Black Flies

VIIII: Black Flies On The Windowsill

Julian Owen was shot on the clear night of June 16th by the blaze of the monthly full moon. He died a brutal, painful death by two bullets, one to the shoulder and one to the throat. Without Marcus by his side, he was vulnerable among the night moors with clean fur as vibrant white as snow. Without warning as well, the alpha had found himself wandering uninterrupted into the path of a seasonal deer hunter on the way to the howling rock, his pack just footsteps behind him when the rifle verbalized. He carried on walking without a limp until his body collapsed underneath him, taking three-hundred pounds along with it into the soft, moist grass below his paws. He was buried the night he died amongst Winston, under the grand oak tree where his parents had been laid to rest just years ago protecting the pack. An offering of elk bones, fresh pine sprigs, white and yellow daisies and more were placed above the heap, the proper burial for a leader.

The pack carried on as usual after the death of their alpha. Ted was granted his rightful place as leader, choosing Georgie as his mate and Ben and Marcus to stand beneath him. Although Marcus was proud of the position he held amongst the pack, grief never allowed him to seize the power available. Greycrest was said to have flourished after the removal of Jools, tales of the building of a new manor and expansion towards the east of the Epping being successful. Of course, it could never be proven, but a little bird once told Andrew Davie that the pack was in the greatest spirits since werewolves came to howl in the highlands south of the grandest city in the world.

Davie left the morning after Jools' death. He attended the burial gladly, Ginger by his side. The two had packed up the mere objects they owned; clothes, linens, the beta's guitar, and his records, and set to finding a better life along the Thames. They slept in the truck bed for a week before Andrew was offered a place in the attic above his now-manager Kev Jones' flat for an exchange of his musical talent three nights a week. The space was small and quaint, a view of the river visible from a mere peer out of the window, and it was the loveliest gift either the man or the woman could've received in a million moons. And, the man didn't really mind if his housemates were werewolves- he locked the door to the rest of the house every evening.

They decorated their little room with the intention as if they were staying forever, ignoring the fact that they planned to get their own flat when the man acquired enough money after purchasing food and basic necessities. A queen-sized mattress was left for them by the old owners of Kev's flat, and old quilts and sheets were available for them to use from the linen closet. Davie had his guitar and his record player displayed in the corner. Ginger had a pile of blankets to lay on and an ever-brewing pot of coffee to drink. Ted had even mailed some pictures to his favorite beta after learning he was living in the city; a few photos of the whole pack included, with a small message on the back reading "Even if you don't find real family in London, remember us, for we're your family too."

As they had the days to do whatever they wanted to do, Davie was set on teaching his girlfriend to read and write. She started with simple phrases, learning to spell her name and her new surname, the same as his. With work and frustration, the werewolf could make out a small sentence at the end of the first month, handwriting becoming less sloppy every day. Ginger could breeze through a children's book easily, but she was having more trouble with the hefty novels her boyfriend read throughout the day. With time, he promised, she would be an excellent reader and writer like her partner.

Davie tried to teach her to play guitar, but that was harder than any children's book on any library shelf. Ginger preferred to lay in front of the window when she was in her wolf form, staring at the tourists passing by, barking at the occasional squirrel who taunted her. In her human state, in which she was working violently hard to learn to keep longer than a few days, she enjoyed taking long naps on the big bed in the sun and listening to Davie practice his songs. She also liked to kiss him, and make love to him, but that was to be saved for the evenings after dinner where the two weren't so caught up in other work that they could enjoy each other's presence to the widest extent.