Part 2 - Chapter 1
AN/ Yvaine is a name with scottish origins. As far as I know, it means “evening star” or “the first star of the night”
“Yvaine”
A familiar voice began to penetrate my unconsciousness.
“Yvaine, my star.” Once again, there was the same comforting voice with a light caress on my forehead. My eyes tried to blink open but were too sticky from tears shed before bed.
After a few tries, I managed to make out a blurry shape in front of me.
“Grandma?” I was dazed. Surely, it had to be a nice dream that brought me back to Scotland. Why should Grandma be here with me in my student apartment in the United States without an ocean in between? Then, memories like lightning flashed in my awakening brain …
Five time zones and two semi-discussions later, Lachlan and I had landed in our homeland. A large group of were-people, including uncles, aunts, grandparents, and uncountable cousins awaited at the gate, along with loud cheers, laughter, and ‘boa constrictor’ hugs. For the past two days, I had forgot all about the heavy luggage back at home and really enjoyed the moment, the ‘here’, the ‘now’, with my Scottish family.
“Oh, welcome back to the living world, Rionnag!” I let myself be hugged, sighing with a slight headache.
(AN/ Rionnag means ‘star’ in Scots Gaelic)
“Morning, I’m awake” I cleared my dry throat, before getting used to the darkness around us. “What time is it?”
“5 o’ clock. Come on, we have a lot to catch up.” She stood up after a kiss on the cheek. 4.30am was the time our grandparents always woke up, every single day of the year. Grandpa always declared it was important to wake up before cockcrow and before the sunlight punched the land.
“Your breakfast is ready, and your seanair is waiting for you.”
(AN/ ‘Seanair’ means grandfather in Scots Gaelic)
I grinned happily as I snuggled in the pillow, as a sort of ‘auto-cuddle’, breathing in the smell of sage. Always loved that room. It had captured a distant childhood; invisible photos of memories hung everywhere I looked.
After a good body stretch, I left the blanket nest and headed for the bathroom, washing my face, and removing the fossil of tears.
“Oh, haló Rionnag.” Grandpa was still the current Alpha, refusing to step down, arguing that age and aging were entirely subjective concepts, that every person aged at different paces. And my eldest uncle was also in charge of the pack to help him out.
As every morning for years, grandfather read the newspaper ”Herald Paipear“. It was delivered at 4 o’clock sharp, together with bottles of fresh milk, as in the old days.
“Hey, good morning!” I went to kiss him on the cheek and sat next to him, in the place my mother always used to sit at our family dinners. She had never refused to sit anywhere else, always next to her dad, to his right.
His pale skin and sharp features were barely affected by the passing of time. Those blue eyes, like mine and my brother’s, examined me. It was like mirroring myself in them; they had the exact shape and colour tone… perhaps they carried more knowledge and had witnessed roughness that I would never have witnessed.
Grandpa and I were fighting different battles: I fought leukaemia and cancer, while Grandpa fought the growing numbers of rogues and rival packs.
He passed me half of the newspaper and I grinned as I took it and started reading, sipping my coffee. Part was in Scottish Gaelic, which I had learned as a child.
“Rough night?” He flicked the page after licking his finger, looking at me before eating some of his haggis.
What was better than nourishing sheep’s pluck to start the day?
“Just a little jet lag… is Lach awake?”
“Aye, Lachlan is with Clyde.”
Clyde was one of my notorious ‘boyfriend-killer’ uncles, one of the four brothers of my mother.
“So, grandpa, have you done your yearly check-ups already?” First things first. The man in my family seemed to be allergic to doctors and ‘prevention’ was an alien, sort of scary word.
“Ah Rionnag, you know me.” He waved at me dismissively,
“A portion of haggis and a shot of Bane per day send the doctors away”.
I was going to fix that within the week, bringing him to the pack hospital with me so he could do all the health checks he was meant to do at his age. And he knew it was doomed to happen, though he still tried to change subject, hoping I would forget.
We chatted a little about my university and my wolf before THE Question (with capital Q) was nicely put:
“Do I need to shoot the boy?”
I tried to distract myself from his question and the image of a handsome blond werewolf that came along with it. Though it was not easy. Logan/ Rudolph had made his way in my heart through phone calls, silver eyes, and mockeries, taking up most of the space. Taking and invading the arteries of my heart without asking permission or knocking.
“No, it’s not necessary, I can deal with the situation.”
Grandpa, a man from a time gone by, never ceased to amaze me at just how modern he could be. For example, he had always considered males and females indisputably equal. So, he completely trusted me when I said I could handle.
“Thank you Gealaich*, I did not really want to leave Scotland.” He had never left the country, not even when our baby brother Ian was born, though at the time there were issues with some rival packs.
(AN/ Gealaich means moon in scots gealic. He referred to Moon Goddess, thanking her that he does not have to go to the USA to shoot Logan.)
The fact that he would leave Scotland just to shoot Logan for me was overly sweet.
“You’re too skinny,” He said at one point during breakfast, “Here, get some protein and some good fat.” A large portion of sheep’s stomach was poured onto my plate and I accepted gladly since my wolf loved it.
Everyone knew I had found my mate, but surprisingly no one had bothered me much last night during our welcome dinner with all the family, neighbours, and closest friends. My parents were obviously worried, but they realized I needed time and space. I also made my father promise that he would not go to Dark Diamond or confront Logan or Logan’s father. Though I felt guilty for not giving him a good excuse to argue with him. Apparently, back in the day, our fathers had been ferocious rivals on and off a wereball arena.
“Rionnag? Ready to go?” Grandma entered the dining room, dressed in camouflage clothes and a shotgun hanging from her shoulder. Barely 60, with years spent battling rogues on the front lines, my grandmother was not your typical definition of grandma, nor the sweet Red Hood granny who let the big bad wolf eat her. My grandma, on the other hand, had punched and submitted the big alpha wolf to her will.
“Yes! Let me go and brush my teeth, I’ll be right back.” After a peck on the cheek to grandpa, a brief stop in the bathroom, and changed into similar clothing, Grandma and I headed for the woods.
“Where’s your gun?”
“I’ll let you do it for today,” I said, hiding my smile.
Grandma went hunting in her human form twice a week. It was another tradition we had. It all began when a friend of grandfather declared that women cannot hunt, unless in their wolf form. Well, that same day grandmother came back dragging a male deer by the horns with one hand, and a wild boar with the other. She left the two beats right in front of grandpa’s study, simply telling the two gaping men that dinner should be ready at 6.30pm, suggesting they should start cooking right away, and that the blood on the floor must be cleaned, as it was not hygienic.
“So,” She began pulling up her sleeves and adjusting her hat, before checking the rifle with one eye closed and blowing inside. Glancing at me, she asked “Who is the wolf that made you run away?”
I turned around so fast I almost fell over.
“What made you think-”
“Tsk, tsk, come on, I’ve known my favorite granddaughter long before she even knew she existed!”
The woods were dense and familiar. The air was thick with history and if you listened carefully you could still hear the cries of the past battles echoing in the peaceful present.
“Don’t hide anything from your grandmother, ok Rionnag?”
“I won’t,” I assured her, returning her hug.
“Ok, let’s get to the point.” She pointed the finger at me, “Have you already mated? I don’t see any mark.”
“Straight to the point” was a fine skill that ran in the family. Along with the mandatory requirement of ‘having to share every little detail’.
“No, we never really talked in person.” I frowned, “Well, we did when I thought it wasn’t him... and it was just over the phone…. It should count right?”
She giggled and I began to tell the whole story. My mate and I had some history, though more than history, it felt like prehistory with so many things happened in between. In the end I felt so much better. Talking about it with Lachlan was liberal, with my grandmother it made me re-analyze the whole picture.
“I like this Rudolph.” The verdict was declared.
“He has that kind of sense of humour enough to keep you from getting bored after decades together. Do you know how precious that is?”
My grandma had not even met Logan and was already his lawyer! She had an excuse for everything he did….
“Oh come on now, would you prefer an inexperienced virgin who hides behind his mother’s skirts every time a girl smiles at him?” I had to blink a couple of times before I laughed.
“Being in different relationships for a few years, or months, and then breaking up because they’re not your soulmate is much worse! It shows that you are afraid of being alone and avoid knowing yourself. At least the boy proves he knows how to be alone and independent, without clinging on someone else.”
Grandma had a point. But when did not she?!
“Does the lad play wereball?”
“He is actually the captain of his university team.” That did not seem to impress her. Mom and my uncle were the captains, as well as Lachlan.
“From his very first year,” I added with a small smile and little proud of him. Granny whistled, stroking her chin, “Very good, very good indeed. Is he a pretty boy?”
I shook my head giggling, “What do you think?”
“How firm and round his ass is, on a scale of one to ten?” I groaned as she smiled innocently. “Okay, I’ve never, um, tested it, but from the look… 11!”
Grandma and I continued to discuss and talk about Logan. As much as Grandma was already on team Logan, especially after I told her when Logan beat Alex up, she admitted that omissions and lies were rotten roots to be eradicated as soon as possible before the whole forest would be contaminated.
Now, we were dragging a boar and a few hares, me walking naked after shifting into my wolf to hunt. We sat down in a small clearing and I began gathering wood for a fire.
“The truth, Grandma, I’m afraid”, I admitted bluntly, “He lied to me for too long, he hurt me. As much as I can put stitches on deep wounds, I am doubtful. What if he breaks my heart in half, beyond repairable, even by mistake? What happens if-” But I was interrupted by her exclamation.
“Exactly, Rionnag! What if!" She shook her head. “I raised you better than this! We are the descendants of the warrior wolves. We do not do ‘what ifs’ in our family, we live with the ‘let’s do’, we dive in, we take all the chances that life and the goddess have given us as!! And, also, those chances that they did not give us, we take them anyway.”
She started skinning the fur from the animal with her knife after I wore some clothes hidden in the woods.
“Do you mind if I lay a dose of truth on you?”
I nodded, knowing that she would no matter what.
“If he ends up hurting you, I’m fairly sure you can beat him yourself. Not to mention the army of my crazy children, your twin, that grandfather of yours who would not hesitate to torture him for life.”
She chuckled with me as we cut some slices of meat to place on the fire.
“And you were right to leave. Your mate seems stubborn and slyly intelligent. With a strong personality. You have to whip him into shape right away!”
I could not help but laugh. “Interesting choice of words and very correct!”
“But that doesn’t mean you won’t have to confront him and let him explain. There must be a reason behind his omission.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but I could see on this matter it would not do me a bit of good.
“Besides, I need grandchildren before I get old, and this could happen soon if your grandfather keeps pestering to marry him.”
My grandmother had never accepted his offer after 40 years, saying that he had to deserve it first.
We headed back, side by side. When we parted, grandma’s last words echoed in my head for the rest of the day...
“Do me a favour, my Rionnag. Let yourself off the hook for those things over which you have no control.”
AN/ How exciting!!!! :D When do you think Lucien will come?!
Next update on Thursday, and every Thursday from now on!