Hunters, Hunted (Wolfblood Fanfiction)

Chapter 2

I am so sorry it's taken me so long to update, life has got properly crazy over the last few weeks and I couldn't seem to get this chapter to a point I was happy with. The plot kicks off in this one...

Chapter 2

Rhydian

Jeffries’ voice drones on in the background about Victorian chimney sweeps, apparently unaware that no one else in the room could care less. On my page, her face materialises in its full red-ruffed glory: perfectly shaped ears, eyes made deep by light, long, elegant muzzle. I draw this wolf almost every day, the memory of it kept fresh by the pain and my dreams, but however much the picture improves it only becomes slowly more and more painful to me. I sit here, pouring my soul onto the paper, and even that isn’t enough to bring her back. There are two types of thing that can happen in a month: a lot or nothing at all, and in the four weeks since Maddy left I’ve learnt fast that a lot can happen as much as it likes and still feel like nothing.

            I’m only aware that the lesson has actually ended when Shannon perches on the desk beside me – empty as it always is nowadays. Tom is right behind her, trying a little too hard to look like he hasn’t noticed the black smudges under my eyes and the tenth drawing of Maddy in a week.

            “We were gonna head to Bernie’s for burgers,” Shan says, sizing up my mental state with those ever intelligent eyes, “if you want to come.” She suggests it because Bernie’s is just about the only thing I haven’t refused to do even once since Maddy left, desperate as I am for meat with the Vaughns forcing vegetarian garbage down me all the time. There’s a slight but tangible tension in the two of them as they wait for my reply. What am I doing to my friends?

            With a shrug I say, “Sure, why not.” The tension eases immediately and all three of us smile: Tom because he’s genuinely happy and Shannon to confirm that I am happy and me to oblige them both. It isn’t fair of me to keep loading my own hunched sorrow onto their shoulders too. I’m not the only one who’s lost a friend.

            We make our way down the corridor to our lockers, shoving what we need for the weekend into our bags, and then out of the main entrance towards the bus stop. The monotony of it all is vaguely sickening at the moment, but as we walk Shannon and Tom keep up a steady stream of jokes and aimless banter. Perhaps they’re playing it up a bit for me, but I appreciate it because, in what has become an increasingly rare occurrence, I find myself smiling at the chitchat on Jeffries and the Ks and how yesterday Tom sprayed Jimmy’s bag with that awful aftershave Bernie sold him. No one mentions that Tom bought the aftershave almost two years ago to try and impress Maddy, and as soon as the thought presents itself I shut it off again. After the torture of last night I think I need to try and enjoy life again, even if it’s only partial, or at least numb my feelings. It’s not possible to survive in the state I’ve been in recently.

            She’s still gone. It’s only been a month and it seems like a century.

            Shut up.

            Bernie’s is alive with the buzz of people it always is on a Friday afternoon, and the three of us get the last table, tucked away in the corner. Despite knowing the menu off by heart and having each decided exactly what we would order the moment this trip was suggested, we go through the ritual of reading through our options and discussing them. It’s a little forced, but comforting. Somehow, Shannon and Tom know exactly how hellish last night was for me out in the woods on my own and know better than me how to counteract it. It’s proof that there are some things I will never learn to anticipate.