Wolf Boy

Chapter one

Although it was still the early hours of the morning, their presence didn't go unnoticed. The sound of tires coming down the mossy, gravel street had the impact of a blaring siren, cutting through the silence of the bitter winter morning and alerting all of new comers, or intruders. Every house along the narrow street had their curtains and shutters parted slightly desperate to catch a peek of their new neighbours, myself included. I sat, curled up against the front room window, the heavy floral drapes parted just enough for me to stick my head through. My cheek lay against the cool, frosted glass as I stared intently at the silver car making its way like a bullet down the old street. Oscar lay in my lap, occasionally clawing at the fluffy pink dressing gown that I had hastily wrapped around myself as I scrambled out of bed. He was a small tabby, with orange and white stripes that made him resemble more a tiger than a cat. His big blue eyes looked up at me as he continued to claw at the fluffy gown.

All attempts at being discreet were thrown out the window when the car turned into the driveway just across the road from mine, number 23. I got to my knees, Oscar tumbling out of my lap, pressed my forehead against the window pain and narrowed my eyes in hope of being able to see more clearly through the frost. Whilst having someone new move to the small, damp town of Wanden was rare enough, the sight of a car parked in the driveway of 23 Rodney Street was practically unheard of, and it seemed unnatural. For as long as I could remember 23 Rodney Street had been empty. I never thought to ask who had lived there or why no one had ever moved in because it never seemed unusual for it to be vacant.

Like me, my parents were huddled in front of the living room window, eager to inspect their new neighbours. Their heads where slightly above mine, protruding very slightly through the drapes in an attempt at subtlety. Their warm breath fogged up the frosted window as they stared absorbedly across the street.

My parents whispered to each other, their backs turned to me in an attempt to keep me out of the conversation; but I could hear every word.

'Number 23.' My father muttered.

'Do you think they're back?' My mother asked.

My father didn't respond.

'Maybe they've changed Richard...'

'Who?' I asked.

The whispering stopped and they slowly turned to me, my mother casting a nervous glance in my father's directions. But I didn't have to wait long, for the moment my father opened his mouth I saw. I watched them in awe as they exited their car. 

'The Harper's.' My father said.

But I barely heard him, my eyes were transfixed on the family before me. Although they were quite a distance away and it was still fairly dark, I could tell that they were stunning. They each shared beautiful bronze skin that seemed to glow in the early morning dimness, and long, dark hair. The woman was petite and she swept her beautiful hair up in an effortlessly perfect bun, before shutting the door of the car and making her way to the front porch. She seemed to glide as she walked. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and shoulder length hair that he had tucked behind his ears. I couldn't really see their faces, but I knew they were beautiful. The man popped the trunk of the car and began to lift out a variety of coloured cases and bags. But my eyes didn't linger on the man and woman for long, as they were distracted by something else; the boy. He wore black jeans and a black short sleeve t-shirt, which looking at caused me to shiver, but he didn't seem cold. His skin was golden like his parents and his dark hair was tied up in a small looped bun at the back of his head. Although I could hardly see his face, his eyes cut through the dim light, liking glowing emeralds. He turned to his father, taking bags from him as he lifted them from the trunk of the silver car.

'The Harpers...' I whispered.

'You don't remember them?' My mother asked.

I turned to face her.

'Remember them?' I asked, my brows furrowing.

'Then again you were very young when lived here,' my father said 'you must have only been four or five.'

I looked back at the boy, scrutinizing him, trying to find some familiarity in his golden skin, and emerald eyes; but I couldn't.

'Why did they move away?' I asked.

My mother and father didn't respond, instead they looked at each other, their eyes telling a story I couldn't quite understand.

'It's too early for this, we'll talk about it another time.' My mother said, her voice going up a few octaves as she nervously replied. 'We should really all get back to bed.'

I narrowed my eyes at her in irritation as she looked everywhere but in my direction. I knew they were hiding something from me, and it annoyed me. There was nothing I hated more than being treated like a child. Letting out a groan of frustration I picked up Oscar, turned on my heels and made my way down the corridor, feet thumping heavily on the floorboards.

Reaching my bedroom door, I pushed it open with my foot, Oscar lying curled in my arms. The walls of my room were painted an off white, peeling slightly at the skirting boards. A double bed with a wooden frame was positioned against the left wall. Draped over it, a multi-coloured patchwork quilt. Nestled into the far wall was a marble fireplace. To the right, a large, rectangular window, almost as tall and wide as the wall. Sheer, white curtains accompanied the window, cascading down to the dark floorboards. Large fir trees, lightly dusted with the early winter snow, were partly visible behind the parted curtains.

Placing Oscar on the patchwork quilt, I paced about my room in aggravation, before stopping at the window and closing my eyes. What weren't my parents telling me? And why could I not for the life of me remember that Harper boy? He didn't exactly have a face that was easy to forget...even now as mine were squeezed shut I could see those eyes, glowing behind my lids like burning emerald orbs.

Sighing, I slowly peeled my lids open, staring out at the sea of green and white that was the forest. The sun had begun to seep up from the horizon, casting a vibrant blanket of reds and oranges streaks across the sky. The light flickered off the flecks of snow that had fallen to the forest floor and sprinkled the large fir trees in the night. The forest seemed to span on forever, starting mere meters from the large, white frosted window, and reaching up to the horizon. Something about looking out at it was calming, it always had been. Although winter had begun and the forest floor was now a mushed mixture of dirt, moss and snow, there was something warm about it, something homey. And as I curled up in front of the window, hugging my fluffy pink dressing gown around myself, I let my thoughts drift from that of the boy and the secrets my parents were keeping, to the forest.