1225 word count as of 07/23/21

         "That weird thing where they are stupidly territorial over anything and everything? I don't know." I was pulling down 3 mugs at this point, still not looking at my neighbor.

         "Well, if you're not sure, then I could just bring her back with me and interrogate her for why she risked pack lands without permission."

          The thud from the bedroom didn't really startle me, but it was surprising. I had no idea they heard that well--but then, this was all new.

          I shook my head, looking at him, "She's mine." I meant she was my guest, but Freudian slip, I verbally assented to the claim.

          The old man snorted. "Well that settles that. Now for the fun part."

          She entered the room right after I poured her a cup. "Just a spoon of sugar for the bitterness".

          I continued to stand on the other side of the Island after I gave them their mugs. "Ok, I get that I'm yours if you bother to expose all this to me, but what am I to you, Jerome?"

        "An unaffiliated relative of my old Gamma's wife. If you have were blood, it's nothing I would know about. She was 'human', your great-aunt."

        "Since I've met you, you've been offering to buy this place. I assume that it's because it's in the middle of your territory right?"

        "Yes, but we're still stuck with state laws quite often." He sighed at that. "But your mate and I are bound by pack etiquette. Are you joining my pack or is he joining yours, ma'am?"

         "We'll be traditional. I was a school teacher the past 30 years, down there, and the humans are just starting to notice, so I need to head out anyway."

        That caught my attention. "Wait, how old are you two?"

         Jerome smirked. 'Well, most European stock lives to be about 120, or about 42 years past the average human lifespan, and Africans run around 170 years, but its core Asian wolves that run upwards of 300 years. The more isolated groups are far more random, even a couple packs living shorter lives than straight up humans, and groups like either set of Indians are averaged out to about 200 years. I'm an anomaly, as I was born in 1852, and am now just starting to noticeably age...so, I might live to see 200. Never found a mate, never wanted a mate, can't stand most these younger weres who didn't live through the civil war--any race, pack, or ideology."

        "Why?" Morbid curiosity drove the question. I doubt it had any bearing on my current situation.

"I've run the KKK off my territory more times than I can count, and I live in the state that was once the seat of their dwindling power. People want to tell me that they have no power at all now, and the other end wants to tell me that they're a growing threat. Both ends are full of it. Most the things demanded by any given side are pointless, distracting from real problems, and hide even worse motives behind their assumed virtues. Add to this the gullibility of people who have the audacity to tell me that what I lived through didn't happen the way I lived through it and you've got a man who is willing to smack anyone who brings up a whole host of subjects."

         "So, don't bring up statues?" I couldn't help the tease, the years of familiarity making me daring.

         If looks could kill, I'd be a dead man. I waggled my eyebrows at him until he rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I like you, but your lack of response to my authority is a test of my patience.

         "Now, all that is mostly irrelevant until some inbred Klansmen tries to play Hunter again, but it bears into why you own this property. Your uncle wanted me to wipe them all out, and I didn't want to risk the pack, and he didn't sell the property to us, for you to inherit the cash value because he was pissed about that until his dying breath. And then you never took up my offer."

         "It was a clause in the will. If I ever attempted to sell it to you, I'd forfeit the property, to hand it over to the Gaines sisters."

        Jerome nearly spit out his coffee, choking awkwardly. "He would put 30 kids from 5 sisters in joint ownership of this parcel. Did he hate the pack that much?!"

        "I thought the lawyer was supposed to read you the letter?"

        "I sicced the boys after him, when he came and said that we got nothing but a letter."

         That finally killed a need to continue down an awkward conversational path, so I changed directions. "Linette, you never said how old you are."

         "I hinted at it, in the chat."

          "It's a wide range, but the youngest I'd put you is 80, 81?" I said this as disinterested as possible, but honestly, I think this was the hardest part to accept. I'm not even 30, and she's old enough to be my grandmother. It would be more surreal if she was way older like Jerome, but this was a tangible age difference.

        "72. They still don't have all the mines up, but they were more a problem in the decades following the war...and yes, all my siblings are still living. Surprisingly, considering the older ones were forced to fight for Germany as a part of a vassal state. But that means that if you live to your late 70s, then I won't be forced to live decades without you--that's something I never wanted."

        And that neatly collapsed my worries over her being older. She really was in this for life, long before she met me, as morbid as the thought was. I could see the appeal of being single until me. Ha, that sounds like I mean I'm a great catch. No, it's more like, I'm glad I went through women who couldn't commit if it means I have this surety at the end of my journey.

~~~

        It wasn't really a big deal. I mean, she had a past, I had a past, but really, I'm just amazed at how our lives fit together.

        For example, I work for a 3D printing company out of Memphis. I go into work twice a month, but mostly work from home, building the plans for printing things...which allowed me to work on a leg that shifted with my mate--just the prototype, as manufacturing would need to be made of much denser materials, in order to withstand the pounding a were gives everything.

        Heh. Pounding. Yeah, I'm still a 12 year old boy.

        Anyway, I honestly could spend all my spare time working on prosthetics for werewolves, but I like the company I work for, and once I've done a prototype, it's not as hard for others to work on, stemming from my base work.

         Besides, while they make transformation more seamless, it's still not as good as their own flesh, so it does not give them back all they lost.

        Just some of it.

~~~

        Alpha Jerome Gallweather is over the Sardis Moon Pack, the weremaid is from La Tribu Varoise in France, first, and then the Wesson Pack in Mississippi.