some of their human servants.


    This was a mistake and by rectifying it, I would be helping some poor soul who would likely end up in some serious trouble. Convinced of this to be true, I crawled out from the heavy and thick covers and maneuvered out of the bed. The odd thing was that a part of me knew that I must have hit my head or had some bruises, but I felt better than I had in years. Before my mind could tread dangerous waters, I reminded myself that if this was a mistake, they probably gave me treatment reserved for mates by mistake too.


    Once I finally removed myself from the too-large bed that threatened to suck me in, I put a hand to my wrist steadying myself until I was sure my heartbeat moved at a steady pace. Later there would be time for crying and screaming, but for now the most important thing was to stay calm and appear reasonable until I sorted out this mess. It would be like putting on a performance in front of an especially brutal guest of the Governor''s.


    It was as my bare feet walked across a carpet as soft as feathers that my fa?ade of peace and calm threatened to slip away. For on the other side of this too-large room lay my oud case, laying so pristinely that it could only have been purposefully placed there. Yet, if this were all a mistake, how could that have been possible? Could the other person I looked like have also been a storyteller? No, according to Leyla, although our peers existed in other wards, they were few and far between. The likelihood of another storyteller who shared my height and features was too improbable.


    I shook my head, pushing away such intrusive thoughts. This had to be a mistake. The alternative was much too awful to contemplate. Even if it wasn''t and I was wrong, I had to believe it was a mistake. Some among the werewolves could smell fear and lies. Even if the likelihood of this being a mistake was becoming more and more improbable by the second, I had to believe it.


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    So I took a deep breathe and thought about this logically: Perhaps if I was taken to an infirmary and my oud was also there, there person who moved me was unfamiliar with the one who looked like me. If it was close enough to where I rested, it would have been a simple mistake to assume that the object was mine and deposit both me and my oud to this place.


    There was a less than one percent chance of this exact scenario, but it was possible. After all, hadn''t the end of the Age of Man come because my kind could not come to terms with a species that did not line up to their own small definitions? Yes, to rule out this possibility would make me just as narrow-minded as those long ago people. This was all a mistake.


    That my oud was here just meant that the person they thought I was must have been important. It was the just thing to rectify it and in a few hours, I''d be in my assigned room, awaiting testing until I went on a train home. Then this entire episode would be nothing more than a funny memory I''d compose some song of, adding to my family''s collection.


    Once more I put a hand to my wrist, feeling my heartbeat become steady and steadier still until serenity overcame my senses. In the next moment, I approached my oud, opening the case. Carefully moving the instrument, I felt around until my fingers traced the hidden zipper Leyla had sewed on. Her gift inside was intended for me to sneak out past curfew to "have some fun and live a little" as she put it.


    As I slowly unzipped the compartment, I had never been so glad that I had decided to humor her. For inside was a small key-ring with a various assortment of distorted bobby-pins among them. This particular set was the result of Leyla and I''s experimentation in secondary school. I hadn''t picked a lock since I graduated a few years back, but hopefully I still remembered the mechanics.


    It''d be fine. This was all for the sake of correcting a mistake. Once I explained myself, they''d be so grateful that it wouldn''t matter if I''d picked a lock to get out. Besides, the door might not even be locked.


    But what if the door is electrical? I shook my head right to left at my intrusive thought, zipping up my oud and slinging the case over my shoulder. After, I felt around the nightgown someone dressed me in and by some miracle there were pockets. I slipped my assortment of bobby pins into the right one.


    As soon as I was done, the familiar weight brought on a wave of relief. It was as if just carrying something familiar and normal assured me that everything would be alright. So it was that I wandered across the room, turning a corner until I came upon a grand and opulent door. Luckily it had a sort of ancient style to it with a normal key hole instead of an electric one. Better yet, when I actually turned it, it opened.


    However, instead of a hallway, it gave way to a massive living room of sorts. There were ornate couches in the same green and gold color scheme of the bedroom. In front of it was a a coffee table and a large TV screen was on the wall facing the couch. Although the only reason I recognized it was because the Governor had a similar one on her private lands. The rest of the room had a simple, old fashioned design with shelves in the back, but I quickly glanced at them before moving on. What I needed was a door, not a place to sit down.


    After darting my eyes every which way, they finally landed on another door, as large as the ones to the bedroom. After walking the seemingly million kilometers it took to cross the room, I tried the doorknob, but this one was locked. Now I examined the keyhole, taking in its size and dimension before trying to decide which bobbing pin would work.


    Naturally, the first one didn''t work. At the very least, it didn''t even break so I took a deep breath and re-examined the keyhole, willing memories of my schooldays to come back. As long as I thought about it logically, everything would be okay.


    This time, I carefully examined each bobby pin, one by one until I found the one I thought would work. Placing it in, I slowly moved it around until I heard a familiar click. Pocketing the make-shift keys once more, I couldn''t help but grin. "I still got it."


    With that I opened the door, but instead of a hallway was a wooden porch that descended into soft grass. Looking down at my attire, I didn''t have any shoes and my slim clothing wouldn''t protect me when night fell. Still, it was better than staying here and doing nothing. Besides, as soon as I found someone and corrected this mistake, I''m sure I''d be given my usual grey clothing back.


    So with only one way forward, I stepped down onto the damp grass, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

 Chapter Eight: Wolves and Fools

    Some part of Alaric knew that threatening and maybe biting the neck of another councilmen''s guard might not have been wise, but Jerald wasn''t here to be his voice of reason. So instead, he grinned and looked down at the determined guard.


    The guard unconsciously moved into a fighting position causing Alaric''s grin to become wider.


    "Move," Alaric said.


    Adrenaline and fear coated the other man''s scent, but he kept a steady voice as he said, "Councilman Zima, I do not serve you and I will not abandon my duty for you."


    The last threads of Alaric''s reason made him say, "Although it is true that this isn''t my district, I still outrank you."


    "I am not moving." The guard''s eyes even glowed a little.


    If he wasn''t disrespecting Alaric specifically, he might have respected the other man''s bravery. As it was, the guard was only an annoyance. So before the other wolf could even blink, Alaric shifted his hand into long and sharp wolfen claws, gripping the guard''s neck while slamming his head against the door.


    The guard''s eyes turned to molten liquid, but he was smart enough not to move lest Alaric "accidently" crush his windpipe. At the pathetic sight before him, Alaric grinned, taking on a lighter tone. "See, that wasn''t so hard now, was it?"


    Of course, Alaric''s fun was cut short when the doors opened to reveal the bronze skinned and curly haired face of Councilman Al-Rashid. Without any preamble, Alaric''s peer asked, "Councilman Zima, is there a reason you are harassing my guards?"


    Without shifting his position, but still looking Councilman al-Rashid in the eyes, Alaric said, "I have something I need to discuss with you."


    "Didn''t you already deal with your convicts?"


    "So you''ve heard?"


    "According to my wolves, three days ago one of your wolves tore the heart out of one and slammed his body against a bus filled with newly arrived humans while you, yourself, broke all protocol, shifting in my district to tear a second criminal beyond any sort of recognition." Councilman al-Rashid narrowed his eyes. "Tell me, Councilman Zima, what more could there possibly be to add?"


    "Do you think I would be wasting my time here if it wasn''t important?"


    The two wolves'' eyes locked in a silent battle that waged until Councilmen Al-Rashid said, "Fine, but know that if you are wasting my time, I will have no choice but to order you and any wolf you brought with you out of my district by nightfall. Now release my wolf and follow me."


    "Of course." It was only when Councilman al-Rashid turned around that Alaric released the guard, shifting his clawed hand back into one resembling a human one. As he followed his peer, Alaric did not so much as spare the guard another glance or thought.


    They walked through a hallway lined with wallpaper in the green and gold colors of District Eleven. Eventually the hall opened into a simple living room. Most of it was empty except for a sitting area in the center. There was a couch with two arm chairs on either side and small coffee table. There wasn''t even a TV in sight. Not that Alaric was particularly surprised.


    It was rumored that after the Hunt two years ago, Councilman al-Rashid was influenced by his mate to live simpler. According to Elva, her sister told her that the only real display of wealth he put on was when he paid for local storytellers to perform for them in private. Not that Alaric minded much. If Elva and the rumors were to be trusted, it meant that this discussion would likely be more fruitful than with some of their other peers.


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    Councilman al-Rashid sat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other so Alaric took the armchair adjacent to him.


    "You have my attention now." Al-Rashid tapped the green fabric of his pants repeatedly. "So now speak."


    The reasonable part of his brain remined Alaric that al-Rashid was his equal and that he needed him. He could get angry, but that would result in a fight. He was confident he could win, but he wasn''t only living for himself anymore. At least until they were both back in their district, he had to play nice. Later he could challenge al-Rashid and get back for this insult, but doing so today would only be a disadvantage.


    So Alaric dropped his usual smile and asked, "Is it possible to know someone''s mate before the selection?"


    "Normally," Councilman al-Rashid began, "The hormone medication unmated and unmatched humans are in alters not only their sexual drive, but also their scents. There are unique circumstances as in the incident three days ago, where a strong scent from blood, piss or other bodily fluids make it possible to identify a mate, but that still requires one of us to be in close proximity to our mate. This is especially true when we consider how much easier it is to identify our mates from the selection process."


    "I know all this." Alaric all but barked out the sentence.


    "Then why are you asking such a basic question?"


    "Because the more I think about that day, the more I am convinced that criminal was not on my mate''s bus because of a coincidence."


    The statement caused Councilman al-Rashid to pause his incessant tapping and sit up straighter. "Speak plainly or I''ll assume you just want to waste my time."


    "Too many things about that day don''t add up," Alaric said, beginning to tick through his fingers. "First, if that criminal saw what we did to his partner, how was he able to calmly exit the bus and stay with the humans? Why was he so sure he''d live? Second, he wasn''t standing next to my mate. He pushed my right hand wolf''s mate to the ground and then grabbed my mate. That could only mean that my mate was his target from the beginning. Finally, third, he seemed so sure if he threatened her that I''d let him go."


    "And what conclusion have you come up with from these inconsistencies?" Councilman al-Rashid''s voice was light, but Alaric could smell how his peer''s scent shifted slightly from Alaric''s questions and reasoning.


    "That before my mate was tested, before I had a chance to talk with her and prepare her for the Hunt, someone already knew she was my mate."


    "That''s not possible."


    Alaric slammed his hand down at the table, making it shake but not break. "Then tell me what other reason was there? Because of those pieces of shit, the first time I meet my mate, the circumstances were so extreme that she''s still in a comma."


    "No one forced you to shift and tear that wolf''s head literally from his neck."


    Alaric leaned back into his seat, glaring at al-Rashid. "Then if the circumstances were reversed and someone threatened your mate''s safety, how would the wise and noble Councilman al-Rashid have acted?"


    Instead of answering with his words, the other wolf''s eyes glowed brightly and his scent shifted with the distinct perfume of anger and rage.


    Alaric grinned in victory, making clarity return to al-Rashid. This was especially apparent when al-Rashid asked, "What is it that you want from me?"


    "There is a reason he was on that particular bus. There was also a reason how he was able to fake being human when your district''s own wolves were present. Likewise, there was a reason that two wolves on death row from District Three, my district, were able to escape here." Alaric leaned in. "What I am requesting is that you help me find the answers to these questions of mine."


    "Are you asking for help?" Councilman al-Rashid furrowed his brows.


    "Only imbecils refuse to acknowledge their own limitations." Alaric pushed back some strands of black hair that had come loose from his ponytail. "This is not my district. Moreover, my enemy is not one who I can pinpoint and attack easily. Whatever anger I feel, rather than taking it out on an ally, I shall save it for when I come face to face with the fools who dared to go against me."


    Councilman al-Rashid was silent for so long, Alaric wasn''t sure if he was going to agree.


    "Alright." al-Rashid stood up. "But I am not agreeing out of any sense of altruism. If your suspicions are correct, there are those who tried to make a mockery of District Eleven. As councilman, I will not allow a single rat to stand by and continue to sew chaos in my lands."


    Just as Alaric was also going to stand up, someone burst through the doors.


    Councilman al-Rashid looked at the panting she-wolf in abject annoyance. "This had better be an emergency."


    "We were only gone for a few minutes. It couldn''t have been more than ten or fifteen minutes" She licked her lips, fear altering her scent. "But she''s gone."


    With a sinking heart, Alaric asked, "Who''s gone?"


    "Councilman Zima, we apologize, but we cannot find your mate anywhere."


    Any fa?ade of humanity left Alaric at those few words.

 Chapter Nine: The Human Knight (Part I)

    Even if I wasn''t walking barefoot through the woods in a flimsy nightgown, I still wouldn''t like the forest. Call it my weakness as a human being or plain stubbornness, but even the growing throbbing sensation in my feet couldn''t push away the memories of a boy who held the forests in his eyes. No matter how much I shook my head or tried to hum a tune, wandering out here all alone kept brining me back to the past.


    Thinking on it, the human mind is really fickle. Here I was lost, alone and in attire that was entirely unsuitable for a forest walk and all I could do was think about him. Not to mention how foolish my earlier plan of finding someone to fix the mix up that happened was when I was in the middle of nowhere. And the more I walked, the harder it was to ignore those thoughts when there was nothing to distract me from them.


    So I walked and I walked and with that action came memories that not even my sister Leyla knew about.


    His name was Faris. It was a heroic name which meant knight. When were still children, a part of me must have regarded him to be as great as the knights within the pages of my family''s library. Looking back, it was especially idiotic when I considered how neither of us really had control over our fates.


    Faris was born the mortal son of the Governor of Ward Fifteen. Yet even if he did not possess the strength and abilities of his siblings, he was never the sort to bow his head. Yet, that I came to know him was a matter of pure circumstance and happenstance. For we were born on the same year. Furthermore, there was no other human child from the Governor''s family or her favored human clans with children in our year.


    So whether our personalities matched or not, as children we were always grouped together. To be completely honest, when I first knew him, I didn''t like him at all. Faris was too loud, too quick to fight the other kids, too much of a showoff and too everything. In those days, I was never sure if he much cared for me either, but we both continued to be around each other because the alternative meant we''d be spending the majority of our free-time alone.


    Once in the fourth grade, he got detention for punching another boy in our class square in the face. I remember because I was sitting at my desk, copying down nursery rhymes that I had to memorize before I walked home from school. As I wrote, I hummed the tune to the rhyme while tapping my uniformed shoe against the rug of our classroom to help me remember the words without looking at my notes.


    Then a loud crash made me drop my pencil and look up. All other chatter in the classroom also stopped as everyone looked at Faris standing over a much more well-liked boy in our class. Walking here in this forest far away from home, I couldn''t recall the boy''s name. Yet, I still remembered the words Faris told him that day.


    He stood over the other boy''s fallen body and said, "It was just one punch. Don''t tell me you''re all talk and no bite, unable to get up from being hit once."


    "That''s it." The other boy got up and tried to jump Faris, but the difference in ability was apparent when Faris only had to side-step to avoid the boy''s clumsy moves.


    Looking at them I frowned. Everyone knew that even if he was still human, Faris still trained with his siblings at home. There''s no way a normal person would be able to win, so why were they fighting? Looking around, none of the boy''s numerous friends did anything to help either. They just stopped and stared, a disgusting excitement in each and every one of their eyes.


    It was the first time I learned that people could take pleasure in the suffering and pain of others in much the same way that they enjoyed a play or song. It was enough to make me want to vomit so I looked away and back at the "fight." It wasn''t a real fight by any means. The other boy kept on trying to punch Faris, but Faris kept dodging and moving while taunting the boy.


    If the teacher walked in and saw this, both of them would get detention, no matter who Faris'' mom was. The boy and his friends then might take revenge on me if I didn''t have Faris to walk home with me. My heart sunk at that prospect, so even though I''d get in trouble for standing out, I slammed both my hands on my desk, forcing everyone in the room¡ªeven Faris and the boy¡ªto turn and look at me.


    Just think of it like practice for a play.


    With that thought, I took a deep breath and imitated my mom''s scolding face. "You''re being too loud. Some of us are trying to enjoy our free time."


    By luck, the teacher, a human woman who''s brother was mated to one of the governor''s guards, walked in. As if sensing the awkward atmosphere, she put down her stack of books, notes and papers on her desk, paused and looked around. "What''s going on here?"


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    "Nothing," Faris said, for once keeping his mouth shut.


    Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, however, the other boy began weeping. Not just small tears, but big ugly crying while pointing at Faris. "Teacher, he was mean to me and hit me."


    My jaw fell open. Although I wasn''t sure why Faris hit him, this was the first time Faris had ever picked a fight with someone so obviously weaker than him. Even if by some weird stroke of events, Faris had lost his few remaining strands of sanity and hit him for no reason, why would the other boy just cry like that? Didn''t he have any sense of shame? Even at that young age, I couldn''t understand the other boy''s reasoning for crying such obvious crocodile tears.


    As my young mind was trying to make sense of the events, the teacher turned to Faris and asked, "Is this true?"


    I focused my attention on our teacher and the two boys once more. It would be fine. Faris had his mom and siblings backing him. Even if his brothers and sisters went to the werewolf school across the street, all he had to do was say what happened and the teacher would believe him. Yet, he just stood there, those forest-colored eyes of his staring back at the teacher and his mouth not so much as opening a crack.


    Why isn''t he saying anything? Why is he just standing there?


    "Maybe you didn''t here me the first time." Our teacher must have been put off too because she kneeled in front of Faris so that she was eye-level with him. "Is what your classmate said true?"


    "Its true that I hit him." He paused. "As for everything else, believe what you want."


    As the teacher stood up, a cold sweat formed on the nape of my neck. He wasn''t going to say anything. Why I was unsure. What I did know is if Faris got detention, there''s no way I''d be able to make it home or even to Leyla''s or any our cousins'' and siblings'' classrooms before they took revenge on me. I was one of the slowest kids in our class and with how mad Faris made them, they might break my hand and make me unable to practice my oud.


    Our teacher stood up. "Then I have no choice but to¡ª"


    I stood up slamming both my hands on my desk again. When all eyes once more turned on me, I said, "I asked Faris to hit him."


    It was a lie. I knew it and most of the other kids knew it. You couldn''t force Faris to do anything he didn''t want to do. Still, all the teacher knew was that we spent a lot of time together so as long as Faris continued to keep his mouth shut, this might work.


    "That''s not true," he yelled. "I didn''t hit him because she asked me to!"


    Not even thinking, I yelled back, "He''s lying!"


    "No, I''m not! You''re the liar!"


    "No," I refuted. "You are!"


    "Enough!" The teacher''s hard voice made us both stop and look at her as she once more asked, "Then, Faris, why did you hit your classmate?"


    He clenched his fists and looked away.


    "I see," the teacher said. "Then I have no choice but to give the two of you detention after school. I''ll also be contacting both of your parents about this."


    When both of us said nothing at this news, the teacher clapped her hands. "Now, that''s enough of a commotion for one day. Everyone back to your seats and let''s get started."


    For the rest of the day, me and Faris didn''t say anything to each other. We still sat with each other during lunch and recess, but instead of talking about school, games or home like we usually did, there was this strange awkward silence between us. The long two hours spent in detention only seemed to make it worse.


    Then we were finally let out and had to wait alone at the gate until someone came to pick us up. Even so, we just kind of stood there in the same awkward silence that overtook us the entire day.


    It was as I was beginning to think that I''d have to spend the rest of elementary school stuck with this unescapable quiet that he turned to me and asked, "Why did you do that?"


    "Huh?" I turned to him. "Do what?"


    "Lie like that."


    Not wanting to admit that it was to save myself, I asked, "Then why did you hit him?"


    "Not telling."


    "Then I''m not telling."


    He frowned. "You shouldn''t have gotten in trouble for something that I did."


    "You chose to hit him. I chose to lie." I licked my lips. "Just because you want things to turn out a certain way, doesn''t mean that they will."


    His eyes nearly popped out of his head, but before he could say anything more, a car pulled up. In the driver''s seat was a human who worked for his family. We both got in and stayed silent. The next day, however, things returned back to normal. For reasons I could not explain, we went back to talking about mundane things, studying and playing together.


    For a while, I thought things would continue like this until we graduated elementary school. Yet, That was all before the gym storage incident happened.

 Chapter Ten: The Human Knight (Part II)

    At the human elementary school Faris and I attended, the gym storage room was more of a shed than a room. It was located in a separate building on a big grassy field that was typically used for football, dodgeball and other such team sports during our weekly physical education class. Since the classes that could use it operated on a rotation and we weren''t werewolves who were required to have daily physical education, there was almost no need for anyone to go there.


    That should have been my second clue that something was wrong.


    For a few months after the almost fight that broke out, a girl in our class called me out. She was a pale, sickly and mousy girl who always hid behind her bangs. Although we didn''t talk much, I didn''t have any negative feelings towards her. Plus I was bored from waiting for Faris to come back from the bathroom so we could walk over to my house together. So when she asked if she could ask me something in the hall, I agreed leaving my stuff in the classroom.


    For a while, she just sort of looked at me, fidgeting. It was made all the more awkward from how hard it was to see her eyes from behind her large foggy glasses. Yet, no matter how long we stood in the hallway, she just kept looking at me without speaking.


    Unable to take it anymore, I asked, "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"


    When she still didn''t answer, I said, "Well when you remember, let me know. I''m going to go back to the classroom now."


    "W-Wait!" She all but screamed the word while grabbing onto the grey sleeve of my uniform.


    Trying very hard not to stare at her shaking hand on my arm, I said, "Yeah? Did you remember what you wanted to talk to me about?"


    "Yeah." She licked her seemingly dry lips and swallowed. "You''re friends with the Governor''s son, right?"


    "You mean Faris?"


    She nodded.


    So I asked, "What about him?"


    "H-He...well he..."


    Why is she so nervous? Everyone knows we always hang out together. "Did he say or do something?"


    "Y-yeah." She took a deep breath that reminded me of the sort Leyla took before a particularly long dance practice session. "He asked me to tell you to meet him in front of the gym storage room. If you want, I can show you where he''s waiting for you."


    She spoke so fast that I didn''t doubt her words. After all, it was logical to assume that she was just nervous about delivering a message to someone who''s mom controlled the entire ward. Having my mind come up with such a reasonable excuse for the girl''s actions, I did not stop to ask why a trip to the bathroom turned into a trip to the gym storage room. I did not stop to ask why he wouldn''t have come got me first when the classroom was so much closer than the gym storage room.


    No, I only nodded and said, "Thanks for the help and for walking with me."


    Likewise she just nodded and started leading the way. Even when I kept trying to get her to talk to me, she just kept on walking, as if I never said anything. So after a while, I gave up and started humming the maqam to a song I was supposed to memorize by the end of the week. It still wasn''t perfect, but I doubted my classmate could tell and it at least helped to pass the time until we got to the gym storage room.


    When we finally did reach the storage room, the usually small wooden structure looked as large as Faris'' house. I shook my head at the weird thought. It was smaller than my living room. How could it possibly be so large? To distract myself, I looked every which way, but there was no sign of my friend.


    "Hey." I turned to my classmate. "Where''s Faris?"


    She pointed at the shed door and just when I was about to say something, I closed it and opened my mouth again. "There''s no lock."


    Normally there was a big metal chain with a lock as big as my fist to stop us from going inside. Although Leyla did brag to me that the lock wasn''t that hard to break, but I wasn''t entirely sure if she was speaking from experience or not. Still, she must have been right because there''s no way any of the adults would have forgotten to lock it.


    Thinking more on it, I looked my classmate as much in the eyes as her glasses would allow. "Why is he inside?"


    "Why?" She looked away. "Oh, he said he wanted to show you something, but that...that it was a surprise."


    Even if it was a little annoying, something like a "surprise" from Faris didn''t strike me as odd. Maybe it was because he spent his home life and weekends with werewolves, but sometimes there wasn''t really a reason why he did certain things. It was like a whim struck him and while everyone else had to stop and think, his siblings and parents meant that he could just act and worry about the consequences later. Besides anything that would save me from the awkwardness of this exchange had to be a blessing.


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    "Thanks," I muttered.


    "Your thanking me," She said. "Why?"


    "For telling me that he''s inside and showing me the way."


    "You don''t have to¡ª" She stared at her iron-colored shoes, cutting herself off.


    "I don''t have to what?" I asked, not completely sure why I did.


    "You don''t have to...have to...say thank you."


    Now it was my turn to nod, not sure why she said that. It was probably just a personality quirk. With only a single thought, I put away thoughts of my classmate as I opened the creaky wooden door. It was really dark and I couldn''t see inside clearly. I frowned in disbelief that Faris was making have to search for a light switch just to see his surprise.


    When I stepped inside, to do just that, my classmate from behind yelled, "Watch out! To your left."


    Moving to the side out of instinct, more than anything else I narrowly missed a metal bat that would have hit me straight in the head. "What?"


    At that moment, a light turned on. I blinked, not really understanding my surroundings. To the side of me was someone tied up with some gym rope and duct tape. When they started squirming, I caught a flash of familiar forest-colored eyes.


    Looking at the other side of the small room, I said, "Faris?"


    Loud muffled words that I couldn''t make out answered me, making me look back at the spot that almost turned my head into a smashed watermelon. Just in time before another swing made its way to my side. By a stroke of luck more than any real athletic ability, I managed to narrowly dodge again.


    "Aw, I missed again." I looked up into the eyes of a boy from my class¡ªthe same one Faris had punched all those months ago. "I won''t miss a third time."


    To his side were two other boys from our class. There''s no way I would have been able to make it out the door so I dodged behind Faris, hoping that I''d at least be able to loosen the rope binding his hands.


    When I barely touched the ropes, Faris tucked in both his legs, slamming them into the boy''s side. He fell over and the metal bat rolled to the ground.


    "Ow, that hurt. "


    As the boy struggled to get up and his two friends made for us, I quickly grabbed the bat. All I knew was that if he got up or any of them got close, I was going to be a watermelon.


    I don''t want to die. Not like this.


    Without hesitating, I slammed the bat against his head, hearing it make a loud crunch. A small trickle of blood began to slide down his head, but his hands were still twitching a bit. His ever approaching friends also looked mad. No not just mad, but really really mad.


    I clutched the bat tighter, smashing it over and over the boy''s head until he was the watermelon.


    One of the two boy''s face''s scrunched up like a lemon. "You...you killed him!"


    He took out what looked like a pocket knife, but where did he get one? Even the safety scissors we brought to school had to be a certain size.


    I held the bloodied bat in front of me like a sword. "Don''t come any closer."


    From behind, someone pushed him to the ground, making his knife slide across the room. It was the girl who led me here. A part of me also remembered that she was the one who yelled out the warning. With her on top of one of the boys, I made eye contact with the remaining boy. I wasn''t fast, but it was closer to me.


    I sprinted harder than I''d ever sprinted in my life, a small ache growing in my side. My hand caught it seconds before the other boy did. He bit my arm hard to try to get me to let go, but I held on tight and slammed it into his neck. Unlike the bat, I had to struggle a bit to get the blade to break through his flesh and bone. When I pulled it out, his hand covered his wound so I stabbed him again and again and again. It didn''t matter where as long as it was him and not me getting stabbed.


    Eventually he fell limp and I pushed him off me. The other girl was still on top of the last boy but there was no telling how long she would be able to hold him down. Plus I was lucky with the other two. There''s no telling how lucky I''d be with a third, much taller boy. I got up trying to look everywhere, but at the red all around me. I could throw up and cry later, but not now.


    I don''t want to die.


    On staggering feet, I made my way to Faris and cut through his bounds. He rubbed his arms and legs before taking the knife just as the last boy finally pushed our female classmate off of him. He looked at the two bodies, tears welling up in his eyes and ran towards me. Before he could make it, Faris lunged the knife between his ribcage, making the boy''s dark dark eyes widen.


    Faris pulled out the knife with more ease than I could ever do and the final boy fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood. Only then did I also fall, biting on my lower lip to stop myself from screaming. If people came, there would be nothing that could save us.


    I don''t want to die.


    As if in answer to my mental mantra, the girl said, "I''ll take the blame. Let me change clothes with you and then you two can get out of here."


    Unable to form words, I let Faris speak for me when he asked, "Why would you do that?"


    "Because she was nice to me." She paused and me straight in the eyes. "You were nice to me and no one is ever nice to me. Even if I get arrested or die, my parents won''t care so please let me do this."


    What was I supposed to say to that sort of confession? I just stared at her. Yet almost against my will, my mouth moved for me. "I was the one who started this. I don''t want someone else to take the blame for something I did."


    "You were like a knight in shining armor," she said. "Someone like me won''t ever meet someone like this again so please let me take the blame for you."


    Just as I was going to refuse again, Faris said, "I think we should listen to her."


    I looked to him in shock, but I was too tired and weak to be able to agree. So like a robot I wiped off all the blood with my clothes and changed into her clean uniform. I didn''t even comment when I saw the bruises that covered her much smaller body. Next, I watched as she put her hands all over the bat and knife. When Faris and I finally left the gym storage shed, I was not able to even look back once.

 Chapter Eleven: Elegy for a Third Death

    This is the tale that can never be spoken aloud nor written down. Yet in the safety of a cruel forest, I thought it would be okay if I recited it to myself. After all, this tale was mine and mine alone.


    So I sat down, finally giving my battered feet some rest. Then I placed my makeshift lock picks in the compartment Leyla had sewn in, exchanging them for my oud. Only after the case was once more zipped did I adjust into a cross-legged position and half-sang/half-narrated the tale forbidden to all.


    After all, if death should find me, it shall be when I am living as myself.


    <hr>


    Once there was a girl who died twice. Ranna was her name and Faris the name of the boy who led her by the hand to her rebirth. Her first death baptized her in unholy blood. Thus she was born anew.


    For from that fateful day, the old Ranna and Faris died. In its place were a new Ranna and Faris. They became two halves of the same rotten apple.


    Because he liked chess, she learned to play. Because she liked poetry, he learned their mysteries. The only thing the pair could not overcome was the difference in our physical capabilities. In every other regard, they had become the same person, never one without the other.


    They had believed their half life would continue until the end of time. For how else could atonement for their crimes ever be achieved? Alas, time is a cruel mistress and even the wickedest of seeds must one day blossom into an evil flower. Such was the case for the two children.


    Days turned into months which turned into years. When childhood came to an end, the two were separated, only meeting when school had ended. Thus began the letter game. It began with a small paper hidden in a loose brick. Upon it was one simple question:


    "How was your day?"


    It was Faris who wrote the first question, but whether it out of curiosity or boredom, none but him and God alone know the answer. Still, even if it was he who wrote the first letter, it was she who began the game. For Ranna''s response was:


    "As clear as a bay."


    Yes, she answered his question not with prose, but with a rhyme. Its meaning apparent only to the one it was meant for. So it was that even if the time spent together was short, it was as if they were by each other''s side. Always together, never one without the other.


    Thus began the game of letters. All throughout secondary school, the pair would hide them in whatever nook and cranny they could find. All throughout their teens, they composed thousands upon millions of words. Each letter only for each other''s eyes. For after they would find a letter, they would open it, read it and burn it, watching as the ashes scattered with the wind.


    And when their schooling had come to an end, they began to meet in earnest. In the forest which belonged to the boy¡ªnow a young man¡ªthey would meet in secret. In the dead of night when all were asleep and the wolves were away hunting under the light of the full moon, they met under shadows. So similar in temperament and attitude had the two become that none suspected the illicit nature of their true relationship.


    As mortals yet to be sent to the Selection, it was a relationship without an ending. In their heart of hearts they knew separation was an inevitability. Yet still, they met. At first exchanging words and eventually soft kisses, always careful never to go further lest they both be executed.


    There''s was not the grand love and madness of the poets. Nor was it the all consuming love between werewolves and humans. No, there''s was a quiet love which merely desired the presence of the other.


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    Always together, never one without the other.


    As long as they could hold each other''s hand, the pair could pass hours in eternal silence, never bored or needing to say more. Such was the nature of their impure love. As their twenty-fifth year encroached upon them, they met and shared in all their sorrows and joys, praying to both the God of man and the Goddess of the werewolves for just one more hour, minute and second in each other''s presence.


    Was it love? Neither could say. All they knew was that their selfish desires were true and for them, that was enough. Then on a night in their twenty-third year, everything came to an end.


    He came as he always did in their secret spot and said, "My mother told me I shall be leaving for District 27 in a week''s time."


    In disbelief, she could only say, "I don''t understand."


    And he said, "A werewolf has taken me for mate."


    Out of curiosity more than anything else, she asked, "Is the wolf male or female?"


    "She is a she-wolf." He paused. "I will one day be as my father with children of my own."


    "But we haven''t been tested yet." She tried to understand why she was robbed of these two final years.


    He explained to her of how the mortal children of wolves did not need to consume hormones. The wolf blood in their veins, diluted as it was meant that they could regulate their emotions more than any child born of two human parents ever could. He explained how this meant it was also easier for a wolf to imprint on their mate prior to the dreaded Selection day.


    To Ranna''s credit, she neither wailed nor screamed at this information. No, she merely smiled and said, "Then if this is to be our final night, let us make it one to remember forevermore."


    On that night, they talked and danced and sung as they never had before. It was as if they were trying to be create a lifetime of memories in one single night. Yet the dawn always breaks through, even in the darkest of nights. When it came and they parted, Ranna died her second death as Faris prepared for the most coveted of loves, leaving behind the memory of the girl who once held half his soul.


    The loss of Faris was not instantaneous. She would sit alone thinking of a joke, but when she turned to say it, he was no longer there to hear it. Yet, life continued on. No one, not even the sister she was closest with knew of the grief in her heart so she mourned in secret and in time buried the memories which she had once cherished the most.


    Thus began Ranna''s third life. It was not a life which held the innocence of her first life. Nor was it the selfish kind which depended and relied on another to share her burdens. In this life, she devoted her entire being to her trade. She played and she sung as never before. The grief of loss causing her to put everything into her tales.


    And in time she healed. As long as she had her family and stories, she would be fine. Human love was fickle and the love of a werewolf was too heavy for her to bear. As her twenty-fifth year came, she was convinced herself that after living through so much, her God would at least grant her this peace.


    Yet here she sits, Ranna of Ward Fifteen, District Eleven, awaiting her third and final death.


    <hr>


    As the final words left me and my hands began to grow limp, I set my oud on top of my case. Night had long since fallen. I had neither food nor water and my throat was sore from singing. Not to mention the state of my feet. It had been arrogant of me to think that I could find someone in a clearly isolated place.


    Still, this wasn''t a bad way to go, all things considered. It was painful, sure. Yet no more painful than everything that happened with Faris. Besides, perhaps dying like this would be atonement for allowing that girl to take the blame for my crimes all those years ago. Yes, my wickedness had come out on that day and dying like this was merely a sort of poetic justice.


    To be completely honest, in that moment I was truly ready to allow the darkness and cold to overcome me. Yet, I of all people should know that fate is never so kind. For just as I was going to drift off, a sliver of moonlight illuminated the figure of a man. So delirious was I that I did not even hear him approach.


    When I looked up, I saw clothes of purple and black, long black hair in disarray and golden eyes.  Oh, so not a man after all. With a mental sigh, I righted myself and prepared to perform as if I wasn''t starving with bleeding feet and numb fingers.

 Chapter Twelve: The Wolf Hears the Maidens Song

    It was singing which stopped Alaric in his tracks. He didn''t understand the words, meaning it was likely in the local human language of District Eleven. Yet he found the voice pleasing to the ear. It was light and feminine, like feathers dancing upon the wind.


    He shook his head at the thought and then froze, watching as his claws retracted and reformed into human hands. With Alaric''s emotions as they were it was a miracle he was even able to maintain his current form. Yet, on further examination his heartbeat had begun to calm down and his mind felt clearer than it did even a second before he heard the voice.


    Jerald had advised him that because of his momentary lapse in judgement, it might not be wise to appear as a wolf in front of his mate. At least until Alaric had placated her and weaned her off her hormone meds. So even though it was more imperfect than he would have liked, Alaric stayed in his human form and took a deep breath, inhaling a myriad of scents all throughout the forest.


    As if he was picking through various strands, he discarded scent after scent until he was sure of the one which would lead him to his heart''s desire. At the aroma of jasmines and seawater, he smiled. Pausing only for a second to bask in a smell more intoxicating than the finest wine, before he took off.


    When a branch snagged at the ribbon he used to bind his hair in this form, Alaric frowned in annoyance but did not slow down. It had been too long since he ran on two legs. He wasn''t as sluggish or slow as a human, but the feeling of sweat and fabric slowly clinging to his skin was a distraction he didn''t need. It would have been so much easier if he had paws instead of fingers and toes and fur and instead cloth over naked flesh.


    Patience, Alaric. Everything has a time and place. His mental advice to himself spurred him on and with each step he took, the scent became stronger and stronger still until finally he was in front of her.


    She didn''t notice him, so absorbed was she in her foreign song and instrument. The hair which he had personally cleaned until not a trace of blood remained was once more mangled and dirty, the curly strands flying a million different ways. The nightgown he picked out and had a servant dress her in was torn and covered in patches of mud and earth. Worst was her feet, the unprotected flesh covered in numerous bleeding scratches, blisters and bruises. From her scent, none of the wounds were infected, but they would need to be disinfected as soon as they went back to the guesthouse.


    For a while after Alaric just kind of stood there, watching her sing. A part of his brain reminded him that he had made too many mistakes and couldn''t afford to make more, but he couldn''t find the right words to say. His throat was tight and mouth dry, making any form of speech impossible.


    Why couldn''t he do anything? Was it a result of the mate bound? No, that couldn''t be it. His breathing was too regular.


    Was it because of her song? No, she was human and there was no telling if the goddess would gift her with any ability until after the Hunt.


    Question after question appeared in Alaric''s mind and each time he dismissed them while listening to words he couldn''t understand. In the future, he would learn her language. After all, it wouldn''t do to have someone so close to him have a tool to keep secrets with. For now, though, all he could do was stand and watch until her song came to an end and she turned to look at him.


    Like him, she did not speak, but she also did not look away. At first, Alaric''s heart pounded at the thought. Yet, the more he looked into her almost storm colored hazel eyes, the more he began to feel that something was wrong. Then a thought of clarity broke through whatever sorcery was holding him: humans before the Hunt weren''t affected by the mate bound. She shouldn''t be looking at him like that.


    He mentally shook his head thinking, She''s probably still in shock. There''s a logical reason for this. The thought was enough for him to finally find his voice and ask, "Who was it that forced you to walk out here?"


    She laughed, the sound like the cascading waterfalls from his childhood. "My Lord, what makes you think anyone forced me to do anything?"


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    "Are you telling me that you walked for so long without any shoes of your own volition?"


    "Yes," she nodded. "That is exactly what happened."


    Alaric clenched his fist, putting on a false smile. He made the mistake first. The most important thing was to coax her back without putting her into further shock. When they returned, he would ensure she never left his side again. Thus preventing this sort of situation from ever occurring again. For now though, it would only put him at a disadvantage if he were to force his hand.


    Be gentle, be gentle, be gentle.


    She interrupted his mental mantra when she said, "Is there a reason my Lord is out here too?"


    "A reason?" he said, licking his lips. "Yes, you may surmise that there is a reason, but is it really your place to ask?"


    "I suppose not." Like so, she resumed her staring.


    Even with the mate bound clouding his mind with thoughts of how nice it would be if she would continue to look at him like that for an eternity, Alaric found something disconcerting about her gaze. But what was it? To distract himself from an answer he could not obtain he knelt down, trying not to drown himself in her scent and asked, "Tell me, if you were not forced to walk here, why are you out here all alone?"


    "To rectify a mistake." She did not hesitate, even as Alaric felt as if she had shot him with some mortal weapon from the Age of Man, straight through the heart.


    "And what mistake was that?"


    "When I awoke, I was all alone, separated from the other humans on my bus." She frowned, looking down at her hands. "I don''t exactly remember what happened, but I think there were some criminals and I may have gotten hurt and there was a mix up. As a human citizen of this district, I thought it right return to my place, but underestimated how difficult that endeavor would be."


    Her words sounded so terribly reasonable. If the situation and logic behind them weren''t absolutely absurd, Alaric would have found nothing wrong with her explanation. As it was, she had somehow slipped from a building that everyone swore was locked and instead of waiting like a sane person for someone to come, she left, not only causing problems for himself and the servants attending them, but also damaging her frail body.


    "Have I done something to anger my lord?" She titled her head to the side in a mockery of submission.


    "No, nothing of the sort." Alaric, in turn, took a deep breath, regaining control of his chaotic emotions. In the next moment, he held out his hand. "Come, your efforts are quite noble. I shall help you return to where you ought to be."


    She looked down at his hand and then up at Alaric. Just as he was sure there would be no more problems, she brushed aside some of her messy curls and said, "No, I don''t think I''ll go with you."


    To his credit, Alaric''s smile only cracked for half of half a second. "Could I ask why you want to refuse my aid?"


    "Well for one, in my current state I cannot walk." She paused, once more making direct eye contact. "For another, you are clearly not from this district and I am but a mere human storyteller. I am afraid that one as lowly as me cannot afford whatever price you would ask for in return for your aid."


    There was something so fake about her words. So even though it went against how he planned to approach the topic, Alaric dropped his smile. "I''m afraid you are not at liberty to refuse my offer."


    "And why is that?"


    "My goddess has blessed us both. You are to be my mate." Before she could offer any of her seemingly polite and obedient responses, he said, "I can either bring you back to be retreated with respect, or carry you over my shoulder like a sack. The choice, my dear, is yours."


    Just as he was sure they were done, she asked, "Do you even know my name?"


    "Its Ranna."


    "And how did you find out my name?"


    "From your records." Just why on earth was he still humoring her?


    "Then did it ever occur to you to ask me for my name yourself?"


    He grit his teeth but said, "We can continue this discussion later. For now, my dear, choose."


    "But my Lord has yet to give me your name."


    The blasted mate bond made his heart pound. He knew this was just some game, but he couldn''t stop the blood rushing through his veins at the thought that she wanted to know his name. It was enough to make him softly say. "Alaric. My name is Alaric."


    Her eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn''t expected him to just answer her. "Then, A-lar-ic, I would like to keep at least some dignity, but I also ask that you not damage my instrument."


    Since there was no one else around, he merely nodded his agreement, helping her to put away her instrument before lifting both her and it in his arms. This might have been a little unexpected, but it was alright. He wouldn''t make the same mistakes again.

 Chapter Thirteen: The Consequences of Harming a Wolfs Mate

    Illness. There could be no better word to describe my current state. In and out of consciousness, like I was on some sort of cruel boat. All the while, I kept remembering the words of my father:


    "Everything is the result of the choices made by people. King Shahryar would not have fallen to madness if he had not neglected his wife through hunting. Likewise, if he had not suffered thus and fallen into a pit of hatred and madness, Shahrazad would have had no reason to tell him her tales."


    Like a never-ending wheel, the words spun round and round in my head until they took shape forming imagery of long dead human kings who only may have existed with angry wolves. Memorized lines from that famous tale mixed with voices that only could have been real. For a seeming eternity I was bombarded with flashes of golden eyes and bloodshed that intermixed with the execution of woman after woman.


    Unable to move or look away or even cry, I kept watching. In this odd delirium, language and understanding had no meaning. There were only indistinguishable voices and fantasy and memory. It should have been enough to drive me insane, but even if I didn''t understand what was happening, my mind had never felt clearer. It was so clear that I continued to observe and make logic out of nonsense.


    This continued until I could bear it no more and sat up with a soundless scream, my heart pounding a million kilometers a second. At first, there was nothing, but slowly the darkness shifted into blobs of vague colors that slowly took on the form of furniture. My hands felt around where I lay and sunk into something soft: a mattress. This was different than the bedroom I woke up in before, even larger, but with much more furniture and bookshelves, and everything from the couches to the desks to the carpet were all the same horrendously bright gold on green color scheme.


    Do the bright colors never hurt their eyes?


    At the thought, the feeling of intent eyes became impossible to ignore. Slowly, I turned back towards the desk, trailing up a sort of purple and black uniform that had to be too hot for the District Eleven sun. Eventually, I met a pale face with unreadable gold eyes. The only difference was that unlike in the forest, his hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail. The more I looked at him, the more I was sure my first assumption was correct: he was mistaken about who I was.


    After all, werewolves were meant to feel an impossible all consuming love for their mates. Yet there was nothing but coldness behind those eyes. Still his refusal to break eye contact made me ask, "Have I done something to offend my Lord?"


    "To offend me?" He echoed moments before the poor pen in his hand was crushed. "Tell me, how did you get out of your room?"


    "What? No are you okay?"


    "You''ve been given the best medical care possible. Once you awoke, it''d be physically impossible for there to be anything wrong with your physical well-being." His eyes narrowed. "Given the unique circumstances of our first couple meetings, I am willing to forgive and forget¡ª"


    Before I could stop myself, I interrupted, "Why would I want your forgiveness?"


    "Has no one ever taught you what happens to human criminals?"


    "I know what happens to them." Realizing how low my voice sounded, I switched to a much lighter tone, twirling a curl around my finger as I spoke. "But forgiveness implies that I''ve committed a crime and I have done nothing wrong."


    He¡ªAlaric I believe his name was¡ªstood up and walked around his desk. After, he approached the bed I lay upon. His footsteps weren''t quick but even and steady. If not for the molten lava of his eyes, I would have thought that Alaric was merely coming to collect something from the nightstand. As it was though, I could do nothing save wait for his approach as my heart thundered against my chest.


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    Still something told me that breaking eye contact and feigning submission like usual would not yield me any benefits. So I held my position, not even daring to blink. To my surprise, Alaric did not stop in front of the bed to use his height as an advantage. Instead he sat on the corner of the bed. Since I was also sitting up, he was still taller than me; just not as much as when he was standing.


    For a while we just sat there, neither refusing to break eye contact. We would have continued like that for an eternity if he had not reached out his hand to gently grab my chin. I really was left with no choice but to look downwards, effectively losing this silent battle.


    He grinned wickedly, tilting my face towards him. "Did you know that it is a crime to bring harm to a wolf''s mate?"


    Even with his rough, calloused hands controlling the movement of my head, I was still able to say, "The only one who would have been affected was myself. Although I am grateful for your kindness, the result would have only been the consequences of my own decisions."


    His hand tightened and eyes glowed with a nearly blinding light. "Have you perhaps forgotten our last conversation?"


    "I am not so senile," I said. "You believe that I am your mate."


    Instead of calming him down, he narrowed his eyes. "Do you believe that I am mistaken?"


    "I believe that you believe I am your mate."


    A low growl erupted and his hand trembled, but he never squeezed enough to crush my jaw. To my surprise, he had the self control to take a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, his hands stopped shaking and the glowing had ceased. In its place was a smile which did not reach his eyes.


    "For the past week, I have grown accustomed to your scent. There is no mistake." Each word was spoken slowly and carefully, as if Alaric was speaking to a child. "However, as I said, if you admit your wrongs and apologize I will forgive and forget your crimes."


    Perhaps, I should have relented. Being a mate was a coveted position. Yet something told me he wasn''t one of those altruistic wolves, willing to move to their mate''s land. If I bowed my head that would mean that I did commit whatever imagined crimes was going on through his mind.


    My heart was as steady as a drum. It gave me the distinct feeling that if I bowed here, I would spend my entire life with my head down, never having even the comfort of Leyla and the rest of my relatives to deal with my fate. A weaker person might have started hyperventilating at the thought, but all I felt was clarity. As if I was looking into a mirror that held the secrets of my future.


    So I said, "I haven''t done anything that needs to be forgiven."


    He let go of my face and I tried not to think about the absence of his warmth. It was likely an affect of not being in close proximity to a male who didn''t share my blood since Faris left. To distract myself, I rubbed the place his hand left, trying to see if there was any bruising or markings, but there was none.


    It was only when I stopped, folding my hands in the blankets that Alaric said, "Let me rephrase myself. It is a crime to inflict harm on a mate, even if that person is themselves a mate."


    I blinked, not quite understanding his meaning until a single question slipped through my lips. "Are you accusing me of self harm?"


    "Humans are weak and foolish creatures incapable of governing themselves." He paused. "Although it is not common there are tales of some of your kind who forsake my Goddess'' gift, choosing to cut into their own flesh or worse before the Hunt."


    Although it was true that I had walked into the forest of my own volition and contented myself with death, it was not because I was seeking to die. Still, the way he said it didn''t sound so bad. Suicide was different than murder. It would be a death of my own choosing, a death worthy of a poem or tale or even song. As a human, there was no way for me to refute a werewolf, especially one who claimed to be my pre-ordained mate. Maybe this would be my out.


    Just to be sure, I asked, "And what happens to those people?"


    His eyes widened slightly, but in a tone that was probably meant to be grave and severe he said, "Those mortals are personally rehabilitated and re-educated by their mates. It is not an entirely pleasant experience, but if that was truly your aim, I will accomplish my duty until your sanity has returned."


    "Duty?" I asked. "Not love?"


    "Although there are some among my kind who delude themselves with that human madness, I do not believe in such things." He stood up and looked down at me. "I will however do what is expected of me, giving you the companionship and protection that you need. So tell me, Ranna, do you choose to apologize or do I have to re-evaluate your mental state?"


    All that means is when I die, I don''t get caught. Out loud, I smiled and bowed head, speaking as if I was performing a play for an audience of one. "How grateful I am to have been granted such a magnanimous mate by the Goddess of the Wolves. Still, I believe what happened was merely a momentary lapse of judgement by stressful events."


    "Is that so?" Surprisingly he did not push for a real apology, but returned to his desk, taking out a new pen to write with.

 Chapter Fourteen: I am a Human Being

    Since I woke up, two undisputable facts have made themselves aware to me. First, Alaric was surely a paranoid workaholic. He spent most of the day at his desk, either scribbling away through paperwork or on video calls with other werewolves. When I first heard the political nature of the call, I quickly tuned it out, choosing to focus on a random book written in the common language which was before me.


    When the call ended and Alaric resumed his endless writing, I asked, "Are you okay with me hearing such sensitive information?"


    For a while I didn''t hear anything, but the continuous scribble of ink on paper. Then the echo of a pen dropping resounded and he looked at me. "It does not concern me how others treat their mates, whether in your native district or mine. However, I am not so weak as to allow my own mate to betray me. Though if you would like to try, you are welcome to. Although this would just be another reason for why your weak mortal mind is in need of rehabilitation."


    Sweat mixed with tell-tale goosebumps spread out across my body at the cold and matter-of-fact way he answered me. In an effort to feign nonchalance, I looked down at the book, swinging my bent legs back and force on the bed. At least laying on my stomach gave me the freedom to pretend his words were perfectly ordinary. Yet the more I thought about it, the more improbable it seemed that I''d ever gain the trust of such a man.


    Though when I recalled the first night I awoke, I really shouldn''t have been surprised. On that evening, I had just emerged from an adjoining bath to find Alaric dressed in simple black pajamas. Laying down on the bed while reading through a spiral binder which was no doubt filled with documents of some sort. For a moment, I just looked at him with his unbound hair, silently cursing him for being pleasing to the eye. This entire situation would have been easier to dismiss if my body found his looks displeasing.


    For a moment my eyes lingered on the curve his neck, the shape of his lips and the difference in size between his hands and mine.


    He closed the binder with snap, the echo bringing back my sanity. When Alaric looked at me, his eyes were dark, but there was a playful grin on his face. "It''s still a few months until the Hunt. Even so, if you find your body in such extreme discomfort, it would still be permissible to practice a bit before the Hunt."


    I should have politely declined or said something meek. My head knew it, but before I could control the words, I found myself laughing mockingly. It started as chuckle, but before I knew it broke out into full-blown laughter.


    Alaric narrowed his eyes, desire replaced with anger. "Just what is so funny?"


    "Discomfort, was it?" Unable to turn back or run away, I looked him straight in the eyes, breaking every rule I had been taught. "My Lord must forgive me, but its just so amusing that you would use me to talk about your own base desires."


    To his credit, he neither screamed nor stood up. Rather, his voice was soft and deep as he spoke. "I merely spoke out of concern for your health. Do not believe that I am some weak mortal man, unable to control my base urges until the Hunt. You are aware of what''ll happen then, aren''t you?"


    If I had my way, I will have departed long before that violent rite, but out loud I answered, "It is the ceremony where all the wolves and mates who have been matched meet. It is also the place where each human mate is hunted down and claimed by the wolf who is to be their life-long partner."


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    He nodded in satisfaction and patted the space to the right of him. "Now, its late and I''m tired. Come here and let us get some rest."


    "The Hunt has not yet occurred." I licked my lips. "I have no reason to share your bed."


    "While that is true, you have yet to earn my trust."


    "I don''t understand." It was a lame response, but what else was I supposed to say when I had already taken on an antagonistic position?


    "I''ll ask you once more: How did you get out of your room?"


    I beamed, "A secret."


    "And that, Dear Ranna, is why we are sharing a bed." He met my smile, tit for tat. "You are clearly not to be trusted so unless you plan on answering me, come here. Do not make me repeat myself or I will drag you onto the bed myself."


    Unwilling to suffer that specific humiliation, I slowly approached the bed. Contrary to my expectations, he again did not shout at me, but merely watched me, sitting like some ancient king upon his high castle. How nice it would be if when I die, it would be before his eyes. Since such a scenario was unlikely though, I''d have to content myself with him finding my corpse. It might be difficult, but something told me I would not be satisfied unless he was the first to discover my body.


    When I finally approached the bed, I must have been standing for too long, because Alaric said, "Just what thoughts are moving through that deceitful mind of yours?"


    I pushed myself up onto the too-large bed, crawling until there was a safe arm-length distance between us. I then sat on my knees in an effort to appear taller than I actually was before answering him. "Nothing."


    "Nothing?" He repeated.


    "Nothing."


    "I see." He nodded and parted the covers. "Then if that is all. Get under the covers. There is much I need to do before we can return home."


    I froze, my eyes nearly popping out of my eyes. "But I never said goodbye to my family."


    "If we had met under normal circumstances, you would have. As it is, I will arrange to visit them with you after the Hunt. For now, you can write to them in the morning."


    I was unable to control the glare. Naturally, he had no way of knowing about my plan to off myself before the Hunt, but hearing the nonchalant way he decided when I could talk to my parents, Leyla or even my cousins again had my blood boiling. Because of him, I wouldn''t get to say goodbye to them. Even if I did manage to live past the Hunt, he would be there watching my every move like I was some prized peacock in a gilded birdcage.


    Completely misunderstanding my chaotic feelings, he reached for my hand in what should have been a calming gesture. "I know that things may be hard for you and we met in unusual circumstances, but I swear that it shall only be for a little while. Once we pass this hurdle, we''ll have the rest of our lives to sort through everything. As long as you complete your mate duties, I will have no reason to punish you."


    My heart beat accelerated and I had to pinch my leg with my free hand to control my breathing. Were those words meant to be comforting? I''m a person. Maybe humans weren''t as strong or capable as werewolves, but by God I was a human being. I was not some doll who went left when ordered to go left.


    So instead of following my careful plans. Instead of playing the charming and willing mate, trying to gleam any information about his character. Instead of trying to earn his trust. Instead of all the things I should I have done to ensure my freedom, I slipped under the covers and under turned away from him. It took every amount of self control I possessed to not hug my knees into a ball.


    For a while he left me like that and then he clapped his hands, turning off the light. Just as I was about to get some sleep, I felt his hand wrap around my waist and his leg push between mine. At first, it increased my goosebumps, but his body temperature was much higher than mine. So against my will and the wishes of my rebellious mind, I slowly slipped into a dreamland, finding comfort in the arms of one who wanted what I could not give him.


    This was also the moment the second indisputable fact made itself known to me: If I wanted to preserve my humanity and very sense of self, I needed a way to secure any amount of freedom and carry out my death at the earliest possible time.

 Chapter Fifteen: Ill show you shameless!

    After yet another awkward breakfast where we barely exchanged two words, I realized that things couldn''t continue like this. Alaric was clearly comfortable working from this room for God knew how long. Moreover, he never made the first move. Sometimes when I was reading or strumming on my oud I''d catch him sneaking glances at me, like he was trying to make sure I was still here, but never more than that.


    As I strummed tune after tune, not caring about what song I was playing, the whole situation started to annoy me. It was like a mosquito bite you couldn''t help but scratch even though you know, you''d only make the bump worse. Most other people would have gone mad from the loss of hormone medication, but my sexual desire was higher than most people so I learned how to deal with celibacy long ago. Even without that though, the cabin fever was beginning to get to me. Did he expect me to get down on knees and beg to go outside?


    At that thought, I gently lay my oud on the bed and crawled out of the bed. I was wearing a simple dark violet dress that revealed a bit more of my chest than I cared for. Not that I even had a choice on what I wore anymore. Besides, if that first night was anything to go by Alaric wouldn''t make the first move. No, if being stuck here for who knows how long had taught me anything, it was that the werewolf was the sort to make you ask for something and by the time you regretted your decision, it was already too late.


    So making sure my bare feet could stomp as loud as possible across the carpeted floor¡ªwhich wasn''t much, but it was something¡ªI marched straight to his desk and slapped both my hands on the hard wooden surface. As my hands started to throb, I glared down at him. I only had a few millimeters on him from this vantage point, but any sort of advantage was a win in my proverbial book.


    Naturally, he did not immediately pay me any attention, instead finishing whatever document he was signing before gently placing his pen down and folding his hands in his lap. When he finally looked at me, it was that look which got to me. A ghost of a smile danced on his lips and his eyes were so damned pleased. It was as if just walking here had meant that I forfeited whatever cold war he had instigated.


    So I matched his smile with one of my own. Although with my current mood there was no telling what sort of smile I gave him. Especially when I considered how loud my voice was when I asked, "What''s your favorite color?"


    His jaw dropped and confusion clouded his features. "What?"


    "What. Is. Your. Favorite. Color?"


    "I understood the question, but are you telling me that you marched all the way here and interrupted my work just for this?"


    Completely ignoring him, I said, "Mine changes between blue and red. My ward was near an ocean that our histories called the Red Sea. It doesn''t have a name anymore but sometimes these groups of algae would die and turn parts of the normally blue sea red. On those days, everyone in my family would gather and we would dance and sing and play together in celebration of the natural phenomena."


    "Why are you telling me this?"


    "If you don''t want to tell me, then just forget it."


    When I had already began to walk away, he said, "Purple."


    "What?" I spun back around, incredulous that he''d actually answered me.


    "Its not just because its one of the colors of my family. I always liked the night sky and how on some nights, the starlight glittered across an expanse that appeared to be a dark purple color. Even though there were blacks and blues, I somehow found myself preferring purple to the other colors."


    For a solid split three seconds, I was unsure how to respond and instead of following up with another personal question like I should have, I asked, "Is that why every single dress and nightgown you''ve given me is a shade of purple?"


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    "We are all entitled to our preferences. This is mine."


    Now it was my turn for my jaw to drop. Didn''t he possess any amount of shame? How could he just admit that without any embarrassment. At my lapse of self-control, his smile of victory returned. Damn it all to hell and back. If he wanted shameless, I''d show him shameless. There was no way I was losing a fight that I myself had started. So I marched right back to the desk, this time, pushing myself up so I sat on the corner of it, even if I had to twist my neck at an awkward angle to face him.


    "Back so soon?" He paused, as if waiting for me to scream and when I only glared at him, he said, "As much as I''d like to entertain you, I have a lot of work to do so out with it, what''s bothering you."


    "You didn''t know I existed a couple weeks ago. How would you know I''m annoyed?"


    "While it is true that we haven''t spent much time together." He tapped his nose. "I could smell the festering rage pouring off of you. It began on the night after you woke up so it was only a matter of time until it popped."


    "Am I not even allowed to have the privacy of my own feelings?"


    "You''ll get used to it, just as my mother did and all human mates eventually do. So out with it. What has you so angry? Its not healthy to let such negative feelings fester."


    "If that''s true, why didn''t you say something?"


    "Given your current psychological state and your proclivities for deception and self-destruction, it would have been detrimental to your mental health if this information did not become known to you in a more natural way."


    I resisted the urge to rub the crease between my eyebrows. "And this is natural?"


    "Yes." He paused, inhaling deeply with his nostrils. "And although you are still angry, it is no more than you were before I relayed this information. So I will repeat myself once more: Ranna, just what is bothering you?"


    "I want to pick out my own clothes." His silence to this most basic of questions made me lick my lips. "I don''t really care about the color, but this style of clothing is tacky. I like dresses too, but not these kinds."


    "Its dangerous right now and your mind isn''t stable from past events. When we reach District Three, you''ll have lessons and duties to keep you busy. You can also pick out things more to your liking then."


    Was I being dismissed? Was this supposed to be my life now? He''s the one who asked me why I was mad. Why do that, if he was just going to brush aside everything I said? Damn it, forget killing myself. Forget trust. I was going to rip him and all his precious papers apart if I couldn''t even decide what the fuck I could wear. This wasn''t about pride, this was about keeping a basic sense of self and dignity.


    I am not a doll.


    At the last thought, I smiled. Right, he obviously didn''t care about shame so why on earth should I bother to be respectable?


    Alaric frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"


    "No reason." I waited for the two or three breathes it took for him to relax and before I could even think to regret, jumped onto his lap.


    It was worth it, if only to see his eyes nearly pop out of his head and his oh so controlled breathing pick up slightly. With our faces inches apart, he said, "What on Earth are you doing?"


    I trailed my finger across the side of his cheek. "Isn''t this what you want? An obedient little mate to take care of your body?"


    "I''m warning you Ranna, don''t provoke me."


    Despite the threatening tone, I felt something begin to stiffen under me and moved my hips slightly. Alaric immediately gasped, but didn''t say anything. His actions gave me enough room to lean in until our breathes were close enough to mix. "Let me choose my own clothes."


    He swallowed and instead of pushing back like I expected, he said, "What will you give me in return?"


    I turned my head and whispered into his ear. "I''ll let you practice with me."


    He was silent for a while, his eyes revealing an odd mental warfare, but eventually he said, "There will be rules when we go outside and if you act out, you won''t like the consequences."


    Had I actually won? Not expecting to get this far, I said, "Does that mean yes?"


    He nodded and I jumped off, leading him by the hand into the bathroom before he could change his mind.

 Chapter Sixteen: Trust is a Game

    Alaric was a terrible kisser. Still, the memory of being pushed down and the other things he was good at were something I would file away for the future. These were the two thoughts which circled around my brain as I changed into another tacky dress, the last one torn to shreds and lying in the bottom of the bathroom trashcan. I opted for a long sleeved periwinkle dress where after the sash at the waist, the skirt flared out into a polka dotted pattern that ended at my ankles.


    It wasn''t something I''d choose for myself, but it at least matched the white socks and black flats Alaric had given me. To at least partially feel like myself, I grabbed an indigo sash and tied it around the front of my hair in a makeshift headband. I even made sure there was a cute bow in the corner.


    "Ranna, hurry up or we''re going to be late."


    Alaric''s shout made me yell back, "Coming!"


    Quickly, I grabbed my oud case, pulling on the leather strap over my shoulder and walked out the bedroom door, not quite believing that it was really unlocked. Just to be sure, I glanced back. Sure and behold, I really had walked through that wooden door.


    "Are you really planning on carrying that all throughout town?" Alaric''s question pulled me out of my musings.


    Looking at him, I could see the tell tale signs of regret transform his normally neutral features into a deep scowl. Naturally, I gave him a smile as bright as the sun, his dark energy feeding my happiness. "Wherever I go, my instrument goes."


    Now that he wasn''t so horny from practicing abstinence while stuck in a room for me for so long, it was like I could see the wheels in his mind turning, trying to think of any reason to go back on his word and keep me here. The whole time, I did not say anything, merely keeping eye contact with him to see what he would do.


    After an eternity he ran a hand through his hair, messing up his usually neat ponytail and sighed. "Fine, but don''t complain later when it gets too heavy."


    "I won''t." Just as he turned around, I remembered my goal to use today as an opportunity to get closer to him and obtain enough freedom to kill myself so I reached out and touched the sleeve of his jacket. "Wait."


    He looked down at me. "What is it? Having second thoughts?"


    "Let me fix your hair." It sounded more like I was going to battle than the gentle tone I was going for, but whatever. The worst Alaric could do was say no.


    To my surprise, he sat on the couch and said, "Do as you wish."


    I walked over to him, silently considering this turn of events. If all it took to gain his trust was a little sexy time, this might be easier than I thought. It wasn''t like we could go all the way until the Hunt and last night was good. Whatever I thought about Alaric''s character, it''d be a lie to say otherwise. Just to be sure, I took my time loosening the ribbon tying Alaric''s hair. It was long, reaching his waist, but unlike my uncontrollable curls, his strands had a perfect straightness with not even a tangle in sight.


    Ignoring the slight pang of jealousy, I gathered all his hair in my hands, lightly brushing my fingers across the nap of his neck and ears. He did not recoil or lean into my touch. Rather, he sighed contently, that annoying smile of satisfaction dancing across his lips. Yes, I could do this. Today wouldn''t be the day, but it would be an opportunity and chance to get enough leeway to be apart from him. Then when he least expected it, I''d be gone.


    With that last thought, I finished tying his hair in his usual tight ponytail. When he stood up, he silently offered me his hand and I took it, allowing him to lead me out of the house. He only let go of my hand to open the door to the car. Placing my oud in the backseat, I slid into the passenger''s seat. I waited for him to get in and start the car by staring out the window at the strip of dirt road encased by endless forest.


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    Back then, if I had just moved around to the front of the house there would have been a path for me to follow, but I had not even thought to consider a road as a possibility. Instead I had walked and walked and walked into the forest without anything to guide me. It was a wonder I''d even lasted as long as I did, but such were the peculiarities of life.


    "Seatbelt." Alaric''s voice coupled with the shutting of his door, pulled me out of my musings.


    Turning to him, all I could say was, "What?"


    "Humans are fragile," he began. "I doubt anything will happen, but just in case put on your seatbelt. Whatever you may think of me, I do not wish to see you hurt."


    Despite how gentle and well-meaning his words sounded, there was something revolting about the way he was looking at me. Like I wasn''t a person. Still, the atmosphere since last night had healed the damage that had arisen between us since I woke up. So I bit the inside of my lips to hold back from saying anything that would make him drag me back to that room and nodded. Listening to him, if only for now. Besides it was just a seatbelt. Putting it on didn''t mean I was signing away my life.


    When the car started up, I took to looking out the window once more, humming a tune that I thought fit the sounds of nature. For a while we just sat like that and I could forget the situation we were in. For just a little bit there were no werewolves, no humans, no Hunt, no wards and no districts. I was just a girl being driven by an attractive guy. Maybe we''d go and grab dinner that would end in those kisses like from those cheesy novels written in the Age of Man.


    "Ranna." When he called my name, my fantasies ceased and I was brought back to reality.


    I turned to Alaric. "Hmmm..."


    "Ranna," he repeated, reaching for my hand, circling my palm with his thumb. "When we arrive onto Main Street, I''m going to leave you with Jerald and Councilman Rashid''s mates."


    Wait, he''s going to leave me alone? Was my opportunity coming closer than I anticipated? Instead of voicing my thoughts, I asked, "Who''s Jerald?"


    "My second in command. You were on the bus with his mate on the day you first feinted and I expect that once we return home, you''ll be seeing a lot more of her." It was as if he was subtly warning me not to sabotage this relationship.


    I nodded. "So where will you be?"


    "While you were changing, something unexpected came up. I have a meeting with Councilman Rashid and Jerald. That said, you will not be alone. There will be an assortment of guards and one of my own wolves in particular to accompany you."


    "Oh? Who?" I subtly tried to pull my hand away from his, but his grip was firm.


    "Her name is Elva¡ª"


    "No way!"


    Alaric frowned. "Have you met?"


    "Tall red-head from District Three, right?"


    "Yes, where did you meet?" There was a subtle pressure to his question, as if he was daring me to lie.


    It was also from how softly he spoke that I realized my mistake. I should have pretended that I''d never heard the name before. I should have, would have, could have. Since I couldn''t turn back the wheels of time, there were two options before me: lie and try to die in front of a bunch of strangers or tell the truth and bide my time.


    His grip on my arm tightened. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to know that he was waiting for my answer. "She was one of the guards on the train I took from my ward to the Capital."


    He immediately relaxed, that stupid smirk on his face. Wait, a minute: was this some sort of test? Had he already known the answer before I said anything? No, he looked like the news that I knew Elva was fresh for him. Unless that was also a trick? But why go through all that trouble? The more I thought about our brief exchange, the more my head started to throb, forcing me to massage my temple with my one free hand.


    "What''s wrong?" Alaric''s voice was laced with concern. "Do you need to turn back and lie down?"


    I bet you''d love that. Out loud, I said, "Just impatient from sitting so long. How much longer until we get to...Main Street, was it?"


    While keeping his eyes on the road, Alaric answered, "Not much longer now."

 Chapter Seventeen: The Wolfs Mask

    Ever since Alaric became an adult at 25, he had always wondered what type of person his mate would be. If they''d be male or female, be able to give him children or not. In the past four years, as he watched his siblings and other wolves around him join in the Hunt, he was beginning to doubt if the Goddess would ever bless him with a mate. Not that it particularly mattered. As a wolf, he couldn''t feel lust until he caught the scent the scent of the human his Goddess had gifted for Alaric alone. So rather than worry about if he''d ever have anyone that belonged completely to him, he poured himself into his work, taking pleasure in the destruction of criminals and traitors alike while maintaining the reputation of a just and able Councilman.


    Yet, in all his musings he had never anticipated that his mate would be so perceptive. It was as if her hazel eyes could see through everything he said and did. It would be a lie to say the thought didn''t bother him, but he didn''t hate it as much as he thought he would. Maybe it was the mate bond, but there was something thrilling about someone who saw every part of him, but lacked the power to do anything about it.


    Alaric frowned.


    Still, it wouldn''t be good to push her too far given the incident in the forest. No, he would have to be careful so for now he played the role of the pacified mate. Not to say that he didn''t enjoy last night, but it wasn''t enough to just have the flesh. So while he was lying in bed with his dear Ranna in his arms, a plan began to form in Alaric''s mind. He would play the kind and accommodating mate. All the while waiting for her to make a mistake. He didn''t know when it would happen, whether ten days or ten years from now, but he would be there to put together all her broken pieces when it did.


    That was the reason why he had handed her off to Elva and the two other mates without a fight. Walking up the stairs to the private room Councilman Rashid booked, his heart beat in excitement. Just what would his mate do when left to her own devices? Whatever it was, Alaric would handle it. There would be no more mistakes with matters concerning his mate.


    When he reached the end of the long hallway, he nodded at the wolf on guard. He wasn''t sure if it was the same one as last time, but regardless he let him in without so much as another word. Meaning, the wolf was not worthy of his attention.


    Councilman Rashid was sitting down with something that looked like a large tea-pot, but instead reeked with the smell of the too-strong coffee famous in District Eleven. Jerald was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, but Alaric barely took note of his second in command. He was too busy struggling to hide his distaste of that bitter smell. How long it would be before he could leave this goddess-forsaken land of heat and return to his own territory?


    "You''re late." Councilman Rashid''s voice provided Alaric with the clarity to compartmentalize his senses.


    Alaric moved to sit in front of him, waiting for Jerald to take up position behind him before answering. "I was dropping off my mate. Given current circumstances, I took a longer route to Main Street than I would have taken if I ran here or if I was driving by myself."


    Rashid looked like he wanted to say something, but kept a neutral expression on his face making it difficult for even Alaric to understand what was going on through his mind. Eventually though Rashid said, "I see, then in that case I have news to share with you."


    "News that you couldn''t share over the phone or video chat?" Alaric asked.


    Rashid shook his head right to left.


    Alaric exchanged a brief look with Jerald and then returned his attention to Rashid who began signing.


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    ''Even in this place, I am unsure who may be listening.''


    Frowning, Alaric signed back, ''Is this room bugged?''


    Again, Rashid shook his head. ''I personally checked the entire room with your wolf before you arrived.''


    ''Then why the precaution?''


    ''Because even if they can''t see, they can hear.''


    Feeling a tick begin to form in his jaw, Alaric rapidly signed. ''Speak plainly. What exactly is going on?''


    ''Have you ever seen a symbol of a lion devouring an apple.''


    Alaric paused remembering that traitor Leif. Once when they were sparing, switching between human and wolf form, he had accidently torn Leif''s shirt seeing the tattoo of a lion swallowing an apple on his chest. When he had asked Leif about the design, he''d brushed it off and at the time Alaric had thought nothing of it. Just that Leif had peculiar tastes.


    To Rashid though, Alaric merely signed, ''I''ve seen it once before. Why?''


    ''Where?''


    Unwilling to allow himself to be interrogated, Alaric replied, ''On a wolf I killed. What does it matter?''


    ''Five years ago, a wolf was murdered by his own mate.'' Rashid paused. ''Do you remember when it made the headlines?''


    Alaric nodded. ''You mean the mate who went mad from District Twenty-Nine?''


    Rashid nodded.


    So Alaric followed up by asking, ''What does that have to do with anything? I heard she killed herself from insanity after the incident.''


    ''But what if she''s still alive?'' Alaric kept his hands still waiting for the other Councilman to continue. ''They say that prior to her lapse of sanity, she was given the gift of prophecy by the Goddess. They say she could not see the future, but she could hear it and that knowledge is what pushed her to end the life of the wolf who loved her above all others.''


    ''If she can only see the future, why are we signing?''


    ''It is said she could move her mind''s ears anywhere and hear anyone''s conversations and actions.''


    It would be a lie if a part of Alaric wanted to dismiss Rashid''s claims as a conspiracy theory, but Rashid was well known for his calmness and clarity of mind. Moreover, if Alaric would so easily dismiss a warning given to him in confidence, he would have never lived to see adulthood. It was for these reasons that he simply signed, ''Explain.''


    ''Mere hours ago, I received a report from my most trusted wolves.'' He chugged down one of the tiny cups of coffee in front of him like it was a shot of alcohol. ''They say they crashed a party.''


    Alaric tilted his head to the side. ''What sort of party?''


    ''A feast.''


    Alaric turned towards Jerald and signed, ''Were you there?''


    His wolf shook his head from right to left, signing, ''I was with preoccupied with my mate.''


    Alaric nodded, understanding how difficult it could be for a wolf prior to the Hunt to be separated from their mate. On that account, Elva was lucky that she only ever video called with her mate.


    At the thought of his third in command, Alaric signed, ''What about Elva?''


    Jerald gestured to Rashid who in turn signed, ''The she-wolf under you was there. Would you like to read the report? Though I do confess that it was one of my wolves who wrote it.''


    ''Is there anything I should know prior to reading it?'' There was no shame in asking for a clarifying question. If Rashid was to be trusted, it was clear that whatever was going on was more than just a simple coincidence so the sooner he covered all his bases, the sooner he could prepare to finally leave this wretched district.


    ''The guests of honor were surrounded by people chanting.''


    Humoring him, Alaric asked, ''And what did they chant?''


    ''The Wolf is unworthy.


    The Mother is a traitor.


    The Children will be calamities.


    Correct the crimes of the future


    With the blood of the sinners.''


    Alaric''s eyes glowed a little as they watched Rashid''s slow moving hands, repeat the chant in sign language. This didn''t feel like some sort of religious cult, but the words were disturbing, even to him. Over and over, he mentally repeated the words, trying to understand what was the point of them, but no matter how hard he tried he was drawing up a blank. None of the wolf or human religions he knew of used such language.


    ''So would you like to read the report now or later?'' The movement of Rashid''s hands drew Alaric''s attention.


    ''Give it to me.''


    Rashid reached into a bag Alaric hadn''t noticed and pulled out a file, placing it on the table next to that accursed coffee pot. Slowly, Alaric picked it up, opening the file to read the pages of words contained within.