1
THE LAST DAY HER LIFE WAS NORMAL
R E M
Rem staredat the tree in her backyard where her grandmother was buried. "What do you think gran would say about the rumors?"
Her mother braided her hair from behind, Rem recoiling when it was pulled too tightly. It was a tradition of theirs, even if Rem was in her early twenties.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the Silvers. Humans like me," Rem said as if it were obvious. "Do you think gran would tell me to run for it? If the rumors are true..." Rem chewed her lip. "I can't sleep. The witches won't say anything, and everyone is treating me like I have the plague."
Silence filled the late summer morning as her mother finished, sitting down next to Rem. She too stared at the gravestone underneath the oak tree. Rem looked the older version of herself over, taking in the laugh lines and crow's feet. The two looked enough alike to be considered siblings, especially with their slightly prominent nose and lips. Her mother somehow still looked to be in her thirties.
Her gran used to thank witch's magic for that.
What would her gran say about what happened to Rem, though—how Rem's hazel eyes were now blue and her chestnut hair a warm shade of silver?
It sounded like a mundane curse, except the reason behind such a phenomenon remained a complete mystery. Silvers—as the witches called them—appeared like persistent weeds only two months ago. The blathering words of gossipers spread quickly, claiming that shifter wolves wanted humans like Rem, even to the point of abducting them from their villages or towns.
The witches had yet to confirm or deny those rumors.
Each morning Rem checked her hair only to see it was still a bright, pale silver with no understanding as to what caused such a seemingly permanent change, or why the shifters might wanther… If those rumors were even true.
And why were the witches not saying anything? They were usually so fond of touting their opinions.
Her mother, Darla, opened her mouth to speak, but paused and wiped her hazel eyes before sighing and looking up at the sky. "I don't know Rem. I don't enjoy thinking about it. No matter how I look at it... It's not good. Something has happened to you, and the silence of the witches is almost as deafening as them running their mouths. All Iknow is that your eyes and hair have changed, and the same thing has happened to other young women your age. And, well, it's not a rumor anymore, about the shifters coming for Silvers—"
"What?" Rem interrupted, her veins suddenly cold enough to raise the hairs on her arms.
Licking her lips, the older of the two opened her mouth to speak but shook her head and sighed. "A village fifty miles north had a Silver taken by a pack living in the mountains. Coveness Ryla confirmed as much yesterday, and I am sorry I didn't say anything... I just... I feel so helpless..."
Rem's heart numbed, recalling their chief witch—or a Coveness—calling for Rem's mother, who had been glum for the rest of the day upon returning home. "Wait, what? Are you serious? You didn’t even tell me—"
"I know, Remara," she scolded, but dropped the severity in her gaze. "I am sorry. I just needed time to process. Especially with mother passing, and nowthis," her mother began, listlessly looking at their backyard. "How could so much go so wrong?"
Rem stood up and paced their porch, wood creaking underneath her feet. The gravity of the news sunk Rem's heart into the dirt, her mind spinning. She placed a hand on her hip and then other over her mouth. "No, I won't believe this. Itcan'tbe true," she said. "Surely this is all a misunderstanding.”
Her mother spoke bleakly. "I think it's true, Rem. What infuriates me is I don’t understand how the witches are so clueless. I don’t buy that they don’t know what’s happened to you, or why the shifters even want the Silvers in the first place—” her mother paused, as if the admittance of wolves seeking out the Silvers bound her tongue.
In an instant, Rem's imagination played it all out—the shifters coming for her in the dead of night, taking her outside of the village border... One she had never left before. Just where didtheylive? What would they do to her? She sharply glanced at her grandmother's headstone, her stomach flipping at the thought she'd never see it again.
Rem had yet to fully accept she was even gone.
Help me, gran.
"I feel like I am going to be sick," Rem muttered as terror gripped her.
"Come—sit back down," her mother offered, exuding a strength that coated the fear in her eyes. "We have to think this through. Worry will get us nowhere, even if I want to punch a wall myself."
"That's easy for you to say," Rem quipped, sitting back down on the steps, tapping her foot and chewing her nails, staring very intently at a random weed in the grass. She wanted to run, far into the distance. Perhaps roll around in cow dung to hide her scent.They work with scents, right? I have to hide mine and dirty my hair...
Her mother remained mute, and Rem looked at her. The lines around her mother's mouth deepened with worry.
"Why are you so calm? So quiet?" Rem hotly asked, her voice cracking. "Mother, they'recomingfor me."
"Rem," her mother said, placing a hand on her knee, "listen to me. We aren't going to let you go so easily, do you understand?"
