*Ainslee*
My sock is wet.
It’s really not a surprise. I have a hole in my boot, and it’s been raining on and off for nearly three weeks now. Everything is gray. The sky. The muddy earth. Even the buildings. No one in my village has any money to paint anything. Everywhere I look, I see nothing but gray. Miserable, bleak, sickly gray.
“Ainslee?”
Lenny’s voice brings me back to reality. I turn and look behind me where he holds his place in the line outside the bakery. Most days, we end up giving blood at the same time, so we find ourselves standing here together as well. I don’t mind. He’s one of the few people in this town whose company I somewhat enjoy.
“Did you hear what I asked you?” He has that goofy grin on his face, like he knows the answer already. No, of course, I didn’t hear what he asked me. I was in my own little world as usual.
“Sorry.” I shrug, the exhaustion I’ve been carrying around in my bones beginning to radiate up to my brain. I’ve given so much blood this week, I’m probably running on empty myself.
“I asked how your mother was feeling this morning,” Lenny repeats, running a hand through his dark hair. He’s a lot taller than me, so I have to tip my head up to see his brown eyes. “She feeling any better?”
Every day, Lenny asks me how my mother is doing, and every day I tell him she’s about the same, maybe a little worse. Today is no different. I shrug. “Lots of coughing this morning, but no puking, so that’s something.”
“Good. Maybe she’ll be able to hold the bread down then.” He’s optimistic, something I like about him. We’ve known each other our entire lives. Went to school together. Now that we are nineteen, we are both required to do community work to help out our fellow citizens of Beotown or find a job. It’s difficult to get steady work these days, and I have two younger siblings and a sick mother to take care of, so I help with garbage collection each morning before I go in to donate blood. Wolf shifters can give blood a lore more frequently than most other species, but it’s still draining—literally.
“Maybe Mom will hold the bread down,” I finally say, but I’m distracted now by more than just the loss of vital bodily fluids. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself and not feel nauseated, and I smell it again, even more intently now. Turning to Lenny, I ask, “Do you smell that?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Smell what? All I smell is you, Ainslee.”
I roll my eyes. “So you smell sweat and clothes that haven’t been properly laundered for months because we can’t afford soap?” I shake my head at him, pulling my dark blue cloak closer around me. It had been my mother’s at one point. The thread is so bare, parts of it are practically translucent, so it doesn’t do much to keep out the autumn chill. Properly nourished wolf shifters are rarely cold. Those on the brink of starvation, like most of my pack, are often chilly. Also, few of us can actually still shift for the same reason.
Not that I am old enough. When I turn twenty in a few months, then I should be able to. Likewise, I will be able to pick up on my mate’s scent. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one. Do I really want to find true love in this miserable world?
“What do you smell?”
My mind wanders when I’m hungry, and right now I’m famished. I haven’t eaten in two days. Also, did I mention the loss of blood?
I turn to look at Lenny, wondering how he hasn’t picked up on that iron-like, aluminum scent that tinges every breath I suck in. “They’ve gotta be close by.”
The line moves up, so Lenny gestures for me to take a step forward, which I do, backward, and then wait for him to respond. He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not? They’re always poking around, trying to see what else they can take from us.” I spin around to face the front of the line a little too fast and get woozy. Lenny puts a hand on my arm to steady me. I feel nothing, only ambivalence. It’s a shame because he’s a good guy. I’ve heard some girls at school talk about tingles of electricity when certain boys touch them, but I’ve never experienced anything like that.