Page 2

Selene

Slipping a soft pair of black leggings up my legs, I pull on a loose-fitting band tee before tying my long brown hair into a braid. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I snatch my polaroid camera off my desk, throwing the strap over my head.

My feet step as quietly as possible across the hardwood floors of the hallway leading away from my room.

My parents’ room is only two doors down, with a bathroom separating our rooms. It’s not my dad that I have to worry about waking up, we joke all the time that he could sleep through a tornado hitting us and be none the wiser.

My mom, on the other hand, could hear a pin drop in the living room on the other side of the house and spring awake.

I don’t even get how she can sleep at all without waking to every single sound.

I shift my feet from side to side, avoiding the boards that always give the loudest groan when you step on them.

The hallway is lined with family photos throughout the years.

My mother has always taken candid shots of the three of us, claiming she prefers the natural state of everyone versus those posed photos with fake smiles.

She isn’t wrong, I love seeing the natural smiles on our faces as the memory is captured.

I pause when I come to a photo of me and my mom—it’s the day she took me to a pottery class in hopes that we could figure out my creative outlet.

Sadly, pottery just wasn’t it, but it’s still one of my favorite moments.

The living room is lighting up with the first rays of the sun when I step into the open space.

The kitchen to my left is still covered in the shadows of night as I sneak in to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

Tip toeing around the island in the kitchen, I grab my jacket from the coat rack before flipping the lock on the door.

I always hold my breath as I ease it open, part of me believing that my mom is going to just pop around the corner like those creepy jack in the boxes.

She wouldn’t be opposed to me going out to shoot photos, but she would have an issue with where I’m going since it’s off the pack lands.

Not that it’s against the rules for me to be out this early, I just don’t want people to know that I’m heading off pack lands.

Let a girl live without questions! There isn’t much risk of harm or anything, but Silas still isn’t sure the Ghost River Pack will continue to keep things peaceful between us.

My eyes roll hard at the thought. They weren’t even much of a threat to begin with.

Everything is either gossip or fan fiction in my opinion.

A quick glance over my shoulder confirms she didn’t in fact do that and I’m clear to rush out of the house.

The thick layer of fog laying across the dirt path in front of my house gives off this eerie sensation of being in a horror film.

I can just make out Caelon’s home that sits dark across the street, it seems even he sleeps past sunrise.

We seem to always be outside at the same time at night, often never saying anything to each other as we both drink our drinks and read our books.

I don’t know much about my quiet neighbor other than he is our pack financial guy.

Other than that, he shys away whenever I try to talk to him.

The wood steps groan underneath my feet as I walk down them.

The small front yard each of us is given is framed in with a white picket fence that’s only waist high for most people.

It’s more about the aesthetic and less about what it keeps in or out.

The creaky old gate opens as I push it, walking onto the wide dirt path separating the row of cabins I live on from the row of cabins that Caelon lives on.

Years of people walking these paths have crushed down the dirt into almost a road. The only time it sucks is right after it rains and the dirt turns into a thick mud that holds onto the water, as if it will never see another drop again.

The fog is so thick that I can’t see more than a few steps ahead of me as I take the left turn down the main path towards Nova and Silas’s house, also known as the Pack House.

The log cabin that is known for being our main house, feels more like a mansion and it serves as our meeting hall, with office spaces for the leaders of the pack.

While Silas and Nova’s home is in the back, even visiting packs have rooms they can stay in when they’re there.

The dirt path that runs beside the Pack House is littered with leaves from the aspen trees towering high above me on each side.

The bright green leaves are barely visible through the thick layer of fog beginning to lift as the sun's rays peak over the horizon. I have to hurry if I want to make it to the creek for a sunrise session. I briskly walk down the dirt path scanning both sides in hopes that I don’t run into anyone.

Recently while out in the wild flower field deep behind the pack lands, I happened to find a creek running off from the mountains.

The crystal-clear water that flowed down it offered such a pretty reflection of the wild flowers blowing in the wind.

As I was snapping photos of the flowers, the distinct sound of movement came from behind me.

Knowing that the only possible explanation was a wild animal, I pretended not to hear it or react to it in hopes that the animal would continue to come closer.

I shifted lower until my stomach was pressed firmly against the cold, damp soil with my elbows propping up my camera.

Hopefully, being closer to the ground and the grass covering most of my body, the animal would come even closer, granting me the perfect opportunity to snap photos of him.

My breaths were slow and shallow, barely a whisper coming from me.

Through the lens viewer I watched as the most beautiful dusty-gray wolf walked into the frame.

Casually strolling as if a human wasn’t only a few feet away.

Gosh, it was a dream come true. I’ve dreamed of moments where I catch wildlife in their own environment, ambling along without a care in the world.

He stood so beautifully amongst the flowers, his fur rippling in the breeze, as he drank water from the creek.

I laid there quietly snapping photos as he continued to gracefully move.

Several times I could have sworn that he even posed for me.

I chuckle to myself as I think back to the first time I found my wolf.

I’ve taken to calling him Shadow because his fur reminds me of shadows moving across light.

I’m not sure why he seems to always show up when I am in the meadow, but I’ll never complain about the unsolicited time I have to take as many photos as I want.

When I breach through the tree line into the field, I scan the surroundings to see if I spot Shadow, since I’ve never actually seen the direction he comes from.

Noticing that it’s only myself here, I make my way to my spot along the creek.

I made it just in time today, the sun has just begun to crest over the mountains, lighting the valley in a warm, amber glow.

Flowers begin to open as the rays of light wash over them.

My spot along the creek is empty as usual with the only sign of life being my body’s indent into the grass.

You can easily see where I lay each day to watch the world come alive.

I stop abruptly in my tracks. Wait? Is that a wolf print next to my spot?

He never comes over to me when I’m here, so that can only mean that he has already been here. My head whips from side to side trying to place where he could be. He has to be here somewhere. This track is way too fresh to have been yesterday’s.

My enhanced hearing offers nothing more than the wind rustling leaves, some birds ruffling feathers in the trees behind me, and the gentle rolling of the water over the river rocks.

Lifting my nose to the air, I check to see if there are any new smells, maybe a different wolf, but nothing seems out of the norm.

He must have come by earlier today and I missed him.

Damn, I was hoping to grab some shots of him in the fog.

It would have been fire. With no wolf in sight, I shrug my shoulders as I move down to my usual spot.

After several minutes of adjusting myself and taking a few test shots, I settle in for my hour of peace, with nothing but me and my camera.

Glancing through the viewfinder, I catch the dope reflection of the sun's rays peeking over the mountain as I snap the photo. The whirl and hum of the camera as it spits out the polaroid seems to scream across the peaceful field. Shuttering and hoping I didn’t scare off any wild life, I grab the photo from the front of the camera to shake it out.

Something slithers along my elbow as I’m shaking out the photo.

What the fuck was that? I jerk my elbow back hoping it’s not a spider.

If it’s a spider, I’m out. “Oh shit, it’s a worm.

How cool,” I whisper as I scoot back to snap a photo of it while my heart rate chills out.

This damn camera is going to scare away any possible wildlife.

Next time I need to bring my film camera. Why didn’t I think of that today!

It’s going to be dope if my parents go through with their promise to get me a DSLR camera for my birthday.

It’ll def help me become a wildlife photographer if my camera isn’t practically screaming at the animal that I snapped a photo.

Placing the image down with the first, I pull up my camera again.