Page 68 of Wanted
CHAPTER 18
Emery
“Thank you again Dr. Bryant for all you’ve done for me,” I thank the director of my internship. I’ve decided to officially withdraw.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out this summer. If you’re ever in need of a reference, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Given all of the changes in my life in such a short period of time, and the fact that I’ve promised to remain here among the Nightwolf pack for the next few weeks, I won’t have time to complete my internship.
Oddly, though, I don’t feel the sadness I thought I’d have. Instead, I’m excited for the project I’ve decided to work on while here at the commune. I’m not entirely convinced that I will shift during the next supermoon as Chance believes.
However, with Ashley safe at home and time on my hands, I’m going to put my anthropology skills to use in other ways. I’ve decided to create a historical reference for the Nightwolf pack. In the time I’ve been here, Ms. Elsie and a few other elders have shared with me a lot of the pack’s history.
Up until now, this information has only been kept orally, through storytelling.
My plan is to document the histories and stories of the pack and present it to their alpha and the rest of the pack as a gift for allowing me to remain among them for the time being.
I peer at the time on my phone and quickly forget all about my internship. I’m going with Ms. Elsie and a few others into town for some supplies I need for my project.
The doorbell for Chance’s house goes off. Technically, it’s not a bell since it doesn’t actually make a sound. Instead of an actual bell, a red light blinks off and on whenever someone presses the outside button.
When I asked Chance about it, he shrugged and made some comment that it works better for him.
“Coming,” I call out, guessing that it’s Ms. Elsie.
I open the door to find her and two other women wearing eager expressions.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, shutting the door behind me.
“Now tell me, what is it that you want to purchase again?” Ms. Elsie asks.
“Some notepads, a tape recorder and if I can find one, a small tablet.”
“What do you need all of that for?” Linda, one of the other women with us. She, like Ms. Elsie, is one of the older females of the pack.
“I want to create a recorded history for you all. Since your history has been passed down from one generation to the next via word-of-mouth, there’s very little written about your world. Which is not a bad thing at all,” I say, holding up my hands in the typical ‘I mean no harm’ gesture.
“It would benefit future generations if they have these resources that talk about your history, important events that shaped your pack. I’m a huge believer in reading and knowing about the past can greatly shape our futures,” I tell them.
Ms. Elsie stops sharply.
Her movement causes me to pull up short less I run directly into her.
“Kind of like a storyteller?” Ms. Elsie cocks her head to the side as if she’s asking herself this question.
“Uh, I suppose so, but I’m?—”
“Yes, our pack hasn’t had a storyteller in quite some time,” Linda adds.
Ms. Elsie’s lips flatten before she answers, “Our last one died in the war. The same warring that killed our alpha and beta’s parents.”
“The storyteller before that was killed in a raid.”
“Then there was the one who was kidnapped by the witches and tortured for everything she knew.”
My head spins as the women talk about the fates of their past storytellers. “Excuse me?” I interject. “I-I don’t understand.”