I watched his eyes widen, before they narrowed into a look of pure resentment when he saw Grant standing beside.

(‘Scent’ Excerpt Chapter 10)

We walked hand-in-hand, up and down the small aisles of the general store. In his other hand, he held the carry-basket for us as he told me what to grab. When we walked past a couple of older women, I noticed their looks of approval by seeing us behave like we really were a married couple.

“Hi B and Grant.” Old Mrs. Huntington smiled as we passed by, whilst she was shopping with her grown granddaughter.

“Hi Mrs. Huntington.” My husband greeted the elderly woman. “How’s your elbow treating you?”

“Good thanks, Grant.” Old Mrs. Huntington answered before she smiled in my direction. “The cold compress your Grandpa gave me to use works like a treat.”

“That’s good.” I said politely.

Mrs. Huntington just stood there, grinning at us then she looked down to obviously stare at our holding hands. It was almost like she was bestowing her approval, which made me uncomfortable.

“Well then, we’ll be seeing you.” He excused us.

Even if we weren’t Werewolves with our sensitive hearing, we still would have heard old Mrs. Huntington say as she watched us walk away; “the Wisetail-Riverclaw girl and the Elm boy, now there’s a good match! Three branches of the tribe’s oldest families have come together to create one strong tree. They’ll breed good stock.”

My eyes widened as Grant tried not to snicker. He pulled me along to prevent me from turning around and staring back at the nosy old woman! I felt my cheeks burn as I tried to refocus on the task at hand, whilst he didn’t seem offended at all.

“Come on B.” He squeezed my hand. I gave him a funny look, which he caught so he spoke quietly, “when my family first announced our engagement, I got a lot of that. I had people stopping me on the street to offer their congratulations. They all told me how they thought we’re the perfect match being two Lokoti Werewolves marrying another, let alone a Wisetail-Riverclaw and an Elm union.”

I gulped as I quickly looked away and tried to look preoccupied at the bottles of sunflower or olive oil.

Not that there was any pressure or anything! Boy, if this is how the whole tribe feels about our nuptials, I wonder what would have happened if I had refused to go ahead with the wedding? Or if I had ended up with Declan instead…

Grant grabbed the bottle of the olive oil before he moved us along. I sensed that he wasn’t bothered by any of this in the slightest. He may have been amused but I started to wonder if he saw our union as something else; fate perhaps?

“Yum!” I stopped in front of the different confectionary and I was relieved to change the subject. “Should we get choc-chip biscuits or just a bar of chocolate?”

“I think Hannah will be giving us some more biscuits soon, so we probably don’t need any of the bought kind. How about a couple of bars of chocolate instead?” He shrugged.

“OK.” I readily put two bars of chocolate inside the basket.

Just then we heard the rattle of the bell over the door, of somebody else coming into the general store. Before I turned my head to see who it was, I smelled his maple syrup scent.

I looked up sharply just as Declan stopped in his tracks when he saw me. I watched his eyes widen, before they narrowed into a look of pure resentment when he saw Grant standing beside. His human blue eyes even began to look a little green...

…when he quickly turned around again and walked back out. Oh, just like that he was gone. As I watched his abrupt departure, I noticed his huge muscles under the dirty white t-shirt looked tense. The poor guy, since he worked next door at the Garage, he probably came in to get a can of soda or something when we put him off.

My heart hurt but to hide this from my husband, I quickly busied myself by grabbing another two blocks of chocolate off the shelf before moving us on again. However what I really wanted to do was let go of Grant’s hand and run after Declan, to comfort him.

I wished I could somehow ease his pain, because the pack and even the tribe thought that it was a much safer bet to pair me off to Grant Elm instead of Declan Sabre. Just because he wasn’t a Lokoti Werewolf and because his family wasn’t as old in the tribe as the Elm family was…it did seem a bit unfair.

“I think that’s it.” Grant said cheerfully, acting oblivious to Declan’s sudden appearance and disappearance. “Are you ready to go home?”

Quietly I nodded before I walked with him over to the counter for Mr. Barley to mark the things out in his book.

“And how would you like to make up for this trade today?” Mr. Barley asked congenially.

“Ian and I are currently working on some new pieces of furniture.” He began.

“I’ve seen your work, it’s good. I especially liked that dining table set you did for the Lightfoot’s. I can give you two month’s worth of groceries for a dining table set with a buffet unit.” Mr. Barley bartered.

“Deal.” He smiled on the arrangement and the two men shook on it.

Grant placed a happy kiss on my forehead, as I watched Mr. Barley write this down in his book underneath the items we were checking out. As I looked on the book which kept records of all the family accounts, I realized that this was a new section of the book that he had created for Grant and I. My name was no longer under the ‘Hunter & Jessica Wisetail’ account, but it was now under the ‘Grant & Bianca Elm’ account.

Frickin’ hell! I really am a married woman and the tribe firmly saw me this way. I stared at my name scribbled next my husband’s – Bianca Elm. We had our own family account as I was officially seen as Mrs. Bianca Elm.

No wonder Declan couldn’t bear to be in the same room with my husband and I…because I was another man’s territory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Running really fast is completely different to passing through mirrors or glass without breaking them

(‘Scent’ Excerpt Chapter 10)

“Yep, Clara Riverclaw’s culinary expertise is legendary in the tribe.” Grant smiled to Grandfather. “Even my Mom borrows recipes from your Mom.”

“So does mine.” Dad chuckled. “I think my parents were secretly waiting for me to marry Jess, so Mom had an excuse to visit Clara Riverclaw in the kitchen more often on the pretense to talk about us.”

“That’s alright,” Grandfather laughed, “because my Mom also had a cunning plan about your coupling. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on your Dad’s knitting patterns.”

On this, Grant looked at the white woolen turtle-neck jumper I was wearing. “Did your Grandpa knit that for you?” he asked.

“Yep.” I nodded.

“A Lokoti Werewolf who likes to knit; if outsiders only knew?” He joked as Mum giggled in agreement.

“You’ll need to change out of your jumper before we start your training, B.” Gran warned. “You don’t want to put a hole in it.”

I thought that was a little odd, as I pondered on what kind of training were they planning? “Why?”

“Today, your mother and I are going to start off your training in fencing.” She announced.

“You can move in the speed of light.” Mum stated. “So it’s a good place to start teaching you fencing before we move onto phasing through time.”

My eyebrows rose warily, “um, do you really think I’ll be able to phase? I mean, running really fast is completely different to passing through mirrors or glass without breaking them.”

“You looked bright like your skin was glowing, when you ran.” Dad advised.

“I did?” I echoed in surprise.

“I guess your grandmother and your mother think it’s related to how you phase through time.” Grandfather shrugged.

“It is related.” Mum proclaimed. “By moving in light speed, you’re effectively turning yourself into light. I’d bet a hundred bucks that says you’re probably running in phase rather than in your biological body.”

“I’ll agree to your wager.” Gran smiled in amusement. “Let’s make it two hundred quid that says Jess is right.”

“I’m on your side.” Grandfather grinned to his beloved mate. “I’ve learned never to underestimate what a Circulator says about the timeline or even about other Circulators.”

“So if I’m going to learn fencing, does that mean I’m going to get a sword of my own to play with?” I asked hopeful.

I have always admired Mum’s and Gran’s swords. Ever since I was a little girl, I liked to swing them around as I imagined that I could sword fight in the speed of light, like they could. I had many imaginary battles, taking down monsters like the European Werewolf that attacked Aunt Susan and turned Declan. However the battles would end when either Dad or Grandfather would chastise, “that sword is NOT a toy, B.” They would warily come to take it away, always careful to hold the weapon by the hilt and avoid the blade as it was silver folded over steel and as we all know, Werewolves are allergic to silver.

“To ‘play’ with?” Dad’s eyebrows rose unimpressed as he repeated, “swords aren’t toys, B. They’re deadly and dangerous weapons.”

“Especially when they’re silver coated.” Grandfather frowned my way, before he looked at Gran. “B’s sword isn’t coated with silver, is it?”

“It is.” Gran said simply.

Just then the table turned quiet as the male Werewolves eyes bulged at this piece of news.

“But Arabella,” he began, “B is a Lokoti Werewolf and Werewolves are allergic to silver.”

“Yes, I know that other Werewolves are allergic to silver.” Gran smirked.

“‘Other’ Werewolves?” Dad immediately caught what she said.

Then Gran stood up and momentarily left the table. We watched her walk over to where I now noticed three sheathed swords stood, leaning against the wall. I recognized two of them as Mum and her silver-coated Katanas, which were Japanese style swords.

I was once told that the Circulate’s collection of Katanas were indeed made in Japan in the medieval times. Gran told of how they were collected by a Japanese Circulator who had left Earth with the majority of the Circulate in the ‘Final Phase’. The swords were left as a part of the collection of weapons through the ages, on display in the self-defense training room at Circulate HQ. The Katanas complimented perfectly the European swords, crossbows or longbows through the ages which also hung on the wall. There were even futuristic laser rifles, next to the polished antique muskets.

My heart picked up speed in excitement when Gran picked up the third sword to carry over. “This is for you, B.” she smiled. “Consider it an early birthday present. But don’t lose it, because not only is it a priceless antique, but one day it’s going to save your life.”

I practically snatched it from her as I giggled with anticipation! I immediately unsheathed it to behold the long, sharp, silver-coated Katana gleaming in my hands…

“Woah!” Grant, Dad and Grandfather instantly leapt out of their seats and away from the table.

“Arabella!” Dad looked on worriedly. “B is a Werewolf! Can’t she get a sword that’s NOT coated in silver?”

Hmm, if I was a Werewolf then shouldn’t I feel apprehension around silver too? But I don’t and I wondered why. The women watched intently as the men looked on in horror; as I reached out my other hand to touch the actual sword.

“NO, B! DON’T!” The male Werewolves yelled in alarm.

But nothing happened… I was touching the blade, but nothing was happening from the contact with my flesh.

“Are you sure it’s silver?” I checked with Gran.

“Yep,” she clarified, “it’s silver alright.”

“But I thought Werewolves are allergic to silver?” I frowned, confused.

“We are allergic to silver.” Grant stated.

“Then you touch it.” I moved the sword towards him.

“NO B!” He leapt further backwards in a lightening fast move.

Huh? I don’t understand, why won’t Grant go near but I can hold it?

“Gran?” I looked to her for an answer.

“Arabella?” so did Grandfather.

“I just had this feeling.” She shrugged.

“Actually, so did I.” Mum smirked. “B is the first female Lokoti Werewolf, but because she’s also a Circulator…”

“…silver doesn’t have the same effect on her.” Gran finished.

Now Mum clicked her fingers as something else occurred to her, “I bet it has something to do with her higher bio-electromagnetic frequency! Circulator’s don’t age the same way as humans do because we’re in temporal flux. I bet it’s the same with silver.”

“Her heightened bio-electromagnetic frequency is harmonizing with her Lokoti Werewolf regenerative ability. So as a Circulator, she’s faster than Werewolves and now, she’s also not allergic to silver.” Gran pronounced.

I looked on the two older women impressed, “did you two just ‘see’ all of that then?”

They stood back smugly and nodded. Although I believed them, I also sensed there was something missing to the equation.

“Hang on.” I said and then I surprised everyone by morphing into my stronger Lokoti Werewolf shape.

In my supernatural form, I touched the silver on the sword again…still nothing. So this time I ran my finger along the sharp edge and that got a reaction for sure!

“OOOOWWWW!” I roared in pain!

Simultaneously I dropped the sword which clanged when it landed on top of the table, as I jumped backwards recoiling in pain.

My finger didn’t feel like I had a simple cut, but it felt like it was burning too! It was like somebody had poured acid into the wound! I nursed my injured hand whilst reverting to my human shape, as I backed so far away from the table that I knocked into the wall.

“Let me see.” Grant was quick to rush to my side. He carefully held my hand and we both looked down to see blood almost pour out of the tiny cut.

“There’s so much blood!” I whimpered, afraid.

“As a human which is also her Circulator form, B can touch the silver. But in Werewolf form if the silver breaks her skin? Then silver causes just as much injury to her as it does to us.” He proclaimed.

“So she’s not as allergic to silver as we are, but she’s still allergic.” Dad pondered as he and the rest of my family crowded around to see.

“But it’s just a tiny cut! Why is there so much blood?” I complained.

“Silver is deadly to Werewolves.” Grandfather spoke softly. “In weapon form, it can kill us.”

“We can’t regenerate easily from silver-caused injuries.” Dad added on.

“It’s why you’re bleeding so much and why the cut isn’t healing itself immediately.” Grant finished. “But Em and Hunter look at the cut, do you notice anything different?”

Dad’s breath sucked in sharply as his eyes widened, “there’s blood but no smoke.”

“Smoke? What smoke?” I gave him a peculiar look.

“Silver burns us. It not only weakens our flesh, but a small amount of red smoke can appear which is a chemical reaction to the silver.” Grandfather explained.

Next, Grant raised my injured finger to gently place it inside of his mouth. I felt his tongue tenderly lap at the cut, sending it numb with his regenerative ability. As he did so, my parents and grandparents moved a little away to give us privacy.

My eyes met with my husband’s, as my stomach felt all fluttery from the contact. After a minute, he took my finger back out of his mouth and we both looked on. The cut had completely healed over and was now just a small, pink line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~