Mr. Henrich agreed to keep an eye on Josh’s house and to call him immediately if something seemed wrong or out of the ordinary. While Josh suspected his neighbor only agreed to this because the task required no effort at all, he was still glad to have gotten that out of the way. It was the hardest part.

He told himself that with every part of the planning process. Each obstacle faced was the hardest part. By the end of it all, he had himself convinced that he’d gone through a minefield and come out on top despite all the odds against him. He left for his trip to Abingdon on top of the clouds, despite the fact that most of his tasks had actually been rather easy.

Talking to Mr. Henrich had only been the start of it all. He had to research hotels near Abingdon and make his reservation. Then he had to call the orchard and schedule a visit. He said nothing about the well. Instead, he stated he was a baker who might want to do business with the orchard in the future, and would it be okay if he came by one day?

It turned out he didn’t need an appointment. He could just waltz right up to the owners’ home and knock. They would be around or their son and his partner would be. He came away from that call relieved and a bit embarrassed, and hopeful that his professionalism would earn him some brownie points down the line. After all, it would make sense to only show the well to people they trusted...if there was a well at all.

He plotted out his travel route. Six long hours of driving and being alone with his thoughts. He scouted for other things in the area to do just in case the well was a letdown, so he wouldn’t end up wasting his money. He gathered up snacks, packed his bags, and informed his pack he would be out of town. Ryan seemed particularly pleased to hear this news. Then, all he could do was wait for the weekend to come so he could get a move on. His stomach churned with nerves every second of the next few days, though he really had no reason to be afraid of anything. It was only the anticipation getting to him, making him worry about things he didn’t even need to worry over.

He didn’t bother baking anything to try and sell over those days. He was too distracted to make anything worth the effort, and the weather had gotten even colder. No one in their right mind would idle in his front lawn, buying near-frozen desserts when they could do the same in the comfort of a heated store. Besides, no one missed him anyway. No one came knocking to see if he was okay. No one hesitated in front of his house, or even looked over at the window where he watched, hoping to be noticed.

I made myself an outcast. Of course no one would ever miss me. Why would they? I didn’t give them a reason to.

Then, the day was upon him. He skipped breakfast, his stomach roiling uneasily. He showered and dressed, grabbed up his suitcase and his snack bag, and then set out on the road. Leaving Portsmouth was difficult on its own due to the high traffic, making him thankful he didn’t live in an even larger city. However, once he was out, he was finally able to relax and settle in for one major reason.

Boredom.

While his home state was a beautiful piece of artwork in many ways, and he would forever be loyal to it and all it contained over anywhere else, a highway was a highway. You saw one, you had seen them all. The long road, always faintly curving. The strips of grass on either side, lined with thick walls of tree. Billboards and smaller green signs announcing the distances to upcoming destinations. Ramps. The occasional piece of roadkill or a strip of rubber on the side of the road.

Nothing else. Nothing to break the monotony of distance passing slowly. It was impossible to be timid when he’d begun to actually hope something interesting would happen. As was the way with many road trips, nothing interesting happened. He listened to the radio and ate more snacks than he should have, until his trash bag was fuller than the snack one. He looked at the clouds and counted red cars. He stopped at gas stations to use their bathrooms and then bought more snacks that he didn’t need out of courtesy, which he then ate even though he wasn’t hungry. Never much of a fast food person, he nevertheless visited a McDonald's twice when he saw the distinctive yellow sign up in the distance.

By the time he finally arrived at Abingdon, it was like driving into heaven. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Beauty, certainly. Just, not this.

Every single house he could see looked as if it belonged in a different age, where grandeur and art was valued over convenience. No two were exactly alike, set apart from the others by colorful roofs, various porches, massive yards, and an abundance of white columns. There were no fences. The yards just seemed to naturally divide somewhere between houses, marked off by trees or bushes or a scattering of toys or lawn ornaments. The streets were very wide and well-maintained, worn silver and smooth by constant passage. The sidewalks were wide, composed of red brick. No matter where he looked, there were plants. It was as if the town itself had sprouted from the earth, not separate from the dormant life around it but as one with it.

Most of those plants were silent and bare, sleeping the winter away. The trees were mere skeletons, which might have lent the town a gloomy feel. This wasn’t the case. Bared as they were, everything which was once hidden within the leaves was now visible. He saw an abundance of bird nests high up. And lower, the signs of love that all cherished trees acquire through the ages. There were snared kites, still waiting to be reclaimed by their past owners. There were ribbons and plastic bags, like strange airborne jellyfish, tire swings and dangling strings from which pinatas once hung. He saw three treehouses in the same neighborhood, and a number of forgotten Halloween decorations.

He suspected there were Christmas lights he couldn’t see from this distance, as of yet unlit in the light of day. Inflatable decorations and more traditional plastic ones filled the huge yards in front of every house. There were so many reindeer that they could have taken over the world and, as far as the eye could see, distinctive splashes of red denoted a Santa Claus here, a Santa Claus there. Santa Clauses everywhere.

There were holiday decorations in Portsmouth but they didn’t seem to be as genuine as the ones he was looking at here through his car window as he drove down the slight hill into town. In a city, you decorated because you had to, because it was That Time of the Year Again and it was expected. Businesses capitalized on such things especially, which tended to give a false sort of feel to everything. Growing up with that, it was no wonder he often dreaded holidays of any sort.

But out here, you decorated because you wanted to, because it was fun. Celebrations were more than advertisements and greeting cards.

Josh suddenly realized he’d taken his foot off the gas and his Mustang had slowed to a mere crawl. In his rearview mirror, he saw a bunched line of other cars all crawling along behind him. Embarrassed, he stomped on the gas and went over the speed limit to make up for it. In a city, they all would have been honking, snapping him out of his daydream. Instead, their mere acceptance of his slow speed only served to guide him deeper into calmness. He wondered if they knew somehow, if they could tell he was ogling their dwellings and delighted in it, allowing him to get his fill of the view.

Driving down the main street, he located his hotel easily enough. It looked exactly as he would expect it to, the interior being composed of warm, subtle earth tones that invited the eye to linger.

A personable-enough young woman at the reception desk in the lobby greeted him with a smile. He checked in and headed up to the second floor to his room. He checked it over quickly, ensuring that there weren’t going to be any unpleasant surprises later on. That meant no drowned rats in the bathtub, no leaking pipes, and nothing unsavory on the bed sheets. All of these and more were things he had either heard of or experienced for himself.

He was to be pleasantly surprised at the state of this place. It was much cleaner than he would have expected from just a regular hotel. He could tell the sheets and cover had been freshly-washed instead of simply turned down and aired out, which was often what larger hotels would do for up to a month at a time. The layout was exactly what he would have expected it to be, with a short beginning hallway with a bathroom, leading into the larger bedroom, most of which was taken up by the bed itself. There was a desk, a dresser, and a large TV all crammed in there somehow but without making him feel cramped. There were tasteful paintings on the wall, which drew his attention because they weren’t simply carbon copies of the same generic scene. These were actual paintings, the distinctive whorls and ridges of texture glistening in the light, depicting bright forests in all four seasons. The artist had signed their name at the bottom, though he couldn’t read the signature.

It was this final touch, something he never would have expected, that served to bolster his hopes more than anything else. This truly was a home away from home. He had five days here in Abingdon. He would enjoy them even if he never left this wonderful room.

Worn out from his long drive, he placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the door and locked up before falling into bed. He drifted away on top of the covers, carried away instantly by dreams.

He woke again two hours later, very thirsty and with a foul taste in his mouth from all the artificial snacks he had on the way over. Yet, as he straightened up and stretched out, he thought he hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Stiff, sore, eyes blurry, mouth dry with a film of scum on the inside, but good and purposeful.

Maybe Ryan was right. All I needed was a change of scenery.

Though he intended to head out to the orchard the moment he was checked in here, he found himself wanting to linger. One more day wouldn’t hurt. So, he lingered. He brushed his teeth, took a shower, and shaved for the first time in ages. He hated to feel stubble poking through his skin, rasping and itchy, but it had long since gone past that stage. He took care of that now, luxuriating beneath the hot spray with a good razor. His legs, arms, stomach and groin all were restored to a bare state. He skipped his chest, as he had no need to do anything there, and cleaned up around his neck and face. He didn’t need to see to do this, relying purely on his sensitive fingertips to guide him. Muscle memory kicked in and, when he emerged and toweled off, he hadn’t suffered a single nick.

Standing in front of the mirror, he touched up on a few places he’d missed, then dried completely. His hair frizzed up into wild curls, which he left alone. Dressing again in the same clothes as before, he picked up his keys and headed out for a walk around town.

Everything was even more magical up close. All the stores in the downtown area were playing Christmas music, but there were no celebrity editions blaring, the hallmark of a location desperate to be hip and happening. Josh heard only instrumental pieces and cheerful, heartfelt renditions which always seemed just a bit grainy, as if joy for the season was a thing that belonged in the past.

Yes, that was it. He felt like he’d taken a step back in time. Not very far, no. Twenty or thirty years, that was all.

His heart was light in his chest, fluttering as he walked. The wind whipped his cheeks and did sweet, intimate things with his hair. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the display windows, he hardly recognized the ruddy-faced, grinning young man who looked back at him.

And he attracted attention, too. None of it seemed bad, at least to him, but he could feel an interested gaze linger upon him here and there as he passed by some woman. He could always tell when a woman was looking at him. The burn of their gaze was sharper, a bit more unpleasant. Men tended to stroke with their eyes instead, to caress, spreading the intensity over a larger surface area so they weren’t as frightening. He wondered if those men knew that being sensual actually made them less intimidating, turning them into creatures of passion rather than violence. And he wondered if those men ever entertained thoughts of him long after he passed out of their view, as he sometimes did of them.

All that was a moot point here because there were no men looking at him with such interest, though some did glance his way when they realized he was a fellow shapeshifter. Most of them were wolves, dominant and not, but he also exchanged a greeting with a rabbit woman and saw a young lion boy dashing across the street. He smelled feline and sweet, like golden sun-kissed grass, with sparkling yellow hair that flowed out behind him like a mane even though he was too young to have grown one yet in his other form.

Josh glanced around, wondering where the parents were, but he couldn’t see hide nor hair of another big cat. Puzzling, since the cats were extremely protective of their kits, but he supposed the boy might be an adopted orphan. He would be raised with his parents, taught the ways of his adopted kin—be they predators or be they hopping little bunnies—until he set out on his own to be with his own kind.

For once, he realized he might not be the only person in the world having a hard time with things. The realization was jarring but strangely not upsetting. He felt a sudden strong kinship with the little lion kit, wherever he had gone off to.

He went in many of the shops and saw many things he would like to have, though the thought of putting some knickknack up on his parents’ shelves seemed preposterous. Nothing had changed there since the day they died, physically preserving their memory. To sully that would be like defacing a museum exhibit. He shuddered with horror to think of it.

And yet, some of the curios he had seen still lingered in his mind long after he left them behind.

I’m not here to be a tourist, he reminded himself. This is business. I can’t go throwing all my money away on pointless things.

He made himself content to browse until early evening arrived. Legs aching pleasantly, he stopped inside a diner and bought breakfast for dinner. He came in thinking he would only get some toast, perhaps a scrambled egg, and some coffee, but as he passed by full tables of happy families enjoying their meals, something happened to him he had no explanation for. Scents flooded over his senses as a constant barrage but now he fully and truly became aware of them in a way that he hadn’t for a very long time. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden beautiful intensity, the sudden meaningfulness of it all. It was as if he had been blind for two years and could suddenly see again, the scents were so vivid. Savory eggs, rich sausage, earthy coffee, and so many sweet things that all the sugar blurred together into one desirable entity.

His waitress was a ponytailed mouse of a woman, probably not yet out of high school if he had to hedge a bet. He liked her. She patiently explained all the options available to him since it was all a little overwhelming for a person out of practice with social interactions.

In the end, he ordered the large sampler platter which came with eggs, toast, hash browns, ham, sausage, and a small stack of chocolate chip pancakes. He ate it all with relish, taking full advantage of the condiments offered to him. Never before had he consumed so much ketchup, jelly, and syrup all in one sitting. The waitress kept dropping by to refill his coffee and water more than was necessary. Something about the way he ate seemed to amuse her, and she made jokes about taking better care of himself. Coming from a stranger, the jokes were almost acceptable, and he laughed just to see her smile.

When he finally stood up again, he could feel everything sloshing around inside his stomach, filling him, taking away some of the hollow ache in his chest that had been there so long he stopped even noticing it. He left a $20 tip for his waitress, who came running after him with the bill in her hand.

“Sir! Sir?” She tapped him on the shoulder. He could smell her perfume, a little too floral for his tastes.

Josh turned around. “Yes?”

She held out his $20, offering it up to him. “You must have left this by mistake, sir,” she said.

Josh looked at her and didn’t know whether to smile or cry because here was another person he felt sudden kinship with, this waitress who didn’t believe she was worth a few extra dollars. “Nope, it’s all yours. You were...really great. And I know they don’t pay servers enough.”

He left as she stammered her thanks, still holding the bill by the very corner, still in disbelief of her windfall. There was a third reason but he couldn’t say it; shouldn’t have said as much as he already had.

For the first time in two years, he felt generous.

All these emotions, all these wonderful things were coming back to him, and all he had to do was go for a drive. Now smiling and crying, aware he was attracting a bit of unwanted attention and not really caring, he stumbled back to his hotel and fell into bed. Tears immediately abating, he collapsed into a deep sleep that lasted 12 hours.

Upon that second awakening in Abingdon, he knew. He knew he was depressed, that he had been depressed since his parents died, and would probably continue to be depressed for a very long time still. This enjoyable foray was only temporary.

Less than a day ago, knowing this would have immediately sent him back into depression. He would have gone to sleep again, holed up in this hotel room for what remained of his time. He would think, screw the orchard, screw the well. And it would all be wasted.

But that wasn’t what he did right then, because he had caught a glimpse of what he could be—of what he was still capable of being—and he was unwilling to let go of it just yet. He got out of bed and undressed while walking to the bathroom to shower, determination forming tentatively in his heart. He would ride this wave wherever it took him, for as long as he could, and that meant he had to go.

An hour later, he was driving down the hill towards Lakeman Orchard. The hill wasn’t particularly tall but it was very long, its road gradually meandering downwards after a series of subtle curves that moved with the lay of the land. All the way at the bottom, where the ground finally leveled out for good, was a long concrete driveway which led up to a blue ranch house. It was a long, immaculate thing with a beautiful wrap-around porch strewn with picture-perfect furniture. Paths led around from the porch on either side of the ranch house, passing by enormous garden plots which were now bare.

The orchard was beyond. Row after row of stark, naked trees, hibernating and dreaming of spring. Their branches had been trimmed, cut back to prevent the tender ends from being damaged. They looked like a waiting army, exactly even with one another. As he got out of his car and looked at them all, Josh’s insides quaked from their sheer hidden potential, which he felt coursing through the frigid air, just on the other side of some boundary he couldn’t cross. He was very aware of the root system beneath the earth, maybe even under his own feet right this very minute, pulsing and circulating with the sappy lifeblood of a tree.

From out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

It was the size of a large dog, white as snow with blue eyes that glistened like the waterfront. Its pink tongue lolled from the side of its mouth, flopping beneath a huge spray of whiskers. Everything about it was huge but in all the wrong ways. Its ears were enormous, its paws oversized, its tail long enough to trip over; clearly, the creature had a lot of growing left to do.

It was a wolf pup, probably less than a year old, and it was headed right for him.

There were some things Josh knew about this world, and some things he didn’t. He knew the age of a shapeshifter’s animal didn’t correlate with the shifter’s actual age, but with their life stage. That made for something interesting. A six-week-old baby might not be able to do much but a six-week-old hawk, though still in the infant stage of its own life, might already be flying around. Shapeshifter parents had to be very careful they didn’t accidentally have their child migrate, or turn into an animal in their stroller while out for a walk with a bunch of other parents.

All that meant one thing. He was being tackled to the ground by an infant with no impulse control. He liked pups but they only learned the consequences of biting when they were much older.

Fangs glistened wetly as the wolf pup pounced on him, bowling him over with its floppy paws. It was too early yet to tell if the pup would be an alpha or omega, since it hadn’t grown into its own body, but there was still heavy strength in those young muscles. Josh transformed as he went down, becoming his own wolf. Jaws parted as the pup went to mouth on him, but he reached out with his own paw and pushed the youngster away.

The white pup went reeling but bounced towards him again, staggering all over itself in its excitement. Josh looked around desperately, ears pricked, but he couldn’t see a parent anywhere nearby. He’d have to save himself this time.

As the pup came nearer, he reached out with his paw again and gently pushed its face, being sure to only use the soft pads on the bottom of his feet. The pup squeaked and pushed its quivering snout against his paw, sniffing enthusiastically. Amusement rolled through his chest, and he balanced on his hind legs to hold the cub with a paw on either side of its body, rolling it onto its side on the ground. It wriggled furiously beneath him, yipping and giggling. He could hear the human within, the child laughing, and the effect was startling.

And it hurt his heart to hear something that would never belong to him.

He held the pup down with both paws and waited for its parent to arrive. The pup continued to wriggle around but he held it easily. Even as an omega, he was far stronger than an ordinary human and definitely capable of holding his own against a child.

Soon enough, a warning howl sounded from the edge of the orchard and another wolf emerged. Josh watched, a little apprehensively. He kept his tail down and his posture relaxed, mouth lolling open with his tongue out, trying to appear harmless.

The other wolf was also white, clearly the parent, with a mellow sprinkling of darker hairs here and there near its paws and tail-tip. Clearly an omega, judging by their slim, compact form. That didn’t exactly make Josh feel any better. Alphas were defensive about their mates, but omegas were defensive about their children, harboring a maternal instinct that could transform even the most amiable of persons into a bloodthirsty monster.

“What are you doing?” the white wolf snarled. All shifters were capable of speaking when in their animal form but the effort was huge and draining. However, the other omega seemed to have no problem with it, fueled by adrenaline and fear and wariness.

Josh flattened his ears apologetically, then released the pup and stepped back. He flattened himself to the ground, wagging his tail and letting out a soft whine. If the pup attacked now, he would take its attention and hope that the parent saved him from a nasty bite or two.

The pup didn’t attack. Freed, it turned around, stumbled over its paws, and ran to its parent. They wove their bodies together, white fur blending together so perfectly it was impossible to tell where parent ended and child began.

The omega bent its head and licked the pup’s ears and nose. The pup whined, then transformed back, as did the mother wolf. Though Josh had known the truth, the difference was still jarring to see. Before him now was a baby with porcelain skin and wide blue eyes nearly lost beneath a mass of long, dirty-blond hair.

And the omega was a small man with strong, wiry muscles. The baby had his eyes, but not his hair.

Following their cue, Josh also transformed. He held up his hands, hoping he looked just as nonthreatening as a human as he did in wolf form. “I didn’t mean any harm. I was gentle.”

The omega regarded him suspiciously for a long moment, bending down to pick up his son and hold him close. Then he nodded. “Okay. That’s fine. I’ll trust you. You were pretty gentle.”

Josh relaxed, very relieved. “I knew he didn’t mean any harm. Um, I’m Joshua Silver. I don’t know if you know, but I called the other day about coming out to visit the orchard?”

Immediately, the omega’s careful posture relaxed. The worried wrinkles faded from his gentle expression, and he even smiled. He loosened his grip on his wriggling son and placed him back down in the soft, dry grass. The baby cooed appreciatively and grabbed for the blades and missed, but that didn’t keep him from trying again. He scooted around on his tummy, going exactly nowhere but seemingly content with it anyway.

“Right! You spoke with my mother-in-law. She said you sounded like a nice young man, and that she hoped you actually came by because she wanted to meet you.”

“Oh.” Josh hesitated a little. Nice young man? It hadn’t occurred to him before he might sound younger as well as look it. He shook the thought away. “Well, I hope she’s around then because I’d like to meet her, too.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” The omega reached out, offering up his hand to be shaken. Josh grasped it gingerly, a little intimidated by the hard calluses on those fingers. While he didn’t consider himself a weakling, working with dough and butter and oils kept his hands comparatively soft. The other wolf smiled into his eyes, a crooked little grin accentuated by twin dimples. “I’m Jake Lakeman-Hope. I’m the manager here at the Orchard. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Their hands dropped away from one another and now they could only stand where they were, regarding each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Josh was very glad to have run into another wolf first thing, which meant he could ask about the wishing well with supposed magical powers, but now he didn’t know how to actually broach the subject.

Finally, the wolf called Jake tilted his head and seemed to consider something very important. Then, he nodded. “I see. This is your first time doing this, isn’t it?”

“Doing...what?”

“Visiting someplace for business,” Jake replied. His smile evened out as he grew more comfortable, clearly glad to be back in a position of power. Down on the ground, his son was eating the grass, just mowing at it like a cow. “Since that is why you’re here, right. Or did you decide to just be a regular tourist?” He kept smiling, since it was clearly a joke.

Josh hesitated. On the one hand, being just a tourist will allow me to get to the well faster. But then again, he’s right about the business thing. I just picked the fruit with Mom and Dad. I didn’t take part in anything else.

“Yeah,” he said. “Um, yes. My first time. I’m not sure how it works.”

Jake nodded. “Right. Luckily for you, I do. So does everyone else, though. Why don’t you come on up to the house with me? I’ll drop off Tanner here with my in-laws and then I’ll take you on a tour of the grounds.”

“That’d be good,” Josh replied, relieved. Nervousness still roiled in his stomach, threatening to get the better of him, but he was much too close to the end goal to be able to wimp out now.

The other wolf bent down and retrieved his son, nonchalantly plucking blades of grass from his mouth while walking over to the formidable ranch house. Josh’s heart ached a little more, some of his old blues threatening to return to him as he watched parent and child. What would it be like to feel that soft, heavy weight against his body, to rub his cheek against such delicate skin, to know something so special and precious had come from his body?

“Hey, all,” Jake said, stepping through the door to the house and motioning for Josh to follow him.

For a moment, Josh was too captivated with the perfect interior of the house to notice who the other wolf was addressing. And then he saw them. There were two massive alpha wolves crouched on the floor in the living room, putting a lime green bookshelf together. They seemed to be struggling with it, both of them contorted into awkward and impossible positions. The older one seemed to be holding a board in place while the other—a younger version of the same person—screwed in the nails, but this was apparently an imperfect system and they were both breathing heavily.

Standing in the doorway to what must have been the kitchen was an older woman, watching the struggling duo and laughing out loud. She was also an alpha wolf and Josh could scent that she was mated to the older wolf. This was puzzling to him because alpha-only pairs were uncommon, but it also gave him hope, too. These people were used to unconventional things, in one manner or another.

Jake walked over to a baby swing in the doorway opposite the kitchen and set his son down to wind the crank. The child seemed fascinated by the noisy crank and attempted to grab it as he started swinging.

“Mom, Dad, Quincy, this is Josh Silver. He’s the man who was interested in seeing the orchard. Josh, this is my family. Jerry and Mary are the owners of the orchard, and the parents of my husband, Quincy.” Jake pointed out each person in turn, while Josh’s mind swirled with the sheer abundance of names. How would he ever keep them all straight? “As I said, Josh is the one who called a few days ago.”

Both alpha males let out grunts as they were introduced, as that was about all they could manage. Mary, however, drifted over and extended her hand for a proper greeting. She was stately and spry for a woman of her age, and her grip was very firm. A little overwhelmed, Josh looked into her eyes and tried to relax. He could see her wolf form looking out at him from behind her irises, a dark silver beauty with grace in every feature despite her large size and dominance. She smelled of cinnamon and flour and apples, and his chest hitched from a wrenching bolt of pain. His own mother smelled the same way. “You’re here to see the orchard?”

“Yes, I am,” he replied, looking into her eyes.

She smiled softly, sadly, then shook her head. “No, you aren’t. Don’t lie to me, young man. Try again.”

Her voice held not a single ounce of threat, only that strange sadness, but the others were all watching him very closely now, and he knew he couldn’t afford to screw up this extra chance he had been given. “I...” He sighed. Best get it over with. “I really did want to see the orchard. I am a baker, though I might live a little too far away to really start some sort of arrangement with you. As much as I would like to.”

No one answered. They all just watched, looking wary. Well, all but Mary. Her eyes were knowing, wise, and distinctly feminine, which he thought was what allowed her to understand his true purpose here. Most wolves had a longing for a family, but there was a sort of feeling and desire that only the bearers of children could know.

“It would be...beyond nostalgic for me. But the real reason I’m here is the well. I was told of its existence by my pack leader, though he treated it like a rumor. But I, uh, needed the vacation anyway and this is a beautiful area, so I thought even if you turned me away or the well turned out to be fake, or just a rumor like Ryan thought, then I could still enjoy myself. You know?” The words had started tumbling out, chaining in on themselves until they finally ran out and he hadn’t known what to do with himself. Now there was only silence, making him wonder if he had really blown it.

Maybe they don’t have any idea what I’m talking about.

Mary reached out and placed her hand on Josh’s shoulder. He flinched, a little startled, but all she did was give him a soft squeeze and then release him again. “Yes, I do know. Are you sure this is something you want to do?”

He just looked at her. Did he really need to explain? The thought of digging deep into his soul and baring his wounds, still oozing and unhealed, didn’t exactly appeal to him. Then again, what if that was exactly what she was expecting from him? If he was in possession of a huge secret thing like this, he wouldn’t let just anyone wander along and take advantage of it.

He didn’t know at what point he stopped thinking the well was a hoax and had begun instead to hope it was real, but it seemed that at some point he had indeed passed that mark. Despite what he said, he would be disappointed now if it wasn’t real.

Somehow, Mary must have seen that he was certain about this, for one reason or another, and drew back. “Someone should take him to the well.”

Jake made a sound of surprise, but then shrugged. He apparently trusted his mother-in-law’s judgment. “Okay, who’s it going to be?”

“Well, I’ve got a pie in the oven, and I know I can’t trust you or Quincy to take it out at the right time,” Mary said. Jake gave a crooked grin, as if this was true. “And...”

Suddenly, someone else spoke up. “I’ll go.”

Surprised, Josh turned towards the source of the voice and found himself looking at the younger male alpha, Jake’s husband and the one named Quincy. The shelf he had been trying to screw into the bookcase was apparently a lost cause because it was only halfway attached, dangling down at an angle. He cracked his knuckles and stretched. His t-shirt rode up, exposing a broad expanse of muscular stomach. “Jake can take over on this for me. He’s more flexible than I am.”

“Are you sure?” Jake asked. “I could...”

Quincy shook his head as he moved around to the foyer and slid his boots on over red-and-green striped socks. “Thanks, but I’ve got this. It should be me, anyway. That’s just going to have to be okay with you.” This last part was aimed towards Josh, who was still reeling from the way the tide had turned so suddenly. He couldn’t have protested even if he had reason to.

“It’s okay with me.”

“See?” Quincy said. He wandered over to the baby swing and buzzed his son on the cheek with a kiss, leaving the pup reaching for him as he walked away. Grabbing his jacket, Quincy turned towards Josh. “Let’s get going. It’ll be cold out in the woods.”

The alpha wolf’s jacket perfumed the outdoor chill with sweet smoke. Though it was something a punk would have worn, Josh couldn’t imagine him acting like one; nevertheless, he wore the leather jacket as calmly and easily as a child might wrap a security blanket around his shoulders to keep the monsters away.

Only once they were outside could he manage to find his voice. “The woods?”

Quincy didn’t say anything, covering the ground easily with his lengthy strides. Josh had to jog to keep up with him. They went around the side of the ranch house, passing by the empty garden plots, which were much longer than Josh had been able to tell at first. Then, they were in the orchard, their breath hovering in white clouds around their faces. The only sound to be heard was their footsteps and breathing.

They still didn’t speak. Josh kept quiet, trying not to let his thoughts run away from him as he looked at the trees. Even in temporary death, they were beautiful and clearly loved.

Then Quincy stopped so suddenly that Josh ran into his back. The breath exploded out of him and he staggered backwards. “Sorry!”

He’ll skin me alive.

But the alpha only looked at him. A shadow dropped across his blue eyes. “You might have convinced my mother, but you haven’t convinced me. Tell me, Joshua. Why are you here?”

“I...to find out who my mate is supposed to be. Isn’t that...what the well does?”

“But why? Why are you so desperate to find that out right now instead of discovering it when it’s meant to happen? Mates...” Quincy looked off into the distance. “Mates are a tricky thing. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Josh shook his head. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I looked into the well. I think one of my parents did, too. I don’t know of anyone else who has, though I guess there might be a few. It’s a secret. A family secret.” Quincy shook his head and sighed, then looked up at the overcast sky, broken apart by dark branches. “I looked in the well because my parents thought it was time for me to have a mate. They wanted it to change my life.”

“Is that how you met Jake?”

Quincy snorted. “I already knew Jake. He was one of the workers in the orchard. I was too blind to see he had feelings for me until I saw his image in the well.”

It’s real. I’ll be able to see the alpha I belong to.

“I guess it did change your life?” Josh asked. “I mean...the leather jacket.” He made a gesture with one hand, not quite sure what it was supposed to mean but hoping the alpha would understand anyway. “You used to be tough. And now you’ve got a mate and a baby, and a better relationship with your parents.”

“Yeah,” Quincy said. He kept looking up at the sky, eyes moving as they traced the bare canopy. “It did change my life. But sometimes I wonder if I was ready to change, if things would be different if I had waited until I was certain. Now everything’s changed, and I wouldn’t give it up for the world, but I also miss...feeling free.”

Josh looked down at his feet. “I think I’ve been too free for a while now.”

“No way, man. No one is ever really free. We’re all in a cage. We just don’t notice most of the time until we decide we need a new one, bigger or smaller. It’s all a cage. You don’t understand that until you look in that well and realize your freedom is an illusion, that this thing has been decided for you.” The alpha suddenly dropped his gaze, piercing Josh straight through. “So, now you know my reasons. What are yours?”

Josh didn’t hesitate now. This alpha knew better than anyone else what he was about to face out there in the woods, with the well, and he would do well to be honest. “My parents died two years ago. I wasn’t depressed before then but...I...have been ever since. I don’t want someone else to solve my problems because I know that’s impossible! I just...I...I think I’m ready for the next stage in my life.”

Quincy regarded him in silence. Josh’s biggest fear was the alpha would assume he was using the well as an excuse to not have to grow up, to let the responsibility fall on another person, but he didn’t see any judgment on that broad, handsome face. He thought he could pick out some of the features Quincy passed on to his son, though Tanner had taken more after his mother wolf.

“What if you see someone you hate?” Quincy asked.

Josh started. He hadn’t even considered that to be an option. Was it even possible for something like that to happen? More importantly, did he even hate anyone? After a good deal of soul-searching, he decided the answer was no, although there were a great number of wolves he disliked enough to not want to mate with them.

“What if you see someone and you never find them?” the alpha continued. “Or they die before you do? That happens all the time, you know.”

“I...”

“And what if it shows you no one at all?”

Josh pulled in a sudden, harsh breath. “Can that happen?”

“I don’t know. What if you see someone very old or very young? What will you do?”

“Are you trying to talk me out of doing this?”

Quincy shook his head, shoulders going tense. The leather of his jacket material went taut. “No. I’m trying to get you to consider all the options so you won’t be disappointed if something doesn’t go your way.”

Josh hesitated. Should I really do this? But even as he was asking himself the question, he was also speaking out loud. “Thank you for the warning, but I came all the way here, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t do what I set out to accomplish.”

For the first time, Quincy smiled a little. He hadn’t even smiled while kissing his son but its radiance now, however dim, took five years off his age. “Isn’t that just like you omegas. And you call us stubborn. Come on. The woods are at the back of the orchard.”

Silence reigned once more, but this time it was almost companionable now that they shared a secret between the two of them. Walking through the orchard was an easy task. No roots protruded above ground to trip them, and the earth under their feet between the evenly-spaced trees was very smooth. If it wasn’t for the fact that Josh’s nerves were racing, he’d quite enjoy this walk.

Soon enough, they reached the woods and everything changed. The woods were a thick, tangled mass of mostly pine, fully outfitted in their dark green coats throughout the year. The trunks were tall and the first branches, also the widest and thickest, didn’t start until halfway up the trees. The forest floor was darker and about 10° cooler than the rest of the town, with glitters of frost caught in the shadows. Thick undergrowth served to make everything else much harder. Josh’s heart beat at an even quicker tempo, looking at all that. Everything seemed to be in fast-forward, his heart, his pulse, his thoughts, all storming around him. Until this moment, he’d still had some doubts, but now he knew.

You couldn’t have a forest like that and not have a life-changing secret inside.

Quincy stopped at the edge of the woods, though the edge was more of a slow melding into the orchard. “This is as far as I’m gonna go with you. Woods don’t belong to us. After being in ‘em, I really think they don’t belong to anyone. I’d rather not go back inside.”

Josh shivered. “I don’t blame you.”

The alpha let out a small sound, which might have been a laugh or a fearful moan. “All you have to do is just go straight in. It shouldn’t be that hard to find. If you get lost, follow your instincts. I’ll wait here for you until you return. If you really can’t find your way, just sit down and howl. I’ll come to you and get you out.”

Josh blinked. “I didn’t expect that. Thank you.”

Quincy shrugged, an embarrassed little blush rising up his cheeks. “You’re an omega. I have to watch out for you. But...if you don’t want to...this is your last chance to change your mind. You won’t be able to forget what you see. So, if you decide it’s too much, we’ll pretend you saw something instead and just go back. I’ll give you a tour of the orchard. No one will ever know otherwise.”

That was also touching but Josh just shook his head. “I’m going in.”

“Then, take this.” Quincy shrugged out of his leather jacket and approached Josh, coming around behind him to help him put it on. It hung heavy and awkward on his shoulders but his shivering stopped almost immediately. “It’s cold in there.”

“Thank you.”

Then, there was nothing else to do or say but to head inside. He got about ten feet into the darkness, his eyes adjusting, before looking back.

Quincy was gone, replaced with a wall of evergreen. Swallowing hard, Josh kept going on through the woods. He stumbled, constantly tripping, constantly having to untangle himself or retrace his steps, but he went forward on and on through the darkness until he lost all sense of time. Only dappled scatterings of pale light could pass through the thick canopy above. He couldn’t hear anything but the sounds of his own passage. No birds or wind or insects or small scurrying animals, just his clumsy footsteps and his ragged breathing. His nose started to run. The further he went into the woods, the colder it seemed to get.

Suddenly, he tripped over a root and stumbled forward, just barely able to catch himself with his hands before falling flat on his face. “Shit,” he swore, gasping and panting as his hands came away wet. He looked at them, expecting to see bloody scrapes and scarlet wetness, but there was no pain and the moisture was cold. Breath still shuddering, he looked down at the grassy undergrowth in front of him and saw two perfect hand-shaped indentations marked out in a thin layer of frost.

The frost covered the ground of a small clearing, like ice forming on a pond. Clearing was the wrong word, Josh thought. It wasn’t clear at all. The undergrowth was wild and terrible within the circle. It was more of a slight opening between the trees, quickly closed off again. And in the middle of the circle of tangled roots and vines was a well, which canted crazily to one side. Moss draped from its roof, dangling down like a curtain to brush against the stone walls of the well itself.

It’s here. I can’t believe it.

But he was believing it, and his feet were moving of their own accord, pulling him closer to the well while the distinctive green scent of plant life invaded his senses. It was as if he had come home to something he hadn’t even known he had been away from.

He gripped the top of the well, which was sturdy despite its apparent age. It looked as old as time; as old as the urge to mate. Pulling in a deep breath, Josh looked down.

The water was very dark, shadowed already by its distance from the surface but darkened even more by the reflections of pine branches overhead. His own face peered up at him, like a pale moon in some alternate sky.

For a long moment, so long he forgot how to breathe, nothing happened. Then, something did. It started as one little difference which then became two, then ten, then hundreds of little glimmering lights on the surface of the water, stars in the sky in a swirling halo around his moon-face. They stirred around as if some witch was mixing them into her brew, but of course there was no witch. No wind down there. The water moved of its own accord, stirring so gently that it didn’t splash once.

The stars were colorless and white but now they started changing color, growing impossibly dark. The colors solidified, the sparkles no longer sparkling at all but shifting around to form an image.

For one heartbreaking moment, he only saw himself. A young man in a leather jacket. Then he blinked and realized the jacket was a different style, and that the face was no longer his but belonged to a different young man.

One he recognized, but couldn’t pinpoint from where.

The man’s hair was mahogany brown, slicked back away from his face with a great deal of grease. He had a pronounced widow's peak and a broad forehead, beneath which were heavy eyebrows. The eyes beneath the brows were even heavier, the lids sagging down in an appearance which suggested either sleepiness or sexuality; they were also very dark, like blank skies.

His skin was pale, almost vampiric, rendered even more pallid by the black leather he wore.

Josh kept staring down, drinking in the sight. He didn’t know if he was in love with the man down there, whoever he was, or if he was simply riding the adrenaline high of having this stupid experiment actually pay off.

And now the image was changing, mellowing out from its harsh areas of light and dark. The man in the water was now a wolf, brindled russet brown and gray in a distinctive streaked pattern. His face was more granite than brown, with a lighter patch just above each eye; his underparts were also generally pale, swirled with more brown. His muzzle was long and proud, an alpha’s muzzle for sure.

Josh stared in the water, memorizing every individual feature so intensely that he hadn’t realized the image had faded and he was left alone, looking at himself.

Somehow, he managed to stagger out of the woods again. He was hardly aware of doing it. Quincy was waiting for him and guided him back through the orchard to the house, where he was treated to a cup of hot tea to chase away his chills. The family invited him to stay for lunch, which he turned down but which was given to him anyway. Mary insisted.

It wasn’t until much later that he realized the show of hospitality was less of an obligation and more of a precaution. They weren’t just a family with a secret: they were also owners of a business, and they couldn’t have a crazy man wandering around making wild claims. They needed to ensure what he’d seen hadn’t broken his mind.

After they ascertained he was trustworthy, they sent him on his way with a half-loaf of apple cinnamon bread.

He spent the rest of his so-called vacation feeling as if he was underwater, drifting through the days in a dreamy trance. He knew what places he visited and what was there, and he knew he enjoyed himself but he could never quite recall all he’d done. He was too focused on what he’d seen in the water and what it might mean. The vague sense of recognition never faded. He just knew he had seen that man before, but there were a great many people he had seen before but couldn’t identify. That was just how life was. Some people, you could see them every day and never know their name.

He drove back in the same underwater trance. His Mustang was a seahorse, bobbing along.

Then, as he pulled into his driveway, realization came. He slammed on the brakes with the back half of his car still protruding out into the road, his breath as far away as if he’d been punched.

He knew.

The incident was long-forgotten, pushed aside by so many other things, but it was at the forefront of his mind, weighing heavy. And he understood now all that Quincy had been trying to warn him of, because the man he had seen was the same one who had locked eyes with him from the back of a police cruiser.