thought before. Whatever
it was had been totally naïve.
And my mother! I don’t know if it’s worse
that she might have been equally as ignorant, or that she refused
to tell me. Stupid, or cruel? I know Mom didn’t grow up in the Wolf
Point Pack. My father and uncles sought out distant branches of the
family tree, those that had long been apart from the pack, and had
some human blood mixed in. When Uncle Frank was feeling mean, he’d
call Aunt Jenny a mutt.
I walk until the cold doesn’t bother me as
much. I walk past gas stations and trailer parks and long stretches
of empty field or crowded forest. I walk for hours. At first my
brain churns through all the clues I ignored, how stupid I am, then
it moves on to how stupid my mother is, then decide she knew but
kept me ignorant, then I forgive her, because she might not have
known, or maybe she didn’t tell me out of some misguided motherly
love, and then I forgive myself because I’ve been lied to. Then I
go through the whole cycle again. I can’t shake the look of
disbelief and–ugh–pity on Remy’s face. Poor girl, too stupid to
realize what’s actually going on. Poor helpless girl.
My fingers dig into my arms. I want to punch
something.
But eventually, slowly, my resolve
strengthens. I’ll show Remy I’m not some poor, stupid little girl.
I can dreamwalk. I can be a spy.
When I return to the motor lodge, the sun has
turned the sky orange and spectacular. It’s nearly 5 o’clock, and
my stomach is rumbling. At the door to the room I pause, wondering
how Remy will react to my return. Who cares? I tell myself to
think. But I do care. I imagine he thinks I’m being a baby, having
a pout, a tantrum. He probably thinks I’m wasting precious time,
and ruining his plan.
I open the door.
He’s lying on the bed, watching TV.
“Really?” I ask.
He looks at me. “Do you want to order
pizza?”
I suppose this is better than him being angry
or impatient or thinking I’m helpless or stupid.
“As long as it’s meat-lovers pizza.” I plop
myself down on the bed near his feet, facing the television. It
takes all of two seconds to identify what he’s watching. “Judge
Judy?”
“She’s one tough broad,” Remy says, grinning.
He rolls over slightly toward me, and my face heats up, but then he
pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket and returns to his
former position. “Can you get me that menu on the desk?”
I smirk at Remy’s couch potato attitude and
get the menu. It’s a local place, and the menu is stained and
crumpled from its time serving hungry hotel guests.
While Remy places the order, I look at the
maps spread out over the second bed. What it looks like is a circle
around my house, my childhood home a target. But a loose circle. A
circle that covers most of Montana and part of South Dakota.
Looking at the mass of red dots, I have no clue where Geo’s pack
might be headquartered.
“Here’s the deal,” Remy says, sitting up.
“I’m not exactly sure how dreamwalking works, and obviously, we
have only a vague notion of where Geo is. What I’m hoping is that
you can somehow cast out and just try to find one wolf. Any wolf
that is a member of his pack. And hopefully you can get some
information from that dream, that might help you find another wolf
that’s a bit closer to Geo. I don’t think you want to get anywhere
close to Geo. If Geo somehow realizes that you’re dreamwalking in
his head, he’ll be fighting over more than a territory dispute and
some females.”
“You think he’ll feel me dreamwalking?” I
ask.
“I did.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been doing it for a few years
and you’re the first. Everyone else just thinks they’re
dreams.”
“I’m not sure what your mother has told you
about Geo,” Remy starts, and I can read between the lines: my
mother might not have known anything, or might have kept everything
from me. “But Geo is very old. I’m sure he knows about dreamwalking
or has heard of it.
it was had been totally naïve.
And my mother! I don’t know if it’s worse
that she might have been equally as ignorant, or that she refused
to tell me. Stupid, or cruel? I know Mom didn’t grow up in the Wolf
Point Pack. My father and uncles sought out distant branches of the
family tree, those that had long been apart from the pack, and had
some human blood mixed in. When Uncle Frank was feeling mean, he’d
call Aunt Jenny a mutt.
I walk until the cold doesn’t bother me as
much. I walk past gas stations and trailer parks and long stretches
of empty field or crowded forest. I walk for hours. At first my
brain churns through all the clues I ignored, how stupid I am, then
it moves on to how stupid my mother is, then decide she knew but
kept me ignorant, then I forgive her, because she might not have
known, or maybe she didn’t tell me out of some misguided motherly
love, and then I forgive myself because I’ve been lied to. Then I
go through the whole cycle again. I can’t shake the look of
disbelief and–ugh–pity on Remy’s face. Poor girl, too stupid to
realize what’s actually going on. Poor helpless girl.
My fingers dig into my arms. I want to punch
something.
But eventually, slowly, my resolve
strengthens. I’ll show Remy I’m not some poor, stupid little girl.
I can dreamwalk. I can be a spy.
When I return to the motor lodge, the sun has
turned the sky orange and spectacular. It’s nearly 5 o’clock, and
my stomach is rumbling. At the door to the room I pause, wondering
how Remy will react to my return. Who cares? I tell myself to
think. But I do care. I imagine he thinks I’m being a baby, having
a pout, a tantrum. He probably thinks I’m wasting precious time,
and ruining his plan.
I open the door.
He’s lying on the bed, watching TV.
“Really?” I ask.
He looks at me. “Do you want to order
pizza?”
I suppose this is better than him being angry
or impatient or thinking I’m helpless or stupid.
“As long as it’s meat-lovers pizza.” I plop
myself down on the bed near his feet, facing the television. It
takes all of two seconds to identify what he’s watching. “Judge
Judy?”
“She’s one tough broad,” Remy says, grinning.
He rolls over slightly toward me, and my face heats up, but then he
pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket and returns to his
former position. “Can you get me that menu on the desk?”
I smirk at Remy’s couch potato attitude and
get the menu. It’s a local place, and the menu is stained and
crumpled from its time serving hungry hotel guests.
While Remy places the order, I look at the
maps spread out over the second bed. What it looks like is a circle
around my house, my childhood home a target. But a loose circle. A
circle that covers most of Montana and part of South Dakota.
Looking at the mass of red dots, I have no clue where Geo’s pack
might be headquartered.
“Here’s the deal,” Remy says, sitting up.
“I’m not exactly sure how dreamwalking works, and obviously, we
have only a vague notion of where Geo is. What I’m hoping is that
you can somehow cast out and just try to find one wolf. Any wolf
that is a member of his pack. And hopefully you can get some
information from that dream, that might help you find another wolf
that’s a bit closer to Geo. I don’t think you want to get anywhere
close to Geo. If Geo somehow realizes that you’re dreamwalking in
his head, he’ll be fighting over more than a territory dispute and
some females.”
“You think he’ll feel me dreamwalking?” I
ask.
“I did.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been doing it for a few years
and you’re the first. Everyone else just thinks they’re
dreams.”
“I’m not sure what your mother has told you
about Geo,” Remy starts, and I can read between the lines: my
mother might not have known anything, or might have kept everything
from me. “But Geo is very old. I’m sure he knows about dreamwalking
or has heard of it.
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