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 the RV, which looks practically inaccessible.

they’re extended, I hang over into neighboring parking spaces, so I don’t do it unless I have to. When I’m renting a space it’s fine, but parking lots are a different matter. But it’s free, so I

us each a glass of

observing us with her strange, slitted eyes. I fiddle with the glass, not answering Andrew. He’s right about the time, but I’m oddly

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

with me, you know." Lyre’s voice

suddenly thumping

I can stay a while

really far from here,

me. His

didn’t want Andrew to stick

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

to be rude. We appreciate your help, but we have plans. And we don’t know you very well." Andrew’s polite, at least, as he explains

not him. "The offer stands though. Especially if those plans aren’t really

I’m going to say,

should go," he

he wasn’t here, I know I’d take her up on the offer,

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 planned on playing long

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

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

even better than when I tried to escape the first time; it feels as if I can reach out and touch

of the table. Water sloshes over the rim of his glass and he drops

slitted eyes widen slightly, but her expression remains neutral as she watches

me, snatching