Wolfed

1885

*** My whole life I've lived away from humans. ***

*** An early offspring, cast away into the shadows by my parents. ***

*** I've gazed upon them, but they have not gazed upon me. ***

*** I never felt the need to go back to them, not until now. ***

Chapter 4: A somewhat friend

'Hey Abigail, I was just about to brush down Lara, then go over to see you.' He said not surprised by her evening visit, keeping his back to her.

'Oh yeah and why would you want to see me?' She questioned sweetly, walking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her long black haired-head against his shoulder blades.

'Uh, no real reason,' he said, unwrapping her arms, feeling uncomfortable. He thought he saw a look of disappointment cross her face, but if it was there, she hid it behind a perky smile. 'You are, uh… looking nice on this fine evening,' he said nervously looking at her spring dress, embroidered with flowers.

'You are, uh… looking bloody on this fine evening,' she mocked giggling.

'Hunting practice,' he muttered, not liking being mocked.

'I'm just kidding, come on relax,' she said, playfully punching his arm. 'Here,' she picked up some brushes from his arms, 'why don't I help you with Lara, then we can go for a walk down the river and skim stones.'

It wasn't a question. She turned on her heels and skipped back to the door. 'Come on, then,' she beckoned, like a shepherd to his sheep. He sighed and followed after her. That's all he will ever be in her shadow, he thought, a sheep.

'So what did you really want to talk about?' Abigail looked across to him, from her position on the grassy banks of the river. He looked back into her blue eyes.

He tore away his gaze to focus back onto the rushing water. 'Like I said, no real reason.'

'Say that to my face and maybe, just maybe I'll believe you,' she answered back grinning and pushing herself closer to his side. He sighed and shook his head.

'When I was out hunting with my dad…' he started.

'Yeeees,' she motioned him to continue with her hand.

'When I was out with dad,'

'You've said that already,' she cut in.

'Would you let me talk!' he said getting frustrated. 'When I was out, hunting the wolves, there was one wolf that like didn't look, like a real wolf.'

'A wolf that's not a wolf,' she commented, 'interesting, go on.'

'See the thing is… it kind of looked like you.' He said awkwardly.

'What? Are you saying I look like a wolf that's not a wolf?' She shouted standing up and spazing her hands around in disbelief.

'No!' he shouted back, 'no.' He repeated in a whisper. Abigail calmed herself, but she raised her eyebrows waiting for an explanation. He sighed again, 'I just thought maybe you had a twin or sister or brother, or really hairy aunt.'

The eyebrows went down and the frown on her face started to lessen. 'My aunts aren't that hairy,' she said with a side of dignity. 'And as for the sister thing, I think my parents did mention a twin to me once.'

'Seriously?' He said in total shock, 'What happened her?'

'I don't know, I think before we found the oil spill, my parents couldn't afford her and threw her out or killed her, or something like that.'

'They wouldn't throw out their own child, would they?'

'Hey, not everyone was brought into a wealthy family such as yours.'

'So they threw out her out and keep you?'

'Yep, just shows how adorable I am, don't you think?'

'Yeah, of course,' sarcasm dripped of his words like wine. But Abigail's ego took no notice.

'So if you really want to know you need to talk to them.'

'Ok, I will,' he said already beginning to walk towards her house.

'Wait, what about me? Don't you want to stay out by the river? For me,' she swooned sweetly, giving a sad eyed face.

'No, it's getting cold out and the sun is setting, I don't want you to catch a cold,' he said, playing her game and returning a sad face.

'At least walk me home,' she commanded holding out her hand for him.

He considered his options, 'fine,' he muttered, grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

Mrs. Porter carried a hot cup of tea and set it gently on the table. She sat opposite of Tyler, who sat beside an annoyed Abigail. Tyler thanked her and took a sip of the tea. It tasted sweet and warm as it ran down his throat.

Everyone was silent. Abigail had crossed her legs and was tapping her foot lightly on the floor. Tyler gave a slight cough. Mrs. Porter lay back in her seat. 'I guess I'd better start at the beginning, in 1872 before our money when we still lived in just a shack.' She sighed, her eyes lost in memory of hard times. 'John and I, we were going to have a baby,' tears started swelling in her eyes. 'We were lucky to have both children alive.' Abigail put a hand on her mother's knee. Mrs. Porter lifted it in hers and rested it against her rose red cheek. 'When Abigail and Marcie were born we couldn't have been happier.'

'Marcie?' asked Tyler

'Yes. We named her Marcie. But things only got worse, the crops were bad and the hunts failed, John couldn't find any work. We were all slowly starving. It was the hardest decision we ever made, but we decided to let Marcie go.' She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a white handkerchief and blew into it heavily. Silver tears lined her face but she refused to wipe them away. Tyler could make out the deep creased lines in her face, she was tired and stressed. Seeing her like this reminded him of his mother, of her golden hair in his face whilst she held him in her arms for the last time. He pushed the thought out of his mind as she continued.

'She was only a few months old and it was Christmas Eve. We wrapped her in a blanket and set her out in snow to… to die,' she sniffled. 'Later that I went out to her, but she was gone, we assumed she had been taken by something, never to be seen again.'

Her last words echoed. She tensed, got up and walked to the kitchen, without another word.