"Where's the kid?" Tristan asked, looking down at the glass of whiskey in his hand.

Billy glanced at the other wolves before replying. "Where we left off, I think."

Tristan looked up from his glass, slowly. "Sorry, what?"

"But I told you to take him back to their house."

"He's a wolf, he can handle it," Billy said, stubbornly. "We didn't think much of it."

"You left him outside. You were supposed to take him to the stupid witch's house. You know what's out there, don't you?" he gritted his teeth.

"Does it matter? I'm sure that he's fine, Alpha."

Tristan shook his head and sighed loudly, "He's a fucking kid, Billy. And I gave you clear-fucking-instructions. Why was it so hard not to follow them?"

"Jeez, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd be so worked up about it," he said, pulling out a cigarette.

Tristan was annoyed and strode towards Billy, pulling the cigarette from his hand and throwing it on the carpet before stepping on it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tristan grabbed his collar.

"Me? What's gotten into you?" Billy asked, shocked by Tristan's reaction.

"We're going to go find him and you're driving," Tristan told him, letting his collar go and roughly tapping his finger on his chest, intimidatingly.

"What, seriously? It's not that safe for us out there." Billy said. "It's the middle of the night!"

Tristan stopped by the door, his back facing the wolves. He took a deep breath. "If he's dead, Billy. If that kid is dead because of you, I'll fuckin' kill you."

Billy looked at the others who appeared to be as surprised by his outburst, as he was. Billy knew exactly what they were thinking because he was thinking it, too. Their Alpha was losing it.

Tristan slammed the door and went upstairs to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and walked towards his window, looking outside. It was useless though as there was nothing but a dense fog to see.

He walked back to his bed and kicked off his shoes. Sitting on the edge of the bed for a while, he let his frustration subside gradually. Everything he did yielded no results. The witch's lead was a dead one and he was sure he'd terminated any chance he ever had with his mate.

It was frustrating that even though he had refused her at first glance, he often found himself wishful thinking about her, too.

•

Freya mixed her porridge aimlessly, her eyes stuck to her mum who sat opposite her at the table. She was afraid to look away just in case she woke up and found it was all just a dream or if she disappeared again. It was warm outside which was a pleasant change for once.

"So you were a witch? Like them?"

Jennifer stayed silent, eating a spoonful of her porridge.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Freya continued. "Did Mrs. Jones know? Is that why she helped us? Is that how you knew one another?"

"I wasn't hiding anything from you, Freya. It just wasn't responsible of me to bring it up while you were growing up."

"You being a witch isn't a small thing, mum. You didn't think it was important to bring up when the smoke began?"

She didn't say anything.

"You didn't belong to a coven, did you?"

Jennifer half-smiled and shook her head, "I used to but I left it a very long time ago, Freya."

Freya thought about it for a moment. Her mum was living with her as a witch all this time and she had never once suspected otherwise. It only made her wonder.

"Mum, am I a witch?"

Jennifer shook her head, "No darling, you're not. This kind of thing tends to skip a child or two."

"Oh," she said, surprisingly disappointed. She was about to ask if Greg inherited it but she was cut off.

"Where did you last see Greg?" Jennifer asked, changing the topic.

Freya frowned, thinking. "We were in this house, uh- I'm not sure where but it was near the Wolves."

"The wolves?"

"Yeah, they're the ones who took me and led me to Cordelia."

Something flickered in Jennifer's eyes.

"These wolves... Their pack. Do you know where they're located?"

Freya hated herself for not reading any of the streets but in an apocalypse, the thought never occurred to her that she may need to remember addresses.

"No, I don't remember but I know how it looks like."

"Hold on," Jennifer said, getting up from her chair and walking over to Freya.

"Close your eyes, I'm going to read your mind, okay? Just relax," she said, pressing her fingers on either side of Freya's head.

Freya closed her eyes and relaxed as she was told.

After a few long minutes, Freya felt a weight press down on her head. Her head began to hurt but the pain didn't last long because a sense of cool relief followed after.

Jennifer closed her own eyes, trying to find the memory but she saw something else instead. She saw her children running through a forest and into a clearing where Heather's house was. She could feel the sting of the infected's touch on her own skin.

Moving ahead, she saw a face of a girl. She could feel a negative aura around her and decided to look further. A house, with different faces came into sight and Jennifer realised they were all Wolves. She saw Tristan and felt the aura change. It was surprising and almost broke her connection but she quickly regained it as she realised what it was.

She would have to address it some other time.

She then saw Greg's face as she looked from a height. He was surrounded by them and she could feel his distress. She looked around the garden, the rooftops and streets. Looking back at her son, she encountered another sort of energy that finally broke her connection.

Finally, she let go of her daughter and took a step back.

"Freya, is there something you forgot to tell me? About Greg?"

Freya looked at her mum, not knowing how to say it. "He was bitten by a werewolf."

"Why-"

"To save his life."

The images began to make sense.

Jennifer grabbed her coat and walked to the door. "Hurry, we need to find him."

Freya stumbled after her, scared that Greg was in danger.

•

Greg woke up that morning to an empty cabin. He kicked off the blanket that wasn't there when he'd gone to sleep and sat up. His hair was disheveled and eyes were swollen, perhaps due to the restless night he had.

He got up and walked to the front door with his hand on the handle.

He looked over his shoulder, thinking for a brief minute. It was too quiet, he thought. And without Ace in sight, it made him increasingly anxious. Opening the door quickly, he was caught off guard.

To his surprise, he immediately spotted Ace sitting on some rocks by the trees nearby.

He turned to look at Greg, his hand on the frying pan handle. "Want some eggs?"

Greg looked back at the forest in front of him and then back at Ace.

"Have some breakfast before you leave."

Greg's stomach rumbled and so he decided to stay for the food. If he'd survived the night, he was sure the stranger wouldn't harm him now.

He started to walk towards Ace and sat down on one of the stones. Hugging his knees, he watched Ace, curiously. It was still unclear to him why this stranger was living alone in the forest and still have survived the infected.

Ace handed him a small white chipped plate with a boiled egg on it. "I'm sorry that I don't have more to give you."

Greg shook his head, "No, this is more than enough. Thanks."

Greg bit into the egg and chewed slowly, realising he'd started too soon and needed to let it cool.

"There were some people walking through the woods this morning," Ace spoke, peeling his egg.

Greg raised an eyebrow.

"Two or three bulky fellas. I think they were looking for something or someone," he trailed off.

"And they didn't see your cabin?"

"I protect my sanctuary. Nobody gets to see it unless I want them to."

Greg took another bite of his egg.

"Something made me feel like they were looking for you," Ace said with a casual shrug.

"Yeah? What made you think that?"

"I don't know. Is someone looking for you?"

His mind thought of Freya and then the wolves.

"I'm not sure."

"Are you in trouble?" he asked with apparent concern.

Greg stayed silent.

"Because if you are, I can help you. It's dangerous out here, especially if you're alone."

"I'm not in trouble," Greg clarified.

"So what's your plan? Wait out the end of the world?"

Greg finished his egg and put the plate on the ground. "Maybe, is that yours?"

Ace stayed silent, annoyed at Greg's short answers. Greg eventually stood up, sensing his change of mood. "Thank you for breakfast but I think I should go now."

"Take care, kid," Ace said without looking up and so Greg took that as his cue to leave.

As he walked away, Greg felt slightly paranoid. He hoped, for his sake, that he wouldn't be followed.

•

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