Something of a Kind - By Miranda Wheeler Page 0,16

and he came back with a tattoo.”

Failing to resist the urge to scan his exposed skin, her gaze stopped on black ink curled around his wrist. She watched as a tense hand anxiously covered it, like protective custody. He moved again, crossing his arms, looking away. His reaction was too intense. Aly knew better than to ask. She forced herself to look away, focusing on his eyes as she smiled.

Straightening her back, she swiveled her legs forward, turning towards his friends. Raising her brow, she added in mock disbelief, “The archangel?”

“Tony Gabriel,” Owen corrected. “All around bad influence.”

“Real nasty drunk, that one. Thinks he's going make Noah the next Hannah Montana.”

“That I’d like to see,” Aly teased. She nudged Noah's tensed elbow, hoping he’d loosen up.

“Real, real nasty drunk. Drove him all the way to Anchorage,” Luke repeated, gouging her response. She politely ignored Owen's stare, and dismissed the comment.

“Happy belated birthday,” she answered simply, bursting a concrete silence.

“So, you move to the middle of nowhere, and instead of vampires, you get Noah Locklear.” Luke’s words brimmed with hints of a motive. He sounded like a deranged teacher excited over the cruelty of a pop quiz.

Owen tossed him a bag. She watched as Luke split the plastic, loudly crunching on the snack.

“How are you coping, Alyson?” Owen joked. She elevated her hands in surrender, a testimony to innocence.

“I don't know anything about that. You're talking to the Tamagachi generation.”

“My God,” Luke gasped, his mouth full, head leaning back to shake a fistful of trail mix across his tongue. He leapt from the log, his outstretched arm pointing dramatically. “This girl. This girl is amazing. Seriously, marry me?”

“Paws off, Young. Aly here’s respectable.” “Hey now, I'm just saying. If Noah won’t-”

“Knock it off,” Noah sighed.

“I might,” Luke snickered.

“Young, don’t be sick,” Owen chastised. Amusement cracked the faux-serious tones in his voice.

Luke wiggled his eyebrows, dimples peaking as he pretended to zip his lips shut. With a flick of his wrist, an imaginary key was sent blindly flying into the shadows of a tightly knit tree canopy.

As she released a smile, Noah’s posture relaxed.

Their giggles were throaty but boyish, piercing the night's muteness. Aly gave in, Noah eventually joining, the mirth virally contagious.

Owen crossed his arms, covering his eyes weeping with laughter. He leaned backwards, rocking with a guffaw. Veins ripped across the muscles of his forearms as he tried steadying himself. Failing to catch the fall, he toppled into scattered pine needles.

Luke crossed his arms over his chest, falling backwards, crying out, “I regret nothing!”

Aly blinked away images of her mother, cold and blue, as the lid closed her into the darkness.

She doesn’t have to be everywhere. Stop thinking about it.

“You okay?” Noah asked.

She realized her shoulders had hunched. Blinking away a daze, she forced the corners of her lips to curve upwards. She nodded, her gaze locked on the trees.

~

Day faded from the sky, leaving a periwinkle residue where the sun dropped below the horizon. As the sky darkened, a crackling fire was the only light in the forest’s pool of black. Between the heat radiating from Noah’s side and the close lick of flames, the night’s unseasonable chill was hardly a menace.

She flinched as a popping knock drew her attention to the trees. She expected Owen or Luke to come running from the shadows laughing, having disappeared again without notice. Instead, they sat across from her, looking confused and alarmed. Noah’s brow furrowed as he stared at them. She assumed he had the same inclination.

The knocks continued, increasingly louder, like someone was throwing boulders at a tree. A sudden silence was quickly pierced with a whooping screech, like an owl. As the boys traded confused stares, Noah shook his head.

“Can’t be.” “No way. No way, no way!” Owen repeated, his eyes scanning the coniferous silhouettes. His head cocked as he listened harder, like a trained house dog investigating noise.

“Yes, yes!” Luke whispered excitedly, back arching and hand cupped over his ear. A series of foreign howls answered.

Aly shifted with anxiety. “Those are coyotes. It’s getting dark.”

“They’re different though. Listen. Shh,” Luke shushed, face tensing.

“No way,” Owen repeated. “Seriously?”

Aly glanced up, offering a questioning stare.

Noah explained hesitantly, “They think it’s the wood beast.” She frowned, trying to summon the mental image of the monkey-like totem pole. Seeing her concern, he added, “Because they’re idiots.”

“Hey now, don’t hate,” Luke insisted, listening for a second whoop. “It’s the Gigit, man.”

“The what?” Aly asked, pulling her hoodie closer around her. The sound continued,