Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 34: Grace: Lighten

Sterling City is a small town. Too small to hide in. Andrew’s words, not mine.

"So you’re not leaving me here?" I ask, confused.

Andrew’s grip tightens around the steering wheel. "It’s the first place they’ll look. You’re going to need some more distance from the Lycan King, just in case."

His words send ice through my veins. Of course they’d search Sterling City. It’s the closest human settlement, so it makes sense I would run here.

"We’re going to keep driving for a while, but first we need some food."

He pulls into a vast parking lot illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. A massive blue sign looms ahead.

"Where are we?"

"Walmart. We need food."

The automatic doors slide open with a mechanical hiss, releasing a blast of cold air that prickles my skin. Inside, the store stretches endlessly, aisles upon aisles of... everything. So many things.

"Bathroom first," Andrew mutters, nodding toward the back of the store.

We navigate through the nearly empty store. Past midnight, only a few night owls roam the aisles alongside us. A tired woman in a blue vest pushes a cart of items to restock, and two guys crowd stand in front of the frozen pizzas. They’re the only two people I see.

After using the bathroom, I emerge to find Andrew waiting. His gaze follows mine as I take in everything around us.

"Want to look around?"

I hesitate. "Is that okay?"

"Sure. If you’re not tired." He shrugs. "We can take ten minutes to look around."

It’s a little embarrassing to admit how much fun it is just to drift through aisles.

I end up in haircare, drawn to a wall of colors and promises. My hair’s brown and boring, but I’d never cared much about it before. It’s just hair, after all.

A box with a blonde woman catches my eye. I reach for it, reading the instructions with burning curiosity. A transformation in a box. A new identity for $8.99.

I’m still reading when Andrew says, "Wait here while I grab some food and snacks, okay?" fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

I nod absently, already reaching for another box. How different would I look? Would Rafe even recognize me? Would Caine?

I pick up a third option when a soft voice interrupts.

"I don’t recommend that brand. You’ll end up brassy."

I turn to find a girl with hair in every color of the rainbow. Her eyes—unnaturally slitted like a cat’s—survey me with amused interest.

"I’m not really sure what I’m looking at," I admit.

She glances around before grabbing a different box. "This would work best out of what’s on the shelves."

"Oh." I read over the box, not seeing any real difference except—"This one costs more."

"The cheap ones aren’t worth it." She cocks her head, studying me. "Ever lightened your hair before?"

"No."

She rubs the tip of her nose, eyes narrowing as she looks me up and down. "You from around here?"

I hesitate, looking around. She seems a little too helpful to be a wolf shifter, but I’m still nervous. Where’s Andrew?

"My rig’s in the parking lot," she says, jerking her thumb toward the entrance. "If you want help going blonde."

"Oh. Are you... some sort of hair dresser?"

She laughs. "Nah. Just a vagabond. But I’ve bleached my hair enough times. I can help with yours."

Andrew appears then, his basket filled with canned foods, crackers, apples, and a couple bottles of water. I introduce him to the girl, whose name I realize I don’t even know.

She tells us to call her Lyre, solving that problem.

Looking at Andrew, then me, and the things in his basket, her eyes narrow. "You two run away from home or something?"

I flinch.

"No," Andrew says too quickly. His eyes drop to the box in my hand. "Did you want to change your hair color?"

I hastily return the box to the shelf, feeling oddly guilty. I wasn’t trying to spend Andrew’s money or anything. It feels even more awkward now, probably because he admitted having a crush on me once before. "I was just curious."

"It’s fine," he says, grabbing it off the shelf and tossing it into his basket. "Might be a good idea anyway."

"If you’ve run away from home," the girl interjects, "you really don’t want to botch up your dye job. Also, you’ll need at least one more box."

Ten minutes later, we’re following her to a pickup truck across the parking lot with a giant camper hitched to the back. My stomach churns with nerves. It’s probably stupid to follow a stranger, but at least we’re in the parking lot of an open business.

Besides, with Andrew here, it’s unlikely she can do anything terrible to me.

Lyre opens the door to her fifth wheel, sweeping her arm in a dramatic gesture. "Welcome to my humble abode."

The space that greets us isn’t what I expected. It’s like stepping into another world—one splashed with color and life. Every surface holds something fascinating: lightweight cloth in rich jewel tones drape across the walls, fairy lights strung in zigzag patterns across the ceiling cast a warm glow over everything, and plants hang from macramé holders in every corner. The kitchenette gleams with copper pots dangling from a rack, while the small dinette area has been transformed with cushions covered in fabrics that look like they came from at least four different countries. It feels more like a bohemian apartment than an RV.

"You staying anywhere in town?" Lyre asks, tossing her keys into a ceramic bowl shaped like a lotus.

"No," Andrew answers, his posture stiff. He doesn’t elaborate, and I catch the slight narrowing of his eyes—a warning to me.

"Hmm. Well, let’s get started then." Lyre motions for me to follow her toward the back of the trailer. "Bathroom’s this way."

The bathroom is tiny, but just as colorful as the rest of the space. A shower curtain printed with peacock feathers hangs beside a sink adorned with shells and small crystals. Even the mirror has been decorated with pressed flowers embedded in its frame.

"It’s going to get tight in here," Lyre warns, pulling out a towel in a faded purple hue. She rummages through a cabinet and produces a small jar. "First things first—petroleum jelly around your hairline. Keeps the bleach from burning your skin."

Lyre reaches past me to crack open a small window. "This smell is going to be intense."

Andrew hovers in the hallway, his tall frame filling the doorway. There’s barely room for Lyre and me in here, let alone him. His eyes track Lyre’s movements as she begins setting out supplies on the counter.

"You can sit on the closed toilet," Lyre tells me, openingone of the boxes. "We’ll section your hair first."

I perch on the strange, tankless toilet, watching as she mixes chemicals in a small plastic bowl. The sharp scent hits my nostrils immediately, making my eyes water.

"Told you it was strong," Lyre chuckles. She glances at Andrew’s rigid stance. "Dude, you can chill. I’m not going to kidnap your girlfriend."

"I’m not—" I start to say.

Andrew cuts in, his voice firm. "I’m just being careful."

Lyre rolls her slitted eyes. "Got it. Secret runaways who aren’t a couple."

As she begins sectioning my hair with plastic clips, I take in more details of the trailer. Beyond Andrew, there’s a bed piled high with mismatched pillows. Books stack precariously on every surface, and dried flowers hang upside down from the ceiling.

"How long have you lived like this?" I ask, curious about this nomadic lifestyle that seems so free.

"Three years in this beast," Lyre answers, beginning to apply the bleach mixture to sections of my hair. "Before that, I had a van. And before that, just a backpack."

Is it crazy to think fate put Lyre in the store tonight to meet me? Someone like her might be able to help me with my dream of independence and re-integrating with humans.

"Do you stay in one place very long?"

Lyre’s fingers work deftly through my hair as she considers my question. "It just depends," she finally says with a shrug. "I go where the wind takes me. I’ve been here for about three days, but the manager’s pretty sick of me hanging around. Tomorrow, I’ll head toward Yellowstone."

How free.