14

Becca

“So, you don’t know anything about werewolves,” I say in a questioning tone.

“No, I didn’t know they existed,” he laughs again with that nervous laugh, and I can’t help but smile at him.

He was just a baby when everyone- along with his parents, died. This day does not go the way I thought it would.

“Should we go this way?” I ask him, motioning towards where he came from.

“Yes,” he replies, stepping out of the bush, and I quickly turn so I don’t face him. We walk side by side, a few meters from each other. He is so thin. I can see his collarbone, the bones on his shoulder, and even his ribs.

I share with him the story of my family and our former pack, and he listens intently as I talk about growing up among werewolves. Jason joins us again when I explain what we discovered about the end of pack life and the decimation of the werewolf population.

“I must have been around 2,” he says solemnly. “At least, I think, because that is when I got in foster care. No one knows anything abou