“How the hell did I get talked into this?” Simon muttered. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, counting down the miles until his exit ramp came up. Only a few miles after that, he would arrive at the peaceful little town of Abingdon where the supposed wishing well was. He could hardly believe he was doing this, that he was wasting so much of his time on this useless venture.

Six hours’ worth of driving had brought him here, all the way across the state of Virginia. He was the kind of person who got very bored on long car rides, so it had been torture to get this far. Miles and miles of empty highway, with nothing to look at or break up the monotony. He would have to do the same damn thing on the way back, too.

The exit ramp came up, and Simon flipped on his turn signal to pull off. The speed limit dropped down, and he stepped gently on the brake to obey the limit. The road rose slowly upwards, following the graceful curve of a low hill.

He reached the top of the hill and started to descend the other side, where he caught his first glimpse of the little town. A church steeple rose high above the rest of the buildings, which were all as uniform and cute as the houses in a child’s playset. Each house was surrounded by a perfect lawn, which were covered in perfect ornaments.

There were a few cars driving through the town, but it seemed as if most of Abingdon’s occupants preferred to walk everywhere. It made sense, he supposed. It was like in the city, where a person would rather walk to a nearby location than deal with traffic. The distant figures swarmed across the network of sidewalks and streets like busy little ants, going about their busy little lives.

The speed limit dropped down even further until he probably could have run faster than he was driving. He didn’t much mind that now that there were things for him to observe.

The closer he got to the town, the more perfect it seemed. The figures became clearer, revealing themselves to be mostly children frolicking in the company of parents. Something about that made Simon smile. It was so different from the city, now that he thought about it. He couldn’t believe he’d drawn that comparison earlier, as if they had any similarities at all. These people walking around were doing so because they could enjoy it, not because it was annoying to drive.

Once he was deep in the town proper, he started to look around for the hotel where he was going to spend the night. This place was so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things that it had only shown up on his GPS after several minutes of searching and loading. The orchard didn’t exist at all when he searched for that, which struck him as odd. An orchard was inevitably a business that would want to advertise itself.

None of his business, he supposed. It just prepared him for the disappointment when the hotel also didn’t show up on GPS. Luckily, the woman who made his reservation for him was able to tell him approximately where it was so he could find it.

It was easy to find, being just off the main street that went through town. He didn’t see any others, so this must be the only one in town.

Walking inside, Simon was greeted by a cheerful young woman who waved him over to the counter as if she had been just waiting for him to come. She probably had, come to think about it. Summer and fall were probably prime tourist seasons for this place, when the orchard was at its most beautiful. That being said, such a small town in such an out-of-the-way location could hardly be expected to have all that much of a tourist season. It was more likely the hotel had permanent residents, with only a few rooms up for rent at any given time.

The girl looked up his reservation with a smile on her face. “You know,” she said, typing on the computer in front of her, “I was actually the one who spoke to you yesterday. When you called to make your reservation.”

“Oh, yeah?” Simon replied, smiling a little. She was bouncing on her feet a little, acting like he was some sort of celebrity.

“Yes! I’m so glad that you managed to make it here! I know we aren’t exactly in a busy area. It’s so easy to miss us. But you made it!”

“I did!” Simon agreed. The girl slid a paper towards him and he signed it, then accepted the key she handed him. It was an honest-to-goodness key, oversized and made of pure metal. A tag attached to the bow displayed his room number. “I’m here to see the orchard.”

“Oh, the Lakeman family orchard? It seems like we’ve had quite a few people like yourself coming through in the past couple of years. Oh! Um! Not that I mean anything by it, of course.” Her cheeks glowed pink with a blush as she realized what she’d said. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being someone like you, that is. Oh, dear. Look at me. Being so talkative and saying all the wrong things. Pretend I didn’t say anything. Have a good stay. I hope you enjoy the orchard!”

She couldn’t have ended the conversation more thoroughly than if she’d pushed him.

He lingered however, knowing there was no one behind him who needed their turn at the counter. “Hold on. You haven’t said anything wrong. Why don’t you tell me what you meant?”

“Oh, Mr. Diamond, I don’t know if I should. My manager wouldn’t like it.”

I feel bad that you’re uncomfortable, but I’m too curious to let it go.

“How about this? I’ll make a deal with you. If your manager comes, we’ll just pretend that I’m asking you about fun things to do around here. And when I leave tomorrow, I’ll call and tell him how helpful you’ve been. You won’t get in trouble. In fact, you’d be doing the opposite.”

“Well…” She hesitated, then looked around. Simon could have told her even without looking that there was no one in the immediate area. He sensed human presence elsewhere in the building, perhaps regulars in their rooms or the manager in his office, but none of them were close enough to be bothersome. “Do you promise that I won’t get in trouble?”

“Cross my heart,” Simon said.

The receptionist smiled briefly. “Okay, but if you see anyone coming…”

“I have very good hearing. There’s nothing to worry about. Now, what did you mean when you said people like me were coming here?”

“Well, single men who come alone and then leave immediately. They come to the orchard and they leave again. It’s funny, but they always leave looking like they’ve seen a ghost or something like that. Except for that one time when it was a couple of men, but they left pretty quickly too. And they saw the orchard.” She bit her lip, apparently considering her next words carefully. “It’s like they see something. Everyone knows the Lakeman family is a little bit odd, so it doesn’t surprise me if there’s something weird going on out there.”

“They’re a little odd, huh?”

Probably because they were wolf shifters.

“Oh, but they’re all such sweethearts. And…” She hesitated again. Simon motioned encouragingly for her to continue. “Well, I shouldn’t say anything else. It wouldn’t be right. I think we should finish with our conversation now, Mr. Diamond.”

Simon took a step away from the counter to keep her from feeling as uncomfortable as she looked. “That’s all right,” he said, smiling at her. She didn’t return the smile, though she certainly did try. “I was just curious anyway. It doesn’t mean anything, right?”

“Of course not. Please enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Diamond. If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.” Her tone said he should ask someone else if it was going to lead into another weird conversation like this one had been.

“I’m sure I will,” Simon said. He waved good-bye to her and received a slight flutter of her fingers in response. Turning away, he went down the hall just past the front desk and went in search of his room. It was easy to find, since there were only so many. The scent of other humans was stronger here, soaked into the walls, the carpet. Humans were part of its identity now, part of its purpose and existence.

Finding his room, Simon stepped inside. It was about what he’d expected. It looked exactly like any other hotel room in existence, only smaller and a little bit more homely. There was a gigantic TV on top of the dresser that at one time would have made him whistle, but which was now almost a relic. He had a bed, a desk, and a tiny bathroom with pipes that thankfully didn’t leak. Inoffensive paintings covered the walls. He thought some of them might be originals, since they seemed to depict scenery from the surrounding area, but he couldn’t be certain.

In short, he would have no problem spending the night here.

He would bring his bag in later after he came back from the orchard. For now, he just wanted to go to and see if this whole well business was actually real or not. The receptionist’s story seemed to strengthen the idea that it was, though he didn’t think he could entirely trust that. After all, there were people everywhere. Lots of men traveled by themselves. It didn’t mean they were all visiting magical wells.

Then again, this is a small town. Easier to keep track of who comes in and why. Everyone knows everyone else.

Simon rubbed his eyes while sitting on the bed, then gave a similar treatment to his neck and back. He would have given anything to be able to take a nap after such a long and boring drive, but he needed to get to the orchard while it was still potentially allowing visitors. Their website was completely minimalistic and had that chunky, blocky look about it that suggested the owners had made it themselves. It hadn’t listed visiting hours or anything, just that visitors were welcome.

They also accepted donations. Simon had made a pledge to himself that if this well thing turned out to be real, he’d make a donation. If single wolves really were showing up here and constantly bothering the owners—the Lakemans, he recalled now—then they deserved an extra buck or two.

Straightening up, he grabbed his room key and tucked it into his pocket. He strode out of the room and down the hallway. The receptionist was there at her desk, fiddling around with something on the computer. She shot him a look that seemed almost-guilty, making him suspect that she was on Facebook or Twitter instead of doing work.

She deserves a break after that conversation we had. Poor kid. Can’t have been fun for her.

Simon pushed his way through the front doors of the hotel, letting the gentle summer heat wash over him. He turned his face to the sun, the rays warming his face, before turning away to head to his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he left the parking lot and headed in the approximate direction of the orchard.

He had only an address to go by and might not ever have found it unless he’d asked about it yesterday, while getting directions to the hotel. The Lakeman Orchard was in a pretty odd place for an orchard, nestled deep within a residential neighborhood. The family lived in a house on the edge of the area, and just behind that was the sprawling orchard.

It was a vertigo-inducing sight, to witness a forest suddenly appear in the midst of a bunch of cute little single-story, white picket fence houses. The fact that the trees were all in neat, orderly rows did little to dispel the illusion.

Simon shook his head, then looked again. It was almost as if the houses didn’t belong, as if the orchard had been there first.

“I’m letting my imagination get away from me,” he grumbled.

Simon navigated the last of the streets separating him from the Lakeman home, which was at the bottom of a very long, shallow hill. The house was a ranch-style home, picture-perfect, with a winding driveway, a huge garden brimming with ripe vegetables, and a wrap-around porch.

A man was sitting on that porch, a frosted glass of something in one hand. He rocked slowly back and forth in his rocking chair. His face was oddly obscured.

He’s smoking.

Though Simon was still quite a distance away, he just knew that this man was watching him. It was, of course, only natural to watch someone as they drove up to your house to intrude upon your business. This felt different from that. It was like he was being watched.

A woman stood up from where she had been crouching behind the wall of vegetables in the garden. Simon let out a yelp of surprise, his butt completely lifting from the seat as he jumped. He jerked on the wheel, though he was thankfully driving at a snail’s pace and this made no real difference.

The woman had a basket filled with vegetables dangling from one arm. Misshapen green bell peppers, small, shiny eggplants, potatoes, thin little carrots; these were the sorts of produce a farmer would never be able to sell to a store because they didn’t look perfect. From the look in the woman’s eyes, from the beaming smile on her face, at least she thought they were perfect. The fruits of her labor.

Simon felt a tugging on his lips and realized that he, too, was smiling.

The woman made a cranking gesture with her free hand.

He rolled down the window and leaned across the center console. “Howdy!” he called.

Oh, god. Why did I say that? She’s not some country bumpkin. This isn’t the Old West.

It just came out of him, like he thought it was the proper sort of greeting to give. Like he had no idea how to talk to someone who didn’t live in a big city, even though there was really no difference between them.

The woman just smiled at him. “Go ahead and park beside the truck,” she called. “Not behind.”

Simon saluted her, then spent the next several seconds mentally beating himself up. Get him a few hundred miles from home and he turned into the most awkward person on earth. It was a miserable thing to suddenly be aware of, that you weren’t nearly as adaptable as you had thought.

He parked beside the big truck. His minivan was no small fry but this truck dwarfed it, like a Great Dane beside a chihuahua. He parked and just sat there for a moment, then pulled in a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t really work, it just made him more conscious of the fact that the more time he spent inside here, the more likely it was that he was just going to drive away and turn his back on this whole affair. There was no goddamn well. These people would look at him and laugh in his face, as they had probably laughed in the faces of all those other wolves who came here before him. This trip would have all been for naught.

Simon took another deep breath, which calmed him no more than the first had, and he shoved his door open before he had a chance to start thinking bad thoughts like that again.

His back was stiff and straight, his shoulders squared as he walked around the back of his van. He would rather talk to the smiling vegetable woman instead of the stoic man on the front porch.

The woman had gone back to tending to her garden, showing no inclination to stop what she was doing to tend to her odd guest.

Which left the stoic man on the porch.

Simon turned to look at the man, who hadn’t moved a muscle. His nerves were jangling again, and he was on the verge of going back to his van for real when the man on the porch spoke.

“Why don’t you come on up here, son.” It wasn’t a request, but rather a command. An alpha’s command, said plain and simple as if he expected to be obeyed without hesitation. And why not? He was an alpha, after all. “And we’ll talk. You look like you could use a drink.”

Simon gingerly approached the steps that led up to the porch. He expected them to be rickety, to bow under his weight the way wood did when it had been out in the elements for a few seasons. That wasn’t the case this time, however. The steps were as firm and solid as could be.

“I’m not much for alcohol.”

He always felt awkward saying just “alcohol.” It felt like such a childish thing to do, like he’d gone up to a drug dealer and asked for exactly one marijuana, please. However, he didn’t know any other way to express himself. His knowledge of beer and wine and other spirits was very slim.

“But how do you feel about lemonade?” the alpha wolf asked. He gestured to the little table beside his rocking chair, which had previously been hidden from sight by the thick railing which wrapped around the porch. The table held a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses, one full and the other empty.

“Oh,” Simon said, a little relieved. “I could get behind some lemonade.”

“Then take a seat and we’ll talk. Unless you got somewhere to be?” The alpha wolf gazed at him with serious, open eyes. “In which case, we’ll cut this to the quick and get you what you came here for. Like most of those other boys who come through here.”

“Boys?”

“Everyone’s a boy when you’re my age, Simon. Take a seat.”

Simon stayed right where he was. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move—he very much wanted to run away—so much as that he literally couldn’t move. His legs were stiff and heavy with trepidation, like pillars of cement. He might as well have been part of the house in that moment, just another feature which would be there probably until the end of time. “How did you know my name?”

“We hear things. Take a seat. Or not. It’s your choice, son.”

Tentatively, Simon approached the other rocking chair and sank down into it. The wood groaned slightly as his weight pressed down upon it, but he was surprised at how comfortable it was even without cushions or anything. He relaxed against the curved back.

“That’s better. Here, hold your glass and I’ll pour. I’d do both but I’m afraid one of my hands isn’t so steady anymore.”

Simon obediently reached over and held onto the glass so it wouldn’t tip over as the older wolf poured lemonade inside. He could tell the lemonade had been fresh-squeezed from actual lemons, strands of pulp flowing through the liquid. How many people took the time for that these days?

“Was trying to secure a tree about, oh, a year back. Storm was coming. Didn’t want to lose one of our plums. Golden plum. The hybrids are more delicate, you know.”

Simon hadn’t noticed anything delicate at all about the orchard out at the back of the house, but he found himself nodding anyway. “Makes sense.”

“There was a lightning strike. Can you believe it? I told Mary it’s because of one of the fillings I’ve got in my molars, but she told me silver doesn’t conduct electricity. Anyway. Tree split in half. Landed on my hand. Doesn’t hurt me anymore, but there’s not much even we can do when it comes to nerve damage.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon said, very sincerely. There had never been an injury he sustained that hadn’t healed rapidly. Shifting did that, gave a person the combined healing powers of man and animal. The lemonade tasted bitter when he took a sip.

“Doesn’t bother me any. I only wish I could’ve saved the tree. But you’re not here to learn about the orchard, are you?”

“You’re right. I…” It was ridiculous, but he had to say it. “I came for the wishing well.”

“You think you’re going to find that it’s not real? Simon, dozens of wolves like you have come here with that exact mindset. We get all kinds. The downtrodden and the skeptics walk up to us practically hand-in-hand, all searching to answer the same question. Does the well exist? And they all walk away with the same answer.”

“Which is?”

“It exists,” the older wolf said. His gaze unfocused slightly. He looked off towards the woman in the distance, inspecting what seemed to be a tomato plant. Despite his gray hair, the alpha was clearly still a powerful wolf, his shoulders broad and his arms thick. All animals—and humans—grew more frail as they aged, seeming to collapse in on themselves, but that hadn’t yet happened to this wolf. “I believe it’s always existed. Protecting itself with a pine forest, out back behind our orchard. No one knows who owns the pine forest, so it just sits there. I think most people forget it exists. I think that’s what the forest wants.”

“A forest can’t think.”

“And people can’t turn into animals. And a wishing well can’t show you your mate. Impossible things are possible in this world, Simon. You shouldn’t forget that.”

“I came here to get my mother off my back,” Simon said. “She wanted me to come here before I started my new job.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“But I will. I will look into the well. If it exists.”

“Whether you want to look or not, the well will show you your mate. There are consequences that come with that.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I think only time will tell.” The other wolf sighed and took a swig from his glass. “Simon, you are a teacher, aren’t you?”

“A PE teacher. Also a coach.”

“Close enough. You strike me as an intellectual. In that case, will you humor an old man? Sometimes the burden of owning this place can get a man down when he has to keep it all to himself. It would be nice to tell the tale to someone new.”

Simon’s heart gave a sad little twinge for the older wolf. “Sure, I’ll listen. Let’s start with your name.”

“Yes, that’s a fine place to start.” The wolf turned, offered his hand. “My name is Jeremiah Lakeman. You may call me Jerry.”

Simon shook his hand. “Simon Diamond, but I guess you already know that. It’s nice to meet you, Jerry.”

“The beautiful woman out there feeling up the vegetables is my mate, Mary. We have a son, Quincy. He lives out in town with his mate, Jake Lakeman-Hope, and their sons.”

“Did Quincy look into the well?”

“Yes. And I believe he’s better for it.” Jerry sighed a little. “I’m proud of how far he’s come. But this isn’t quite about him. The well has been around for far, far longer. It’s an ancient thing, Simon. I believe it belongs to a different time. I believe this entire area belongs to a different time.”

“What are you saying?” Simon didn’t like the sound of this. It was like he was hearing the beliefs of some cult.

“I’m saying, didn’t you notice anything odd about Abingdon? How difficult it is to find us, to get information about us? And the town itself. We don’t have a low-income part of town. We don’t have a drug dealer. We have a few bars but no one just sits around getting drunk for days. Everyone knows everyone. No one is afraid. We are here. Untouchable. Like the outside doesn’t matter. I believe that is the power of the well. Mary thinks I’m insane when I say things like that.”

“Not to offend you, Jerry, but you do sound kind of...” He didn’t finish that thought, catching himself before he could be rude. “There are a lot of peaceful little towns where bad things don’t happen.”

Jerry chuckled softly. “True, true. But next time you go back in town, really pay attention. You’ll notice. Especially after seeing the well.”

“I’ll pay attention. I promise.”

“Good. Do you know how technology doesn’t seem to work around us?”

“Yes.”

“I believe that whatever causes that, the well amplifies it. It searches. I think we are all connected. We are all wolves, all one united pack on the surface of this little planet. Our spirits are all connected, if only so slightly that we don’t feel it at all.”

“You think that’s how it shows you a mate? But how does it even do that?”

Jerry finished his lemonade and then set his hands on the arms of his rocking chair. One hand couldn’t seem to grip as tightly as the other. “Why don’t you see for yourself? Thank you for listening to the ramblings of an old man, but I think it’s time that we get this show on the road.”

After taking another sip from his own drink, Simon stood up to follow the older wolf. “Let’s go,” he said.

His voice didn’t sound confident, not even to his own ears. However, Jerry seemed to think nothing of it. He had undoubtedly gone through this same process on many other occasions.

The older alpha walked towards the orchard, and Simon followed.