𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

Trust was always so hard when it should've been easy.

I'd trusted Halia Coralie's information about the pack having been held in Georgia — I'd followed that lead. The electrical room I found had been wired to hold werewolves, and the scratches down the wall told me more than I wanted to know.

And yet I'd spent around three months in the States before I had found any other leads to where my pack could be. And I was so unbelievably alone.

Christmas and New Year had both been dismal and bleak occurrences; I'd spent them in the rainy state of Iowa. I'd just crossed the border on Christmas Eve and was running dangerously low on cash. So, I'd spent the night curled up in a homeless shelter not far from the border.

I'd trusted that Halia had told me the truth. It was blind trust, and I should've pushed her to tell me more about my pack.

The pain that I felt in the electrical room was unbearable. Werewolves can use chemosignals to figure out how a person, or people, are feeling. If the feelings were strong enough, they can be sensed long after the people have gone. And I sensed fear, pain, and hurt. It was almost too much to handle.

The thoughts of my pack... so lost... so alone... but at least they have one another.

I have no one. Not anymore.

After Georgia, the trail had gone stone cold. There was nothing left to go on, other than my senses pulling me home to Montana.

From Georgia to Iowa, I'd hitch-hiked more than I'd ever done in my life before — and it's kinda amazing how many truck drivers will help you out, especially if you do a bit of free labour for them, like some heavy lifting. The whole drive would've been around 14 hours if I didn't have to stop occasionally and check out the nearest power station, that part lost me my ride more than once.

But nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Anger boiled inside of me as every stone I turned over seemed to be pointless. I was angry at everyone, but mostly myself. I was failing the one thing that I'd come back to the US to do — to find my pack. I was failing.

After Iowa, I did some more hitch-hiking up to South Dakota, and I stayed there for about a month. Travelling for so many hours had worn me out, and the next full moon was fast approaching. I couldn't risk being in a car or a truck when that happened.

Because I didn't have an anchor anymore, I was utterly and totally out of control. The full moon that month had been absolute and total hell, so bad that I was trying to block out the memories.

The one person that I'd thought was my anchor had... had... Well, she wasn't there.

We tried to keep in contact for about a month and a half. But when daily calls dropped to weekly, then weekly calls dropped to fortnightly, I decided that we should both focus on what we had to do. Looking back on the past and how things used to be wasn't going to get us anywhere.

Hearing her voice hurt more than I'd imagined it would. Even when she was happy, it was tearing me apart inside.

That was also why I'd told her we shouldn't keep calling and texting each other.

Part of me hoped that she would refuse and say something like 'but I need to talk to you, I need to hear your voice'. No chance; she agreed with me faster than I could run on a full moon.

After finding nothing in South Dakota, I found myself drawn up to North Dakota, instead of Montana — which was only the next state across.

Maybe part of me was beginning to dread going home and finding that they had all been killed, that I'd failed and I was useless and coming back here and everything I'd done was pointless.

Maybe part of me decided that I might as well check out North Dakota, a farming state. I'd heard once that the people in North Dakota were supposed to be welcoming and friendly. But I guess any state will say that if it gets them tourism.

I holed up in a cheap, tiny motel room, at the edge of Bismarck, feeling lonely and sorry for myself. I'd found nothing, and there'd been no more messages from Storm, which instantly made me think the worst. What if they're gone...? What if they're all gone?

Flicking endlessly through crap TV channels, I ended up launching the TV remote at the wall opposite me.

"Screw this!" I yelled to the empty room, pressing my head into my hands.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?

There was almost nowhere left to look.

With a huff, I grabbed my jacket off the bed and stepped out into the cool late February night.

"Leaving already?" The woman behind the motel counter drawled as I strode past her.

"Just going out for a bit," I spat, annoyed that I'd had to talk to her and walked quicker.

Werewolves can't get drunk; our bodies heal too quickly. So when I headed to a bar, it wasn't because I wanted to get wasted — because I physically couldn't — it was because I just needed to drown my sorrows.

It'd been ages since I'd had alcohol, and I usually hated the bittersweet, stinging taste of it, but now I just needed something to take my mind off everything going wrong.

"I'll have whatever's cheap and strong." I pushed a few dollars across the bar top, after having signalled the barmaid.

"You here to drown your sorrows?" She smirked as she poured my drink, reading me like a book.

"Whatever," I told her, not wanting the 'friendly barman/maid's ear' while I pretended to get drunk. I guessed they were right about the people being friendly around here... Or maybe it was just because she found me attractive.

"You wanna talk about it?" She pushed my drink towards me and took the money.

"Nope." I took a swig of the alcohol.

"You wanna not talk about it?" She smiled at me.

"Look..." I read her name off her tag, "Look, Fern... I'm not interested."

Looking at her properly, I realised she was quite attractive. She had long, straight brown hair, green eyes, and tanned skin.

"You sure?" She checked, leaning over the bar and thus giving me a clear view of her cleavage.

"Yup." I nodded, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on her face.

"How old are you again?" She frowned, leaning back and wiping the bar down with a cloth that looked like it had seen better days.

"Old enough to be in here drinking." I lied; I was four years under the legal drinking age. But she hadn't checked for any ID, so more fool her. "How about you?"

"20, old enough to be in here serving alcohol." She flashed a smile at me. "So, I didn't catch your name..."

She's only three years older than me.

"That's 'cos I didn't throw it." I huffed back at her, taking another swallow of the cheap, bittersweet alcohol. "It's Theo."

"So, Theo. What brings you to North Dakota? I've not seen you around here before."

"What happened to me not wanting to talk?" I joked, fiddling with my glass.

"Well, you not wanting to talk got overruled when you said you didn't want to not talk." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and went to go serve someone else.

Maybe I should just get out of here whilst I can... Or then again maybe not.

Getting with a random girl could've taken my mind off... everything else going on.

As if reading my thoughts, Fern reappeared and winked at me. "I get off in an hour."

"See you then." I smiled back, and she went off again.

Rubbing my face with my hands, I realised how tired I was. Not physically, but emotionally, and mentally drained. It felt like I was clinging to how things that no longer existed.

Storm was no longer contacting me, so either... either — she could've been dead. That's putting it bluntly. I'd received no messages from her since that night I was shot with a wolfsbane bullet in Lake Oldoy — that was months ago now and my shoulder only slightly ached when it rained.

An hour longer sat in the bar, waiting for Fern to get off her shift, I'd drunk two more pints and still felt just as cold and just as empty as before. Sometimes, I wished that I could get drunk, because then at least I'd be able to find some escapism. Yet, if I could get drunk, I'd probably have been a raging alcoholic by then.

"You ready to go?" Fern was now standing on the customer side of the bar with a navy jacket pulled around her shoulders.

"Yep." I stood up, not swaying once.

"You must hold your beer pretty well." She pushed the doors of the bar open.

"I had a big lunch," I lied easily; I'd not eaten anything that day. "Where d'you wanna go?"

"My apartment's a couple of blocks away..." She glanced at me.

So's my motel room, but I don't want to take her there.

"We'll go there then, my motel's further away." I was almost surprised at how easily the lies were rolling off my tongue.

"You never did tell me why you're here and where you're from," she said as we walked along the empty sidewalk.

"I'm from everywhere. And I'm here because I'm trying to find some people." Okay, those weren't lies that time.

She said nothing for a while, thinking, which left me to think as well, as we walked along the sidewalk underneath a half-moon and a sky of stars.

As lonely and numb as I was, I was kinda glad that I'd found some company. That alone would stop me from losing it entirely. And maybe a night not thinking about where to find my pack would lead me to them... maybe.

"Penny for them?" Fern spoke up beside me, inquiring about my thoughts.

"Just can't wait to get back to your apartment." I shrugged, trying to figure out why she was interested in the mopey guy that she served in a bar. When I voiced this, she laughed.

"Two reasons, one: you're good-looking, and two: I just broke up with my boyfriend, so I need a bit of fun tonight after six months of hell with him," she explained.

"Sorry," I apologised, but I wasn't quite sure why.

"I dumped him." She laughed, nudging me. "No need to apologise. You been in a relationship recently?" She asked, curiously.

"Why?" I snapped, agitation instantly biting me.

"You've just got that haunted look on your face." She mused aloud as she began fumbling in her purse for the keys to her apartment.

"Yeah," I admitted, for the first time aloud, "Long-distance thing, didn't work out."

"So, we're both looking for rebounds?" She looked up and down my body, casually undressing me with her dark green eyes, "Works with me."

"Works with me too." I agreed, trying not to think about her...

I swallowed, trying to hold myself together; I couldn't even think of her name without hurting.

She didn't say it back.

"Here we are," Fern announced, dragging me back to reality as she showed me into her apartment. "What d'you think?" Shrugging off her jacket, she shut the door.

Pressing my lips against hers desperately, I pushed her against the wall. My hands tore open her blouse, instantly finding her breasts and squeezing them, making her groan slightly against her lips. Her hands found the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head, breaking the kiss for only a few seconds.

"I think I want you," I whispered in her ear as I lifted her legs and wrapped them around my waist, bringing our bodies closer together.

Blood was pounding, racing through my body, as my need for her increased by the second.

Desperation. Everything I was doing was in total and complete desperation. Desperation not to feel so empty, so numb, so lonely, so... so lost. So, I kissed her like a starving man being fed for the first time in months.

"I want you too," she whispered back.

She arched her body against mine, the wall supporting her, and our lips crashed together — and it felt like both of us were doing this in desperation. We were both looking for rebounds, after all, that's all we were to each other, all we'd ever be — rebounds. And that was perfectly fine by me.

"You're very beautiful," I told her — because girls like to hear that sort of thing.

I kissed her again, like a drowning man being thrown a life ring because I was drowning.

Drowning in nothing.

Drowning in everything.

Wrapping her legs tighter around me, I picked her up from against the wall and led us over to one of her couches, where we began undressing each other until we were completely naked.

All in desperation.

Burning up for her and her body, I couldn't stop kissing her and touching her and stroking her. All the while, I whispered meaningless words that girls like to hear.

Until she froze beneath me.

"What is it?" I opened my eyes.

"What did you just say?" Fern frowned at me.

Nothing of consequence, just pre-sex talk.

"What's wrong?" I frowned back at her.

"You called me Ember," she told me.

I swear to God I'd never been turned off so fast in my life, I moved away from her and grabbed my clothes. "I didn't call you that."

"Yes, you did. You called me Ember," she repeated, confirming my fear that was tightening into a knot in the pit of my stomach.

"I should go," I decided aloud, standing up and starting to pull my clothes back on.

"You don't have to go, you can stay." Fern hesitated, "I want you to stay."

"No, I should go," I echoed.

"Was Ember your ex?"

"I never called you that," I snapped at her and headed to the door.

"I want you to stay," Fern insisted, still naked on the couch.

But I couldn't stay after that. I shook my head and left her apartment.

All in desperation.

I guess it was all in desperation; I'd ended up saying her name to the girl I was kissing. The girl that wasn't her and would never be her.

Walking out across the street and towards my motel, I realised with a jolt that had been the first time I'd said her name aloud in... what felt like so long. Now, it felt like she was haunting me, almost — she couldn't let me love her but equally so she couldn't let me even try to love anybody else.

I was well and truly stuck.

I needed to find my pack — I was losing my sanity, beginning to question everything.

God, how I wished I'd just stayed with Fern... But I also knew that I couldn't have had sex with her if my life depended on it after that.

You called me Ember.

Those four words had sobered me up pretty damn quick, even though I hadn't even been drunk.

Finally reaching my motel room, I crashed face down onto the bed covers as soon as I'd locked the door, and I groaned in annoyance.

"Ugh..." I mumbled to the moth-eaten duvet cover.

Propping myself up on my elbows, avoiding the stench of decay, I glowered at my bedside table — where the dreamcatcher that she made was lying.

Maybe the damned thing really works, the thought scrambled through my screwed-up mind, maybe that's why I've not had any messages from Storm...

Admittedly, I'd had no night terrors either. But I'd take night terrors every night if it meant finding my pack.

A sudden rush of anger and hatred ran through me, so I grabbed it and grasped the wooden hoop of the dreamcatcher tightly, I kept tightening my grip until it broke off in splinters, twisting all over the place. I snapped the stick in the middle, that splintered too. Then I took the feathers and one by one stripped them of all their barbs, leaving bare vanes that I split as well.

I launched it across the room, the same way I'd done with the TV remote.

Then, I collapsed back onto my bed and cried (shut up, I don't care). I cried for so long and so hard that I ended up crying myself to sleep.

It was then that I got my first real lead to where my pack was.

"Theo!" Someone shouted at me.

"What?" I raised my head off the motel bed, but I wasn't in the motel anymore, I wasn't on my bed anymore. I didn't know where I was. "Where am I?" I stood up and yelled at no one in particular.

"Theo, it's okay." The voice said again.

"Abi?" I asked, trying to distinguish who it was. "Storm?"

"It's me, Theo!" Storm laughed at my confusion as she came into view. "What the hell have you been doing?"

"Wh-what d'you mean?" I frowned. "I've not been doing anything, except looking for you."

"This dreamcatcher?" She held up the fragments of it, but we weren't in my motel room, so I had no clue how she was holding it. "This has been blocking me from talking to you."

"I guessed as much." I said grimly, "That's why I finally destroyed it."

"You're close, Theo." Storm became serious. "You're so close to us. You've almost found us, but you've got to come quick, they — aah!" She cut off with a scream, a scream of torture. They were torturing her, probably all of them.

"Storm? Storm!" I shouted; she'd disappeared, almost like they'd cut her off from appearing to me.

I saw the outline of her body glimmer as she came back into view, flickering like a lamp in the wind.

"Theo!" She cried out, obviously exhausted and in pain, "You're so close — keep looking and you'll find us!"

Then she was gone, leaving nothing behind except the scraps of dreamcatcher that had been preventing her from getting messages across to me. Shit, she'd probably been trying to reach me every night — no wonder she was so fragile and struggling so much.

You're so close, she'd said. How close? I wanted to know.

I went over and picked up the broken dreamcatcher, that was tangled pitifully.

"Did you make this yourself?" I asked as I felt the feathers lightly with my fingertips.

"Yup... Do you like it?

"Yeah, I love it — thanks Em."

Did she do it on purpose? Did she block me off from Storm on purpose?

No, she may not have had the same affection for me as I did for her, but she wouldn't do something like that.

Would she?

I was back in my dingy motel bedroom in the blink of an eye — leaving me to wonder whether I'd even been asleep or not.

But the sunlight peeking through the faded blinds indicated that I had been asleep. A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table that looked like it'd been thrown across the room (it wasn't me — I swear) confirmed that it was morning.

Storm had told me I was so close to them. And having searched the abandoned electrical rooms in Bismarck as well as a couple of the other cities and come up with nothing a few days before meant that there was only one place left to go and look for them — Montana, home.

Home — a place I hadn't been, I hadn't felt for what felt like forever.

What if everything's changed? I began to worry as I stepped into the shower, letting the lukewarm water hit my skin. But, of course, everything had changed. And there was no going back from that.

I just needed to find my pack. I had to; they were the only thing I had left.