When the Red Wolf Hunts by Kody Boye

Author:Kody Boye [Boye, Kody]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-21T22:00:00+00:00

Though there is really no way for me to be confident in my decision, considering I never thought I would ever get a tattoo, I decide on two roses and thorns.

For my parents, I think, and their strength of heart.

And the thorns, I then add, for the role I had to play in all of this.

I keep quiet as we take the taxi to the edge of town. Not knowing what to say, but most importantly, unsure what to feel, I lace my fingers together and place my fists on my thighs, growing more and more doubtful by the moment.

“Is everything all right?” Jackson asks.

I lift my eyes to face him, then avert my gaze to the driver before saying, “Everything’s fine.”

Jackson nods, but doesn’t push the matter further. Rather, he reaches down to set a hand over mine, and forces a smile I know is born of insecurity more than anything.

He’s nervous, too, I think.

But it isn’t for the reasons I am. No. Jackson, I know, is nervous because of the potential question that the tattooist will have, and the possible answer I will have to give as a result of it.

You just have to say you fell, he’d coached, and cut your arm open. It’s not as if it’s deep.

While that may be true, the fact is: people are more likely to ask questions in this scenario than any other—because I, as Oaklynn Smith, am simply the girl who survived. Through smoke and pain and fire and torment I’d emerged triumphant through the flames—

Except, there’s only one problem: I’d emerged alone, and for that, I must be punished, whether it be by nature or the people within it.

A sigh escapes me as I turn to look out the window—and though I hoped and prayed so desperately that we would take an alternate path, I see my mother’s flower shop rise up like a tattered icon to the masses.

“Horrible, what happened,” the man driving says.

“Yeah,” Jackson replies, a bit bristly at that. “It was.”

I bite my tongue to keep from responding, and close my eyes to prevent tears from following.

While it takes only a moment to pass, the impression it leaves is like a brand burning into my side—permanent and disfiguring and plain for all to see.

I feel like going home almost immediately after we arrive at the tattoo shop.

“You’re not having second thoughts?” Jackson asks after we’ve exited the cab and paid the fare. “Are you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m… I’m not.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Oaklynn.”

“It’s not a lie so much as it is a reservation.”

He presses a hand against my arm. “You’re sure you’re up for this?”

“It’s not like I really have much of a choice in the matter, do I? Preservation of the pack and all.”

Jackson sighs, but nods and says, “I guess not.”

I turn to face the shop—whose entrance simply proclaims Red Wold Tattoo in grisly metal-music lettering—and force myself to nod.

As much as I don’t want to do this, I

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