A/N: Nothing like a good cliffhanger. It's quite addictive to write a cliffhanger and then wait several days to update. You know...file my nails and such...they
could use a coat of paint!
An interesting note (that I'm sure was quite evident): I have borrowed elements from Wolverine's "Origins" series, and put my own twist on them. Laura's
'moon cycle' is actually her menstrual cycle. I did not go into graphic details. But to me, it seemed like a great connection--imagine a semi-feral girl
with PMS! I combined the idea with the werewolf mythology, and the fact that women, in olden days, sometimes referred to their period as their moon time.
This story has been a ton of fun to write. I did alot of research for it...what I researched will become evident as more of the story is revealed.
(Volume: 1 Chapter: 5)
Chapter 5: wild
"Laura has had a hard life," Sarah began. "Once, long ago, we lived with her father, until she was five, in Salem Village.
All was well. My husband, James, had a General Store; we and a few other Friends were building a happy, healthy town,
where no one would be unwelcome. James was enthusiastic—perhaps he preached his word too hard. Or perhaps it was
just that Alexander, my former suitor, could not accept that my father had allowed me a choice in partner. Under his urging,
the villagers of Salem united and declared our union invalid; they went further." She looked at the table, her eyebrows arched.
Julian started. Salem? Wasn't that…oh, hell.
"Alexander Rice was very influential, thou must see. His father was a Councilman, an Elder, who much loved his son. He had
his ear. And so, they accused James of witchcraft. He was tried, and thereby hung. Laura and I were made to watch."
"I'm sorry?" he said, not sure of what else to say. It sounded pretty horrible.
"It is not any fault of thee. After the…event…Laura was found, sitting on a river bank, humming to herself." Sarah drew her
eyebrows together. "Alexander Rice was found dead in his barn. He was covered in small, circular wounds; it was a mystery.
His throat was slit, so no one had heard him cry out. But the villagers were not stupid; they could put two and two together.
The daughter of a proven witch, found acting strangely shortly following this? They caught Laura…and…" Sarah had trouble
speaking for a moment. "They hung her too."
"…" Julian raised his eyebrows. "But—she's perfectly fine."
Sarah sighed. "On the outside, yes. The experience changed her. The villagers had cleared, they had buried her in a shallow
grave, and I wanted to steal her remains to bury properly—like a true Christian deserves. So I returned at night…to find her
buried alive." Sarah paused. "Laura is different. She does not retain injuries, like normal persons. But on the inside, she feels
everything. She stopped speaking after this, and I did not press her. I do not know if it was the trauma…or that her throat
was irreversibly damaged. We fled, as far as we could manage. We shifted from town to town and finally settled here, slowly
rebuilding our lives. Laura's differences have become…less pressing…however, she disappears, once a month, for a period of
time. It seems to be related to her…moon cycles. I fear…I fear she runs with wolves."
Sarah rubbed her face. "I also fear that Alexander Rice and the Salem villagers were right, about James. Perhaps he was a
witch. I do not know. But I have seen Laura do no evil, and I have vowed to protect her with my life now."
"Why are you telling me this?" Julian blurted. It seemed like heavy information.
"…" Sarah paused, and he realized she must have seen him fall from the sky in a blast of pink and green. "Because thou are
different too. Like Laura."
"Yes, I am," he said. "And I don't think either of them—her or her father—are witches. I think...I think she's like me. And I'm
not a witch, that's for sure."
Sarah smiled sadly.
"Be careful of whom thou informs of thy…difference. People like I…people like I are rare, very rare. You must be from very,
very far away."
"Mmmm." He still didn't feel like telling her about the whole time-thing.
…
Julian looked up from the cow he was milking—the only cow he could milk without having a panic attack—he'd named it Buttercup
(which seemed like a good cow name)—at the sound of harsh breathing. There was that girl again—that stranger that wasn't Laura
but wore her body, dressed in that ragged, crude outfit of sack cloth, stained with old blood. Her hair was a mess, with twigs and
leaves tangled in it, and her nails were dirty. She wore no shoes. Her skin again was pale, and covered in dirt. She looked quite wild.
"Laura…" he said softly, releasing the teat.
"Hrrum." She glared at him, her nostrils flaring. She was smelling the air.
He watched her for a while, not wanting to move in case he scared her. Besides, he was quite scared of her himself—he had no doubt
that she could kill him in the blink of an eye. Without his powers he stood no chance against someone as unpredictable as Laura.
Finally she turned her back…and was gone.
…
Laura 'properly' returned that evening, and joined he and Sarah for dinner, her hair once again neatly brushed back from her face,
the nicer dress reinstated. She still looked a bit pale, but that was all.
...
He waited for her, by the trough, for what seemed like hours but was probably only twenty or thirty minutes. He was about to give up
when the barn door opened, softly, and she peered in.
"Laura," he said, his face dripping water. He wiped his arm across his eyes, and she smiled slightly, stepping in and letting the door
close behind her. He studied her—she really had changed. He'd never seen anything like it. He wished—not for the first time—that
she could talk so he could ask her what had happened. It had obviously not been pleasant for her.
She tilted her head, and he realized she was studying him in return—and making no effort to hide her examination. Julian found himself
holding his breath, frozen in place. It was different now, than when she'd done this before. Then he'd felt like a little teeny-bopper
was examining him because she'd never seen a guy before. But now…curiously, subconsciously, he was hoping she liked what she
saw. No. He turned away and reached for his shirt.
"Mmm-mmm," Laura said, stepping forwards. She touched his bare, wet throat—again…she always seemed to touch his throat—and
ran her fingers down, examining the texture of his skin. He closed his eyes and caught her wrists as she reached her stomach.
"No. Remember…I told you."
She looked up at him and smiled slightly. He realized that she knew he wasn't going to stay. Without being told. And she didn't care.
Huh. They leaned forwards at the same time and his lips touched hers, very hesitantly. Neither was quite sure of what was happening.
Then Laura pressed closer. Her lips were soft…his arms went around her out of their own accord.
