They all sprint over to their water bottles the second they register the noise. Their arms, legs and even their faces are thoroughly caked in mud from practising tackles.
“Two more drills, and then it’s home time, boys,” I shout as I walk over to explain. Alfie stands off to one side, slightly away from the group. He loves to play, but he’s never quite figured out how to interact with them all.
It doesn’t help when you alreadyknowyou’re different. I remember that feeling all too well. Eventually, I learned over time to put the wolf shifter in me to the back of my mind so I could be part of the group, but a divide always remained. With only a handful of exceptions, people high up in government/ police, humans who have married into a wolf pack, and the few who find out by accident, there will always be anusandthem. Some shifters believe we should go public, but the reality is that it will always be too dangerous. The likelihood of us being hunted or captured is too high risk.
“Come on, the sooner we get started, the sooner you can grab a shower and warm up.”
When practice is over, the boys run off towards the outbuilding where the changing rooms are. Alfie stays behind to help me pick up the various equipment dotted around the field. While I think it’s partly because he has to wait to catch a lift home with me anyway, it’s also because he’s struggling with where he fits into the team.
“Why don’t you go and get changed with the others? I’ll come find you when I’m done,” I suggest. He shakes his head.
“No, it’s okay. I want to help.”
“It’s hard to make friends with your teammates if you always avoid them off the field, Alf.”
“They don’t want to be my friend.”
“You don’t know that; you need to at least try.”
“I do know that. I heard Johnny and Fletch last weekend saying the only reason I’m on the team is because I’m your brother,” he says it matter of factly as though it’s not somewhatsoul-destroying to hear your teammates talking about you that way behind your back.
It’s under-twelve rugby in the Lake District; there is no criteria to make this team. Alfie could be related to the local drug dealers, and he’d still get a spot. We aren’t picky. But Alfie is a wolf; he might not have had his first shift yet, but it won’t be long now. He’s fast and slippery with shifter eyesight and quick reactions. Once he builds his confidence, he’ll be showing up little shits like Johnny and Fletch.
Maybe 'little shits' is a bit harsh to say about children, but if they’re going to be nasty to my baby brother, they’ll be doing hill sprints next weekend.
With all the equipment put away into the storage room, Alfie finally heads to the showers, just as most of the boys are heading out to meet their parents to go home.
I check my phone. Barely past eleven am. Only approximately twelve more hours until I get to see Cee… I don't know what's wrong with me. My skin feels like it's pulled taught around my body, and it only relaxes again once I'm in his vicinity. By every Sunday, I'm vibrating with need. How embarrassing. But he's like water in the desert, and I can't seem to get enough.
The beginning of Autumn has brought a significant drop in temperature and, thus, an abrupt end to my late-night swims. The pair of jeans I packed to change into are sitting on the ground next to me, but I decide to enjoy the warmth of my wolf form a while longer since Cee hasn’t turned up yet.
Resting my head against a large mossy rock, I watch the waterfall, which is flowing more enthusiastically after a large spell of rain earlier in the week. My nose twitches, somehow scenting him before I even hear him approach. The hairs on myneck stand on end, and I can feel his eyes on me. The sound of leaves crunching on the ground is followed by a large grey furry head rubbing against my shoulder.
Cee has a pair of blue denim shorts clutched between his teeth and dangling from either side of his muzzle. He drops them on the ground with my clothes.
We both usually shift right away because we can’t speak to each other when we’re in our wolf forms, but I’m comfortable and warm at present, so I’m not in such a hurry.
I’m also not feeling especially chatty today. I’ve recently started the final year of my history degree, and I got into a massive argument with my mum this afternoon about applying to do my teacher training next year. Apparently, going into teaching would be 'a waste of such a great education' —cue the eye-roll. Having become accustomed to my mother being largely disinterested in me in favour of helicopter parenting Jasper, I’m not enjoying the sudden turn of her attention.
Cee pads around to face me, nuzzling his snout into the fur of my neck. I take in a deep inhale, letting his scent fill my senses. Calm washes over me, and his presence settles the agitated mood I’ve been in for most of the day.
Feeling more myself all of a sudden, I lick his face playfully in lieu of being able to kiss him. His eyes pin me with a look that suggests he’s less than impressed. He leans back on his haunches before leaping at me, knocking me to the ground and pinning me there. His tongue assaults my face, licking and slobbering all over me in retaliation.
We roll around on the ground for a while, play fighting. I love seeing this side of Cee. Sometimes, when we're in our wolf forms, we feel like the purest version of ourselves.
Once we’re both panting for breath, Cee pads over to a nearby tree and curls up underneath it. I follow suit, and by unspokenagreement, we take a nap, enjoying the warmth of our furry bodies wrapped around each other.
When I wake up a short while later, Cee still snores softly, his large head resting on my shoulder. I shift back and try to extricate myself carefully. My skin breaks out in goosebumps at the sudden cold temperature, and I walk quickly to where we left our clothes when we got here.
After I’ve tugged on my jeans, I take Cee his shorts. One of his big green eyes peaks open, side-eyeing me when I shake his shoulder gently to wake him. His dark fur is soft and warm under my hand but is suddenly replaced by skin as he shifts back. I reach out and attempt to tame where his shaggy dark hair is in disarray.
“Your shorts,” I say, holding them out. With a grunt, he pulls them on, still looking cosy and dazed from his nap. He thunks his head against my bare chest and takes a deep inhale, sighing contentedly.
“Hey, Fee,” he mumbles into me.
Cupping his face with my palms, I tip his head back and kiss his pillowy lips softly. He lets out a dainty whimpering sound that makes me melt into a puddle of goo.
I regret not bringing a hoodie because the tree bark is digging into me uncomfortably where my back leans against it. Still, mild discomfort is a small price to pay with Cee sitting between my legs, his head resting on my chest.
