Royal Hybrid

Peace Offering- Books

The chill in the air from the fall wind is refreshing as it blows through the color-changing trees. Birds chirp happily as they swirl around above; those that migrate are eager to head south. Sometimes, I wish I, too, could leave all my problems behind.

"Feel better?" Crevan asks me as I approach him, breaking me from my train of thought.

As my mother instructed me, I showered and changed into a basic white tank top and stretchy black shorts. After several minutes of trying, I finally got a brush through my long hair. Although, that didn't matter since the long red curls are back up in a ponytail.

"Much," I state, as I stare at him with my arms crossed against my chest.

Crevan glances at my feet and raises an eyebrow in curiosity, "No shoes?"

I look down at my bare unpainted toes and shrug my shoulders, "Nope. I never have liked shoes and don't plan on wearing them now."

"Whatever floats your boat, kiddo," he chuckles as he crosses his arms, almost mimicking me. "So, what exactly have they taught you?"

"Dad didn't get around to teaching me much," I suggest with a simple shrug.

It's the truth. Just before Dad died, we had just begun training. I know virtually nothing of the thing I'm supposed to lead one day.

"You're how old?" he questions, shock spreading across his face.

I shift my feet, uncomfortable with his question for some reason, "Nineteen."

Something flickers in his eyes but quickly vanishes. "They should have started teaching you at age sixteen when you first shift. Why didn't they?" he inquires.

"I don't know, honestly. Dad was always busy, and Mom can't shift. So Mom taught me a few things about the way of the skulk but left the rest to Dad, which he-"

"Didn't have time for," Crevan suggests as my voice breaks.

I inhale deeply and gather my shaky voice, "Yeah, pretty much."

Crevan scrunches his eyebrows deep in thought. "To be a good leader, you need to know about your people, your history. So, what do you know about what we are?"

I pause, and I monotonously repeat the lessons my mother taught me, "The Great Kitsune blessed us with a gift to shift into a fox, much like our counterparts the wolf-shifter. Unlike them, we can't keep our human form all year, when winter comes- we are forced to shift into our fox and cannot shift back until spring."

Crevan scowls as he purses his lips, "Have you had your first shift?"

"I have. Age sixteen as usual."

"Have they taught you anything about fighting or hunting?"

"Very little," I say sheepishly. I know enough to hold my own, but I'm not allowed to be around others in my animal form for specific reasons. I'm not sure why, but my parents have made it a stringent rule.

"I can teach you that as well," Crevan offers, his eyes glittering with some form of excitement that sends a shiver up my spine.

"I-"

"She's not allowed to be in her fox form, Crevan. We even hide her during the winter. Todd was really adamant about that, and I would like to continue to honor that until she's alpha," my mother interrupts in a soft alpha tone; I mentally cringe at the mention of my father's name.

She always comes to my rescue, even though I know she's tired. I know she's still grieving over dad as well, but I don't see why she doesn't shift. She's such a strong woman.

"Scarlet, she's a vixen. She's a female alpha that needs to learn and take the leadership role," he growls at my mother.

"She's my daughter, and I respect her father's wishes. Whether he's alive or dead-- I respect him," she whispers, the sound of her grinding her teeth in anger fills the quiet outside void.

"I don't mind to train-"

"Topaz, stop. There's a reason we don't let you shift, and that reason is between your father and me alone," she growls toward Crevan. "Don't overstep your bounds. You're a stand-in because I had no one else to turn to."

Crevan puts his hands in the air submitting, "I understand, Alpha."

"Topaz, why don't you go back to the house and- I don't know, do something?" she sighs, shaking her head.

"Mmhm," I hum in response. I didn't want to do anything today anyway. If I had the choice, I'd still be in bed.

______

I sit with my legs crossed on my twin-sized bed- it's not much, but it's mine. My little art book sits in the middle of my lap, the cover turned, so it's now on the back. Small lines of tape protect the outer edges as I work vibrant pastel colors into the form of a purple-red sunset. My fingers are covered with pastel residue from blending the colors effortlessly together. It's a good thing my bed covers aren't white, or they'd be ruined by now.

I sway back and forth, listening to music as I doodle small trees with a graphite pencil in the foreground. It's bittersweet working on a pastel since it's something my father and I done together when he was still here. Dad. I clutch my fist tightly around the pencil as I bite back tears that linger behind my eyes.   

I still can't believe he's gone. A few days ago he told me he'd return soon, and we had a lot to go over and I still can't believe he's gone. A few days ago, he told me he'd return soon, and we had a lot to go over and learn together. Yet, here we are. He's gone, and I'm left here to take over as alpha when I have zero ideas on what to say or do. Not to mention the fact I'm not allowed to shift in front of people.

I sniff hard as salty warm tears run down my face. I miss him.

My attention is pulled off my art book as my bedroom door begins to open. Briskly, I rub the tears away with my long sleeve- the sleeve of my father's jacket that swallows me whole. It gives me comfort and is the first thing I put on when I got back into my room.

Crevan stands in front on the other side of my door, a few books in his hands, his mouth moves- but I can't hear anything he said over my loud music.

I gently pull the earbuds from my ears as I address him, "What you need?"

"I figured I'd bring these few books to help you a little. Your mother said you like the read, so. . ." he trails off as he waves the books slightly.

"I'll take them. Just throw them on the bed," I suggest, still stuffy from previously crying.

He places two books gently on the edge of my bed. Both are solid brown leather-covered books, with no other features evident on them.

He taps softly on the books, "Read them; I'll quiz you on them tomorrow morning."

"Mmhm," I hum as he walks out of my bedroom and shuts the door tightly behind him.

I open the book, and the content is handwritten, scribbled very poorly using some old ink method. This one appears to be more of a journal, maybe even some sort of diary.

I carefully read the first few sentences, "Fox-shifters are pack like creatures. Unlike the wolf-shifters, they appear to be more family-oriented. Their alphas are typically the strongest female rather than the male, but rare occasions have the male in charge."  

"The betas appear to be related to the alphas in some way, so are the others. Although mates come in from all over the place."

According to this, our Beta's should be related to us. Yet, as far as I know, our previous ones that went missing- weren't. Is there a reason for that?

Why didn't mom or dad teach me this earlier? Most importantly. . . why does the person that wrote this journal seem like they are observing us rather than actually being one?