trees on all sides, “exactly how do we get back…you know…being naked and all?”
Isaac turns me around again and scoops water into his hands, pouring it on my shoulders and neck and gently scrubbing the blood away that I had missed.
“That’s the tricky part,” he says, “but it should be fun.”
“Fun? How could anything about that be fun?”
I hear him laugh softly behind me and then he leans around and kisses my cheek.
I don’t like that mischievous feeling I’m getting from him right now. Okay, maybe I like it just a little bit, but something tells me this is going to be an interesting morning.
~~~
Apparently, we ended up nearly three hours away, north of Hallowell and when Isaac told me this on our trek through the mountain, I could hardly believe it. I just couldn’t understand how I had traveled so far away on foot (as a werewolf, but still ) and hardly remember anything but bits and pieces of my kill.
We walk for an hour before I finally see and hear signs of human life and it all starts coming at me like a whirlwind of noise: the sound of traffic, the thumping and rapping of something trapped inside a wooden box trying to get out. I hear someone humming and someone else whistling in the shower.
I hear two people having sex and I instantly reach up to plug my ears with my fingers.
Isaac stops in the forest before we make it onto a trail that leads into a small town.
“You didn’t hear anything unnatural when we were at the creek,” he says, placing his hands on the sides of my neck.
Now that I think back on it, he’s right. I look up at him, searching for answers.
“You were able to block it all out because your mind was only on me,” he says. “It’s all about focus and discipline. You have to know that you’re the one in control of your mind and not the things around you.”
I nod heavily, fully understanding yet at the same time not so sure of my ability to pull it off.
“It’ll come natural to you soon enough,” he says, “but you have to stop fighting it.”
“How am I fighting it?”
“You’re trying too hard. Just let it go. Don’t think about how you need to do it; just don’t think about it at all.”
I nod once more.
It’s true; when we’re having a conversation the noises around me seem to naturally fade into the background unless I’m trying to push them into the background.
He takes my hand again and says with an I-hope-you’re-ready-for-this sort of expression, “Just follow my lead. Don’t say anything if we’re spotted, alright?”
I swallow hard and nod. “Okay.” I’m hoping he’s going to explain exactly what we’re about to do, but as he starts to walk away, pulling me along beside him, I realize I’m not going to get an advance briefing.
We head down the path and when we come to the end minutes later, instead of stepping out into the wide open of someone’s backyard, we stay hidden in the veil of trees on the outskirts. The back of the old house comes into view. There’s a high deck perched against it and a sliding glass door covered by thick, long curtains. I catch the scent of bleach and Pine-Sol from the raggedy mop that hangs stiffly over the deck railing. The house sits on at least two acres of land where just outside of it, off in the distance, a few other houses are scattered about the hilly landscape.
Isaac pulls me farther around the back of the house and we come to a barn, fairly new. I can smell the heavy scent of freshly cut wood and paint which the red door had recently been painted with.
“Do you hear anyone inside?” Isaac says, crouching with me still in the cover of the trees.
“In the barn?”
“No,” he says with a hint of laughter, “the house.”
I listen for voices and movement, but all that I can hear this closely is the purring of a cat.
I shake my head no.
Isaac points toward a part of the back of the house, just off to the side near the deck that looks like a small add-on room.
“Do
Isaac turns me around again and scoops water into his hands, pouring it on my shoulders and neck and gently scrubbing the blood away that I had missed.
“That’s the tricky part,” he says, “but it should be fun.”
“Fun? How could anything about that be fun?”
I hear him laugh softly behind me and then he leans around and kisses my cheek.
I don’t like that mischievous feeling I’m getting from him right now. Okay, maybe I like it just a little bit, but something tells me this is going to be an interesting morning.
~~~
Apparently, we ended up nearly three hours away, north of Hallowell and when Isaac told me this on our trek through the mountain, I could hardly believe it. I just couldn’t understand how I had traveled so far away on foot (as a werewolf, but still ) and hardly remember anything but bits and pieces of my kill.
We walk for an hour before I finally see and hear signs of human life and it all starts coming at me like a whirlwind of noise: the sound of traffic, the thumping and rapping of something trapped inside a wooden box trying to get out. I hear someone humming and someone else whistling in the shower.
I hear two people having sex and I instantly reach up to plug my ears with my fingers.
Isaac stops in the forest before we make it onto a trail that leads into a small town.
“You didn’t hear anything unnatural when we were at the creek,” he says, placing his hands on the sides of my neck.
Now that I think back on it, he’s right. I look up at him, searching for answers.
“You were able to block it all out because your mind was only on me,” he says. “It’s all about focus and discipline. You have to know that you’re the one in control of your mind and not the things around you.”
I nod heavily, fully understanding yet at the same time not so sure of my ability to pull it off.
“It’ll come natural to you soon enough,” he says, “but you have to stop fighting it.”
“How am I fighting it?”
“You’re trying too hard. Just let it go. Don’t think about how you need to do it; just don’t think about it at all.”
I nod once more.
It’s true; when we’re having a conversation the noises around me seem to naturally fade into the background unless I’m trying to push them into the background.
He takes my hand again and says with an I-hope-you’re-ready-for-this sort of expression, “Just follow my lead. Don’t say anything if we’re spotted, alright?”
I swallow hard and nod. “Okay.” I’m hoping he’s going to explain exactly what we’re about to do, but as he starts to walk away, pulling me along beside him, I realize I’m not going to get an advance briefing.
We head down the path and when we come to the end minutes later, instead of stepping out into the wide open of someone’s backyard, we stay hidden in the veil of trees on the outskirts. The back of the old house comes into view. There’s a high deck perched against it and a sliding glass door covered by thick, long curtains. I catch the scent of bleach and Pine-Sol from the raggedy mop that hangs stiffly over the deck railing. The house sits on at least two acres of land where just outside of it, off in the distance, a few other houses are scattered about the hilly landscape.
Isaac pulls me farther around the back of the house and we come to a barn, fairly new. I can smell the heavy scent of freshly cut wood and paint which the red door had recently been painted with.
“Do you hear anyone inside?” Isaac says, crouching with me still in the cover of the trees.
“In the barn?”
“No,” he says with a hint of laughter, “the house.”
I listen for voices and movement, but all that I can hear this closely is the purring of a cat.
I shake my head no.
Isaac points toward a part of the back of the house, just off to the side near the deck that looks like a small add-on room.
“Do
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