We'rehuman: We'reHuman, #1

By Jae Shanks

Two years ago, Conor was a regular wolf running in Montana with his pack. Now, he's a less than regular Montana farm hand. Balancing his wolf side and human side is challenging on good days (ugh, clothes).
Werewolves? Never heard of them, which makes the large wolf tracks outside the chicken coop that much more suspicious.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jae Shanks
• Release date: Mar 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540131096

Jae Shanks

A sound designer currently living in Kansas City, Jae Shanks has been writing since she was in middle school. Although originally from Austin, Texas. She's quite at home here in the Midwest with its tempestuous weather and religion of coffee. When not in the theatre or writing, she is constantly cooking something new with local ingredients.

Book preview

Chapter 1

C onor!

I let out a short growl and nestled further into the bed. Ralph’s voice sounded angry, and I hadn’t done anything.

Conor! Get up!

I growled again and yawned, sitting up in bed. The quilt was streaked with blood and feathers. I felt some stuck to my chin and wiped them with the back of one hand. The man in the doorway was holding something white and bloody in a yellow glove.

What is this? he demanded, holding it out to me.

A dead chicken? I guessed.

"You promised that you’d stop killing the chickens, Ralph told me. And I have two dead chickens and three more missing this morning."

I didn’t kill any chickens last night, I answered, yawning. Guineas, sure. Chickens, no. Do you see any chicken feathers in here?

Ralph paused as if trying to decide if I was telling the truth. I was; I hadn’t the knack for lying. It was too much to keep straight, and I had no need to lie to Ralph.

Since I was already awake, I stretched and then slid out of bed, surveying the damage. I had managed to keep the blood off the walls this time. I would just need to sweep up the feathers and wash the bedding.

Conor, clothes! Ralph reminded me.

I groaned but accepted the pair of shorts that he threw at me. Clothes were my least favorite things about being human. They rustled and never fit well, and there wasn’t a time that it was acceptable not to wear clothes.

Mel is making breakfast, he said. Start the laundry before you come up, please.

I will, I replied, hunting about the room for a shirt.

Ralph left with the dead chicken. I glanced toward the bathroom, wondering if I should shower before starting laundry. Ralph hadn’t said anything, but I knew from experience that I usually wasn’t presentable to Mel’s standards after a hunt.

Sure enough, the mirror showed that I had blood on my face and down my neck. My hair was a knotted mess. Mel would not approve. After a quick shower and putting clothes back on, I bundled up everything with blood on it and moved it to the laundry room, conveniently next door. This happened frequently enough that I was decently proficient with the washer and dryer, unlike most of the technology upstairs. Then again, all this took was soap and a knob I turned and pressed. The microwave was magic as far as I was concerned.

Breakfast! I heard over the washer’s noise.

I headed up the stairs and into the kitchen. Ralph, Mel, and Susie Lynn were seated, waiting for me to join them. I slid into a chair, and Ralph said grace for the food before passing the plates of biscuits, sausage, eggs, and gravy around the table.

Ralph told me about the chickens, Mel mentioned. Did you see anything out there?

Not that I recall, I answered. But I was down by the creek for most of the night. I’ll have a look after breakfast?

There are paw prints everywhere, Ralph grumbled. I would have thought other canines would stay away.

I would have thought so too, I agreed, pondering what kind of foolish creature would enter what was clearly my territory.

Mom, can I go over to Sarah’s house later? Susie Lynn asked.

After your chores, Mel told her. I need to run into town anyway. Ralph, do you need anything?

Chicken wire, he sighed. And some beer.

We’ll see, she laughed. Conor?

I think we’re almost out of dryer sheets, I said. I don’t need anything, no.

You need a haircut, she remarked. Your hair’s longer than Susie’s now.

I ran my fingers through my damp hair. It was barely on my shoulders, but Susie Lynn had just cut her hair last week. I shook my head, having seen Mel cut Ralph’s unruly brown hair. I was content to leave mine alone.

Will you at least pull it back? she inquired, handing me a hair tie.

I glanced at the stretchy loop, unsure how to use it.

Take all of your hair in one hand, and put the scrunchie on your other hand’s thumb and finger, Susie Lynn explained, pulling down her own hair tie to show me. And then pinch the bunch of hair and pull it around, twist it and do that once more.

I attempted to follow but somehow managed to drop the hair tie on the ground. Susie Lynn picked up the scrunchie and did it for me. It felt weird, pulling my scalp back and my hair out of my peripheral vision. Mel nodded with approval, and we continued breakfast.

What do you think did it? Ralph asked me while we surveyed the mess of the chicken coop.

I helped him move some scrap plywood to the worst of the holes, but we were still missing chickens from the coop. Hopefully, I could track some of them down.

The prints aren’t cougar, I said. Or any cat for that matter. Too small to be fox or coyote, but honestly, these prints are too large to be wolf.

And you’re not just saying that? he questioned.

It wasn’t me, I grumbled. I think I know my own prints pretty well. And if you’re still uncertain, I’m sure I have some just outside my window. What I don’t understand is why a wolf would go for the fenced-in chicken coop near the house and not the barn or stockyard.

You did, Ralph pointed out.

I was also sick and dying, I replied. Which chickens are gone?

One rooster and a hen were killed, and three of the dun hens are gone, he replied. You know, I saw feathers all over your room, but I don’t think we’re down any guineas. At least, it doesn’t sound like it.

We both frowned at the guineas roaming the yard, eating bugs and chattering at each other. They were decent pest control, but only if you could put up with the noise. I didn’t feel bad when I killed a couple during a hunt.

I took a sniff but couldn’t smell more than the chicken litter. This was my second least favorite thing about being human. I couldn’t smell anything that wasn’t right in front of my too short nose.

Could it be someone like you? Ralph suggested.

Why would someone break into a chicken coop? I questioned. And if they were like me, they should be able to smell that this is not their turf.

They could steal to prove a point, he offered. I don’t know, like gang wars or something.

I stared at him blankly. I had learned an immense amount of information about humans in my two years here, but there were always new things to learn. Hair ties, for instance.

Pack wars? he tried. Don’t wolf packs fight?

If there are food shortages, I said. And even then, they’ll usually work together. But there is tons of food here; it’s spring.

The porch door slammed shut up at the house. Mel and Susie Lynn were walking to the truck.

We’re headed out! Mel called. You boys good?

Ralph gave her a thumb’s up, and the two headed down the drive. We turned to the task at hand.

Can we follow these tracks any? Ralph asked. I don’t suppose we can use your wolf nose for this.

I shook my head. This soon after hunting, I couldn’t use my wolf senses, and so would have to do this the human way: sight. New colors were interesting, but not relevant to figuring out what broke into the chickens.

The paw prints were easier to see in the dirt of the chicken coop, but they were heavy enough to make prints in the grass. Ralph and I followed the short path to the trees, where we found some chicken feathers. Not many, but enough to keep the trail going for several more yards. Then, the tracks met up with two more sets, and they headed down a fourth trail together. That trail was harder to follow; the prints blurred together as they ran away from the property. I stopped following; pointless to track a group of wolves on the run; they could be miles away.

A pack? Ralph asked.

A pack, I agreed. They should know better. They shouldn’t be this close to people anyway.

Should we move the heifers? he inquired. I guess I’m asking, will they be back?

I stared down at the tracks, wishing I had heard them last night. I tried to stay away from the property; I scared most of the creatures that lived here, and humans were trying to sleep.

I think so, I sighed. This may have been a test. Now, they might be bolder still.

Ralph groaned as we headed back to the house. We weren’t so far, and who knows what the other two wolves that hadn’t raided the chicken coop had been doing. I didn’t like this.

I’ll sleep out at the barn tonight, I said. If they’re wolves, then they should smell me and know to stay away.

If they’re not wolves?

Then they’ll wish they stayed away, I answered.

Mel worried over me like I was going to die from the lack of a feather bed for the night. She packed me blankets and water and snacks; I wasn’t going out of eyeshot.

I’ll be all right, I told her. I’ve survived all these years living outside; I think I can handle one night in a barn.

You had fur all the time, back then, she reminded me as if I had forgotten. And instincts. Being human is hard without help.

That was true. Walking on two feet was still odd if I thought about it. I didn’t have claws or any impressive teeth. My hearing was dull and my sense of smell even worse.

If the pack is truly so big, I will stay hidden, I promised. I can handle three wolves. We don’t know if they’re coming back tonight.

Even so. Mel tucked the picnic basket under my arm. Now you will have some home comforts. Stay safe, Conor.

I nodded and headed for the door. Susie Lynn ran up to me, and we bumped fists before I opened the door and walked out into the clear night. It was still a little cold; winter hadn’t totally shaken its icy grip on Montana. The stars were beautiful, one thing I had never noticed while being a wolf. Humans did see the world differently.

Conor! My wife finally let you out of the house? Ralph laughed. "I thought I was going to have to sleep out here."

He had laid down some hay in an empty stall and set up a light at the door. I set the picnic basket down and retrieved the blanket and a pillow. Ralph peeked inside and shook his head.

She’d never make me sandwiches for sleeping out in a barn. You delicate flower.

There ought to be some perks of being human, I answered with a grin and unfolded the blanket to lie on the hay. I’m good here. You can go back up to the house.

I yawned and sat; I had only slept a couple hours the night before with the hunt and the early accusatory wake-up call. Hopefully, I wouldn’t sleep so soundly that the wolves would come and go without me noticing.

Here. Ralph handed me one of his rifles. I stared at it and shook my head, offering it back to him.

I'm not shooting anyone tonight, Ralph. I can’t do that.

And what if they attack? What if you get hurt? he demanded. How are you planning on defending yourself?

I’m not, I’m planning on climbing the ladder and sitting up there until morning, I replied, pointing at the hayloft. Wolves can’t get up there, and I’ll be just fine. Go back to the house; I can watch a barn without everyone worrying about me.

Ralph frowned but nodded his head. Be safe, Conor.

I leaned my head onto my pillow and was asleep in moments.

The first two nights, nothing happened. I either slept too soundly to hear anyone or they didn’t return. Ralph and I fixed the chicken coop, and I found one of the chickens scratching up in the hayloft. For now, things had become more normal, albeit with