Page 41 of The Raven's Alpha

Darcy Mortlake

I didn't expect to find myself lost in the midst of a dense forest so quickly when Eddy offered to show me where he grew up. I thought we'd stroll through a charming village like in Everlong, but instead we're immersed in the silence of the woods.

The place is a tiny, wood-fringed anomaly, with no central hub to speak of. It's as if the woods have swallowed up a small, rural community whole, leaving only a few scattered cabins and stalls to peek out from beneath the tree branches. While some residents do own cars, the landscape is so vast that it feels surprisingly deserted, with long stretches of wilderness in every direction.

"I'm captivated by this place, Eddy, but my curiosity is starting to get the better of me - what did you and your friends do for entertainment when you were growing up here?"

He shrugs, “To be honest, there's not much to do. It's a tight-knit community, really. I'd say there are only about two dozen families around here, so everyone knows each other's business. It's a rare occurrence for anyone to venture beyond these woods.”

"So, what's the school situation like?" I ask, genuinely interested.

"When I was a kid, Miss Martha, an omega lady, would gather all of us in one spot every morning. She'd teach us everything we needed to know, from reading to maths to survival skills. Since there were only a handful of us, the classes were cosy and intimate, with plenty of one-on-one attention."

"I've always loved exploring the woods, but I have to wonder, what was it like when you guys got older? I mean, I can imagine a bunch of teenagers would get restless and crave more excitement.”

"I know it's hard to believe, but the teenagers around here are a far cry from the party-hard crowd back home. Here, as soon as you're old enough to choose your role in the pack, you take on responsibilities that suit your strengths. Whether you're an alpha, beta, or omega, you're free to contribute in ways that play to your skills. Want to chop firewood or build shelter? Done. Want to craft something to sell or tend to the cubs or garden? You're free to do just that. It's a refreshing change from the usual high school scene that you see on the television,” he explains.

“And I’m guessing that’s the reason you wanted to come to neutral-lands when you were eighteen?”

"I get it, it can be tough to wrap your head around the idea of living in a place like this," Eddy says, nodding thoughtfully. "But trust me, the shifters here are happy as clams. It's just not for me, though. I remember when Miss Martha first told us about the outside world - all the other kids were convinced that humans were crazy for living by rules and stuff. But I was fascinated. The day I told my parents I wanted to leave, they didn't get it at first, but they've always known I wasn't cut out for this community. They helped me prepare for the move and I'll always be grateful for their support."

When my mate finishes his tale, we meander towards a bench that seems to have grown from the earth itself - a sturdy, rustic log carved into a seat. It's not like any park bench I've ever seen back home, where mass-produced wooden slats are held together with nails. Instead, this bench has a hand-hewn quality, every inch of it crafted with love and care by someone who didn't mind taking their time to get it just right.

It’s beautiful, really.

"What about technology and all that? You phoned your dad from the truck, but I'm curious - did you guys always have phones?"

Eddy's laughter catches me off guard, and I'm taken aback until he clarifies, "We're not completely off the grid. I grew up here in the eighties, when fancy smartphones and expensive laptops weren't a thing. But we did have a landline phone in the cabin, which was a luxury back then. As a shifter community, we've been established in this spot for generations, and we've adapted to the times. We don't have all the latest technology, but we're not completely disconnected from the rest of the world either. The kids might not be glued to their smartphones, but we do have a basic computer set-up in the schooling cabin to help them stay informed and connected."

"That sounds totally alien to me," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "I grew up in the nineties, and by the time I was a teenager, smartphones and laptops were already the norm. My family's financial situation definitely played a role in our access to technology, but I was still part of the mainstream human world. I wasn't spoiled or anything, but I shared the same experiences as most teenagers. The only difference was that I happened to have wings and could fly. I'm starting to feel like my parents kept me sheltered from places like this," I say to my mate. "I realise now that I'm more human-like than I thought."

Eddy slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. The familiar scent of his skin and the warmth of his body envelop me in a comforting embrace. "It is what it is, darling," he says softly. "We're just different, and that's okay. I love my life in Everlong, and I don't feel like I missed out on anything by growing up in Grizzly-Fields. In fact, I feel grateful to have had the freedom to make my own choices about what I wanted to do with my life."

“Unlike the omegas in non-neutral lands?”

“Yeah...”

We break into comfortable silence, our embrace still warm and intimate on the bench. Occasionally, a grizzly bear ambles by, nodding its shaggy head at us as it passes. Eddy exchanges friendly hellos with the passing shifters, his recognition of old acquaintances a testament to his remarkable memory. I'm struck by his ease in this new environment, the familiarity he seems to radiate like a beacon.

When the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, my stomach growls in protest, and the crisp evening air starts to seep into my bones, despite my shifter physiology that normally keeps me warmer than a full-blood human.

Eddy's voice is laced with a hint of concern when he says, "We should head back, Mother will be frantic if we're late for dinner. Let's go." He offers me his hand, helping me to my feet.

We return to the cabin within ten minutes, and after a quick wash-up, we're seated around the table. Henry, Eddy's brother, beams a warm welcome our way, while Millie extends her hand to me with a friendly smile. Eddy's expression changes as he realises he already knows the man standing before us. "Charlie? Your mate is Charlie?" He chuckles and shakes his head, the tone being more ‘no kidding’ than condescending.

Millie's voice is bright and cheerful as she sings out, "Surprise!" to her brother.

Eddy's tone is laced with frustration when he asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

As the conversation drags on, it's clear that Millie's not the only one getting frustrated. Henry chimes in, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he says, "Get over it, brother. You weren't left out on purpose, maybe Millie just wanted toactuallysee you in person, so she could share the news."

‘Ouch,’ my raven announces in my head. While I agree with Henry’s sentiment, I think he could have phrased it more tactfully and kinder.

I sense the pang of longing in Eddy’s heart. His family remains here in Grizzly-Fields, while he now calls our humble abode home. I subtly slide my hand under the table, intertwining my fingers with his. I'm acutely aware of Eddy's sensitivity, and I don't want his brother's words to stir up unwelcome emotions.

The room falls silent, but it's a welcome reprieve from the tension that had been building. His father's attempt to fill the void with conversation comes as a relief. As the family's banter and laughter begin to flow once more, I steal a glance at Eddy, my concern for his well-being growing. I nudge him gently and whisper, “Hey, are you alright?” in his ear.

His smile is a faint, tremulous thing, and his nod is hesitant, but I sense the effort he's making to reassure me. Still, I'm not fooled – the tension in his eyes tells a different story.