Erica's Arc

Chapter 4 of 7

Malia's breathing stayed slow and even. Erica pulled herself up from the floor. Her stomach twisted hard. She made it three steps toward the little washroom before it hit. She bent over the toilet and threw up, gripping the cold sink beside her. When it passed, she rinsed her mouth and stared at herself in the mirror. Pale, sweating, but steady enough. She had the plan now. She needed Deacon to hear it. She pulled on her boots and walked out past the shed. Deacon was the pack's Emissary, the human who cared for them and worried over their sick stomachs like a nurse. He lived in the woods beyond her cottage. She found him near the trees, setting down his empty water jug. He looked up at her with tired, kind eyes. "You should be resting," he said. "You're still sick." "I figured it out," Erica said. She stopped in front of him, one hand on her belly. "You said we can't keep six wolves near the hunters. You're right. But we don't have to move the pack anywhere." Deacon crossed his arms. "Erica—" "Listen." Her voice cracked, but she pushed on. "We're only wolves three nights a month. On the full moon. The rest of the time we're just girls. The hunters don't kill girls. They kill wolves." He went quiet. His eyes stayed on her face. "So we don't need a new home," Erica said. "We just need one hiding place. Somewhere far from town, for those three nights. Then everyone comes back and lives normal." Deacon was quiet a long moment. He looked toward the shed, then back at her. "You've thought this through more than I have," he said. "I kept trying to move a whole life. You only need to hide three nights." "So you agree?" Erica asked. "I do." He nodded slowly. "It's smaller. Simpler. It might actually work." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But that place has to be real, Erica. Far enough that no hunter walks past it on a full moon. And it has to hold six wolves who are scared and sick." "I'll find it," she said. "There's one more thing." Deacon met her eyes. "You want to keep the pack out here for good. That means living near the farms. Near the horses." He paused. "Horses hate the smell of wolves. They panic. A spooked horse brings farmers, and farmers bring hunters. If you want this plan to last, you can't just hide the wolves. You have to make the horses stop being afraid of them." Erica felt her stomach drop, and not from the sickness. She hadn't thought of the horses. But she nodded. "One safe place for the moon," she said. "And I'll teach the horses too." Deacon almost smiled. "Then you'd better start soon. The next moon won't wait." Erica turned back toward the cottage. The plan was agreed. Now it had teeth, and one of them was the horses.