Page 7 of The Howl
“Sweetie, it breaks my heart to see you like this.”
I smiled and glanced down at my arms, purposely misunderstanding her.
“The scrapes aren’t that deep,” I said. “I promise I’m fine. Fenris is fine, too. He just smelled my blood and was worried. I should really clean this up. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I fled before she could stop me.
Back in my room, I avoided my reflection and stripped from the dress to take care of all the scrapes. If I were well-fed, they probably would have healed already. But I wasn’t. So I dabbed the cuts and tried not to pay attention to my heightened eyesight. It wasn’t easy when every pore and fine line in my skin stood out so vividly.
Thankfully, Mrs. Quill didn’t come to my room to press me further, and I changed into my pajamas in peace. I was grateful for the home she and Mr. Quill opened to me, but I didn’t need another well-intentioned lecture on feeding myself. I needed understanding. I needed Megan.
Glancing at the clock, I debated. She’d only left this morning, and I didn’t want to be the needy type of friend who would bug her hours after leaving. Talking to her could wait until tomorrow.
Knowing it would be a long time before I fell asleep, I cautiously opened the door to the entertainment room and went to the refrigerator.
With a bowl of double-chocolate brownie chunk ice cream in my lap, I did my best to drown my sorrows and soothe my hunger. However, the horribly unrealistic vampire movies filled with the blood and action that I usually loved did nothing to distract me, and my hunger continued to plague me.
By midnight, I had a stomach ache from too much ice cream and a heavy heart. Setting the empty container aside, I reached for my phone and dialed Megan. She picked up after a few rings.
“You officially broke your promise,” I said. “It’s after midnight. You said you would check in daily, and I didn’t get a call yesterday.”
“The day I left doesn’t count,” she said with a laugh in her voice.
“Sure, start bending the rules already. So, what’s it like having freedom?”
I heard a rustle on the other end of the phone.
“Knock it off,” she said, slightly muffled.
“Do I even want to know what Oanen’s doing?” I asked.
“Not Oanen. A brownie named Piepen is messing around with some guy’s eye.”
I sat up.
“A brownie?”
“Yeah, long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
“I let him out of a cage, and now he’s following me.”
In the background, I heard a high-pitched voice claim he wasn’t following her but helping her. Then a lower voice argued about who got to take care of Megan’s house. I started to snicker.
Less than twenty-four hours out of Uttira and Megan already had creatures fighting over her.
“Two of them?” I asked. “What are you going to do with two?”
“One’s a brownie, and one’s a goblin. And I have no idea.”
“They’re not going to like the hotel or the car. They’re much happier in real homes,” I said.
“She sounds nice,” the high-pitched voice said. “I like her.”
“Aw! Isn’t he sweet,” I said.
“Stop,” Megan said. “He can hear you, and I think you’re going to give him a heart attack. What’s wrong with hotels?”
