Jenna kneaded her dough in silence for a moment. “Almost all of us found our wolves through violence. You knew that, right?”
Lexie watched Jenna’s hands work. “Blythe told me. But she said a lot of crazy things that night. I didn’t really know what to believe.”
“Well, that part is true. Running together helps us remember the gift of survival. What seeing the edge and living does to a woman. I’m changed in many ways since my attack. But of all those ways, my wolf was the one thing that kept me alive.
“I’m not saying you to have to suffer to find your strength,” Jenna continued. “But if you don’t find it when you do suffer, you won’t get out alive.”
Lexie thought back to her first experience of violence, merely, blessedly five months prior, attacked by the full-blood and her all-to-easy surrender. She chuckled at herself out of shame. Sometimes she held that memory in her mind, staring into it as one might a deep canyon. Seductive in its fatality. She shook the memory from her shoulders.
“The change,” Lexie said. “It doesn’t feel good. It makes me feel weak.”
“To be a woman is to change, constantly, frustratingly. Our moods, our weight, the water we carry, the sadness and joy we possess in turn. To be a woman is to be in flux. That’s not the problem. Weakness is always at the joints. I’d guess that your wolf form isn’t weak, just like your woman form isn’t. It’s the inbetween spaces that scare you. The dreamtime. When your consciousness loses shape.”
Lexie pondered this all with heavy nods and jerky chews.
“Wow,” she said. “That was pretty profound.”
Jenna giggled and punched the dough into the bread pans. “It was, wasn’t it? I wish I had a tape recorder. I’ve never said it that eloquently before. Not that I have many people to tell.”
From Hungry Ghost, Book 2 of Tales of the Pack. Back my Kickstarter to get Book 1 delivered to by Christmas. I need to raise $4500 by November 10th and really need your help.