Grotesque

Light creeps between the gaps in the grey bottom clouds, hopefully, the rain holds
off until after the gathering.

"Meela, you did a good job, they look happy right now." Victoria's palm slides
down the back of my head between the shoulder blades for the skin to shutter a
quivering protest out. Her hand pulls away.

"It looks like almost everyone came this time." Victoria's voice drifts out.

"They just had to get used to the idea of a gathering. My brother would let me
arrange all the parties for the pack. We would-" I stop myself midsentence. The
burn of thinking back to those times bites into my throat and nothing else will
come out. The sleeves of the sweater are held firmly in fingers, the material
pushing in the palm of my hand.

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, we just had good parties." I can feel my shoulders drop. I should call
Bryon, he deserves a phone call from me, and not him always being the one to
call. It's hard to hear his guilt.

"I heard Elliot talk about those parties to my father, he said that your brother's
pack celebrated too much." The scorn is not missed in her voice.

"We didn't celebrate too much." It's hard to pass those words through a throat
that's spasming because those were my best years. My best years before the
Northerner came.

"My father was really shocked when Bryon brought Elliot back to our pack the
way he did." Victoria gives a small huff of breath.

"How did he bring him back?"

"By the scruff of his neck, my father didn't think Bryon had that in him when he
dumped him off at the front door. Bryon was mumbling something about
manners and you and that Elliot needed to come home." I can feel the weight of
Victoria looking down at me, I don't look up, I keep watch on the wolves who for
the first time are all gathered in one spot and a lot of them even have smiles on
their faces. Their pups aren't within arms reach.

"Bryon was upset for the longest time because of that, he said I was too young to
make those real kinds of decisions."

Victoria's eyes fall off of me, I can feel it in my spine, the pressure is bearable.

"When will Elliot be back?" The question pushes her eyes back to my spine.

"I'm not sure, I think he rather enjoys your brother's gatherings. It's been hard on
him to lose a father. He was a good father to Elliot. It also keeps him safe staying
with Bryon." Victoria's mouth straightens out, the skin of her body tightens,
hardens.

"Safe from who?"

"From himself." The blue of her eyes brightens by the darkening pupils.

"What does that mean?"

"You're beautiful, Meela. Males have a hard time being around you."

Beautiful...the word sounds normal coming from her...but she thinks a lot of
things are beautiful that are ugly and grotesque.

"Don't you think you should go and be with your pack?" Trying to nose her
forward. A nudge is all she needs. She tried the very first time to mingle with
some of the females and it didn't end well, most of the wolves that came left,
clutching their pups tight by the hand. Victoria is the tallest female here, but only
a select few look up to her, the rest keep their disgust hidden by lowered eyes.

Victoria doesn't move from her spot.

"Let them enjoy themselves." She says. There is a protest of words that want to
rise up and out of my throat, but one look at Victoria dies those sounds back
down. There is a quiet, mournful longing through those eyes. Victoria almost
looks breakable.

Conversations travel on the edges of the wind, light laughter, and pups playing in
small groups around the adults.

Becca is there, eating with a group of females that hold bruises on their faces
from the training early on in the day. Victoria's hard on her, she gives her no
mercy and Becca struggles through everything with a blood-filled mouth. Charlie
is at the training for the females, he's the only male that comes, he does not fight
them, he prefers to drink from a flask quietly. At the end of it, he's always in
Victoria's ear about Becca not being ready, yet. Not yet, he likes to say. Not yet.

Victoria isn't hard on Charlie, she lets him do whatever he wants, he can sleep in
without her coming into his room waking him up, she doesn't tell him to brush
his teeth, she doesn't make him eat. She doesn't ask a lot of him, but he asks too
much for Victoria. Some nights when he's stumbling and unable to find his
footing, he likes to tell her that one day she's going to need to let him go. She'll
tell him not to say those things, and he says don't be afraid of the truth.

Charlie comes running up with a small huff and stale whiskey lingers on his
breath. He pulls down his chin just enough to meet my eyes.

"What did he do?' Victoria questions, still staring straight ahead, her hands are
clasped together in front of her.

"Nothing, he stayed on his side." Charlie spits on the ground wearing his usual
scowl.

"Was he with anyone?" Her fingers tighten, eyes sky blue wrapped around
flint-stone.

"He was alone."

"Alone?" Victoria turns fractionally towards Charlie, who holds a thin layer of
sweat to his bare chest that holds nicks and scars all over. Pants just handing on
hips, his hairline is noticeable. He catches me looking and I can feel the heat in
my ears.

"Yes." A stutter holds to the first letter of the word, yes.

"That's a new approach for him." Her hand's loosens from the bindings of her
fingers. Charlie looks at me as if I didn't throw up at his feet the night before. It's
perfect this way, he forgets and so will I.

"There were no females with him?" Victoria's blue eyes grow wide, shock registers
across her face. Usually, she carries a tight smile everywhere but right now, even
her lips are pulled apart, a small gap between the flesh.

I'd like to ask who he is, I don't because there's an emotion brimming in her eyes,
filling up with something that isn't part of Victoria, hope, maybe? Usually,
Victoria is tight, encased in her own skin, never allowing anything but steal and
stone to come off of her, only sometimes, rare times do I get a glimpse of
something soft and round without all the teeth of her.

"He left markers and that's all. Nothing more than that this time." Charlie stands
on her left, I'm on her right all three of us face towards the gathering. The last
time Charlie came back from his watch, he told Victoria that he had three females
along the territory lines leaving their scent behind. It didn't rain for a week, and
for some reason, I think he knew what he was doing. That made Victoria seal
herself up in her bedroom for the night. No one was allowed in. Not Charlie, no
one. I confronted Charlie and asked him, why? Why tell her those things, and he
told me because the lies would hurt more.

"Did he know you were there?" She asks.

"Yes, he knew someone was watching him."

"Did he say anything?" She leans into Charlie, searching his face.

"All he did was laugh." Charlie grumbles low in his throat.

"Do you think he will try to take the East from me, eventually?" Her words come
out raw bitten. Chewed.

"No, he'd have to challenge you, he doesn't want that kind of fight. He likes what
he's doing much better."

Victoria grows still, and quiet. Her eyes drop to her feet, fingers weaved tight.

"I suppose he does." Victoria turns from us, waking away back towards her house.

"Sunshine you hungry? I'm starving, let's go eat." Charlie walks away,
shouldering himself between the groups of adults that are in their own tight
clusters. A wolf stays in his spot, and Charlie isn't known for his kindness.

He grows quiet. Unsettling.

Charlie rounds on him in a tight circle, each male noiselessly talking with visions
of themselves, a shuffle of their skin, hackles rising and teeth now sharpening
within their mouth. Just four nights ago Charlie was telling Victoria that the pack
is too bottom-heavy, that there has been too much top-killing. Victoria poured
another glass of wine and let Charlie talk about the reasons to let some of the
stronger males live, now here he is going to open a throat of life uplifting
everything he said.

"Charlie, I'm thirsty, do you want a drink?"

There is a winding down pause to him. He breathes, sweat drying on skin.

"Alright." The scowl is put back in place while the fur of him stands down. We opt
out of food and take a glass of the punch I made before walking away from the
gathering. I don't like the party, just the planning of it now.

"You're hot," Charlie announces once his glass is finished.

I finish mine, "what?"

"You're wearing a sweater and you're sweating." I don't want to tell him that it's
not the heat, it's not having a drink yet. I can feel the shake of the empty glass in
my hand. I want more. I can taste it in the back of my throat and I swallow as if
there is something more than spit in my mouth.

"Nothing to say?" He reaches in his back pocket pulling out a flask.

"Let's go for a walk." He pours some whiskey in my cup, he drinks from the flask.
Straight whiskey burns going down but it soothes what's inside of me.

We don't really talk, we drink but the talking part is left out.

There is a house that seems to be swallowed in by Nature. Wild weeds and tall
grass push across the sagging front porch. A sapling grows through a broken front
window and for a second I can hear something trying to scream from the inside.

"What is that?" Pointing to the house.

"That used to be the pack's healers house."

"Where are they?" Thinking back, I haven't seen a healer here. Not one of them.
Usually, you can smell them before they are seen.

"Victoria doesn't like healers, she killed them all. In there." The neck hairs raise
and the Wild wants to shuffle backward. Nothing good is inside there.

"Burn the house, it's not well." The words come out and it reminds me of
something my mother would say.

"We tried. Victoria won't allow it, she still likes to go inside. One day it will fall
down and she will have nothing to keep going back too." Charlie sips again from
his flask and my cup is empty.

"You want some more?" He steps right up to me, I can hear the pour from the
flask.

Another hot swallow down and everything begins to feel right inside me...


Copyright @Rachelle Mills 2019