realized it, she turned away, and then she began walking towards the door, but I cut her off.
"Monique."
"I have to go, Zoe. I have homework."
"Well, you weren't heading for homework. You were trying to run from me. You're one of my dearest friends here. I thought maybe we could go for a walk."
She'd been looking anywhere but at me, but she turned to face me. "I am?"
"Come on," I said. "Can we run if it's just you pulling me?"
"Not as fast."
"Come on." I took her arm and pulled her outside and down the steps. "Take us somewhere we can sit and talk where I won't get too dirty."
We shifted grips. She took my arm, adjusted her hold, and then we were running. She was right. It wasn't as fast as with two. But it was a lot faster than I could run.
I laughed with the joy.
She took me deep into the woods, finding a fallen tree. We came to a stop, and she made a show of brushing it off for me. Then we sat, and I immediately took her hands.
"Well," I said. "Monique, I am older than your mother."
"No you're not," she said. "You're barely forty. My mother is fifty-one."
"She looks thirty-five!"
"She's a wolf. We mature fast but then age slowly."
"Oh. Someone else said something about that to me, too. How old is Portia?"
"Older than you," she said. "You'll have to ask her."
"Elisabeth?"
"Older than you."
"Lara?"
"Older than you."
"Michaela?"
She paused. "No comment."
"You're a brat."
"I know." She looked away. "I'm being stupid. I know I'm being stupid. I'm just a kid. I know."
"You thought I would wait?"
"I don't know. Maybe hoped. That's stupid, too."
"Honey, compared to you, I'm old. And wrinkled."
"You aren't wrinkled."
"You haven't seen me naked."
She didn't respond to that.
"Tell me, does Prudence look like a typical 90-year-old wolf?"
"No. She looks perhaps sixty-five."
"I would have guessed late forties, if even that. What is a wolf life expectancy?"
"If we don't die violently, then about one-twenty-five," she said. "Sometimes older."
"All right. I want you to think about something. Let's say I waited."
"You're mated."
"Let's say I wasn't. I waited until you're twenty-one."
"I'm an adult in three months."
"Not to my human eyes, Monique. And even at eighteen, you're a kid. Twenty-one and out of college, or it is just so amazingly creepy I can't begin to tell you."
"Fine. Twenty-one. That's not so long."
"No, not so long. So, you would be twenty one, and I would be." I sighed. "Fifty."
"Okay."
"A human at fifty is starting to fail. Knees going bad. Grey hair. Menopause."
She didn't say anything.
"Average life expectancy for a human who made it this far and is relatively healthy and takes care of herself is 80 or so. 95 is uncommon. Let's use 80. At 80, I am going to die. You are only 51 and still healthy with 75 years in front of you, more than half your life remaining. Do you know what it would do to me to leave you behind, Monique? I would die of a broken heart, knowing I was deserting you while you still needed me."
She turned towards me, and there were tears in her eyes.
"I don't want to think about you dying," she said.
"I don't want to think about you being lonely," I added.
She nodded, then she hung her head. "It's worse."
"Oh?"
"I am a dominant wolf. I would want to be able to support my mate properly. I won't be able to do that for a while. I can't ask you at fifty to live in a tiny apartment in the barracks. But it hurts, Zoe."
"I know it does, honey," I said. "So we're going to think about it differently."
"We are?"
"Honey, you are one of my dearest friends. I have human friends, but not that many. They are acquaintances more than friends. Most people think I'm a crackpot, and they sort of edge away from me. I can't help but share my views, after all. But you're a dear, dear friend. You matter to me a great deal."
"I do?"
I nodded. "You helped me fit in. We're scuba partners! You watch out for me. You help me. Monique, we're friends ."
"Best friends?"
"I don't use
"Monique."
"I have to go, Zoe. I have homework."
"Well, you weren't heading for homework. You were trying to run from me. You're one of my dearest friends here. I thought maybe we could go for a walk."
She'd been looking anywhere but at me, but she turned to face me. "I am?"
"Come on," I said. "Can we run if it's just you pulling me?"
"Not as fast."
"Come on." I took her arm and pulled her outside and down the steps. "Take us somewhere we can sit and talk where I won't get too dirty."
We shifted grips. She took my arm, adjusted her hold, and then we were running. She was right. It wasn't as fast as with two. But it was a lot faster than I could run.
I laughed with the joy.
She took me deep into the woods, finding a fallen tree. We came to a stop, and she made a show of brushing it off for me. Then we sat, and I immediately took her hands.
"Well," I said. "Monique, I am older than your mother."
"No you're not," she said. "You're barely forty. My mother is fifty-one."
"She looks thirty-five!"
"She's a wolf. We mature fast but then age slowly."
"Oh. Someone else said something about that to me, too. How old is Portia?"
"Older than you," she said. "You'll have to ask her."
"Elisabeth?"
"Older than you."
"Lara?"
"Older than you."
"Michaela?"
She paused. "No comment."
"You're a brat."
"I know." She looked away. "I'm being stupid. I know I'm being stupid. I'm just a kid. I know."
"You thought I would wait?"
"I don't know. Maybe hoped. That's stupid, too."
"Honey, compared to you, I'm old. And wrinkled."
"You aren't wrinkled."
"You haven't seen me naked."
She didn't respond to that.
"Tell me, does Prudence look like a typical 90-year-old wolf?"
"No. She looks perhaps sixty-five."
"I would have guessed late forties, if even that. What is a wolf life expectancy?"
"If we don't die violently, then about one-twenty-five," she said. "Sometimes older."
"All right. I want you to think about something. Let's say I waited."
"You're mated."
"Let's say I wasn't. I waited until you're twenty-one."
"I'm an adult in three months."
"Not to my human eyes, Monique. And even at eighteen, you're a kid. Twenty-one and out of college, or it is just so amazingly creepy I can't begin to tell you."
"Fine. Twenty-one. That's not so long."
"No, not so long. So, you would be twenty one, and I would be." I sighed. "Fifty."
"Okay."
"A human at fifty is starting to fail. Knees going bad. Grey hair. Menopause."
She didn't say anything.
"Average life expectancy for a human who made it this far and is relatively healthy and takes care of herself is 80 or so. 95 is uncommon. Let's use 80. At 80, I am going to die. You are only 51 and still healthy with 75 years in front of you, more than half your life remaining. Do you know what it would do to me to leave you behind, Monique? I would die of a broken heart, knowing I was deserting you while you still needed me."
She turned towards me, and there were tears in her eyes.
"I don't want to think about you dying," she said.
"I don't want to think about you being lonely," I added.
She nodded, then she hung her head. "It's worse."
"Oh?"
"I am a dominant wolf. I would want to be able to support my mate properly. I won't be able to do that for a while. I can't ask you at fifty to live in a tiny apartment in the barracks. But it hurts, Zoe."
"I know it does, honey," I said. "So we're going to think about it differently."
"We are?"
"Honey, you are one of my dearest friends. I have human friends, but not that many. They are acquaintances more than friends. Most people think I'm a crackpot, and they sort of edge away from me. I can't help but share my views, after all. But you're a dear, dear friend. You matter to me a great deal."
"I do?"
I nodded. "You helped me fit in. We're scuba partners! You watch out for me. You help me. Monique, we're friends ."
"Best friends?"
"I don't use
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