Greykin Mountain

| 27 | Strangers

⥐ ⋞ ☽ ⋟ ⥐

Hours passed and Damon wasn't back.

          Jackson stared into the flames of the old fireplace, listening for any sign of the Alpha's return. Alastor and Wesley's indistinct conversation echoed beside him, and the wind whistled quietly outside. However, inside his head, his thoughts were as loud as a thunderstorm.

          If The Herald really was the cause for his flashback, then what did it mean? He frowned, trying to recall his dreams of the nursery, but it was like he was locked behind a jammed door, one he wouldn't be able to break into until this world lost its grip on him. He didn't feel like sleeping, though. After all, he couldn't think while he was asleep, could he? How would he make sense of what he was seeing if he couldn't decipher anything during his recollection?

          With a quiet sigh, he rested the side of his face on his clenched fist and leaned his elbow on his knee. His dream wasn't the only thing perturbing him, though. He glanced over at the red, gold-trimmed flag and stared at the golden A Z symbol. Every time he saw it, the feeling he'd seen it before grew stronger, but it frustrated him—he had no idea where he recognized it from.

          And then there was Damon and Wilson. Jackson knew that if he couldn't convince Damon to help him, he'd be leaving the moment he was ready to navigate Greykin on his own, but he couldn't help but feel despondent about it. He wanted to find his friend—he wanted to find all the people Dawnward seemed to want to forget about, but when he thought about leaving Damon behind—when he thought about walking away from a man he'd fallen for, a man he suspected felt the same as he did, it hurt. A part of him wanted to stick around and see where things with the Alpha might go, but he knew he couldn't. He wouldn't let these feelings impede his search, and if he wasn't able to convince Damon, he'd have to leave him.

         "Nah," came Wesley's voice. "Hey, city boy."

          Jackson looked over at him and Alastor.

          "What was it like?"

          He frowned. "What was what like?"

          "Your first shift," Alastor answered before Wesley could.

          His frown thickened—he wasn't sure whether he felt confused or uncomfortable. "Oh...uh...well—"

          "You don't have to answer," Wesley said, "we were just curious. We've never really been around a bitten wolf walker."

          "Well...what was it like for you?" Jackson asked.

          "Weird," Alastor answered, tapping his hand on the couch's arm. "Liberating. Like I finally understood myself—like this...whole new part of me revealed itself and made everything that didn't make sense, make sense, you know?"

          Jackson nodded slowly—that wasn't what it had felt like for him at all. "It was...painful," he uttered, looking down at the floor. "At first, it kinda felt like I had a fever which kept getting worse. I got this headache, my entire body felt like it was on fire, and then it just...happened. My body...tore itself apart."

          Both Alastor and Wesley glanced at one another.

          "It doesn't hurt anymore, though—when Alpha Damon makes me shift."

          "I guess that makes sense," Wesley mumbled. "We were born with our wolves; I suppose yours had to...bind with your human body. I imagine that sort of thing would feel horrible."