Amelia noticed the person in front of her struggling with several bags and other odds and ends and reached forward to grab one of the items before it fell. âOh, wow, youâve sure got a lot to carry. Can I help you with some of that?âÂ
Rest for the day, dear, Rama said. Iâll do the shopping, Rama said. Iâll even take the baby!, really, Rama said. Rama hadnât thought about how annoying it would be walking home with a squirmy baby in a stroller and several bags of groceries.
Steering the stroller was a nightmare, and if it werenât for the miraculous pair of arms that appeared - oof, the eggs wouldâve been scrambled on the sidewalk.
âI am so sorry to bother you,â Rama apologized. âBut I really do live close by- if you can literally just carry those eggs? Iâd be eternally grateful. Itâs the one thing on my wifeâs shopping list she reminded me about four times.â
Donald didnât know what a seahorseâs pain tolerance was like, only that it was probably more impressive than his. The only time pain didnât leave him writhing and cursing on the floor was when his adrenaline was up so high he didnât even notice.Â
(Ah, so many fond memories of Portugal. And the hospital that followed. Indiana Jones had not prepared him for that.)
âYouâre the first person Iâve thâeen,â Donald said, breathing sharply as there was a spasm of pain in his hand.
Rama nodded and clicked his pen to ask a couple more questions. Like - what the hell was he doing that he smashed his finger?
âRight, and quickly before I grab the doctor to order an x-ray-â because it was obvious heâd need one, but Rama couldnât order one himself as a nurse. â-what were you doing when you smashed your finger?â
âAnd have you taken any over-the-counter pain relievers yet?â He looked to both Donald and Jim, in case the pain overtook Donaldâs memory.
Sindri laughed and conjured frost around the base of the giant tree. It dissipated in about three seconds, but he was still proud of himself. It wasnât the coldest down here in England, and the warmer things were, the more difficult it was to freeze something. It kind of made him realize how easy heâd had it up in Iceland. Eh, easier.Â
He looked up at the trees surrounding him as he crunched the leaves beneath his feet. This was the longest continuous amount of time heâd spent human-sized like this and he actually liked it a lot. It had been two whole weeks and he wanted to make it at least a few more days. It was all part of the experience, wasnât it? Flying on the plane, apartment hunting, enrolling in his classes. He was like a proper human now! How wicked!Â
Sindri whistled, calling Einar to him from wherever he was playing in the forest. When he finally spotted the big, fluffy Samoyed, he knelt down and opened his arms, waiting for his dog to tackle him. âDid you have fun, Einar? Huh? Is this a fun forest to play in? Do you miss the snow?âÂ
Off to his right, Sindri heard a crunch and looked up to find someone entering the trees. Einar stopped and looked at the newcomer like he was trying to decide if he wanted to tackle them too. Before Sindri could stop him, the big dog rushed forward, bouncing happily.Â
âWhoa, Einar! You donât know that person. Wait!âÂ
Being a werewolf, Rama was used to this. âThisâ being dogs charging at you full-ass speed to say hello because they smell canine. It was a familiar song-and-dance by now.
Prepare for full speed impact in 3...2...1. The dog - Einar, apparently - jumped up on his hind legs to greet Rama, licking his arm as he reached to pet him.
âEasy there, mate, Iâll stick around a minute so you can say hi. Youâre pretty, arenât you? So much fluff.â
For the record, Akela did not mean literally hand her in. Justâfind a way to expose her. Akela knew exactly who she was. Where she lived. The paper and the police officers were already looking for her. It would just be a nudge in the right direction.
But, it was not time for that. Now, it was the time to wait and watch. Wolves were excellent hunters because they did not jump the gun. They stalked for a long time, they wore out their prey before they attacked. That would be the strategy. Playing the defensive. Always the defensive. Hard to not do when you are considered a monster.Â
âOf course we would never expose ourselves to expose her, there are ways to do it anonymously, but I do not think it will come to that. Worse to worse, we will simply run her out of town ourselves. We wonât get any thanks for it, but at least it means we will be safe and she will no longer be a problem.â Akela smiled and took a sip of his tea before reaching out and clasping Ramaâs shoulder.
âYou worry too much. That is my job.â
âWhy should it not come to that?â Rama asked, a bit snappier than heâd intended. He winced at his own tone before mumbling an apology. âThe stress, Akela, itâs making itself known.â
Rama focused on grounding himself a moment, and once he no longer felt her heart beating in his ears, he offered Akela a thin smile.
âIf I were the kind to let my cowardly side win, I would say âwhy not expose her now?â Because if the wolf who turned the boy is known, then at least itâs known not to be another wolf. Of course, that wouldnât work anyway.â He glanced pointedly at Akela. âThen the question would be who turned her.â
âAnd we canât chance that.â The younger man laughed bitterly. âI have a daughter and a pregnant wife, Akela. I will always worry.â
It hadnât occurred to him that it had been over a week since he and Raksha found out...and theyâd yet to tell Akela and Mowgli, until after he said it just now. He clapped a hand over his mouth. âAh, we werenât going to tell people yet.â
âThat would be me,â Jim said, giving him a nod before stepping out to go get something to drink while Rama and Donald spoke.
Donald, on the other hand, was trying to work through the pain long enough to reply to the other manâs offer. He hadnât met anyone in Swynlake yet who spoke Hindi, so the familiar sounds were a pleasant surprise. Usually, Donald only heard it when he was visiting his mother or grocery shopping in the small Indian market in Duckburg.Â
âWhichever works best for you, bruv,â Donald said, hissing in pain. âUrdu is my firâth, followed by Engliâth, thâo either is fine- FUCK!â
He writhed in his seat, wanting nothing more than to press the numbing cold from the ice pack under his fucking skin, but scared to apply any additional pressure to the break.Â
Rama stifled a chuckle at Donaldâs swearing - which, honestly crushed the small bit of disappointment at his very British accent. (Like Rama with the half-Auckland half-Indian accent was one to talk about âsounding too English-is-my-first-language-yâ.) Look, the only people from home he knew were Shere and the pack. Itâd be nice is all.
Anyway! Nurse mode Rama was in full swing as he examined Donaldâs hand that- oh, yep - very much looked like he really got it good with a hammer.
âSomething tells me you wouldnât last a day as a seahorse, Mr. Mallard,â Rama noted. âWith your pain tolerance. Iâm not the doctor, so I canât diagnose anything but...bloody hell, looks like a nasty break to me. Have you been x-rayed yet?â
Killing was too kind a fate as far as Akela was concerned. If Rama was made to suffer, than the hunter should face the same. It was only right. Plus, the last time he had killed it had not ended well for his family, not at all. He didnât want to make that mistake again.
However, apparently he was not immune to making new mistakes.
Akela was far from considering himself infallible. The point was to learn from mistakes, that was what they were there for. And Akela had learned from his last mistake. Perhaps this was just another one he would have to learn from. It was to early to tell, if you asked him. The she-wolf could come to them for help or she could make everything much worse.
He was still contemplating using her as bait. If she was captured, the Mundusâ bloodlust would be sated and as long as his pack did not misstep, which they would not, there would be no cause for concern.
âWe have not been exposed,â he replied evenly, pouring himself a cup of tea. âAdam has, but this town knows him, and if there are any serious threats to his life, we will simply hand in the she-wolf and be done with it. Their appetite for justice will be sated, Adam will be safe, and the rest of us will not be exposed. You worry too much, my friend.âÂ
Rama didnât recognize the man in front of him, not really. While Akela had never been particularly warm, he wasnât always this callous. Tragedy did change a person, sure, but...Rama liked to think he and Raksha had retained their own selves.
He wanted to continue arguing, to berate him, but his wolf reminded him not to backtalk his alpha too hard.Â
He sighed and sat there, not moving to reach for a cup. Not moving at all.
âHanding her in seems dangerous too.â Rama said, finally. âItâs better we pretend not to know anything.â
Akela had heard of the attack from the birds, the rabbits, the skittish, terrified animals of the forest, who did not want another wolf. There were quite enough of them already, in the opinion of the prey. It was the same kind of rhetoric that the humans were using.Â
He knew that he was bound to get an earful from the pack, but he was not worried. He was not worried because Merida would be a lovely little pawn, if they ever needed to play her.Â
If she wisened up and sought forgiveness, came crawling to Akela on her belly, he would help her and she would not be tossed onto a pitchfork and set alight by a torch. He was not unreasonable in this way, but he also refused to bow first. If she wanted his help, she could seek him out.Â
In the meantime, if necessary, they could expose her and save their own necks. She still knew none of them, as far as he was aware. She could not point them out to turn the blame around.
So, he sighed at Rama.
âNot a good tone to take with your alpha, Rama. You sound accusatory,â he chided, moving over to the tea pot and turning the burner on.Â
âI did what was necessary. Whatever else happened afterwards is no fault of mine. I do not take responsibility for anyone who is outside the Seeonee Pack.â
Rama closed his eyes and took a deep, centering breath, so as not to lash out. He couldnât do that. As much as he wanted to shake the friend he didnât even recognize in hopes that the man he loved would come back, he couldnât. It wasnât his place.
âIt was necessary to turn the hunter? You should have just killed her.â The younger man said calmly, like he was asking how Akela took his tea.
Now, he wasnât a proponent of killing, personally. But if Akela was going to react, killing was cleaner than turning. Turned, angry wolves sired with no intent to be nurtured were dangerous. They were responsible for most werewolf attacks, for their wolves ran wild and unchecked as they existed like parasites without the person.
Werewolves in tune with their wolf donât just lose control and attack people. If they attack, itâs premeditated.
âIt doesnât matter if sheâs part of our pack or not. You know it doesnât matter to mundus. If we were to be exposed somehow...they wonât care that she is separate from us.â
Rama hadnât slept since news of the werewolf attack. Rather, since he worked on the patient in the ER when he came in, before everybody was forced away by his shouted demands to stay away.
A few hours here, an hour there. He was running on E with the gas light blinking.
This felt just like the jungle felt the day their pack was slaughtered.Â
He couldnât help but wonder if this was the lead up to a second bloodbath. As he heard Akelaâs key turn in the lock to the Bhediyaâs apartment, Rama wasnât sure if he was thrilled to see his Alpha or not.Â
Normally, at the sight of his best friend, heâd be filled with a sense of joy. He loved Akela. He did. But lately- since the massacre, really, he seemed to disappear little by little. And fair enough. It changed everybody who survived. It changed Rasksha. It changed Mowgli, changed him.
Still, Rama couldnât help but feel this feeling of betrayal in his chest. They were supposed to keep a low profile, supposed to be safe here. And, what? Revenge-turning a dangerous anti-magick hunter is part of a low profile? Heâd survived the hunterâs arrow. That was enough.
Wasnât that enough? And yes, part of him, at first, was thrilled with the idea of turning the hunter into what they hated so badly they wanted it dead. The irony was poetic.
But Rama had also been turned against his will. And now, two people here have. And he didnât know what was next. He didnât know who to blame, if anybody at all.
âAkela,â Rama began, not wasting time with pleasantries. âTell me you had nothing to do with all of this. Tell me for just one second that this wasnât because of the hunter.â
Well, it had only been a matter of time before Donald ended up in the ER. There had been an actual countdown in the family group chat, and Louie simply posted a gif from The Office when Jim had taken a cursing Donaldâs phone to let them know their uncle had broken one of his fingers with a hammer and would be heading to the ER.
â0 days since our last nonsenseâ. Cheeky brat.
That had been fifteen minutes ago, and Donald was still in a fuckton of pain. And he did mean a âfucktonâ. He had been cursing since he had felt the slat he was hammering to the roof slip and his fingers slide under the path of his hammer, yelling and hissing and spitting completely unintelligibly as his face went red. Jim had stopped trying to understand him five minutes in.
They walked into the ER, Donald holding onto his ice pack, and thankfully it was a quiet day. They were brought to a portioned-off once the paperwork was filled out, Donald only letting the occasional curse slip out when a new spasm of pain shot through his hand. Every thirty seconds or so.
A nurse came over to them, and Jim looked up from his phone with a grin. âYo, Rama,â he said, standing to meet the nurse and clasping his hand before giving him a brief hug. âHow you been?â
(Donald cursed loudly in garbled Urdu behind him, writhing as the pain shot through him. Jim ignored him, the ass.)
Rama had a beginnings of Donald Mallardâs chart in hand, so when the first person he saw was one Jim Hawinks, he was momentarily confused. Only momentarily- District Five squad for life, you see.
âJim, a pleasant surprise. I guess-â he glanced down at the folder in his hand to make sure he got it right. â-youâre the friend who brought Donald in?â
And thatâs when he heard a familiar language say âit hurtsâ followed by a swear he wasnât sure he was familiar with. Rama looked at the man named Mr. Mallard and asked, in Hindi, âDo we need to speak in Hindi-Urdu?â
Rama was confident Mr. Mallard understood him, whether he was a Hindi-speaking Indian or an Urdu-speaking Pakistani. Apart from specialized vocabulary, spoken Urdu is mutually intelligible with Standard Hindi. Before the partition of India, the terms Hindustani, Hindi and Urdu were synonymous. Controversy over whether they are languages, or simply dialects of the same language, is alive and well.Â
âIf English isnât your first language, you were assigned the right nurse.â
Rama hadnât slept in two days. Not since the Bonfamille boy was attacked by a werewolf, not since his wolf could sense the fresh wolf inside of the boy. Not since the papers ran with the story and anti-werewolf paranoia shot up 10,000 times overnight.
He was willing to admit it wasnât for no reason. But. Out of all the werewolves in town...well, okay. Only Rama, Raksha, Akela, and Mowgli hadnât ever been a danger. But! At least Adam didnât turn anybody.Â
At least Adam didnât attack an innocent person.
The rest of them just wanted to live their lives. Why couldnât they?
The few hours of sleep he was able to get werenât exactly peaceful, and why would they be? God, he and Raksha picked the worst timing to try for another baby, didnât they? And if they were successful...no. No, it would be fine. Heâd make sure it was fine.
Itâs not like anybody could tell what they were anyway. They were safe. They had control of their wolves and they were good people. Still he found himself at Shereâs apartment, downing a glass of the older manâ liquor of choice, in silence.
âMore,â Rama muttered, pushing the glass toward Shere for another pour.
Lady: Oh, right, because normal people who lose control attack people. Sounds like a bunch of hogwash to me. Show me a friendly werewolf and I'll lick my boot.
Rama: I know plenty. But won't point someone as disgusting as you in their direction. You'd ruin their lives.
Lady: They ain't no marginalized group, they're animals that go 'round attackin' good folk.
Rama: Yes they are. They are banned from several professions along with all magicks just because of what they are. They're not animals. They're people with the ability to transform into a wolf.
Rama: Have yo read any academic papers on werewolves?
Rama: When you lose control is when you snap and can start attacking people. OR if you want to be a destructive person, like any other person.
Rama: But most werewolves are good people just wanting to live their lives and not bother others or be bothered.
Lady: Mama, I ain't kiddin' this time, someone got attacked by a freakin' werewolf!!! Please let me come home, Mama, I don't want to turn into a monster!!
