goodbye, hello
Seven hundred days exactly. That's how long she'd gone without her mother.
Yuki neared the headstone and got to her knees, smoothing out her skirt as she sat. She'd never been much of a lady; no one knew that more than her mother, still she tried her best. It would never come naturally to her, no, not like it did with the others girls. But it would get easier the more she practiced. So she practiced whenever she could, whether it be using the correct fork for the correct meal or fighting the urge to collect the bones of the bats and the other rat-like creatures that lived in the upper attic of her loft. Yuki shook her head and smiled, thinking of the 'presents' she must've brought her mother. She remembered bringing home the dead squirrels and rattling snakes, smiling proudly with her 'prize' held firmly between her canine teeth. But the smile turned quickly to gentle tears as she thought of her mother and the woman she had been.
From the bag, whose straps rested across her torso, she pulled a small package wrapped in thin plastic. She unwrapped the flowers, wilted and dry (she'd found she wasn't much of a florist), and scattered their red petals across the grave. Then she brought her hands together, bowed her head, and she prayed. She whispered the words, clumsy and unfamiliar, beneath her breath. She'd never been very religious. But the other ladies of her college, her friends, they were. And so Yuki was too.
Once she was through she got again to her feet. The nausea came to her as she moved and the world swam before her eyes. Quickly she gripped her mother's headstone for support and drew deep breaths in and out until the feeling passed. The sickness was coming more frequently know and even the largest of sweaters were unable to hide the small bulge of her belly. Yuki sighed and wiped away the remainder of her tears as she thought of the fact that her child wouldn't be able to meet their grandmother nor their grandfather.
It was then as she looked up past the headstones and into the foliage that surrounded the back of the graveyard, that she saw him. He stood with half of his body hidden behind the pines, the other half out. He was cautious, unsure.
He'd gotten bigger, broader. His shoulders were large and lean muscles rippled along his legs. He watched her with large yellow eyes then never turned away nor blinked. She held his gaze and she too neither turned nor looked away. They stared one another down until Yuki's fingertips felt that familiar prick of her claws attempting to escape from the human skin that kept them hidden.
It was frightening that it came so naturally when she was with him. Hiding her canine half had become much easier then when she was a child. Being surrounded by other humans on a twenty-four hour basis helped. It had been years since she'd last seen her brother and yet here the feelings came. Easily. As if she were once again a child, home with her brother, itching to fight. She fought the urge to bare her teeth.
"Ame."
Yuki was the first to look away. She hated that he brought back the side that she so desperately wished to forget. Overhead the clouds grew darker, threatening the rain the weatherman had predicted earlier that morning. Quickly, she packed away the remaining petals and withdrew her umbrella. She didn't look back as she started walking again. She watched her feet move, one before the other. Bile rose in her throat but she refused to acknowledge it. Within moments her walk turned to a run. She couldn't look at him, couldn't think. It'd been so long, so many years. And she'd faced them all alone, dealing with her mother's illness, her wolf side and it's necessities. What right did he have to judge her? How could he stare her down with such cold unforgiving eyes?
Yuki slipped beneath the rope that surrounded the foliage. She turned once and like her mother before her, watched the mountains that hid the graveyard and the forest from view. She remembered that it was here that Ame made his decision and her mother had let him go. She pulled her keys from her bag and fumbled them into the lock. Above her the clouds rumbled.
The car started with ease and Yuki drove without thinking, letting her hands do the turning of the wheel and her feet on the pedals. Her headlights cut through the fog as she turned out of the parking lot and disappeared down the road.
Ame watched the bright lights of Yuki's vehicle until they disappeared around the corner and out of sight. The rain had begun falling in thick droplets that made him shiver. He turned from the parking lot and headed back beneath the rope and into the woods that hid the graveyard from the lot's view. There were few graves here, making it not much of a yard. It was a small clearing where the trees met in a somewhat lopsided circle.
His mother's grave was the beginning, two years back or so when Yuki had first buried her. Ame remembered watching her from the safety of the space behind the trees. And then others had begun to shown, mostly younger teens whose cars had crashed along the road or elders who'd spent their final days walking in the park.
Ame approached the grave, each step causing more of his wolf form to fall away. He walked hunched, his human legs unsteady and strange. He reached the headstone and like his sister, got to his knees, head bowed. But he did not prayer, for he did not know how. Instead, he traced the letters of the headstone, his lips moving as he tried to remember how to read the strange human words that had been carved there. He didn't remember much, only 'Mother.' But there were few words to begin with and he supposed that must be one of the most important. It was what he had called her, wasn't it?
Ame swept his head from side to side, taking in the empty clearing and the woods that surrounded it. Slowly the familiarity of his wolf form came back. He tilted his head back and he howled one long sorrowful note for the mother he'd lost.
A few miles away, Yuki pulled to the side and rolled down the windows. The rain was heavier now and she was soaked within a matter of minutes. But it didn't matter. She closed her eyes, leaned back in her seat, and cried as the sound of her brother's goodbye swept over their small hometown.