body stood erect as, for the first time ever, she was answered.
The night, half gone, pulled the wolf back into it. Hunger moved her now, and a sense of hurriedness. She must hunt and eat before the dawn. She did not know the source of her impatience, only that these things must be done. North again, she found her prey. A raccoon, rifling through a rotted log, was eventually devoured. Back now to the stream, which she followed, circling wide of the clearing, ignoring the scents and sounds, pacing herself so as to reach her destination in time.
As the moon dipped low and dark began to fade toward morning, she found herself at the edge of the wood. Across the field the house lay quiet. She knew this place, was drawn to it though the wolf would never comprehend why. In her mind it was den and desperation.
At dawn, the wolf began to writhe. A cacophony of growls and yelps ensued as muscles tore and bones bent under the force of change. The wolf, lost in this transfusion of blood to blood and genes gone awry, was captive in a human mind until, as the sun erased the moon, it disappeared.
May and Molly left the house at dawn. They carried two jugs of water, a bundle of washcloths, a towel, bandages of assorted sizes and a soft blanket in which to swaddle their sister. They knew she would be close, but not exactly where. It was always the same. The wolf came, by some intangible understanding, as close to its human home as it could bear.
They didn’t speak until they found her.
“Gretchen,” they said. “Gretchen, we’re here.”
They sat her up, pulled leaves from her hair. Later Molly would wash and comb it. They checked her hands and feet for wounds. Often, they would find scrapes and bruises. This morning there were none. May dampened a washcloth and wiped vomit from her sister’s chin. Her body, a merciless thing, regurgitated food as it shifted. While Gretchen knew this, the wolf would never learn. May gently scrubbed at Gretchen’s cheek where blood had dried in dark smudge. May did not think about how it might have got there. It was not her business to judge the wolf.
“Come on,” they said when they were done.
They stood her up between them and wrapped the blanket around her naked body, allowing her to lean on each as they slowly made their way across the field.
Inside the house, they steered Gretchen into bed, pulled the curtains and left the door ajar. She would sleep for hours and when she woke, she would still be somewhat confused. The sisters were used to it now, they carried on with their day as Gretchen dreamed of running, running, and following scents to their end.
The phone rang not long after. Molly answered with a groan.
“Shit,” she said as she hung up the receiver a few moments later. “I have to go in tonight. Ryan is sick.”
“I bet he is,” May said. “Sick of working at Rudy’s.”
“Whatever. If you can’t take the boozers, you shouldn’t work in a bar. I’m in at eight. Will you be okay with Gretchen?”
“I don’t see why not. She’ll be almost herself by then. We’ll be fine.”
“It’ll be a late one.”
“I know.”
Molly fiddled with her mug of coffee, turning it round and round.
“What’s up? You seem awfully quiet this morning.” May knew her sister well enough to sense that something was on her mind.
“I don’t know.” Molly paused, and then continued. “Do you ever think about the future?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I mean, do you ever wish . . . ”
May cut her off. “Stop right there. No, I don’t wish.”
Molly sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I do. You’re getting old.” May laughed, hoping Molly would join her.
Molly did laugh, though it was not quite the joyous sound May wanted.
“Let’s fix something nice for lunch,” May finally said. “Something Gretchen will like.”
It was the scent of a roast stewing in the pot that pulled Gretchen of out her slumber. She woke in a daze of half-remembered moonlight. It took her several minutes to assess her surroundings. White walls, wooden bedposts, ancient dresser with two handles missing: finally she recalled her whereabouts. Safe, she exhaled relief. Shakily, she pulled loose trousers to her hips and tied them. She lifted a worn shirt from the back of a chair and buttoned it, though her fingers clumsily left half of it undone. Warily, still sensing her environment more than seeing it, she slipped out of the bedroom and made her way down the stairs.
Her sisters greeted her as usual.
“Good morning, Gretchen. How do you feel?” May was always the first to question her well-being.
“Hey, sis,” Molly said.
“What do I smell?” Gretchen asked in response.
Her sisters were never quite sure if they were talking to wolf or woman on this, the day after the full of the moon. Appearances were deceptive, and May more than Molly understood that the wolf often lingered much longer in spirit than it did in body.
“Meat. I made stew for lunch,” May said as she watched Gretchen’s nostrils flare.
The wolf had left its mark as time passed by. After ten years of this, Gretchen no longer had a taste for much fruit, nor certain vegetables. Leafy salads were fine most of the time, and certain berries, but beans, tomatoes, and onions were out of the question. She drank water, milk, and occasionally coffee, but not tea and never soda. Meat was the staple of her diet, but May could live with that as long as Gretchen didn’t start asking for it raw.
As she ate, Gretchen’s thoughts slowly settled into more familiar patterns. Something was different this morning, however. Some memory, some unfamiliar disturbance tugged at her. She touched it, circled it as the wolf would, tried to catch the scent of it, but to no avail. What happened last night? She felt an ache she did not recognize.
“What is it?” May asked when she noticed Gretchen staring absently at the window.
Gretchen blinked her eyes. “Nothing. Something. I don’t know. Last night. I don’t know.”
She never spoke of the night. May, concerned, put a hand on her sister’s forehead. “Nothing seemed amiss when we found you. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry,” Gretchen smiled, a bit more like her usual self.
“Well, let me know if you need anything,” May said.
“I will.”
After she finished, Molly washed her hair and helped her dress in more reasonable clothes. By then, Gretchen felt almost human. Molly nattered on about nothing while May swept the floors. Gretchen caught herself gazing toward the dark forest and shook her head. Whatever was haunting her must not be brought into the light.
What the wolf knew as it ran through the forest was like a distant dream to Gretchen, one that she always gladly let fade the following day. She despised everything about the wolf and what it had done to her. She separated it, culled it from the experience of her own life, pretended that she and it were two distinct beings. They would never meet, nor know of each other’s cares. Yet, that night, as she curled up in her bed, images passed behind her closed eyes: a cabin, a cage, a shape inside it. Scent returned, new blood on old, musk, hair, and fear.
Gretchen sat upright in horror as it came to her. The wolf had seen a ravaged woman in a cage, and she was alive.
“Holy shit,” Gretchen whispered into the room.
Sleep did not come easily that night and wouldn’t have at all had she not still been exhausted from the night before. Dreams stirred like leaves on the forest floor, but she could not catch them. They passed, like summer does into autumn.
For days she was restless. Alone when her sisters worked, she paced the halls, ate little and worried at the wolf’s memory. There was no way to know what was real and what was not. The human mind must categorize, put color to objects, know distance in feet and yards. The wolf-mind knew shapes, sensations, the taste of air. She felt dirty, touching these things. Shame at what she was overpowered her at times, bending her knees, crawling along her skin like an insect. She rubbed at her arms, shivering, and tried to brush it off. She almost did cut off her hair, as though by doing so it would distance her from the wolf. She warred with it, she did not want to know the wolf’s mind, and yet she must comprehend these visions. If this thing she thought she’d seen was real, if there was a
