(Un)bidden (Judgement of the Six #4)

“You’re unusually upset. Didn’t you sleep well?”


“I slept fine,” I said, turning to look at the clean clothes in my dresser. I’d done laundry yesterday. The men had finished the windows and planned a junk yard run again today to see if they could find anything they could repair and send with Winifred to sell. I had absolutely nothing to do. Not only that, but as I’d anticipated, I saw very little of Mary. Thomas checked in on me often but mostly stayed outside doing whatever he did. I was lonely.

“Thomas,” I turned toward him, “I’m...bored.”

“You just lied.”

With a sigh, I sat on the bed.

“I’m lonely.”

He sat next to me, his arm barely touching mine, and looked down at his hands.

“Do you miss your family?”

“I try not to think about them,” I said. Yet even saying that brought forth the image of my parents. “But when I do, I miss them so much it hurts.”

“Will you go back to them?”

“No. Never. I love them too much.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you stay. You have family out there and miss them. Here you’ve been attack repeatedly, are resented by many, protected by a few...why stay?”

He turned and looked at me, his focused gaze unnerving me. I kept my mouth shut.

“I think you’re hiding here because of what you can do,” he said after several moments of silence.

My heart felt as if it were trying to escape out of my throat.

He nudged me a little.

“None of that. No one is going to make you leave because you’re different. In fact, that’s a strong reason to let you stay. You’re not just human. You’re more. Don’t be afraid to show that you can move things with your mind.”

Is that what he thought I’d done? My stomach chose that moment to growl.

He cleared his throat and stood.

“I have a surprise for you. But it means spending the morning with me. I’ll feed you first,” he said.

I followed him downstairs and excused myself for a moment alone with the washbowl and bucket. When I rejoined him, he had two bowls on the table, and I was surprised to see a carton of milk there, too.

“Milk?”

“It is. Did you know after we wean, we typically don’t drink milk again? It’s not necessary. We seem to get what we need from the animals we eat. Winifred believes it’s because in our other form, we tend to eat it all.”

Not a pleasant topic before breakfast. He motioned for me to sit.

“So I was a bit surprised to learn humans drink milk their entire lives. And tend to eat more vegetables than meat,” he said.

I looked down at my bowl and saw a familiar and well-missed sight. Flakes with a touch of sugary coating.

“Cereal?” I asked in disbelief. He nodded and handed me the milk. I poured too quickly in my excitement and spilled a bit on the table. I didn’t stop to wipe it up. Instead, I grabbed my spoon and took a large bite. The milk was tepid but it didn’t take away from the delicious taste.

“Mmm.” It was the only sound I made for the next minute. With an amused gleam in his eyes, Thomas sat across from me, watching as I devoured the cereal.

Even while drifting from town to town, I hadn’t managed such a simple treat. It had been too long. I slowed down to savor the last half, unsure how long it would be until I could have more.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked when I noticed his bowl remained untouched.

He reached for the milk and neatly poured a measure into his bowl. I watched him closely as he took his first bite. His brow drew down and mouth puckered in distaste.

“You don’t like it?” I couldn’t believe he’d prefer whole rabbit over sugared flakes.

He finished chewing and swallowed.

“It’s different.”

I grinned at him, took another bite of my cereal, and tried to figure out a comparison to the taste before I swallowed.

“Haven’t you ever had honey? You’ve had to come across honey bees out there.”

“We’re wolves, not bears.”

My startled laugh almost lost me the bite of cereal in my mouth. I quickly finished chewing. “If you don’t want to finish it, I will. Where did it come from? Is there more?”

He pushed his bowl toward me.

“I have made a few trips to the junk yard, collecting those coins from the seats of old cars. When I had enough, I went into town.”

“Like that?” I eyed his bare chest.

He shook his head.

“Winifred warned me that I’d need a shirt and shoes. Why would anyone want to wear those on their feet?”

“Shoes protect our feet. Humans aren’t as sturdy as you are.”

“I’m learning,” he said.

“You are,” I agreed. He was learning what it meant to be human, and I knew it was because he hadn’t given up hope of Claiming me. It warmed me to know that he’d taken what I’d said seriously.

He waited patiently as I finished both bowls of cereal and while I washed them. Then he brought me outside.