Clay nodded and led the way unerringly to Sam. Hopefully, Sam would have the answers I sought.
He and several other men conversed at one of the many sitting areas in the main hall. Charlene and her crew had done a wonderful job decorating. Cornucopias with harvest produce sat on each of the long tables. Several paper cutout turkeys with construction paper hands for feathers hung on the walls. The cubs had obviously partaken in crafts while visiting. It amused me that Charlene insisted on celebrating the US holiday while living in Canada. Her extended adopted family didn’t seem to mind. I could hear women laughing in the attached kitchen. Fresh pumpkin pie perfumed the air.
With his back to me, I noticed the weary slope of Sam’s shoulders. Part of me, the part that lived with him for so long and thought of him as ‘grandpa’, wanted to run over and hug him. I ignored that part.
Before he noticed me, I strode over and interrupted their conversation with a terse, “It’s time we talked.”
He stood to greet me and nodded farewell to the others who got up to move to another group. “Gabby, I didn’t think you’d be up until tomorrow.”
Clay and I shared a glance. The main hall didn’t afford privacy since all the werewolves present could hear me. Then again, very few places in the compound qualified as private to that degree. Not that I cared who heard me, expect maybe the grey-blue werewolves. I did a quick scan of the room and managed to hold back a wince of pain. The sparks all appeared normal. Well, for a werewolf anyway.
Clay gave an annoyed grunt, but gently rubbed my back trying to sooth me. He’d become adept at knowing when I used my gift.
“We came early because two werewolves tried breaking into my house.” I watched Sam closely as I said it.
He looked at Clay sharply. “What?”
Although I hadn’t thought Sam responsible for what happened, I’d still wondered if he might know something about it. But he appeared genuinely upset and concerned by the news.
I frowned at him, still a little peeved about the recent Introduction and holding a grudge.
“He’s still not talking,” I mumbled before slumping down on the closest chair, not minding if we had this part of the conversation in the open. “I believe their intentions were to take me.”
Clay lowered himself into the chair next to me. The armrests of our chairs touched. He always stayed close and I couldn’t imagine it any other way. If it hadn’t been for Clay, the men probably would have taken me. What would have happened then? I thought about the blonde man who’d been lying on the floor and my stomach clenched with worry. My troubled gaze swung to Clay. He met my look with calm brown eyes. Staring into their depths, a tense breath eased out of me. Sure, I had questions, but I wouldn’t let any of them affect the tie we had.
With resolve, I watched Sam move to sit on the sofa across from me.
Maybe I’d be stirring up trouble with my public questioning, but I was tired of waiting. “Is there more than one kind of werewolf?” I asked bluntly.
Sam frowned leaning forward. “Not sure what you mean exactly.”
I thought back to the original challenger, physically he’d looked like any other werewolf. If it wasn’t something Sam already knew, I didn’t think there would be a way for him to differentiate. Only I saw the colors.
Sam watched me closely. I nibbled on my lip trying to remember anything helpful and then thought of the last one I saw on the floor.
“When you go fur, what color variations are possible? Different shades in fur, eyes… what about nose, or nails?”
The door to the commons opened and a few more werewolves drifted in slowly walking toward other groups. While they progressed across the room, they kept their heads titled listening as if already aware of the important conversation occurring in our small group.
“What does this have to do with…” Sam started speaking, but I held up a hand.
“Bear with me Sam. I need answers to give answers.”
Sam turned his attention to Clay and opened his mouth.
“He’s still not talking,” I repeated with a sigh. “Is there another Elder I can talk to?”
I wanted to take my smart words back when Sam’s face fell.
The expression cleared quickly and after a moment, he slowly answered. “Fur is like hair and varies just like a human’s. Same with the eyes. We are more like dogs when it comes to our noses. Mostly dark, but we sometimes have unusual markings. Did you see an identifying mark Gabby?”
I ignored his question, “What about the nails?”
He shrugged and said, “Shades of grey. Mostly a dark grey.”
“Black?”
“Well, like I said, a dark grey is possible.”
“No. I mean black. A very glossy black you could see your reflection in.”
Sam remained introspectively quiet for a full minute. The intense silence claimed my attention. Looking around, I caught the eyes of a few others in the room before they quickly looked away.