Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 35: Grace: Blonde

My hair is blonde, and it’s weird.

For whatever reason, I hear Caine’s voice in my head. "Your hair is brown," he’d said. A mere observation, not even a compliment, but for a second I mourn my generic brown hair.

"The toner helped with the brassiness, but it still isn’t perfect." Lyre runs her fingers through my hair with a soft click of her tongue. "Virgin hair is so nice to work with. It’s so soft even after lightening."

Andrew scratches at his cheek, his eyes darting everywhere except my face. "It, uh, looks pretty good."

"Thanks," I mutter, uncomfortable with his awkwardness. His crush doesn’t seem completely gone if he can’t meet my eyes over a simple compliment.

My attention drifts back to the mirror on the camper’s bathroom wall.

A stranger stares back at me. The blonde frames my face differently, catching light where shadows used to be. I twist a strand between my fingers, still damp and smelling of chemicals. My reflection looks alien.

I can’t stop touching it, running my fingers through the strands, flipping it side to side. The weight feels different. Everything feels different.

Lyre said it would be lighter after it dries, but something about solar power and batteries means she can’t run her hair dryer.

"So?" She leans against the doorframe, eyes bright with anticipation. "Do you like it?"

"I honestly don’t know." My hand drops from my hair. "But I definitely would’ve botched it without your help."

She waves a hand about airily. "It isn’t really that hard to do. Just need the right products and a bit of patience."

We shuffle out of the cramped bathroom and into the dinette—a small table with bench seating crammed against her kitchen counter. I slide in first, pressing myself against the wall to make room for Andrew. The space between us and the counter can’t be more than ten inches.

"Sorry it’s tight." Lyre squeezes past to grab three glasses. "Always harder to move around when the slides are in."

the back half of

extended, I hang over into neighboring parking spaces, so I don’t do it unless I have to. When I’m renting a space

us each a glass of water. "Actually, Grace, we should probably

her chin on her hand, observing us with her strange, slitted eyes. I fiddle with the glass, not answering

woman for all of an hour, yet there’s something about her—something free and untethered, calling

know." Lyre’s voice

my heart suddenly

got a friend there with some land and full hook-ups, so I can stay a while if I want to." She traces a pattern on the tabletop with her finger without looking, her eyes on mine.

it. And it’s really far from here, putting

me. His voice lowers.

didn’t

rise, but she doesn’t seem particularly offended. "Just offering." She shrugs,

I’m not trying to be rude. We appreciate your help, but we have plans. And we don’t know you very

smiles at me, not him. "The offer stands though. Especially if those plans aren’t really what you want

sure what I’m going to say, when Andrew’s hand

really should

I know I’d take

It isn’t like I’m obligated to follow along with their ridiculous plan of bringing me back to the Blue Mountain Pack. In fact, I never

square my shoulders, my shirt damp against my back, thanks to my wet hair. Something about the chemical smell lingering on

want to come with you," I tell Lyre, my voice louder than I meant for it to be. "To Yellowstone. If you really don’t

cliff and haven’t started falling yet. It’s even better than when I tried to escape the first time; it feels

over the rim of his glass and he drops back into his seat, rubbing his legs as

slightly, but her expression

can’t be serious," Andrew hisses at me,