Oregon in the Fall - 1. Chapter One: Arrival

Central Oregon. I stepped off the bus into the heart of the city, a world away from the quiet, moonlit forests where I grew up. The city—if you can call it that—was alive, its lights and sounds pulsing like a living entity. I adjusted the strap of my backpack, feeling the weight of my few belongings as a stark reminder of the path I’d chosen.

The air here was a mix of exhaust and distant urban melodies, so different from the earthy scents of the wild that I was used to. I took a deep breath, trying to get used to this new world. My heightened senses, both a gift and a curse of my werewolf nature, picked up everything—the myriad of both disgusting and exhilarating human smells, the aroma of food, and something faint, yet distinct, that oddly reminded me of magic.

Walking through the crowded streets, I felt an acute sense of isolation. Around me, faces blurred in a rush, each person absorbed in their own world. Here, in this river of people, I was just another face, my secret nature hidden beneath the surface. This anonymity was what I’d longed for, a chance to be nobody special, free from the expectations and traditions of my kind.

Then I saw it—‘The Lunar Haven’. Its neon sign glowing invitingly in the twilight. The name struck a chord with me, an unintentional homage to my own lunar-bound existence. There was another sign that said ‘Bed & Breakfast’. Oh, what the hell. Why not? I was tired.

I pushed the door open. The familiar sounds of laughter and clinking glasses welcomed me. Not unlike what I knew from my pack. Just different, more anonymous. I could smell their fears and desires, their moods. But here I wasn’t able to tie all that to individuals with all their baggage. It was anonymous and it was great. And it was here, in this simple bar, that my life would take an unexpected turn.

I was still standing at the threshold, taking everything in. The room was full of tables and chairs, some occupied, others empty. A few couples sat close to each other, holding hands and exchanging whispers. The scent of alcohol and fried food mingled with the musky smell of a particular individual across the room. He looked my age. He was wiping the tables, and met my gaze. I was probably staring. I’m really not used to strangers. Stupid pack. We’re so lost outside of it.

Yet here I was without them. Without my pack. And I was likely being creepy by looking at the guy for too long. Lucky for me, that ended right when I felt a sharp pain in my temple. Then everything went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the same room. On the floor. On my back. The scents were now stranger, and so were the noises. My first instinct was to get up and run away. But pain. My head hurt like crazy and my vision was blurred. What the fuck.

Wiping table guy—that’s my name for him now—was leaning over me.

“Are you ok?” he said.

I wanted to say something. Anything. But I was just a pile of limbs, unable to form words. So instead I tried to move away from him, but that’s when my head started spinning and I felt nauseous. I didn’t projectile vomit at him. I just fainted again. Probably for the best.

When I came to again, I was sitting up. Sitting up and drinking from a cup. Wiping table guy was there. He was smiling.

“What the fuck happened to me?” I asked.

“Some guys got really drunk. One of them punched you, then the rest left. But don’t worry, they’re gone. Are you feeling any better?”

“No. My head still hurts.”

“That’s because you probably have a concussion. I’m gonna take you to the hospital.”

“No, please, no hospitals.”

“Why? If this is about money, I know someone in admission. She’ll get you checked out.”

“No, I can’t…” I trailed off, searching for a convincing lie, “I’m wanted.”

Wanted? Grey, you’re a fucking idiot. Blurting out that you are a wanted criminal was probably not the best introduction. Better than telling him about werewolves and shit, though.

He shrugged and smiled. “Yeah right.”

Maybe he didn’t believe the lie, but just left it at that. I was ok with that.

“I’m Dave, by the way. Do you have somewhere to go?”

“I guess not. I’m Grey.”

“Well, you can crash here for the night.”

I nodded, but regretted the action as soon as my headache made itself known.

“Ow… That was the ultimate plan, by the way. I wanted to come in here and ask about the rooms. I’m sorry this happened.”

“It’s not your fault. Those guys were just jerks. Come on, let’s get you a room. You can stay as long as you need.”

He led me up the stairs and opened one of the doors. He smelled nice. Like the earth. And flowers. Earth and flowers, and spring and fall. Like crisp air and the seething sun. I really needed rest.

“Thanks, Dave. You’re very nice.”

Nice. You’re good at courting men, Grey.

“It’s no problem. Just don’t let Clara see you like this. She’ll make a giant fuss.”

“Clara is the manager?”

“She’s the owner, actually.”

“Why would she make a giant fuss?”

“The guys downstairs have been causing trouble more than once. And I let it slide one time too often. If she sees you got hurt, she will not be happy. I’m truly sorry you got hurt. It’s my fault.”

“It’s really ok,” I said but refrained from telling him he was very hot. “I’ll be fine. A night’s rest is all I need.”

“I can’t let you pay for a room if you’re hurt,” he said.

“I can pay.”

“No. I insist. Now, please get some rest.”

“Good night, Dave.”

I entered the room and closed the door. It was cozy and clean. Just enough to finally arrive here. Tomorrow my bruises would be gone, but I could deal with explaining that tomorrow.

I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of my growling stomach. It was dark and quiet, and the only other sound I could hear was the muffled conversation of two people downstairs.

I got up and stretched, careful not to disturb the dull pain in my head. A brief look in the mirror confirmed what I suspected. The bruise had almost faded. No worries there.

The voices downstairs seemed to get more agitated. I could pick out the words now. My hearing’s excellent, I guess. Dave was discussing the incident with a woman. I guess that must’ve been Clara.

“…and what about Grey?” Dave said.

“What about him? I told you this would happen. We need to put a stop to these guys ruining my business.”

“I didn’t know it would be so bad,” he said, his voice trailing off.

“I told you we should’ve reported them last time. Now they’ve hurt someone. What if Grey presses charges?”

“He won’t.”

“How can you be certain? How well do you even know him?”

“Look, I know people. Trust me.”

“I hope you’re right. Next time, we won’t go easy on those guys. We will report them.”

“Sure. Next time. Now, how about you let me work, and you go to bed. Love you.”

“Yeah yeah. Clean up. Love you, too.”

Love you? That would’ve been too good to be true. The guy was taken. Fuck my life. And I’m that creep, eavesdropping on their conversation.

I quickly changed into a sweater and a pair of jeans, grabbed my wallet and sneaked out of the room. The hallway was dark and quiet. Perfect. I tiptoed down the stairs, and found the bar empty. It was dark. The only source of light was a single lamp behind the bar, illuminating a couple of shelves full of various drinks.

There was a note on the bar. It said: ‘Grab anything. On the house.’ I grabbed a bag of chips and a can of soda. And a sandwich. And some chocolate. I left the money next to the note.

I was halfway through my snacks, when Dave emerged from the back of the building.

“You should really be resting,” he said. “What are you doing down here?”

“Eating,” I said.

“On the house, remember?”

“You weren’t supposed to know.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. It’s late, though. You should honestly be in bed. Your head should heal faster if you rest.”

“My head’s already better. Thanks, though.”

“How about a drink? I could use a drink,” he said, reaching for one of the bottles behind the bar. “What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey?”

He poured two glasses.

“Here’s to your speedy recovery. To Grey,” he said and raised his glass.

“To Dave, the kindest guy I’ve met… this week.”

Slick, Grey. So charming. Remember, he’s taken anyway. We clicked our glasses together. His drink was a lot bigger than mine.

“So what brought you here, Grey?”

“I ran away. From home.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to go to the hospital?”

“Something like that.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one. I can drink.”

“I wasn’t going to card you. I was just curious.”

“How about you? Why are you working in this shitty little bar?”

“Hey, it’s not shitty! It’s a job. And a nice one. My family owns this place, and I like helping my sister.”

SISTER! “So you live with your sister. Clara, right?”

“Yeah. But we live separately. She has a boyfriend, and I have a life.”

Clara is not the girlfriend! Yay! I could’ve kissed him right there and then. I have delusions of grandeur. And possibly a concussion that hasn’t healed yet. He’d probably punch me, and I wasn’t sure I’d like that. Why did he smell so good?

“I should probably go back to bed. Thanks for the chips.”

“Well, it appears you paid for them after all. But you’re welcome.”

“See you tomorrow, Dave.”

I went back to my room and plonked myself down on the bed. What a night. It was probably a good idea to get hit in the head. Made me forget why I was here. That I had left my home. And why.