Inhumane

001

PAIGE

"Hey, kid. You going out today?"

I looked up from my sketchbook where I was hard at work sketching the Nightshade plant in its flowering form. My father was busying himself with the fridge, pulling out the egg carton with his lanky hand hardened my work. He always wore this sort of tilt to his lips, like a grin that didn't form completely. "Out where?"

My father was the kind of man you felt proud of as a kid, and not the generic pride every child has for their parents... But on a whole other level. He was my absolute hero, my universe. Maybe it was because I lacked other perspectives, or friends, or trends most children had such as toys. But maybe it was also because my mom was gone and he was all I had. Either way, he meant everything to me, and was often the topic of my every conversation from then out. Rather that was with his colleagues or my boyfriend much later on.

"The ridge. I think it's about time we started paying closer attention to the pack that lives off our backyard don't you think?"

Taking a big mouthful of the fruity cereal I wasn't sure why we had bought in the first place, I contemplated my answer. The pack nearby had kind of been taboo for us, we distanced ourselves because of their close proximity. I was always so curious about them, but I would always abide by his wishes. Always. My father had some sort of superstition on revenge or balance at their paw. So we chose to research further out. Travelling longer distances and camping out. Those trips held some of my best memories. Swallowing the bite, I spoke up. "What about the whole revenge thing? You said they're smart animals, what changed?"

"They are. Never think otherwise, or you're dead."

"So? Why would we go to the ridge then?"

"Because I am ready to see what these wolves are all about. I think I'll take my chances with Mother Nature."

Hell, if Dad was willing to go up against the balance, then he would, and could. So I just merely shrugged, looking down to shade the petals that would be purple if I decided to color them in. This was a vicious plant, one my father collected sometimes, for a reason I never knew.

The reason my father was so enthralled by wolves was one I did not know at the time. Why he studied them so closely or made it his job to know everything about them was beyond me. On our field work trips, we would spend the weekend studying. Yet he would always send me home early with a colleague of his. Never did I get to end the outing with him. This meant to me that the real purpose wasn't for me to know.

I let it be. I had other things to occupy me. Ever since I was young and mother mysteriously dissolved into the trees, I had found ways to keep busy in my lonesome. Spending every waking moment out with dad was always nice.

"Whatcha' drawing now?" He peered over my shoulder and I caught a whiff of his fresh aftershave, another constant for him. "Ah... Nightshade. You remember what I told you about that stuff?"

"Wolves can't tolerate it."

"And?"

"Neither can we."

Pointing his finger at me absently, he nodded. "That's right." I heard a crack and a splash and knew his usual breakfast of eggs with shredded cheese was underway.

Fall was just beginning and my last year of book-significant homeschooling was long past. With the journal I possessed, we had began the real business. I learned what my father wanted me to learn. We lived far too deep into Northern Montana to travel a reasonable distance to a school, so we made do. I enjoyed it very much, it was always nice. Just him, the wolves, and I.