Birchton was almost like a town you’d see on an old postcard. There was a main street with hardly any patrons crossing it. It was almost as if the town had been asleep for many years. There was a run-down theater, an auto-repair shop, and several antique stores with their windows stuffed full of treasures from the past. Mia’s taxi stopped in front of The Petunia, a greasy-spoon diner with a loft above it. Home, at least for now.

  Mia's chunky leather boots felt out of place on the pavement. Everyone around her was dressed in mountain garb, comfortable scarves, thick flannels, denim vests, and hunting pants. Just the sight of Mia's ripped dark jeans and oversized hoodie, and her amber hair now tinged with dark-lowlights, would've pinned her as a city-slicker for sure. Mia told herself that everything was temporary, even though she didn't know what would come after this place.

  “You must be Mia,” A woman’s voice called out. Mia turned to see an old woman dressed in an apron and a plaid shirt walking out of the diner. She had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, and a nametag that read ‘Louise’.

  “That’s me,” Mia said awkwardly, holding out her hand. Louise resorted to patting her firmly on the shoulder, a very masculine form of greeting that she wasn’t used to.

  “Glad you’ve decided to take up the old place,” Louise said. “Though I gotta warn you, most people don’t make it that long, here.”

  “That’s fine,” Mia said. “I don’t plan on staying that long.”

  "Now for this first month you've got to put down a deposit, just in case you break anything," Louise said. "So it'll bring ya to four-seventeen."

  Mia was confused at first, then realized that Louise meant the place would be four hundred and seventeen dollars.

  "Of course," Mia said, digging for her money. She counted it out, instantly worried. She was a hundred dollars short. "I, uh," Mia started, already trying to think of some kind of excuse. Louise eyed the money, taking it from her hands and counting it in front of her.

  "Hmm," she said, which added to Mia's worry. This was the only place where she could stay, and there was no way in hell she would turn around and go back to square one.

  "Tell you what," Louise said as she pocketed the money. She pointed to a paper sign taped to the door of the diner: ‘Help wanted.'

  “You work for me a few days these next couple weeks and we can call the rest paid,” Louise proposed. Mia scanned the inside of the diner, filled with stubbly-chinned men who were eyeing her cautiously. She had never felt so much like an outsider before, but she didn’t have a choice.

  “Sounds good,” Mia said, and soon she was following Louise up a set of crooked splintered stairs.

  After Louise left, it was the first time Mia had truly been alone in a while. She could feel a strange air around her, a deafening silence that lingered in every corner of the loft. The place was just as bad as her old home, in terms of looks. There was a beat-up single mattress on an old frame against the back wall that squealed as soon as she sat on it. She studied the rest of the room. Paintings of deer and other wildlife covered the walls. There was an old fridge, a small camping stove, a tiny counter space, and a small bathroom area the size of a closet. It was almost like a hotel room, Mia thought, but an ugly and overpriced one.

  She paced around, the floor creaking under her weight. It felt as though it could give up any second and she’d fall right through, into the diner below. She carefully unpacked her belongings, hoping to make the space more personal. Only the ornament rested on the bottom of the duffel bag, but Mia decided to leave it, and pushed the bag under the bed. There should have been more money in there too, but this secret deposit had squeezed her funds dry.

  She instantly regretted living above a diner. The smells of the kitchen wafted up from the floorboards, filling up the attic-sized room. There was some classic country cooking being made right under her feet, potatoes and meatloaf, country-fried steak and gravy, and the mouth-watering oily scent of chicken being fried. Mia clutched at her aching stomach, growling at her in anger. She hadn’t eaten a single thing that day.

  She wandered the streets. Everything was closing down right about now, except for the diner. Mia knew she couldn't expect a handout from Louise, not after agreeing to work for her and everything. She walked a little further up the street, where a convenience store was still open.

  The glow of the light from the store lit up her face as she stepped inside. The bell rung as the door swung open. There was a little old lady perched at the counter, her face buried in a gossip magazine. Country music rambled on a creaky radio. The old woman smiled at Mia as she sauntered casually around the store, eyeing the colorful boxes of packaged snacks and fridges full of cold drinks that all promised her a full belly. The chips and candies were beckoning her, as were the packets of instant ramen noodles that she was so accustomed to.

  Mia hated this act, and this wasn’t her first performance. First, she’d do a lap around the store, watching the woman at the front. She scoped out for cameras. Lucky for her, the only ones were pointed at the door and the counter. Without thinking, Mia’s hands grabbed for multiple snacks, whatever she could get her hands on. She was glad she doubled up on her sweater and jacket as she quietly tucked everything into them.

  She got to the counter holding just a few candy bars. The old woman put down her magazine.

  “Hungry, huh?” She joked.

  Mia’s knees were shaking under the counter. She knew it was better to steal and get away with it than try to take things by force. Not that she was the type to hold someone up, but many people in Grey’s circle of friends weren’t strangers to putting guns in people’s faces. Mia’s finale consisted of her patting her pockets, frantically apologizing that she didn’t have her wallet, and making her swift getaway with her new treasures.

  She hated living this way, it only reminded her of what it was like being in the city and of all the horrible things she had to learn just to survive. But she knew that tonight she didn't have a choice. As she lay in bed, her stomach sated, for now, she looked up at the dingy ceiling and wondered if maybe there would ever be a day where she didn't feel like she was running. After that horrible, horrible day, she would always find herself running…

  CHAPTER 2: LONER

  To anyone else, the woods would have seemed as dead as a crypt, with only the sound of the slight rustling of old leaves shaking from their branches. But to the large crouching wolf hiding behind the branches, the entire forest was a hive buzzing with activity. Scents of the blood, fur, and urine of other animals were in the air, flooding the wolf's nose. He was hungry he decided, his instincts roaming free out in his element. His wild-hazel eyes darted across the dark shadows of the trees, searching for something to sink his teeth into. It had been a while since he had hunted, and he was craving the visceral activity of chasing after another living creature.

  At long last, the branches in the distance parted, the rustling leaves echoing in the wolf’s ears. He could sense everything out here, even the pounding heart of the young doe stepping quietly into the clearing. The smell of its flesh was driving the wolf wild. Soon, the forest would provide him with a bountiful feast. He inched closer, keeping his sights on the peaceful deer. It was blissfully unaware of his presence, mindlessly chewing on a blade of grass.

  The wolf stepped closer, dreaming of the taste of the deer's sinuous flesh against his tongue. Its blood would be sweet, and still warm from the kill. He could already feel his mouth watering. He was ready to leap from his hiding place, ready to chase his prey all the way down the mountain if he had to. He took a chance with a great leap as he soared off the ground. But just before his paws could touch down on the leaves again, he froze. The deer did the same, and for one second their instincts were matched. Danger was near. Wolves’ howls filled the forest. The wolf shrunk back from his prey. Not here, he thought. Not again.

  He let it get away. The white rear of the deer bounced back into the trees, never to be seen again. It would soon find a place to hide unless another wolf got lucky and made it its meal. The wolf knew he should hide as well, but not here in the middle of the forest.

  He sprinted towards home, still hearing the chorus of wolf howls in the distance. He could tell the pack was far enough away not to catch onto his scent, but he was still worried. In all of his time living out here, he had never encountered other wolves before, and he didn't want to stay and find out who they were, even though he might have a clue.

  The wolf's feet bounded towards a soft glow peeking out through a cluster of trees. Leaves swept up from under his feet as he ran, faster and faster, trying to escape the rallying cry of the wolves behind him. They must be hunting or marking their territory. This wolf hadn't quite done that yet, though he was itching to keep tabs on what was rightfully his. This was his forest, and he hated the idea of intruders encroaching on it, but if they knew he was here, they could capture him as they once did long ago.

  The glow grew brighter, and soon he could see light seeping from the windows of a small cabin. The wolf stopped at the door, pacing back and forth. Now would be the hardest part of his night. His entire body shook as he felt a swollen shadow pulsing through his intestines. He hunched up, jaws agape as he gagged as if trying to vomit out the curse that was plaguing him. Muscles contracted, tearing from bone as his veins stretched into grotesque shapes inside of him. The wolf whined in agony as he rolled into the dirt, furiously convulsing as his legs spread out behind him. The bones began to shift into place, rearranging themselves until they were straightened. This change inched up the rest of his body, straightening his spine, twisting his neck, and finally his arms.

  With a sharp gasp that filled his lungs, he was alive again. Human again. The man, naked and shivering in the dirt, stood up on his wobbling legs. He braced himself against a pile of wood, coughing violently. It was always strange to shift back, and even after years of being a shifter, he still wasn't quite used to it. There was a strange feeling whenever he turned, as if his very soul was also split in two.

  To him it was a curse, living as both man and animal. Sometimes the soul would remain as one, a human’s tainted with the dark desires that the wolf constantly barraged him with. It wasn’t a voice that spoke to him, or for which he was grateful. But it was always there, this shadowy urge that was hard to fight. It almost consumed him sometimes, the constant demand to run and to hunt. And then there was the most frustrating urge of all, one that often kept him up at night for hours. He needed a mate. He’d ignored this want for so long, but it was unbearably painful to live a life of solitude.

  The cabin was cozy, and warm as always. It was a safe place, the man thought; the perfect place to spend the rest of your life, even though he was only twenty-nine. He walked through the entryway and straight for the bathroom. He needed a shower, bad. The stench of an entire days’ worth of running through the forest was radiating from him. He stepped into the shower, letting everything wash off him. The water steamed over him, relaxing his aching muscles as it dripped over his firm chest. Whatever the wolf did, he would have to pay for it later as a human.

  He leaned his head back, letting the showerhead pour over his face. He closed his eyes, nearly drowning, although he didn't care. He'd been tempted in the beginning, and often since. He used to wonder if a life like this was worth living. But he found himself holding on for something he wasn't quite sure of yet. He knew that there was something waiting for him, it was a strange feeling. Incomplete.

  He watched the black dirt swirl down the drain. He tried not to think about that day again. Not now. He turned off the water and dried himself off in the steamy mirror. Wiping away the grey fog, he looked at himself, as he had already done, dozens of times in this lonely cabin. He brushed his wet tousled hair back with his fingers. His dark-chestnut hair sat just below his ears.

  Still Rowan, he reassured himself.

  Rowan said this often. It was his reminder that there was still a piece of him inside of this monster that he always carried with him. Somehow, it made him feel more human; a form he wished he could have taken for life. Rowan knew there were others like him. After all, he had seen them for himself, albeit briefly. He looked at his rippling stomach in the mirror. His muscles were incredibly toned, from years of running and hunting in the woods. His eyes trailed over his body, inspecting himself.

  He was covered in scars, thick webs of ruined tissue that stretched from his stomach to his throat. They were a reminder of the other monsters that had given them to him, along with this curse, all from that same horrible day. He hadn’t seen her since. He pulled on his knit sweater and once again pushed it from his mind.

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  About The Author

  Amelia Wilson has dedicated her life to writing. She is a firm believer in the power of love to conquer all, and her works reflect this belief. Her paranormal romances are known for their love stories, action and suspense. She creates immersive worlds that are rich in detail and full of emotion.

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