WOLVES IN TREES
Author's Note
Disclaimer 1: Wolf Lake is the property of various entities, none of whom are me. I am very poor; suing me would be akin to flogging a dead horse, squeezing blood from a stone, and generally be a waste of everyone's time. This solely is intended as a writing exercise.
Disclaimer 2: If you didn't notice from the front page, this rated 'M' for 'Mature.' Please take this literally, and don't bother reading if you are offended by descriptions of violence, "intimate activity" between consenting adults (or at least "three months away from being legally considered adults and well within the Age of Consent laws of Washington State"), and lots and lots of blue language. Maybe you think I'm silly for harping on this, but I really don't want anyone yelling at me when they were forewarned. Repeatedly.
Disclaimer 3: Not everything the characters say and do reflect my personal opinions. They start out as my creations, but then take on a life of their own. Please take this into account while you're reading.
Personal Request: I am a perfectionist. That means I would really like it if readers let me know what they think needs work. I enjoy the "I love it!" reviews, but I value the "Chapter Such-And-Such is kind of weak. I don't think the characters would do that, based on how you've set them up" reviews even more. While I'm not writing to satisfy the masses, I would like it for people to be able to read my stories and actually understand what's going on, any "messages" I want to impart, or just be able to lose themselves in them for an afternoon.
In other words, though I take my writing seriously, I'm not so fragile that someone ripping apart the delivery will crush my will to live. Please, RIP AWAY.
Negative reviews without any constructive criticism and/or flames will only be taken seriously if they are written using correct grammar, punctuation and spelling. The occasional typo or misplaced possessive apostrophe is permissible.
No, I'm not kidding.
Yes, I am that big of a snob.
Prologue
Vivian Cates stared at the three people standing before her. The young female scuffed the toe of her sneaker on the expensive rug. Her parents stood behind her, grim-faced. This should have gone to Willard—the female's parents had, in fact, demanded to see him. However, her husband was off conducting Pack business, and the Beta was out of town at a brewery conference. In their current absence, Vivian was the next best thing.
"So, what is this about?" she asked calmly. The young female smelled of hurt and indignation, which suggested to Vivian that whatever happened, it, once again, wasn't nearly as bad as her parents assumed. The female might be a bit wild, but she had a good head on her shoulders. A better one, actually, than most of her friends.
"Tell Mrs. Cates what you did," her father snarled.
"It was just for fun," she mumbled resentfully.
"She wrote a book," her mother spat.
"About . . . ?" Vivian encouraged.
"About werewolves," the female said, finally lifting her head and staring Vivian in the eye. "It was just for fun. I didn't plan on showing it to anybody, but last spring, I was failing English, so my teacher said he'd pass me if I did some extra credit. Anything I wanted, just so long as it was good. Well, I didn't think it would hurt, so I changed a bunch of things about the werewolves—made them more like how humans think of us, and I handed it in, and he passed me."
"This is about a school project?" Vivian asked, allowing her temper to color her words.
"It turns out her teacher liked it so much he showed it to a writer friend of his," the female's father declared. "And this friend liked it so much, he showed it to his agent."
"Who told her that he could get it published," her mother added. Vivian's eyes widened slightly, betraying her alarm at that declaration. So, this wasn't just routine nastiness; it was a legitimate threat to the Pack's security.
"I didn't know my teacher was going to do that," the female protested. "It's not my fault. And the agent only said that because paranormal fiction is really popular right now. No one would pay attention to another book. And, I did change the werewolves around a lot. There's nothing in it about Wolf Lake, our traditions, or anything."
"Except for the part about us changing into wolves, though," Vivian observed dryly. The female's cheeks pinked, and her scent took on a hint of embarrassment.
"Well, yeah, except for that."
Vivian took a deep breath and sat up straighter in her chair.
"So, let me see if I have this straight—you, for your own amusement, wrote a story about werewolves. Through a turn of events entirely uninfluenced by you, it is now being offered for publication. Your parents think this is a disaster and want you to be punished. But you think you've taken enough precautions to be able to get away with it, am I right?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Well, before anything can be decided, the Alpha is going to have to read the story. Did you bring a copy of it with you?" The female's father handed over a thick manila folder. Vivian took it and laid it on the end table next to her. "I will discuss this with the Alpha tonight, and he will inform you of his decision in due time."
The parents thanked her and dragged their daughter off. Vivian shook her head. Poor thing; always getting punished for the tiniest little infraction, when the real cause of her parents' displeasure had been dead for who knew how long. No wonder she rebelled against them as often as she did.
Sighing again, Vivian picked up the folder and removed the manuscript. Still, in this case, they may have point, she reflected ruefully. Well, the least she could do for the female was read the story and see if it was inaccurate enough that she could somehow lessen her husband's wrath.
Willard Cates, Alpha of the Wolf Lake Pack, walked into his home with a sigh of relief. The latest catastrophe had been averted, and he could finally relax. Well, he hoped, anyway. Running a Pack wasn't like running a business; you couldn't leave it at the office at the end of the day. Still, with a little luck, he could have a nice, quiet evening at home with his family.
He hung up his coat, and was surprised to hear his wife's laughter coming from the living room. Poking his head in the door, he saw her lounging on the couch, her suit jacket carelessly tossed across its back and her shoes kicked off on the floor. Grinning widely, she flipped a page of the document she was reading and cackled.
"What's so funny?" Willard asked. He loved his wife, but even he'd be the first to admit that Vivian was more than a bit stuffy about her image. It was unique to find her so . . . rumpled. She looked up, her eyes shining with merriment.
"This is a story about werewolves that one of the younger Pack members wrote," she explained. "Her parents were concerned that it might put us all in danger if it gets published. They were looking for you, but ran into me first. Considering who this particular female is, I thought it would be prudent to read the thing to see just how bad the damage might be."
Willard cocked an eyebrow. The female's parents were right to bring this to him; a story about werewolves, no matter how fictitious, might hit too close to home.
"I see," he said calmly. "But, you're laughing over it, which makes me assume it's pretty bad, so the likelihood of it being published would probably be slim."
"Actually, it's very good," she replied. "I'm laughing because it's a comedy. And, a publisher is already interested in it. I haven't finished reading, but so far, I don't think it's all that dangerous."
"Really?" Willard said, his eyebrow climbing higher. "Well, let me see it, then."
"When I'm finished," Vivian said. "I want to find out what happens."
Vivian came down to breakfast to find her husband chuckling as he poured over the female's manuscript with his coffee. She had finished it yesterday, and handed it off to Willard, who spent most of the night reading it.
"Like it?" she asked blandly as she pulled the day's newspaper from under his elbow.
"It's very clever," he declared. "I think you're right. If someone actually wants to publish this, I don't think it would hurt."
A year later, Wolf Lake's bookstore got its first shipment in. The books were prominently arranged in the window with little sign that proudly declared:
"Wolves in Trees, by local author Brianna Young."