The Reserve

"Where to, boyo?" The twenty-something woman rolled down the window of her minivan, flashing a sly grin to the kid outside her door. He stood shifting on his toes, his back near buckling under the massive weight of his pack. It was as big as he was, with extra bags strapped all over it, ready to engulf his small frame with one wrong move.

With a quivering lip, he cleared his throat. "T-The Reserve... You're headed that way, right?"

"Oh, sure. Yeah, hop in." She unlocked the passenger side door. "You can put your stuff in 'back."

The seventeen-year-old toddled around to the opposite side of the van, set his pack down - almost falling backwards in the process, and with a heave, slid the door aside. He was first met by the smell, the unmistakable whiff of wet dog, and the blankets strewn over the back bench were sprinkled with fine grey hairs. Clearly she must have been living in there, but he couldn't find evidence of any pets that may have created such a mess. With a gulp, he turned and stooped to take the base of his pack, using the van door frame as support to tip it inside. Shutting it up, he threw himself into the passenger seat, wrapping the belt across his front before catching a breath.

The woman looked him up and down, shifting her gaze briefly to his things. She sniffed. "Plannin' on camping up there or somethin'?"

"Er... Yeah." He fumbled to adjust his seat. "I'm a wildlife photographer."

"What's your name?"

He turned his head, gulping as she studied him with a piercing glare. Though he couldn't decide why, his instinct to flee flared up. "Um... Gavin? Gavin Thomas."

She grinned again, showing off her canine teeth. "Well, Gavin Thomas, let's see if we can't give you a show." Turning the key, the engine spluttered and choked, finally starting and shaking the van. She swerved back onto the road, speeding up to get back into a rhythm.

Gavin shot her glances as they headed off along the empty highway. Her brunette hair appeared wild and un-brushed, just bunched up on the upper back of her head with a green scrunchie somewhat keeping it under control. On the whole, her skin was pale faun with a blush of red, though anywhere the sun hit was covered in freckles and blemishes, with the odd scar slithered across the canvas. He couldn't ignore that she was missing an arm, staring much too long that he caught her eye.

That look again - arctic blue irises catching his reflection in their shimmer. "You can ask, you know."

"Uh..." Gavin froze, his heart pounding. "Um..." He gathered his courage. "How'd you-"

"Bear fight - Latvia, two-thousand four. And you should see the other guy."

"You fought a bear?" He gasped.

"Eh, wasn't as exciting as it sounds. He wasn't even that big, just got lucky."

The teen gulped, shrinking closer towards the door. He wiped his palms against his jeans, wrapping his varsity jacket tighter around himself.

"You alright over there? Need a bathroom break or somethin'?" She shifted gears on the steering wheel - an adaptation she'd fitted herself. As the late afternoon sun sped across the sky, she sniffled and sighed. "You're quite a shy one ain't you? Shouldn't guys your age be into sports or drugs and shit?"

"Why?" He muttered, daring to study her with brief glances. She shrugged. "Well not me." Gavin met her eye again. "Hey I told you my name, what's yours?"

"Orla McConall."

"And why are you going to the reserve?"

She smiled. "Family reunion."

"How long since you've seen them?"

Orla held her attention on the road for a time. "Too long." Beyond the grassland either side of them, pine woodland rolled by - stretching off beyond the horizon and to the feet of the mountains ahead. "We got separated."

"Do you have a cabin up there?"

"What's with all the questions?" She chuckled, shuffling herself into a more comfortable position.

"It's a long drive."

"Put a tape in then." She tilted her head in the direction of the tape deck and collection between their seats.

Gavin fumbled his finger along then, looking for a name he recognised. "You still listen to tapes?"

"Oh here we go. You think a modern van's any better 'cause it's got that blueteeth and wify and digital radio? No, Brenda's a classic. She doesn't need any of those fancy buttons or knobs, she gets you wherever you want to go, and she does it in style."

"Well we can just stick on the radio." He tried to tune into a station.

"No, shut that off!" She growled. "I hate listening to that tuneless crap, and I hate news stations too. Put a tape in."

Hesitant, he grabbed the tape on the top and loaded it into the deck. The play button clicked. After two seconds of whirring, the speakers sang with classic hard rock. "Nice one." Orla grinned, tapping her hand on the steering wheel along with the beat and mumbling the words under her breath. Gavin lowered the volume just enough that they could still talk over the music.

"Yeah, this is real music." She danced in her seat. Though she tried to get him to dance along, he smiled politely and remained still, keeping himself up against the door. "How've you not heard this one?"

"I'm more into classical music."

"You mean like Mozart? What, you play an instrument or somethin'?"

"Clarinet."

Orla snickered. "Yeah, thought I smelled spare reeds on you. I tried it myself once. Wasn't any good, but you never forget that scent." She scratched at the side of her face.

"You can... Smell those?" He worried his gaze to his bag, where he kept his instrument case tucked away at the bottom of his things. "What else?"

She sniffed at the air a moment. "I can tell you've not washed half your clothes for a couple weeks. You've already brushed your teeth three times today... You had falafel and orange juice for lunch, and you have a box of donuts, a multipack of salt and vinegar crisps, a thermos of black coffee, six bananas, and... Ten tins of baked beans with... Vegan sausage."

"How did you-" His tensions eased off, as he suddenly realised. "Are you a werewolf?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you?"

"Oh wow..." He gasped, relieved. "I was worried you were some psycho or something for a moment there."

"Who says I'm not?" Orla inched her brow, and he backed off again. She chuckled. "Heh, too easy."

"I've never met a werewolf before, but I've always wanted to be one!"

She rolled her eyes, shuffling away. "Well, be careful what you wish for-"

"So how often do you turn?" He cut in, his posture sharpened and quaking ever so slightly.

Orla grew rigid. She tapped the steering wheel with a single finger. "Half-transformations most nights, complete transformation every full moon."

"What pack are you from?"

"Duskfall." She sped up a little.

"Can you turn me into a werewolf?"

"What?" Orla swerved the van into the other lane briefly, overcome by a sudden dizziness. "No. What? Why?"

"There's so many supernaturals back home, though no werewolves. I'm one of the only humans in my school, I get picked on all the time-"

She snarled with a roll of her eyes. "You sure you get picked on for being human?"

"Vampires and Fae are all culty and elitist. But werewolves like everybody - a pack will let you join no matter where you come from."

"Look... Kid." She slowed down again, tightening her grip on the wheel. "You're looking at it with rose-tinted glasses. It's not all that great."

"Well you don't know what it's like being human." He folded his arms, slumping in his seat.

"I do. I turn human every day. That's what's bad about it." She stared out the window. "Everyone thinks it's the wolf - the wolf side is the horrible part. But it's the opposite. Once you've been a wolf, being human feels like shit. You're weak, you're slow, you itch all over, your body aches. The wolf is powerful, huge, almost invincible." She sighed. "Being a werewolf would be great - if you were always a wolf."

"It's got to be better than only being human."

"No, it would be better. 'Cause you wouldn't know any difference. You learn your limits as a human. When you're born like this, you grow up sleeping during the day and playing at night. You train your wolf for anything, then your human side wakes up and can't do half of what you're used to. You know, it's... It's why I got separated from my family." She narrowed her gaze. " Werewolves didn't use to be treated like people - we didn't get the same rights."

"But it's not like that anymore." He leaned closer. "And the laws on turning humans has changed too. So long as you get their consent -"

"I ain't bitin' you, so quit askin'." Her jaw tightened. "You shouldn't fantasize about somethin' you barely understand. Laws can change, sure... People don't." She shook her head, her stare like glass, focused on the darkening grey of the tarmac. "And anyway, rules don't always change for the better."

Gavin slumped further into his seat, switching his focus between her and the guitar solo singing from the speakers.

"When I was a pup, I got caught by humans - shipped all over for cage fights. Then the Werewolf Act came in... and I was discarded. By the time I finally got in touch with my family, they'd been relocated to the Reserve. To humans, it sounds grand - loads of wild space to run and hunt. But you know the real reason they made it?" She sneered at him. "It's so humans and other supernaturals wouldn't have to mix with werewolves. If we wanted to live in cities, that was fine so long as we weren't ourselves. I spent the last two years in Dublin - curfew at sunset, pubs you couldn't sit inside, parks you were banned from... I'm sure you're smart enough to know what that's called..."

He lowered his gaze, watching his hands on his lap instead.

"You say you 'admire' werewolves? That you want to be like us? You don't know the first thing about us..." She loosened her seatbelt strap. "And you're a wildlife photographer?" He nodded. "Let me guess... The kind of wildlife you were hoping to see..."

"Tonight's a full moon. I guess I-"

"Were you plannin' on askin' for consent? We're real people, you know. We're entitled to our privacy just like everyone else."

"It's for college." He reached behind him, fumbling through one of the bags on the side of his pack for his camera. Switching it on, he scrolled through his saved pictures. "I'm in the ecology club." He showed her a photo of the few members of his club gathered around one of their posters. Of all species part of the group, he was the only human. "Our summer project was to research the impact of supernaturals on the environment. Studies show that the ecosystem of the Reserve is unique - that the werewolves are actually shaping the landscape with their presence. Countless species exist there that have simply gone extinct everywhere else because of unchecked herbivore populations."

"The what?" She alternated her attention between the road and his photographs.

"Some say that werewolves are the custodians of the earth. Their influence on the natural world supersedes even that of Fey. I think they're brilliant. I was hoping that I could show that to the rest of the club."

Orla blushed, turning to stare out her side window.

Gavin frowned. "I'm sorry. I should have been more sensitive. You can drop me off here, I'll walk back." He went to gather his things.

"No, wait..." She urged. "Look, you can still take your pictures, you just need to ask first."

"Would you mind?"

"Well, I mean... It's just a club project, right? It won't end up on the interwebs or nothin'?"

"It might. We vote for a winner and that one ends up on the school website."

"Oh... Erm..." She tilted her head. "Just let me find my folks first. I'll ask them. If they think it's a good idea, then I suppose it won't hurt. Tasteful pictures though, mind. And no mid-transformation, that shit's personal."

"Okay! I promise." His eyes lit up.

***

As the sun sank over the horizon, the minivan's headlights lit up the road sign for The Reserve - the first turnoff leading to 'Ridge Point', and the second to 'North Court Residences.' They turned off at the first junction, and bounced along a dirt track - kicking up grit and dust as they headed uphill.

Gavin darted his gaze between the road and Orla. "This is definitely the right road?" He held his breath, briefly nervous that she would be taking him somewhere else entirely. Watching her expression as she nodded, his anxieties left him. She appeared uplifted, as she had captured a scent that went undetected by his human senses.

They pulled up into a bay on a flat lot, where other various campervans, caravans, minivans, and trucks were parked. A few had 'Duskfall for Life' bumper stickers slapped on them. People gathered out of the way of traffic, with kids and elders alike shaking hands, hugging, laughing and playing over the barriers. Some had set up barbeques, with the savoury tang of roasted meats igniting their senses.

As Orla switched off the tape and the van's engine, the two stepped out to be met by a chorus of howls, chitchat and laughter, followed by a great cheer as the first few people set their sights on Orla. A towering woman with the same piercing blue eyes and wild hair hurried over, a great beaming smile on her face.

"Orla, love!" She threw her arms around her, picking her up as she tightened her grip. Though her words were drowned out by the glee of the others, Gavin just about managed to hear Orla refer to the woman as her mother. He identified their similarities, itching as he waited to be noticed.

"And who's this now? A little friend of yours?" 

"Ma, this is Gavin. I picked him up on the road. He says he's a photographer."

Orla's mother gazed at him, with a few of the other family members greeting their long lost relative before doing the same. "A photographer? What're you doin' in our neck of the woods then?"

Though he started hesitantly, Gavin launched into an overenthusiastic explanation of his project, gesturing wildly as he did. During his speech, he repeatedly added comments like 'if it's okay,' and 'with your permission.'

When he finally stopped and caught his breath, she offered a welcoming grin. "Well, how could we say no to such a polite request?" She turned to her family. "Everyone, we've got a human guest with us today, he's doing an assignment on werewolf hunting behaviours and habits. Let's make sure he gets top marks for his project, shall we?"

With that, Orla agreed to let him use her van as his base of operations. A few of the family crowded around him, asking about his equipment and the kinds of angles he was after. One, apparently Orla's cousin, was also adept with a camera, and the pair raved on about models and lenses until the sun went down. They invited him to share their meal, pulled out albums and various trophies for him to admire, and one of Orla's uncles started up a campfire song on his guitar. Though he may not have been werewolf himself, they did all they could to make Gavin feel he was one of them.

Every so often, he looked for Orla, and saw her hugging or otherwise catching up with family members, tearing up when she reconnected with siblings, grandparents, and new additions to the clan.

When the time came, Gavin kept his promise, setting up merely to watch though not to record their transformations. The spectacle was inspiring, though over in a few seconds, and he readied himself to follow the creatures on the hunt.