May 3, 2019
Anne was cold.
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Anne was cold.
Fenrir, on the other hand, thinks that Anne’s eyes are the most beautiful he’s ever seen. Round, bright, moonlike. Every time he looks at her, he feels a wisp of the vigor that comes with the full moon. There’s no way for him to say any of this, so this falls out of his mouth instead: “Aren’t your legs cold?” “Huh?” Anne’s brows furrow. “You’re wearing shorts. Aren’t you cold?” “I run hot,” she blinks.
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It’s Monday, 4:00 PM. The day could barely qualify as warm, but after a harsh winter, the island’s teens welcome anything above freezing with loitering. The basketball court serves as the nucleus for pockets of teens, separated and sorted by perceived differences in style, intelligence, and interest. At a glance, the chaos seems ordered.
At the edge of the court sits Fenrir, deflated from his first day of high school. He’s seated on a bench next to Anne Leifsson, one of the only other four werewolves on the island. Jane, Anne’s older sister and fellow wolf, lingers nearby.
Bjorn shares little in common with his younger brother and the Leifsson sisters. Jane is co-enrolled in art with him, and is obviously passionate about her projects. But there’s something about her eyes that unsettles him, and has kept him at a distance in the past. It isn’t just the glow—he’s used Fenrir’s flashing eyes, after all. It’s something deeper, more predatory.
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Fenrir’s birthday progresses uninterrupted, save for inappropriate laughter from his adopted sister.
“That hair,” Raven gasps, “I can’t--I just can’t!”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Fenrir frowns. His voice reverbs deeply, surprising even him.
Only seven more birthdays to go, and Dominic and Lark will have an empty nest.
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“Hey, Dominic interrupts, “what’s going on here?” “Fen is being a dingleberry,” Fauna says. “No, I was just saying that Tom isn’t anything more than a dumb old cat, and Fauna can’t prove me wrong.” “It sounds like both of you are pretty worked up.” The children answer simultaneously: “He’s being mean to Tom!” Fauna cries. “She’s being stupid,” Fenrir sneers. “Stop,” Dominic holds up his hand. “You’re arguing over a cat.” “Familiar,” Fauna mutters. “Tom means a lot to Fauna. You know that, Fen, and there’s no reason for you to be so cruel. And Fauna, you shouldn’t resort to name-calling.” “She’s saying he’s magical,” Fenrir scoffs. “So? What she believes doesn’t impact you. Besides, it’s your birthday. Time for cake, no time for bickering.”
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Fauna clenches her jaw. “They’re real, and they’re magic, and they’re cats. Duh.” Vinegar Tom senses the incoming bomb, and decides he wants no part of it. He wriggles and slips out of Fauna’s arms.
“Magic is just science we don’t understand,” Fenrir says. “And one day, I’ll understand it.”
“No, magic is magic. It’s what makes you turn into a wolf and it’s why dad can cast spells and it’s why Tom is special,” her voice raises. “Right Flora?”
Flora shrugs and looks at her feet.
“Oh, c’mon--grow up,” Fenrir snorts. “Just because you’re dumb doesn’t mean everyone else is.”
“You grow up!” Her anger bubbles over. “And—and—shut up!”
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Vinegar Tom purrs as he rubs against his witch’s legs.
“Good boy,” Fauna leans down and scratches him under the chin. He flicks his tail and stretches. “See? He’s not all bad.” She picks him up and nuzzles her face against his.
Flora pouts. “He only likes you ‘cause you’re magic.”
“He also likes me ‘cause I give him scritchy-scratchies.”
“And you’re magic.”
“Yup,” the witch beams, “and one day I’ll have a familiar just like Tom.”
Fenrir glances up from his book. “Familiars aren’t real.”
“Vinegar Tom is real,” Fauna frowns.
He tosses his book on the couch and stands. “Familiars aren’t real. They’re just cats.”
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The younger children find the snow day more enjoyable. Fenrir—delighted that he finally has playmates—entices the twins into playing a video game with him. “Unfair,” Flora pouts as Fenrir’s avatar laps her in the game. “Yeah, you’re way too good at this,” Fauna adds. “It’s no fun.” “Keep playing,” Fenrir smiles, “you’ll get better.” He punctuates his encouragement by running Flora’s car off the track. The brunette glowers, then throws the controller at him. Fauna, sensing her opportunity, claims the lead. As her siblings fight, she wins.
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