The Raven’s Alpha (Nature’s Embrace #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Darcy Mortlake

I didn't expect to find myself lost in the midst of a dense forest so quickly when Eddy offered to show me where he grew up. I thought we'd stroll through a charming village like in Everlong, but instead we're immersed in the silence of the woods.

The place is a tiny, wood-fringed anomaly, with no central hub to speak of. It's as if the woods have swallowed up a small, rural community whole, leaving only a few scattered cabins and stalls to peek out from beneath the tree branches. While some residents do own cars, the landscape is so vast that it feels surprisingly deserted, with long stretches of wilderness in every direction.

"I'm captivated by this place, Eddy, but my curiosity is starting to get the better of me - what did you and your friends do for entertainment when you were growing up here?"

He shrugs, “To be honest, there's not much to do. It's a tight-knit community, really. I'd say there are only about two dozen families around here, so everyone knows each other's business. It's a rare occurrence for anyone to venture beyond these woods.”

"So, what's the school situation like?" I ask, genuinely interested.

"When I was a kid, Miss Martha, an omega lady, would gather all of us in one spot every morning. She'd teach us everything we needed to know, from reading to maths to survival skills. Since there were only a handful of us, the classes were cosy and intimate, with plenty of one-on-one attention. "

"I've always loved exploring the woods, but I have to wonder, what was it like when you guys got older? I mean, I can imagine a bunch of teenagers would get restless and crave more excitement.”

"I know it's hard to believe, but the teenagers around here are a far cry from the party-hard crowd back home. Here, as soon as you're old enough to choose your role in the pack, you take on responsibilities that suit your strengths. Whether you're an alpha, beta, or omega, you're free to contribute in ways that play to your skills. Want to chop firewood or build shelter? Done. Want to craft something to sell or tend to the cubs or garden? You're free to do just that. It's a refreshing change from the usual high school scene that you see on the television,” he explains.

“And I’m guessing that’s the reason you wanted to come to neutral-lands when you were eighteen?”

"I get it, it can be tough to wrap your head around the idea of living in a place like this," Eddy says, nodding thoughtfully. "But trust me, the shifters here are happy as clams. It's just not for me, though. I remember when Miss Martha first told us about the outside world - all the other kids were convinced that humans were crazy for living by rules and stuff. But I was fascinated. The day I told my parents I wanted to leave, they didn't get it at first, but they've always known I wasn't cut out for this community. They helped me prepare for the move and I'll always be grateful for their support."

When my mate finishes his tale, we meander towards a bench that seems to have grown from the earth itself - a sturdy, rustic log carved into a seat. It's not like any park bench I've ever seen back home, where mass-produced wooden slats are held together with nails. Instead, this bench has a hand-hewn quality, every inch of it crafted with love and care by someone who didn't mind taking their time to get it just right.

It’s beautiful, really .

"What about technology and all that? You phoned your dad from the truck, but I'm curious - did you guys always have phones?"

Eddy's laughter catches me off guard, and I'm taken aback until he clarifies, "We're not completely off the grid. I grew up here in the eighties, when fancy smartphones and expensive laptops weren't a thing. But we did have a landline phone in the cabin, which was a luxury back then. As a shifter community, we've been established in this spot for generations, and we've adapted to the times. We don't have all the latest technology, but we're not completely disconnected from the rest of the world either. The kids might not be glued to their smartphones, but we do have a basic computer set-up in the schooling cabin to help them stay informed and connected."

"That sounds totally alien to me," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "I grew up in the nineties, and by the time I was a teenager, smartphones and laptops were already the norm. My family's financial situation definitely played a role in our access to technology, but I was still part of the mainstream human world. I wasn't spoiled or anything, but I shared the same experiences as most teenagers. The only difference was that I happened to have wings and could fly. I'm starting to feel like my parents kept me sheltered from places like this," I say to my mate. "I realise now that I'm more human-like than I thought."

Eddy slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. The familiar scent of his skin and the warmth of his body envelop me in a comforting embrace. "It is what it is, darling," he says softly. "We're just different, and that's okay. I love my life in Everlong, and I don't feel like I missed out on anything by growing up in Grizzly-Fields. In fact, I feel grateful to have had the freedom to make my own choices about what I wanted to do with my life."

“Unlike the omegas in non-neutral lands? ”

“Yeah...”

We break into comfortable silence, our embrace still warm and intimate on the bench. Occasionally, a grizzly bear ambles by, nodding its shaggy head at us as it passes. Eddy exchanges friendly hellos with the passing shifters, his recognition of old acquaintances a testament to his remarkable memory. I'm struck by his ease in this new environment, the familiarity he seems to radiate like a beacon.

When the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, my stomach growls in protest, and the crisp evening air starts to seep into my bones, despite my shifter physiology that normally keeps me warmer than a full-blood human.

Eddy's voice is laced with a hint of concern when he says, "We should head back, Mother will be frantic if we're late for dinner. Let's go." He offers me his hand, helping me to my feet.

We return to the cabin within ten minutes, and after a quick wash-up, we're seated around the table. Henry, Eddy's brother, beams a warm welcome our way, while Millie extends her hand to me with a friendly smile. Eddy's expression changes as he realises he already knows the man standing before us. "Charlie? Your mate is Charlie?" He chuckles and shakes his head, the tone being more ‘no kidding’ than condescending.

Millie's voice is bright and cheerful as she sings out, "Surprise!" to her brother.

Eddy's tone is laced with frustration when he asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

As the conversation drags on, it's clear that Millie's not the only one getting frustrated. Henry chimes in, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he says, "Get over it, brother. You weren't left out on purpose, maybe Millie just wanted to actually see you in person, so she could share the news."

‘Ouch ,’ my raven announces in my head. While I agree with Henry’s sentiment, I think he could have phrased it more tactfully and kinder .

I sense the pang of longing in Eddy’s heart. His family remains here in Grizzly-Fields, while he now calls our humble abode home. I subtly slide my hand under the table, intertwining my fingers with his. I'm acutely aware of Eddy's sensitivity, and I don't want his brother's words to stir up unwelcome emotions.

The room falls silent, but it's a welcome reprieve from the tension that had been building. His father's attempt to fill the void with conversation comes as a relief. As the family's banter and laughter begin to flow once more, I steal a glance at Eddy, my concern for his well-being growing. I nudge him gently and whisper, “Hey, are you alright?” in his ear.

His smile is a faint, tremulous thing, and his nod is hesitant, but I sense the effort he's making to reassure me. Still, I'm not fooled – the tension in his eyes tells a different story.

After dinner, Eddy’s mother tactfully invites me to join her in the living room, to show me some cherished family photos. I catch Eddy's eye, and he gives a subtle nod of understanding – they're giving the siblings a moment to talk privately. I gladly accept the invitation and soon find myself cosied up with a blanket and a lap full of photo albums. Eddy's parents flank me on the sofa, our bodies subtly entwined as we browse through the pictures. The physical closeness is comforting, and for a moment, I feel like part of the family.

We embark on a trip down memory lane, or rather, the Elwood family tree. The black and white photos are a nostalgic trip back in time, showcasing Lucy and Norman's parents and siblings. But things quickly take a turn when Norman tries to get saucy about Lucy's youthful photos, attempting to make a lewd joke about her 'finer' years. Lucy promptly puts her foot down, or rather, her hand – she playfully shoves at her husband.

“Ouch, woman, let me finish before you start attacking me!” Norman groans good-naturedly, admitting he was about to say something sweet, “look how pretty you were and look how beautifully you've aged.” But it's too late, the damage is done. The room erupts in laughter, and even Lucy can't help but giggle at her husband's silly antics.

“Hmm, and look at those washboard abs,” Lucy says with a smirk, playfully nudging me with her elbow. “You know, you're almost as handsome as your younger self... almost.” She winks.

Before Norman can get a word in edgewise, Lucy snatches the album from my lap and replaces it with another one, this one surprisingly weighty and bulkier than the rest. The cover features a hand-drawn logo that reads 'Elwood Cubs' in bold letters, as if it's a badge of honour.

Lucy opens the book and begins to flip through its yellowed pages, my gaze is drawn to her face, watching as her eyes scan the contents until they land on the page she's been searching for. My lips twitch into a smile as she finds it, and I can't help but feel a surge of nostalgia wash over me. The photo that meets her gaze is a tender scene: a tiny, fluffy cub nestled among two larger grizzlies, and I realise with a start that this must be a picture of my alpha and his siblings.

Lucy carefully extracts the photo from the album, turning it over to reveal the date scrawled on the back: 'June 2000'. As she speaks, her voice takes on a wistful tone, “Millie was just a couple of weeks old when this photo was taken. Edgar was mere days away from his eighteenth birthday, and Henry was already twenty-one.” Her finger trails gently across the faces of the grizzly bears, her eyes lingering on each one as if rekindling memories.

“It was hard when Eddy left?” I'm not even sure why I'm asking, except that I'm still trying to process the complexities of their family dynamics. Of course, it must have been tough for them to lose a family member, but from what Eddy's shared with me, his parents have always been surprisingly accepting of his decision to leave the family home.

Lucy's eyes glisten as she carefully returns the photo to its slot, her nod a gentle affirmation. "Yes and no," she says, her voice tinged with a mix of emotions. "I was scared to let my baby go, but I knew he wouldn't thrive here. As a child, he was always different – not in a way that set him apart, but in a way that made him unique. Curious, thoughtful... you'll understand when you have kids of your own."

I hesitate to confide in my alpha's mother about my uncertainty – the truth is, I'm still grappling with the idea of having children. Being abandoned by my family twice before I was even an adult, left emotional scars and the thought of putting anyone else through a similar experience is a daunting prospect. I'm not sure I'm ready to risk that kind of pain again.

Norman's expression turns thoughtful as he adds, "To be honest, your mate wasn't thrilled about the job opportunities available to shifters around here. He had a passion for baking, but it wasn't just about the art of it – he had a real talent for it. While there's nothing inherently wrong with baking from home, we both knew he was destined for something more."

The air in the room has grown heavy with unspoken emotions, as the Elwood parents' longing for their son is palpable. My mate’s reaction to Millie's new beau suggests he, too, is struggling with feelings of distance and disconnection from his own family.

A small voice within me whispers that Eddy is meant to be here, surrounded by his family in this secluded corner of the woods. But my alpha is a grown man, old enough to make his own decisions, even if he did leave home at a young age. Still, there's no denying the joy that spreads across his face when he's in Everlong, surrounded by the familiar rhythms of his bakery and the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies.

‘What if he wants to move back home one day?’ my raven asks me.

I ponder the prospect, my mind wrestling with the idea. To be honest, I'm not tied to Everlong in any significant way; the family mansion, now vacant and filled with memories, is all that remains of my connection to the place. It's a relic of the past, a nostalgic reminder of happier times, but nothing more.

No amount of longing can revive the past, but the man standing in the kitchen is the only family I have left. Wherever he chooses to go, I'll follow him. He's the only one who makes my heart skip a beat, the only one who truly sees me, the only one I want to spend forever with.