into quickly should she find herself in her human form without warning. Hopeful. Charlotte opted to dress her fur-covered friend in it as a silent encouragement, an activity Maggie probably would have taken part in too, for the fun of it… If Maggie were feeling like herself.
I sigh, one hand planted tiredly on my hip, the other on the back of Maggie’s head. She’s clutching my leg. More and more, she’s been getting clingy after she returns from a visit to her dad’s. She said they had a nice time, but it’s hard on her to be gone from home for two days. Which I get. Like I said before, I was once a visitation kid. I remember well how screwed up I felt when I was shuttled back and forth.
I silently reassure Maggie by letting her hug onto me as much as she wants, and I watch Ginny until she feels my attention and gives me hers.
“Remember what Finn said,” I remind her. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. And once you Change, you’ll always know how to Change. Soon it’ll be like riding a bike, all right?”
Glumly, Ginny forces her nose up and down, a wolf’s nod.
Then, with a dirty look off to the side, she stands and moves on stiff legs to the kitchen—to the water bowl in the kitchen.
Her new water bowl.
It’s really just a dish from the cupboard, but she was so horrified when I set it down for her. The reality that she has to drink like an animal didn’t bother her at the Pack’s dens when she was with all the other wolves, but it sure struck a nerve once we got back home. Where she’s supposed to be a person.
Where she’s the only one stuck in wolf form.
Her ears are all the way forward, and with her chin tucked down, it looks like she’s giving the thing a serious scowl. This representation of the divide between her human family and her wolf self.
Feeling bad for her but with no way to help, I pet her on the head, making her ears sink. Not down, just relaxing further than she was holding them.
Deek must be thinking along similar, empathetic lines regarding her plight, because he passes us, moving for the basement. And she’s still glaring at her dish when he emerges a moment later as a big chocolate wolf.
His claws click quietly as he crosses the kitchen. When he reaches us, his eyes stay averted from Ginny’s gaze, but he sways his tail in subdued greeting. He passes her, moving into the living room like it’s no big deal at all to be in werewolf form while everyone else is human.
Ginny drinks.
When she’s finished, she steps into the living room, looks for Deek, and finds him curled up on the floor in front of the couch, eyes closed as if he’s dozing.
Huffing a wolven sigh, Ginny plops down next to him, near enough for their fur to brush. He’s huge beside her. She looks very small, and young. And sad. For a few moments, she squints up at the television, but then she turns her head away, closing her eyes.
Finn explained that they can see TV much like we can as humans, but it doesn’t hold the same appeal when they’re in wolf form.
So many new things for Ginny to adjust to.
I settle onto the couch with Maggie glued next to me. She’s not even asking to watch her favorite shows. She just wants to be with me, and so I keep one arm around her and watch our wolves. Charlotte sends me a despairing look from the other side of the sofa.
I give her a pained smile. Because there isn’t anything else we can do but… just be here for Gin.
Ginny’s ribs expand hugely before she heaves out a sigh.
The TV colors flicker over her and Deek. Deek, who raises his head, eyes downcast, neck twisting so that he can turn to Ginny—
And quickly nip her on the shoulder.
“Hey!” Charlotte shouts.
“Lucan!” I cry.
Ginny shoots to her feet, fur flashing straight up. She stares down at the bigger wolf with her jaws open. I can’t really tell if her mouth has dropped in disbelief, or if she’s keeping her jaws wide as a way to warn him that she’s going to pay him back.
Scrabbling to the side, Deek hunches and turns his head away so that he’s not even close to making eye contact with her.
After a minute more of glaring at him, Ginny lowers