(Small Fry Chapter 1)
“Tell me again you don’t have a bad feeling about this?” He rasped out, as if he were having difficulty breathing. “Tell me how you’re gonna live through this?”
“As Aunt B said, this child will be part Lokoti Werewolf too.” Ki reminded. “Maybe this baby will be exactly half and half? I’ll keep a close eye on Aunt B, I promise. You two won’t be alone, no Lokoti Werewolf ever stands alone. You know this yourself, Uncle.”
But Declan didn’t seem to hear, he was too busy staring at his mate.
“Tell me B, what can you 'see'? Tell me what you ‘see’ in ours and the baby's future.” He pleaded.
Next, he watched me turn to walk into the shadowy kitchen. The whole house darkened in fact, as the sun was taken away from the grey clouds which were heavy with snow. As if I were in a trance, I wandered over to the kitchen sink to stare out the window at my garden.
The grass was still short as the cold weather stagnated its growth. I saw the bare branches of our Jacaranda Tree bend in the strong wind. Then I stared at my withered garden plots, which were waiting to be buried under the thick snow of a long winter.
Our small, two bedroom, two story, brown wooden cottage with its stone chimney; sat on top of a hill in the community centre inside the vast Lokoti National Park, in the Alaska Range. Our home was normally cosy with life, love, cooking and company. We had family, tribe and pack whom we intermingled or hunted with. Our life could be called 'quiet' by some, but when you had to hide your supernatural state, where and how we lived was ideal.
The signs of winter coming, also represented signs of something else to come. Our home would be changed forever, as would be the people inside it. As if to confirm this, I saw a snowflake fly past on the icy wind.
I wasn't experiencing any visions, whilst I stared hypnotically at life outside. Just as I could have bad feelings which warn of danger, I felt several new sensations. They didn’t fill me with a sense of dread, instead they filled me with a sense of purpose.
“Our daughter isn’t going to be a Circulator.” I spoke quietly, almost unsure of my own words. “She’s going to be the eldest of three sisters and none of them will be 'Light People'. I am the last Circulator to be born.”
Suddenly, the window rattled loudly from a gust of wind, as my Jacaranda Tree bent back and forth. I watched the snowflakes begin to fall thick and fast, but from the gale they fell in a sloping pattern. I watched the many white dots cover the grass.
“The timeline has to make adjustments to Declan’s altered state of being.” I said softly. “Because their mother changed their father, our daughters will be born, but not as Circulators.”
Then I felt my mate come to stand beside at the sink, as his greater body-heat radiated outwards.
“Daughters?” He asked hopeful. “No boys?”
A tear slipped down my cheek, as his relief didn’t bring me happiness, but disappointment.
“And what would you have done if it was a son?” I challenged.
“If we had a son who was half Lokoti Werewolf but wasn’t a Circulator? I would do exactly what I’m going to do now.” He said firmly.
“And what’s that?”
“Give his mother a kiss and a cuddle and help her raise the little troublemaker.” He emitted a small smile.