To Walk Alone

- home -

- Jake -

The Anderson Mountain Pack was nestled into the foothills of the Anderson Mountain itself.  It was located at the head of Anderson Creek just west of the Montana border.  The pine covered mountain was isolated and as they drove to the edge of the paved road, they hit a well-kept gravel drive that turned off of the pass.  The road wove its way around the landscape and Sif imagined it would be a difficult road to navigate in the winter months. 

The two-mile-long driveway came to end at the Anderson Mountain packhouse.  Half an hour from the nearest town, the packhouse was tucked peacefully away from humans in the foothills of the mountain. Surrounding it, thousands of acres of wooded terrain provided the pack plenty of coverage to live their lives in peace.  It was the perfect setting. 

The gravel drive turned back into pavement the closer they got to the property, and when they rounded the bend, they came upon a sight many would probably never expect.  The cobblestone roundabout driveway was lit with lamps on either side, as were the various walkways branching off of the main drop off point. 

Three vehicles came to a stop in front of the house and Jake turned off the ignition.  He sat back in his seat and looked over at the sleeping frame of his new mate.  For the last couple of hours, she slept peacefully despite the slightly rough roads, thanks to the makeshift sweatshirt pillow under her head.

He still held her hand, though her arm went limp a long time ago.  Her shallow breaths were all that he could hear in the cab of the truck now that the engine was silent.  His fingers itched to remove the bracelet she was wearing and inhale her delicious scent.  His nostrils flared on their own, and he caught the smallest fragrance of vanilla.  Maybe it was best that she was still wearing the vervain. If he'd been stuck inside the cab of the truck with her heavenly aroma, he doubted he would have been able to concentrate on driving at all. 

Her head was tilted to the right, resting against the frame of the truck, exposing the nape of her neck.  He longed to bury his face in the crook of her shoulder and breath her in, mark her, and ravish her all at once.  Unable to help himself, he released her hand and reached out to brush his fingers over the smooth skin of her cheek.  His eyes fell back to the crook of her neck.  His mouth was starting to water just as she began stirring in her seat, and her black hair fell over her shoulder as she sat up; breaking the spell she unknowingly cast upon him.  He pulled his hand away and intertwined his own fingers together tightly in his lap. 

Did she know how easily she could break him?

"Welcome to the Anderson Mountain packhouse," he announced, cutting through the silence that surrounded them in the cab. 

She straightened in her seat and looked around.  Her mouth fell open as she took in the once grand hotel turned packhouse, and she actually gasped. 

"This is the packhouse?" 

Jake grinned.

"It's...it's a hotel?"

"Used to be the Anderson Independence Hotel.  It went out of business in 1905 and was sold to my family shortly after.  My great, great grandfather bought it and turned it into a packhouse.  We were much smaller then, but you could say we've grown a bit since taking it over."

"Grown a bit?" Sif gave a hollow laugh.  "This place is huge!"

"Wait till you see the inside," Jake grinned, but Sif only gaped and shook her head in disbelief. 

The front of the hotel...or packhouse...was painted white with deep green shutters.  Hundreds of tall windows – some lit and some dark– covered the face of the building.  Lamps lit up the grand covered entrance. The heavy wooden doors were etched with two wolves howling toward the sky. Sif had never seen a packhouse quite like this before.