3. Willow's Wolf

24 years later

Willow

“Dad, can you please take the cooler to car for me – I need a quick shower before we head out.” I call down the stairs to my father, as I twist my black and pink hair up in a messy bun, grabbing my jeans, a white t-shirt and underwear and dash into my ensuite bathroom. I strip out of my work clothes a simple ensemble of black pants and red button-up shirt and jump under the spray. As much as I want to languish under the soothing heat of the water, I need to be quick, or we will be stuck in all the weekend commuter traffic.

I can’t pretend that I’m not excited to be going to cabin, even if it is for the sole purpose of keeping my condition hidden. It’s the only place I can go, to let my other side out to run free for a few short days without worrying about being seen or caught.

“Wills! Come on sweetpea, we gotta get on the road.” I hear my dad holler through the door as he passes, and I turn off the shower. Quickly drying off, and pulling my clothes on my slightly damp body. I slide my feet into house sandals, grab the packed duffel from my bed and hurry out of my bedroom, down the stairs and out to my dad’s truck. Throwing my bag in the back for him to securely while I go back to turn on the security system and lock up the house.

Running back to the car I jump into the front seat and buckle my seat belt, grinning back as my dad climbs into the driver's seat, aviator sunglasses covering his green eyes, his grey flecked red hair reflecting gold in the sun.

“Ready little one?” He asks, starting the car when I nod, he puts it into gear and pulls away from the curb. “Here we go.”

I relax back into the seat, winding the window down a little so I can take in all the complex scents of the neighbourhoods we drive through to get to the freeway. My dad starts our road trip playlist, a mash of indie rock and pop ballads from the past 12 years, get us into the mood as we finally hit the freeway and head towards the forest reserve where our cabin is hidden away. I don’t know how he did it, but Dad managed to find the perfect two-bedroom cabin for us, hidden deep in the middle of the reserve, an hour out of the city and yet delightfully isolated.

“How’s work been?” I ask Dad as we take our exit off the freeway, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing. He’s the Captain of a Fire Station, the same one he found me abandoned at, so his work schedule changes every month. It’s hard not worry about him in such a hazardous job, but he loves it and I’m proud of how selfless he is to put others safety above his own.

“Work has been a little quiet lately, but that’s a good thing. What about you, hun?”

I was lucky to be found by him as a baby, and lucky he decided to apply to be my foster father, and then later adopt me. He always says that minute he held me, he knew he was meant to become my dad, my Uncle Thomas, his best friend says it was actually my first burb that had all his crew placing bets on how long it would be before he decided he would keep me. Either way, I am grateful to have found him, that my mother chose his fire house to leave me at. I don’t think anyone else would have been able to deal with my condition, to love and protect me anyway. To take the time to teach me how to keep myself safe when the moon calls and how to build a life despite my handicaps.

“Work is about to get very busy for me, I just got put on the Systems upgrade project as the lead. I’ll be leading the core project team and liaising with the vendor applications, and contract negotiations. The first Vendor meet and greet interview is on Monday. I’m actually looking forward it.” We turn down the last dirt path to the cabin, the brush on either side of the road growing closer and closer to the road, hiding the path for those that don’t know it’s there.

I take a deep breath in, savoring the scent of pine, mulch and wildflowers. It calms the other half of me being out here in the wilderness, feeling the rhythm of this place thrum through my body.

“That’s great Wills, it won’t affect your cabin visits, will it?” He asks as the cabin comes into view, the wrap around porch and rocking chairs appearing like a beacon in the dark. He drives to park the truck behind the cabin under the car port and tuns it off.

“Nope, I already got it sorted with boss, and can do extra remote days if needed.” I say as I jump down and stretch my back with loud high-pitched sigh. Dad unhooks the tarp over the truck bed and starts to hand me bags to take carry into the cabin. I follow behind him as he unlocks the back door and steps into the adjoining kitchen, reaching across the sink to open the windows to start to air out the rooms.

It takes us three trips back and forth from the truck to bring in the groceries, a new carpet for the living room, and bedding. By the time the trucks locked up it’s getting dark and I’m champing at the bit to go for a run. Dad watches me with a smirk as I hurry to finish the last of the chores cleaning the cabin, he’s purposely delaying me.

“Ok, the beds are made, the rooms are aired, the floors have been swept. Can I go for a run now?” I plead as he pulls out the key to the shed to get the generator up and running.

“Yes, sweetpea, you can go for a run, but not for too long – I’ll have dinner ready in an hour.” He follows me outside, turning to the shed as I strip down to my skin, the rush of the shift buzzing under my skin. I crouch down as my bones crack and move, think black fur sprouts from skin, my jaw pulls forward and realigns until it reforms into a snout. Once the shift is finish I give my wolf a full shake to stretch out the kinks, Dad walks over and gives my back a soft rub and a wink. “Don’t go too far, I got you rib eye for dinner.”

I give him a yip of acknowledgment and then take off, running hard and fast into the dwindling light of the forest. My paws hit the dirt with soft thuds, digging in as I run straight for the creek north of the cabin. The air has a crisp quality to that is starting to cool as night comes in, and my eyes adjust to the night. My wolf vision helping me see almost as clearly as day, the bubbling sound of the water from creek gets louder the closer I get, my hearing is sharper in this form too.

This place is my refuge, where I can run wild and free – this place was the gift my father gave me after my first shift – the surprise and panic we both experienced of that ordeal was washed away with his acceptance of me, his unconditional love and protection demonstrated through his careful planning. I turn back to head home; the enticing smell of steaks cooking has me salivating as I run. As I run up to the back door, I noticed that Dad has picked up my discarded clothes for me and left my robe hanging from the door handle ready for my shift back.

I jump up against the Kitchen window and give a cheeky yip that makes Dad jump where he stands at the stove. If I could laugh in this form I would be in hysterics. He grunts then slips a hand out the window and taps my nose lightly in reprimand. “Not funny Wills, now shift and come inside to get cleaned up before dinner.”

I give his hand a sloppy lick, then another yip and move to the shadow of the back to shift back. It’s always the first shift after a long gap that aches, I stretch my arms over my head, listening to a few vertebrae crack back into alignment and then done the robe and secure the tie around my waist. I slip inside going straight to the bathroom to get changed, my clothes conveniently waiting for me.

By the time I’m dressed, my hands and face washed and cleaned, and back out into the kitchen room, Dad is putting our plates on the table, along with a salad and a couple of beers. It smells so good, he cooks the perfect steak every time. Before we start, he holds his beer up, I take mine and clink it against his with a grin.

“To full moon runs and Dad’s perfectly seared steaks.” Dad laughs and we both take a sip of our beer before digging in. The first bite of steak melts on my tongue and I moan with bliss. “Perfection as always Dad.”

“Why thank you very much, Wills.” He replies and takes another sip of beer and spears tomato with his fork chewing thoughtfully. “Good run?”

“Every time. I went to the creek and back. Just enough to take the edge off for tonight. I’ll go for a longer run in the morning.” I devour my steak, and he gives me a look, his brows raised and I roll my eyes and have some salad. I might be twenty four years old, but he’s still my Dad and he still makes me eat my vegetables and fruits.

“So, I’ve been thinking.” I start, as Dad spoons another serving of salad on my plate.