wolves, our resident Tíódéls. Ginny, Charlotte, Maggie, and Susan have had the pleasure of meeting them several times, and they’ve been made to feel warmly accepted. As they should be—my humans are amazing.
“Have fun today, Ginny!” Candice encourages, beaming over at her as she passes a sparkly sticker up to Maggie.
She accepts it, thrilled. So does Charlotte, when she’s offered one.
Susan takes one to be polite, and Ginny smiles awkwardly then shoots me a glance. (No sticker for her, or me, since we’ll be Changing soon.)
“What is it?” I ask, my gaze on her shoulder. Hands wrapped securely around Maggie’s little shins, I lean sideways a little, inviting her to tell me whatever’s on her mind.
But Ginny shakes her head, smiling in bewilderment. “I just can’t believe how excited I feel about this.”
I wave to the other werewolves gathering nearby. “You’re bound to feel keyed up. You’re catching a thrill from everybody. But,” I add, meeting her eyes for a beat, smiling broadly. “This really is great fun. Once you start, you won’t have any reservations left in you.”
“What is everyone excited about? What are you going to do, Gin?” Charlotte asks her, accepting the apple that Mason hands her. “Thanks.”
Ginny sucks in a big breath, and on an exhale admits, “Catch mice.”
“You’re what?” Susan asks, almost dropping her own apple. Candice keeps it from falling though, grinning as she passes it back into her hands.
Ginny hunches and shudders. “I know. It sounds gross.”
Susan’s wide eyes swing to me. “You’re doing what?”
I take an apple for Maggie. “Hunting mice.”
“Sticks and wax paper at the next table,” Mason informs us. “Y'all scoot.”
We move forward so the next group behind us can get their apples.
“Why are we getting apples?” Charlotte asks. “And why don’t you have one, Ginny?”
Ginny points to me. “Deek didn’t get one for himself either.”
“You can get one if you want,” I tell her. “But I like to run on an empty stomach.”
“You’re going to be running after… mice?” Susan says faintly, holding her apple aloft with dismay-weakened fingers as we stop at a washing station. We quickly remove the wax sheen from our fruit so that the upcoming caramel coating will cling.
It’s Charlotte who defends the mousing practice. “Wolves and canines of all kinds eat mice in the wild. It’s not so weird. Plus, the most common species of mice in North America aren’t native and do a lot of damage…”
She and Ginny begin to go brainiac on us about rodents until I feel it’s our duty to chase down these pests. Which I felt anyway, but their arguments would have swayed me if I’d been on the fence about the hunt. Susan, it’s a relief to note, laughs and says, “Okay, okay, I get it, this is a good thing!”
We shuffle to the next table where an aging concession stand is plugged into the only electrical service around. “Hey, Deek’s family! Are you ready for the fun part?” Gail calls.
My chest is thrumming with pleasure. “We are.”
With Maggie on my shoulders, I walk up to the window, and although I’m not a tall man, she’s able to see inside the candy making stand, to the vats of sugar in various colors.
“Want to make a galaxy apple?” Rhyannon yips to her, grinning. I can scent her exhilaration even with all the food trying to overtake my senses. Group hunts have that effect on werewolves. It’s a wonder she hasn’t gone furry.
Maggie doesn’t know what a galaxy apple is, so she and Gail point to a set of apples already coated in the swirling purple and blue candy and drying on wax paper. “It’s the one that looks like a night sky,” Rhyannon explains.
“Oh, YES, PLEASE,” Maggie coos, clapping her hands as I hand over her apple.
It gets dipped and twirled until it stops dripping, and then it’s plopped back on its paper. “Take this to the toppings station and ask for stars if you want an authentic galaxy,” instructs Gail.
“Thank you,” Maggie tells her with exuberant politeness.
We move to the toppings table while Charlotte and Susan get their apples dipped. Charlotte has an ice blue apple that she opts to coat in large grains of sparkling sugar.
“It looks magical,” Ginny declares, admiring her friend’s treat.
Susan chose to make a ‘poisoned’ apple—dipping it in a sugar mixture dyed to a deep purple-black—and she coats hers in peanuts and gummy worms.
“That is so cool, Mom!” Charlotte cries. She turns on Ginny. “We need to make you one of those!”