WOLFVILLE

4.1: Domestic Name For A Wild Animal

Timmory barely remembered leaving the pack house. Nate warned her that his pack's assistance would be limited as long as she was away from them. But Timmory, even though she wanted to return to normality so badly, found herself wishing they'd stick around just to punish them with her suffering. She blamed it all on them. The pain, the changing, the complications of this new lifestyle. She felt like they owed it to her. Even after deciding she'd pretend she hadn't turned into a wolf for a day, she was annoyed they could help no further. Timmory was exhausted, drifting in and out of consciousness—but whenever she returned, there was anger.

Nate and Donnie drove her home in her car left in the parking lot. She didn't remember the way, so they gleaned the address from her driver's license. When they helped her to the door, her mother rushed out in a flurry, demanding to know what happened. Timmory heard Nate say something about an accident at a campsite party. Nate and Donnie swiftly escaped and left Timmory to the mercy of her parents, neither of whom could comprehend what happened to Timmory since she was last seen Saturday morning. They followed her up to her room where she collapsed on the bed, Kristina asking why her arm was bandaged and why she looked like she had fallen down a flight of stairs. Wallace threatening that if Milo had anything to do with it, he'd throttle him. She mumbled a story Nate told her to give: she ran into some classmates on the trail, stayed for drinks, got too drunk; there were pics on her phone, apparently. Then she faded, remembering nothing until the next morning.

Her blaring alarm startling her awake. Timmory hadn't even changed out of her clothes, which she realized were the change of clothes she brought instead of the clothes she'd left in. Pale mud stains were evidence that someone washed her clothes before they got her into them. The thought that someone saw her outside of her clothes made her shudder, like her body had been perverted.

More than it already was. It felt like it didn't belong to her anymore.

Timmory exhaled, stiff in the chest. Her bandaged arm was useless, so with one hand she grabbed her phone and flicked through her unseen messages. Most of them were from her mother. There were some from Julia, worried that Timmory was angry in her silence. She buried her face in her pillow, not yet ready for the world.

A quiet knock came on the other side of the bedroom door. Timmory peeled one eye open and grunted. "Tim? Are you awake?" spoke her mother.

Timmory cleared her throat. "Yeah."

"Can I come in?"

She was silent, then decided she would like nothing better than her mother's comfort. If only pride hadn't soiled her ability to communicate it. "Yeah," she answered, bunching the blanket around her face.

Kristina slipped inside, bags under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept well that night—or the night before. "How are you feeling?"

Timmory rolled over, allowing room for her mother to sit. "Like I fell down a flight of stairs," she grumped.

"Drank yourself stupid this weekend, hm?" Kristina smiled, but it faded quickly.

Timmory nodded.

"We were worried sick about you. You should have told us right away. You look pretty rough," Kristina said, pulling the covers away to examine Timmory's bandaged arm.

"It's fine," Timmory answered, pulling them back. "There was a nurse at the party. It just hurts. That's all."

Kristina brushed her hand over Timmory's unwashed hair. "Do you want to stay home?"

Timmory nodded again.

"Alright. Your father said he'd drive Julia if she wants," she added, continuing to brush Timmory's hair, tucking it away from her face and under her head.

Timmory sniffed. "Don't worry, I think she has a way there," she lied. The last thing she wanted was her father gossiping with Julia about how Timmory got extremely drunk at a party she never went to with classmates she would never hang out with. Wait. Donnie...?

Kristina's smile returned as she planted a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead. "I'll let you sleep then. Just shout if you need something, okay gordita?"

She didn't have the energy to say anything else. Timmory watched her mother close the door and wanted so badly to tell her she was a saint. She felt bad ditching Julia, but she knew her friend was versatile, and once she told Julia she'd gotten hurt, she'd probably forgive the lack of a ride. Besides, Julia owed her after she bailed. Wasn't she the reason Timmory got attacked in the first place? It was totally Julia's fault that Timmory was a—shudder, sigh, groan—werewolf, or whatever.

Timmory tapped out a text.

hi jules, had a rough weekend. fell down some stairs now my body hurts. staying home today, i hope you can find a way to class. say hi to milo for me

She barely finished the text before closing her eyes and drifting off.

Some time later, the phone buzzed. Half asleep, she saw a text from an unknown number: Hey Timmory, it's Nate. You doing alright?