Page 70 of Feral Werewolves
“Dad…”
There was a long silence.
“How could you say that, Clemmy-girl? How could younot understand how you’re the center of my world.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I mean, I think you want me to be, but Angela doesn’t, and you let her manipulate you and—”
“Seriously?” He scoffed. “You sound like Angela right now.”
“I just wanted you to know I’m safe and that you don’t have to worry about me.”
He laughed caustically. “Oh, you don’t have any idea what it’s like to be a parent, baby, you really don’t. You’re out there over the fence with a wolf. All I’m going to do is worry.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. I didn’t correct him, tell him it was three wolves. “I’m happy.”
He let out a disbelieving noise.
“I guess you can’t be happy for me?”
He burst out in harsh laughter.
Well, okay, then.
“O-okay,” he said finally. “You’re happy. Okay. I can’t understand it, but I wantyouto understandthis. No matter what, no matter how we disagree, you’re my little girl for all time. I don’t have to understand, but I need you not to go radio silent on me. Keep the lines of communication open, okay? And if you don’t want me to say things about werewolves, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Nothing could be worse than losing you. And if you’re alive, but you don’t talk to me, that’s just like losing you. You talk to me, you call me, you got that, Clementine? Answer your fucking phone.”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I won’t do that again.”
“Okay,” he breathed. “Then we’re okay, my sweet Clemmy, then we can handle anything. I will love you no matter what, you understand me?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said. And it did feel good, and I think he believed it, but…
Well, he couldn’t be happy for me, and he couldn’t understand. It was better than not having a dad at all, of course, but it wasn’t ideal.
I clutched the phone and sobbed after I hung up, andPaladin came out to check on me, but I made him leave. Kestrel and Lazarus seemed frightened of my tears.
After that, a few days later, I did text Ninnia, and she wanted me to call her, and she was predictably freaked but also curious. She wouldn’t believe I was mated to three wolves. She said that I was going to eventually figure out which one of them it actually was, but that I was just over-sexed right now. “You lucky bitch,” she muttered.
I laughed at that.
“I mean, sorry,” she said. “Actually, it sounds awful in a lot of ways.”
“No, I am lucky,” I said.
At least Ninnia could be happy for me.
The rest of the minutia we were caught up in was what I would call defensive strategy, which involved all sorts of hand drawn maps and discussions of various plans and narratives. Odd, of course that Kestrel felt that when it came down to fighting strategies, making visual aids was totally appropriate but not for chores.
I pointed this out to him, of course, but he said they were totally different things, and I just didn’t get it.
We went to the quarry, which was an old limestone quarry that had hit an underground river and filled in with water. The biggest part of the quarry was a huge pool of water and in the distance were little caverns, also full of water.
We went out on a little boat to get to the caverns. I looked down into the quarry water, and I could see trees on the bottom there—no longer growing, of course—but the water had just rushed in and covered everything.
We paddled back into the caverns, and we talked about how long we could hide back here if we had to retreat to run from anyone.
Days later, we came back with dried meat and crackers and other stuff that we could hide in locked boxes (otherwise animals would get into it) in case we needed to eat while we were hiding out.
While we were out there, I felt freaked out. It seemed fartoo real, a possibility that we’d be on the run, hiding in these damp, cold, wet caverns, in fear for our lives.
