A/N:

I am aware this should've been finished in December (yikes), but I'm still pushing through. Roughly four chapters left, and I'm going for it.

- - -

SNOW COVERED everything else but the roads. I was the one who salted and shoved up the path from my house until the peering between the trees. Now I biked, snugged to every inch of skin with thick clothes.

Snow had stopped this morning to let way for work. Orion was still sleeping, curled in his wolf form, by the edge of my bed again. I watched as the days came, rinsed and repeated, this time with Orion adjusting to his wolf form a little more each day. He looked less weary and bone-tired whenever he shifted back, his cheeks slowly losing its hallowed out look to make way for a normal, smiling young man. One that better fit him.

When I noticed the snow had stopped sometime last night, I brought up the subject up.

"I might have work tomorrow. I'll make sure smells are around the house, but you can make more yourself - it's easy to just burn off fruits than anything. But if anything does happen - go up on my hideaway and run from the branches. I'm sure you can leap far if they've surrounded the house. You have no obligation to say goodbye to me."

I said this all in passing, a likely scenario I had devised in my head as part of a just in case. So many things could go wrong and so many things need planning. Even if you don't wish for them, life hardly bowed to your desires.

Because he was in his wolf form, he had merely stared before a soft whine came out of his snout. And a rumble deep in his body that vibrated in close proximity. In wolf form, I was so comfortable being beside him, running my fingers through his hair smelling of smokey pine and burnt roses, that I didn't notice our proximities at all.

Even he closed his eyes, napping after a full plate, calm as afternoon trees.

"I'm just saying," I continued. "Protect yourself. I'll say you were just a wayward wolf trying to find food and was scouring my house. I was out, getting firewood. I can lie. But they will not listen to you or reason. They're into the mindset of guilty until proven innocent."

His body rumbled again before he shifted closer, resting his head closer to the pillow over my lap.

That was last night. I left him this morning asleep, more instructions written out for blocking out his scent, easy recipes and how to warm up the cookies, and a final note and a map on the forest. The map was issued given to everyone else in our town - all the traps for the people to avoid. All traps he had to avoid if he meant to escape.

I locked my bike out front and wrapping it with a cover that would stop the cold from seeping in, already noticing a lot of our usual patrons back at their early pace.

Just as I began unwrapping some of my most thickest pieces, a scarf and several jackets, Marga pounced like an expecting tiger, her green eyes bright and red lips pronounced.

"Hi, honey bee."

I stared at her warily, quickly going through the lot of things Marga would look interested in me for a chat. Most of the time she was just fishing for compliments on her something new.

"Hi Marga, nice... shade of red."

"Hm?" Okay, not it. But I pointed at her nails. Her face cleared, chuckling softly. "Oh, I was just bored. Not a lot to do when you're snowed in. Unless you have a gentleman caller around..." Her eyes sneaked and her face danced with mirth.

Orion.

It was so very easy to resort back to a blank page. Nonna was the one who taught me not to look too blank. Not to show how... I can't feel the same things they do. Not in the same range or vibrancy. How the words I love you or I like you don't evoke the same emotions to me as it seemed to others. It wasn't that I was incapable of feeling, I know I loved my grandmother... but other people have their complex range of emotions that should startle the common norm, but it is the common norm.

And I was... the one different.

My grip on my scarf tightened and I watched and studied all her little expressions, all the little tilts and corners of her face. So I started counting. The amount of time it would get me to get my bike and run. The amount of time they could catch up on me. The amount of time they can have the house surrounded, Orion still asleep. The amount of time before they break the door down.

I blinked. So I asked.

"What do you know about that?"

"One of the hunters - Shaw Creeney was it? Or Bill Mac? He was with Hunter when they, well, stumbled upon a little love scene." She nudged me, bouncing shots of laughter doing nothing to ease me up. "The description he made, made it sound like that one shy bad boy I saw lurking around these parts, hm?"

I exhaled. It wasn't the werewolf... it was just the boy then. I moved past her, smiling politely as I pulled out my apron and started figuring out orders.

"Hey Bree, come one!" Marga whined, catching up quick as a cat. "You have to tell me details or I will die."

"We have customers," I said instead. Then to Jeff, "Two orders of pork chop with mashed potatoes and green beans! Morning, Jeff."

Jeff lazily waved his spatula. "Mornin' to you too, kid. Too early."

"Bree!"

I sighed, turning to Marga. Her face was disappointed and annoyed, hands swept on her hips. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything! Every juicy little detail is a morsel! Throw a bone out here, honey! There's nothing good coming out on my end of the scene - or, well, house. And I just never thought you'd be open to... one night stands."

I raised an eyebrow. "One bone. I don't kiss and tell, Marga."

She sighed. "Fine. Rude."

"Whoever said it was a one night stand?"

She blinked, but I was already gone. By the time she got it, she was shrieking like a banshee. When people turned to her, she fluttered her fingers at them and cooled herself with her apron.

I kept to my work until I bumped against another apron. I looked on and there was Eva Small. Elise's mother. Her smile was serene, as is everything about her. She had the same colorings as her daughter; pale and yellow haired, but while Elise shown through with naivete, Eva held more of a quiet knowledge.

The only thing unusual about her is the rigged scars against one side of her face, the skill folded and stretched in parts and kept her right eye shut and crippled.

But no matter of this small difference, Eva's smile is beautiful and warm. Nothing short of a motherly woman. "Good morning, Bree."

Everything about her calmed me down. So I smiled back. "Good morning, Eva. Are you sure you're okay enough to work?"

"It was just one cold, no need to fuss. Elise told me about that day... thank you for defending her." She shifted. "She's not like you... or me, I guess. She's... too soft. And kind."

"There's strength in kindness and empathy," I said softly.

"I know. And I want to keep that her strength for as long as I can. That's why I really want to thank you. Thank you for standing up in her place."

I tilted my head. I knew it was bad to pry or to act like you know better, but the world was a strange place. And I find myself wanting to help Elise. "She'll have to learn sooner or later."

"I know." She smiled sadly, touching her scars. "I hope she never does." A hand raised and she motioned for a hold on before patting my shoulder. "I'll talk to you later, Bree."

As she moved on, I went back to my orders. But now I couldn't shake off the thoughts of Eva now. How easy it is to forget memories and facts until a reminder is passed. For Eva Small's reminder it was her presence. And the scar on her face.

How could I forget of Eva Small, Elise's mother, who was hurt, bleeding and crying as she crawled into town with baby Elise in her arms. Her house was worst, torn and broken, and her husband was dead. Slaughtered in tatters and blood.

A werewolf attack. That was the official report. That was the last incident that ruined the town, that got them to put traps that could kill. That spread the news of hunters being paid to hunt more supernaturals down and sell them to private people.

Eva Small who survived because she fought in desperation not just for herself, but for Elise and the baby she was carrying. She had a miscarriage after three days. Eva Small who was attacked by a werewolf.

- - -

Hunter Parrish swept into the diner sometime in the afternoon, in a glossy after lunch. The room was cold and had lessened considerably enough that Marga's pestering was slowly infesting my continued ignoring.

I was almost overjoyed by his appearance that I leapt away from Marga's clutches and nearly stumbled over Hunter's clothes packed with snow. He caught me just in time and smiled slightly.

"Careful there."

"Thanks." When I turned back t0 Marga, she only left me with a wink and slid next to Eva who merely shook her head.

"What's that about?"

"I think you know."

He stared at me. Then shook the snow off his raven hair, the snow melting in cold fingers. "I guess, I do. For the record, I'm the not one who spread rumors. I tried to stop it, but you know how it is."

"Gossip spreads faster than wildfire." I shrugged. "Lunch is over but I can take your order."

"Just a coffee would be nice."

I raised an eyebrow. "Coffee is free. I'll make you a sandwich."

He laughed but nodded. Once I've prepared something easy, an egg salad sandwich and a cold brownie, I pull up a mug. The coffee isn't as fresh, but it is still piping hot. It burnt his tongue but shook it off just as quick.

"Idiot."

"Still as sweet as ever," is his retort. "Mind telling me what that was really about? With the guy?" He said the last part without animosity or hostility, but I didn't trust it just yet.

"Just as I said to everyone else, none of your business."

"He might be dangerous."

"And I surmise, I can't protect myself? I think you're forgetting Hunter, that I was the one who taught you how to navigate the forest, and best of all, how to defend yourself when need be."

"I know," he murmured. "But it's still hard not to worry about it. He's... not from here."

"Isn't that supposed to make it easy?"

"You've always been tired of this town." His smile was gentle but sad. "I imagined you as a kid, because of how you were so much more independent, that you'd just hack into a ride and find yourself out of here. Whenever I visit, I always wonder if you're still there, if you're still the one who's going to open the door. I always imagined you as an adventurer, seeking magical and awesome things, meeting awesome and magical people."

I stared at him, mouth almost agape. Hunter and I were two kids forced to be friends and understand each other. Though I consider him my closest friend, I didn't actually think he'd worry that far. That his worry for me came that far.

"This is my home," I said, because this is true. I never could imagine myself out of it. In there he was wrong. Everything my nonna taught me only extended to survive by myself in the woods.

He smiled, not reaching his eyes. "And you've always had one foot out the door."