The Wolf Cure

“I’m fine, Averett. You can go. I want you to go.”

Averett huffed. “I’m not leaving, so you better start talking, or it’s gonna be a long night.”

Anger welled up inside of Galen. “This is my home. If I ask you to leave, you should leave.”

Averett leaned closer until their noses were close to touching. “Make me.”

Galen pushed at his chest. Thankfully, he could move his arms without problems. Averett leaned back an inch or two, but no more.

“Why did Ari stop talking?”

The question confused Galen. “What do you mean?”

Averett leaned back some more, relaxing where he was seated. “Ari. He never shuts up. I’ve known him for what… How long since you moved here?” He raised an eyebrow at Galen.

“Eleven years.” Shit, had it been that long? And he was still living in this rickety shed.

“Yeah, eleven years.” Averett studied him for a second. “Eleven years. He was a scrawny thing, half-starved, wandering straight into pack land without a moment’s hesitation. We believed he was a kid at first since he was so thin, but he was well into his twenties.” Averett narrowed his eyes. “They must’ve warned you when you moved here, didn’t they? No psychics on pack land.”

Galen scrunched his nose. “Ari never… He’s always been drawn to canines.”

“I know. We figured it out pretty fast since he could talk to the sentinels in wolf form when they stopped him. Anyone can talk to a wolf, but they could talk back. In wolf form. Some wanted to kill him for trespassing.” Averett grinned. “But Ari isn’t like other psychics.”

Galen nodded, then shook his head. Was yes or no the correct response? He wasn’t like other psychics, and he’d suffered for it all his life. At least until Galen heard of Foolshope and had them make their way here. They wouldn’t move. Galen would sacrifice himself over and over again to give Ari a place here. He didn’t care how many people he would have to heal for them to continue to be accepted.

“So, I’ve hung out with Ari almost daily for eleven years, and he’s never quiet. Never. He talks non-stop.”

Galen smiled. Ari tended to fill the silence.

“Tonight he was quiet. He hardly spoke a word from when we came here till he left.” Averett’s eyes held his. “So what’s going on?”

“He grows silent when he’s worried, and you fell off a roof.” It wasn’t a lie. Ari could be quiet, and he was when he was scared or distressed. He’d been quiet a lot when they’d been kids. Galen gritted his teeth as he was reminded yet again of their parents.

“I believe you. I’ve never seen him as pale or as drawn as he was today, but it didn’t go away once you’d healed me. The danger was over, but he didn’t stop worrying. Why?”

Galen shrugged and ignored the way the motion pained his torso.

“I’m not stupid, Galen. I know you think wolves are one step away from Neanderthals—”

“What the fuck! I never said you were.”

Averett studied his face with narrowed eyes. “Psychics in general think we’re dumb, barbaric, and slaves to our instincts.”

Galen rolled his eyes. It was what their parents had always said, and it was what most people in Foolshope believed too, but it didn’t mean Galen had to think like they did. Ari had talked to animals all his life, and he was more at home with the wolves than he was with the psychics, and if Ari fit in, then they weren’t stupid.

Tilting his head, Averett looked at him some more. “You don’t think I’m a beast disguised in human flesh?”

A small laugh escaped Galen, and Averett’s expression softened.

“You’re a beast all right, but I don’t see how it has anything to do with what you’re doing here.”

“Galen.” Averett reached for his hand, and Galen tried to move away, but strong fingers locked around his. A callused thumb swiped over the sensitive skin on the inside of the wrist. His hand looked tiny in Averett’s, his skin pale compared to Averett’s, and it was covered in tiny scars, whereas Galen looked as if he’d never done a day’s work.

Averett gave his hand a gentle tug. “Tell me what’s going on.”