Hearthway Hollow: The Locklears

Hearthway Hollow wasn’t always the sanctuary it is now. Back in the day when my father and his family owned it, it was nothing more than a few cabins, a general store, and the lumber mill which the family ran. The place wasn’t even called Hearthway Hollow back then. It was called various names - mostly insults against my family - but the Locklears have always been in the woods of North Carolina, and that hasn’t changed in all this time.

My father, Abe, considered himself an intellectual. Whether he was or not was always up for interpretation. I think he tried to model himself after Atticus Finch; he had read To Kill a Mockingbird so many times in his life that the copy my sisters and I found in his study had nearly crumbled to dust. He wanted to become a lawyer, but by the time he was all set to go to college, money was scarce, and he was drafted into the Second World War. He told me that’s why he started smoking - so if I didn’t want to smoke, I shouldn’t go to war. 

He saw a lot - some things he would never even talk to us about, even as he was getting ready to come home. He believed that all the things he saw, all the things he did, led him on a path that would end in the creation of the town of Hearthway Hollow. During his service, Abe met a pretty French nurse, Vivienne. He was recovering from an explosion that had toppled the jeep he and his buddies were in. Abe had been fine, but when his friend was still trapped under the jeep, Abe managed to injure his back and break a bone in his foot trying to get him out. 

My mother, Vivienne, had taken a shine to Abe. Even while he was in pain, he had a way of taking care of the young soldiers in triage with him. He noticed that almost everyone there was younger than him - children really - so he took on the role of class clown and big brother to them. Everyone was seeing horrible things, but Abe’s stories and jokes were able to bring a bit of brightness into an otherwise dark place.

“The woods I grew up in are like a family hearth,” he told her one evening, attempting to woo the pretty French girl before anyone else. “I spent more time outdoors than I ever did inside. My mom is Cherokee, my dad is Lumbee.” He then smiled at her, seeing the slightly confused look in her pretty green eyes. “You know? Like in the movies? Only the movies ain’t so generous towards us. We’re Indians. Hate that name,” he rambled. “Natives to America.”

“I know what you are,” Vivienne pinched his cheek hard. “I have just never heard the names.” She looked him over, sitting down at the edge of his bed. “Your American films rarely get us French right, either, although I’m sure you have much more to complain about.”

Abe grinned as Vivienne took the time to rest with him. She should have been sleeping with the other nurses, but instead she had snuck back to see him. “You’d like my hearth,” he said, bravely taking her hand. Her nails were broken and chipped, and her fingers calloused, but he still said it was the most beautiful hand he ever held. “Even if you didn’t like America, you’d like it there.”

“My family plans on evacuating,” Vivienne murmurs. “I am not sure where they plan to go, but they are leaving.”

Abe told me that was the most painful thing he’d ever suffered, until I started to learn how to drive and ran over his foot. “Will you be going too?”

“Eventually,” Vivienne whispered. “But for now, I wish to stay and help.” She gave him a weary smile and brushed her fingers through his hair. “It isn’t safe for us, not with what is happening. Our kind-” She stopped herself. Then she leaned down and kissed Abe, pressing her body against his.

She told me later she had kissed him simply to get him to be quiet. She didn’t want him questioning her about her family. They were keeping a secret about themselves that had gotten generations of them killed.

Abe gave her his address in America, and said her family would be welcomed there if they needed a safe place. “I know what it’s like to be looked down on just for existing,” he told her. “That’s why I don’t mind being here sometimes.”

“But you’re so tall! How could anyone possibly look down on you?” Vivienne laughed as she forced herself not to cry. She told me years later she was afraid she would never see Abe again. She kissed him again and again, not wanting to forget how it felt for the rest of her life.

Just before Abe was to be shipped back out to combat, the hospital was raided. It was one of the few stories my mother could tell us about the war that didn’t agitate my dad. She said it was like a fairy tale, but in later years, as she revealed more and more details to me, it was like a horror movie made from a fairy tale. My mother held back the enemy soldiers as best she could, trying to keep them from getting to the hospital’s much-needed supplies. She was strong, defiant, and as angry as a kicked hornet’s nest.

But Mom has always been petite, and even with all her anger giving her strength, she was overpowered. She was dragged out, and slapped several times by the enemy soldiers. As they laughed about what they wanted to do to her, a monster appeared. He was big and hairy, covered in dark grey and black fur, with eyes like Hell opened up. He ravaged every single one of the soldiers, no matter how many bullets he took. 

Mom told us a gentle tale at first, one where the soldiers were like a dragon kidnapping a princess, and the monstrous werewolf like a knight in shining armor. But the reality was gruesome and bleak. The werewolf attacked without mercy, snapping necks in his powerful jaws, clawing faces, trailing blood and viscera. Mom explained to me that she had never seen such violence until my sisters and I got into the Hammer films. 

It was the aftermath, though, that gave the story its fairy-tale magic. The werewolf tended to Vivienne after the carnage, licking the tears from her face and nuzzling her cheek. She looked into his eyes, and didn’t see Hell at all - instead, she saw the goofy man she’d fallen in love with. Transforming had been something Abe tried to avoid, but seeing his beloved Vivienne in danger had ripped the beast right out of him. 

Rumors about the werewolf spread through the troops, and it became a horror story told to everyone. It could attack at any moment, no matter who you were or what side you were fighting for. In the chaos that followed the attack on the hospital, Abe and Vivienne managed to keep writing to one another. Perhaps one of my most valuable keepsakes are those letters, tucked neatly in a little lock box my mother had kept since she was a child. Abe’s letters were behemoths for the time, especially for a soldier, whose access to paper was scarce. Vivienne’s were usually sweet, soft poetry - one page at most, two when the mood struck. Unlike Abe, Vivienne was a creature of few words, and would pass that air of mystery down to her daughters. 

For a while though, the letters ceased. The letters Abe sent would eventually be returned to him. He wasn’t sure where Vivienne was, only that he could no longer send letters at all. He kept writing them, determined to find her eventually and give her the letters. At last he was sent home, but not before inviting more people to come visit his hearth. People like him, or people who needed a home.

Abe said that he wanted his return to be a surprise. He wanted to walk in the door like he had never been gone and shock his family. Only thing was, he was the one who was going to be getting the surprise. 

The bus dropped him off at the end of the long road that disappeared into the woods. He was ready for that journey, and he had missed it his entire time away. As he started down the road, he smelled something strange in the air. The further he went, the stronger the scent became. Soon, he stopped walking, feeling as if eyes were watching him from deep within the trees. He took a deep breath, his pulse quickening. Surely there wasn’t any danger at home, right? Maybe he was just imagining things, and hadn’t yet shaken the war off his conscience. He took another step forward, and something stirred within the trees.

Abe took off in a run, and something chased after him, hidden in the shadows of the forest. Then the creature barreled out of the trees, cutting off his path. Standing before him was a snow-white wolf he had never seen before. The beauty of her took his breath away.

“I have been waiting, soldier,” she said to him. “It is lucky I was out hunting today.”

“It can’t be,” Abe whispered in shock. “For so many reasons, it can’t be.”

The white wolf giggled softly. “You told me this place was safe for me and my family. When I saw you the night of the raid, I knew for certain we would find a home here, nestled on your hearth.” As she moved closer to Abe, she shifted, turning into a tiny, naked woman with her long black hair draped over her shoulders. 

Abe fully admits that he cried as he looked at her. “I was so scared I would never see you again.”

“I am much more tenacious than you, apparently,” Vivienne whispered. “When I find my prey, I do not stop.”

Abe wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m glad!”

Vivienne pulled Abe down to her level, kissing him hungrily before dragging him off into the woods. Now, being their child, I don’t exactly like talking about these things, but age has made me less repulsed by their actions. In any case, they mated for the first time - and second time, and third time - there in the woods. Native American werewolves, and the loup-garou of France weren’t so much different in that regard. 

After the war, the people that Abe had talked to started coming to his hearth. It wasn’t just Vivienne and her family, but more werewolves who were seeking refuge, looking for a place to hide, to be quiet, to escape the traumas they left behind. 

The few cabins and general store there were joined by new houses, a gas station, and a small church. Some people ran businesses from their homes, and others went to work for the mill, or traveled outside the woods to find work to bring home money. Vivienne, although a nurse, was the town doctor. Her home became the first hospital in Hearthway Hollow, so when I was delivered in the summer of ‘59, I was born into my great-grandmother’s hands. 

During my infancy, my father received a letter from the young man he had rescued from being crushed by a jeep. His father was very wealthy, making him equally wealthy, and he offered a business opportunity to Abe that his supposed intelligence wouldn’t let him turn away. 

“A newspaper!” Abe announced to Vivienne. 

“What would we do with a newspaper here? All you have to do is walk outside the door and you know everything,” Vivienne scoffed at him. I was probably breastfeeding or sleeping at the time, as that was all I did. 

“A newspaper means something,” Abe insisted. “I remember getting the paper as a kid, even if it was a month old, and loving it! I want our kids to have that, Vivienne. I want Winona to know her town has something special.”

“Her town doesn’t even have a name,” Vivienne replied. “How are you going to name a paper without a name for the town?”

“Then that will be the first paper,” Abe said excitedly. “We’ll hold a contest to name our hearth! Then the second issue will be headlined with it!”

“I just don’t understand why he offered you this,” Vivienne remarked. “All that money, and he wanted to start a newspaper with you?”

“Marcus McAllister is smart!” Abe huffed. “I think a newspaper will really make this place great. Marcus will be the editor and reporter. I’ll write things too. You can publish your poems!”

“My poems are for you, you idiot,” Vivienne laughed. “Are you going to get Winona to work for you too when she’s old enough?”

I would be delivering papers by the time I was eight years old. By the time I was sixteen, my sisters and I could throw better than any kid in town, and we were an army of girls with deadly aim.

“If she wants!” Abe grinned from ear to ear. “I’ve always wanted something like this, Viv,” he whispered to her. “I wanted to write books when I was young, but this will be so much easier.” Vivienne giggled as Abe grabbed her up in his arms. “If this doesn’t work, I promise you can lord this over me until I die, and even a while after.”

“I don’t want it to fail. I just want you to be sure you won’t grow bored of this like you did with the chickens.” She smiled at him. “I want you to have this.”

Marcus McAllister would settle in Hearthway Hollow, becoming the first editor of the paper, for a brief six months before passing it on to my father. Marcus opened up quite a few businesses in town, starting the hospital that Vivienne worked in, as well as expanding the lumber mill. His daughter, Maria, was born exactly ten years after me.

Back when the paper first started, Marcus named it the Royal Gazette. He didn’t take too kindly to Abe’s idea of running the first issue without a name, and then christening it after a vote. Once Abe took over the paper, he started his campaign to give the entire town a proper name. 

My mother eventually came up with the name. “You call this place your hearth, and whatever way possible you have brought us all here,” she told him one evening. “It’s only fitting we keep with that.” She ran her fingers through his long hair. “Hearthway,” she says. “Maybe… Hearthway Place? Hearthway Cove?” She frowned a bit. “Something along those lines.”

Abe looked at her and smiled. “This place was originally a hollow in the woods. Hearthway Hollow.”

“That sounds very fitting,” Vivienne beamed. “So, how will you get everyone else to love Hearthway Hollow as much as you?”

“Perhaps with time,” he said. “Or maybe I’ll just go ahead and slap it on the front page. Who knows?”

He just slapped the name on the front page. By the time I had two more sisters, everyone referred to the town as Hearthway Hollow, although that was not how it was officially recognized. It would take a few more years before that was set into motion.

I am the eldest of six children between Abe and Vivienne. The two of them couldn’t keep their hands off one another for long, and it led to a big family. We eventually had to move from the tiny cabin we had been born in and into a home my father built between papers. It was one of the many tokens of love he gave to my mother. He built the house to resemble the French chateau she had grown up in as a child, and he filled the yard with lavender plants, so many that even to this day, the land around the place is taken over by lavender. I grew up with the scent of it on the breeze, and every time I smell it, I am brought back to the past and to my loving parents’ arms.

Vivienne eventually became a schoolteacher, once a school was founded close enough to Hearthway Hollow. She taught a high school French class that she said was more like babysitting than teaching. Eventually, when Hearthway Hollow built its own school, she was made its first principal. But until ‘79 rolled around, she was stuck traveling to get to work.

Werewolves were finding their way to the Hollow more regularly, attracted to the large gathering of them already there. This could bring trouble to our door. Abe and his brothers were often called out to deal with the werewolves who came in looking for a fight. I can remember waking up in bed to hear my dad leaving the house, and seeing my uncles and others from the town gathered outside. My sisters would climb into bed with me, knowing something was wrong.

Back in those days, the werewolves of America were a scary lot. I suppose those who still stick to their lone-wolf guns today are just as frightening, but back then they were much more wild. Coming across a feral werewolf was more likely than the loners we get today. The feral wolves would stalk into town, taking whatever they wanted, doing anything they desired. I would come across more than my fair share as a young woman, and even raised a few.

It was Halloween on my eighth year, and the town was putting on a festival to celebrate. As the years went on, the festival would become a major component of the Hollow’s DNA, something that was to be a very special part of living here. I dragged my two younger sisters along while our mother was recuperating from daughter number four back home. Dad was taking us out that evening, and I had never been more excited for anything in my entire tiny life. Our grandmother had made us each costumes. I was a ghost; my sister, Adele, was a black cat, and Matilda was a pumpkin, chunky and round.

I had lost a tooth a few nights before, and was excited to bury it under the oak tree in the center of town. I can’t remember how I got the idea into my head, but I think it was Dad who told me the tree would grow teeth or something. I’m not sure, and I just remember wanting to see tree teeth. “Dad,” I tugged eagerly on his hand as we walked into the square. “Will we get to eat everything we get?”

“It depends on what your mother says,” Abe said with a smile. 

“But Mama isn’t here!” I whined. “Can’t we at least get the candy apples? I promise I won’t tell her about it.”

“She’ll know. She probably already knows.” He took my little hand in his great big one. Even to this day, I miss that hand. The way it made me feel safe and loved even in my darkest times. Coming out to my parents, I was terrified that they wouldn’t understand, or might not even want me anymore. But when my father took hold of my hand in his, I felt that love and security. I still seek that hand out to this day, even though he has been gone for so long. I grasp my own hand as I think about him, knowing he’s with me still.

At eight years old, nothing was better than my dad. He was my hero, my whole world, and the most amazing person to ever occupy it. Being able to go trick-or-treating with him was the coolest thing I could imagine. He let me and my sisters eat what we wanted - within reason, of course. He eventually tricked us into believing if we started saving some candy for later, we could plant it to grow more. I now realize my dad used the excuse of ‘planting it’ for everything to trick us kids.

As the jack-o-lanterns were being lit, there was a shift in the air. I could smell it on the wind, and every hair on my body began to prickle and stand on end. Abe pulled me and my sisters close to him, kneeling down beside us to whisper. Before he even said anything, I knew there must be something dangerous coming.

“Dad,” I looked at him urgently.

He gave me a stricken look. “Go to the newspaper building,” he told me. “Get inside and lock the doors. Do not come out until I come to get you. Do you understand me, Winnie?”

I started to cry. “Dad,” I whimpered.

“I need you to be a brave girl for me, Winnie,” he urged. “Take Adele and Matilda and get them safe. I promise, I’ll come get you, and tomorrow I’ll bring you something special.” 

I grabbed Adele’s hand and picked up Matilda. As we walked to the paper, I set Matilda down to get the key from under the doormat.

“She’s getting away,” Adele said.

I turned and looked back to see pumpkin Matilda toddling into the woods. I shoved Adele inside and chased after Matilda. She was sitting down in the dirt and crying when I found her.

“Get up!” I snapped at her.

Matilda was still crying. 

“Get up!” I grabbed her, trying to tug her onto her feet, but she remained as limp as a ragdoll.

“Matilda!” I snapped at her.

“She must be scared,” a dark voice said from the shadows.

Matilda started screaming, and she grabbed hold of me. 

“Something wicked in the woods,” the voice rasped. A wolf came out of the woods. He was mangy and sick-looking. Patches of his fur were missing, showing off oozing sores beneath. Some of his teeth were missing, a few others were black, and when he breathed, I could smell the rot on his breath. 

Matilda continued to scream in panic, crying out for Mommy, Daddy, whoever would come and save us first. 

The rotting werewolf came closer towards us, drool dripping from his jowls like a busted faucet. “Little babies,” he soothed. “Are you scared? Come closer. I’ll help you.”

I was so scared I couldn’t move. I had never seen anything half as frightening as the rotting werewolf was. I loved scary stories, and I would beg Mama to read them to me all the time. I thought they were fun. But this had me shaken to my core.

The rotting werewolf lunged at us. He grabbed the back of Matilda’s pumpkin costume with his teeth, ripping her from my arms. I’ve never heard a noise more horrible than the scream Matilda let out then. I heard her crying for me over and over, and even now it haunts my dreams.

Luckily, she fell from the ripped costume, and I was able to grab her back up. I ran for our lives, barreling away as I clutched Matilda to me. The rotting werewolf chased after us, snarling and panting. I finally ran back onto the porch of the paper, where Adele was standing in the open door. I shoved her inside, toppling over her with Matilda. and slammed the door in the rotting werewolf’s face. He smashed the glass window. His gnarled arm shot through, his nails slashing me across the face as I put myself in front of my terrified sisters. 

The wood of the door splintered as the rotting werewolf threw his body against it. Blood was in my eyes, staining the perfectly white ghost costume my grandmother made me. I was trembling, almost vomiting.

I then heard a familiar howl. The rotting werewolf was yanked back out of the door, and the sounds of a violent struggle rang through the once-happy night. 

Our Uncle John came and got us, and he immediately took me to the hospital. I woke up there, feeling the warm squeeze of my father’s hand. He was bandaged up, too. He wasn’t supposed to leave his bed, but he had tracked me down and climbed into my bed to comfort me. He lost two fingers and part of his ear in the fight. I had to have stitches, and the faint pink scars have remained my whole life. They tug at the curve of my lip, but for a while they nicely hid the crows’ feet around my eyes. I never asked what became of the rotting werewolf, and I didn’t want to know.

“I’m so proud of you, Winnie,” Dad told me. “You saved your sister’s life.”

I would be repaid years later, when Matilda’s granddaughter was named in my honor.

“I was so scared,” I sobbed to him. 

“Not all werewolves are like that, Winnie,” he whispered to me. “There is goodness in all of us, and that is what I have always tried to show you. But I am afraid there are still horrible things in this world, and I can’t always hide them from you. But I will always, always, protect you from them. I promise you, above anything else, that you will be safe.” 

The werewolf attacker made me realize that, even though I saw my father as the bravest man in the world, he was not without fear. In fact, it was the fear that made him so brave to begin with. He had a family to protect, and a town to watch over, and he wanted to make it safe for his children - for me. After that, I tried even harder more like my dad. I wanted to protect Hearthway Hollow like he did for me. I wanted to be able to look at my sisters and show them they were safe with me. I wanted to become strong and carry on the traditions my father and uncles started. I wanted to be a hero.

Eleven years later, when I was on the cusp of turning twenty, another werewolf came to town and changed my life just as much as the rotting werewolf did. Her name was Eva, and she was like an angel from one of the stained glass windows at the church. Eva arrived with an idea. Having heard about the Hearthway werewolves, she approached my father in hopes of making it a reality.

“I want to make this place a sanctuary,” she told him. “A place were we can be family, not savage beasts.”

It was love at first sight for me. Eva was so beautiful, her skin pale and covered in freckles, her honey-colored hair tumbling down her shoulders in thick waves and curling at the tips. She was tall and had strong, thick arms. With her was her daughter, Nora, who had the platinum-blond curls of a cherub.

“A sanctuary, you say?” my father murmured. “Tell me more.”

Eva had come from a pack of semi-feral werewolves. She had never felt comfortable in that environment, after seeing the way normal humans lived their lives. When she was sixteen, she got pregnant by someone outside the pack and was kicked out. Ever since, she had been trying to find a home where she and her daughter could live their lives as they were. While she was staying at a homeless shelter, the woman who ran it told her about Hearthway Hollow, and said that when she was a girl her father had been saved by a man named Abe. After doing some research, Eva found us, and came with the intent of founding Hearthway Hollow as a legitimate town and as a beacon of hope for all werewolves.

I was over the moon for Eva. She was lovely and charming, wise beyond her years. I followed her around like a lovesick puppy, and would gladly have followed her to Hell and back if I had to.

“I really need you and your family by my side with this, Winona,” she told me. She was renting a room above the tool shop my uncle ran. I visited her often and played with Nora, giving her some of my sister’s hand-me-downs. “Your family is the backbone of this entire place. I can’t make it a reality without you.”

In my young and extremely stupid head, I took this as a confession of her feelings as well. I have come to realize that people reach peak stupidity between the ages of fifteen to twenty-two, and I was no different.

“I’ll do anything I can, Eva,” I gushed, elated that she was asking me for my help. “I want Hearthway Hollow to be for everyone what it has always been for me. It’s my sanctuary, and I want to share it with anyone who feels lost.”

Eva smiled at me, showing off her crooked front teeth, which I thought were so adorable. “Not many people feel the same way you do. A lot of them think that taking in outsiders is asking for a world of hurt.”

“My dad has always said that our hearth is warm and welcoming to anyone who needs it. Without it, my mom and her family wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be here.” I reached out, taking hold of Eva’s hand. “I promise I will always stand beside you, Eva.”

It took a long time to get going, but eventually, Eva and my father were able to get others on board with the idea. Abe called a meeting, organizing the first conference of elders in the town.  “It is not the usual thing for our kind, but I think in order to make Hearthway Hollow the oasis Eva speaks of, we need to elect an elder.” Abe lit his pipe, blowing a few smoke rings while the others murmured low.

“I elect Abe,” Eva raised her hand readily. “He is already the heart of this town. It makes sense to me he would-”

“I elect Eva,” Abe smiled at her knowingly. “This was all your idea, was it not? Shouldn’t it be your hands that mold it and tend to it?”

Eva was in shock. In fact, most of the people in attendance were in shock.

Matilda grabbed my elbow and tugged me over. “He can’t be serious, right? Hearthway Hollow is Dad’s town!”

“Listen, listen,” Abe sighed. “I’m old, I’ve lived my life. I’m closer to sixty than I care for. I want to retire, and I want to take my wife back to France someday. I can’t do that babysitting a bunch of pups.” He shrugged and took another puff of his pipe. “I’m happy to let Eva be the backbone while I remain the heart. Maybe one day, one of my ferocious daughters will become the Alpha, who knows? As long as a Locklear is here in Hearthway Hollow, that’s fine with me. But Eva should be the one to take care of it and watch it grow. Not me.”

“I agree,” I stepped forward. “Eva will make this town into something great. Something we could only dream of.”

Eva smiled at me and extended her right hand. “Then take a stand with me, Winona?”

I took her hand, and thus began the change that would take hold of Hearthway Hollow. The first new family we took in was the Shimizus, Japanese immigrants escaping their home after being hunted all their lives. Eiji and his wife, Sachi, joined the elders with Eva and me. Eiji helped to write the laws that would govern Hearthway Hollow to this day.

“No one should ask,” Eiji started. “It is rude on one hand, but it will also keep mouths shut. Discouraging anyone from asking who is and who isn’t a werewolf will keep us safe.”

“It should not be spoken of in public either,” Eva agreed. “This is a place where we should feel safe. It doesn’t matter who or what we are, just as long as we’re happy and healthy.”

I stared dreamily at Eva as she spoke, falling more and more in love with her each day. Eva had built a new home for herself and Nora, and she had also opened a butcher shop which was becoming increasingly popular. One evening, she invited me over for dinner, making a hearty stew. Nora had become good friends with my youngest sister, Dyani, and they were the same age. Nora was staying the night at my house, so Eva invited me over for a girls’ night.

“I can’t get Nora to eat stew no matter what I do, and it’s my favorite,” she laughed. “Thanks for coming over, Winona. Since I opened the shop, I felt like I haven’t had time to breathe.”

“I told you, I’d happily come work for you,” I gasped. “You don’t have to go at it alone like that.”

“But you like working at the paper, don’t you?” Eva poured a glass of wine. “I would hate to take you from that.”

“I don’t mind.” I moved closer to her at the table. “I would do anything for you.”

Eva stopped for a moment, lowering her wine glass back down to set it on the table. “Winona,” she started unsurely. 

“I love you.” I blurted out. I was twenty-one, and an idiot, and had been holding those words back since I was nineteen.

Eva’s look was entirely pity. “You’re my best friend,” her voice cracked. “But-” she shook her head slowly. “The love I have for you isn’t the same.”

I remembered the rotting werewolf, and how scared I felt when he attacked. I felt that same fear that night as Eva turned me down.

“Is there any way that you would?”  I asked her, as the tears throbbed like bee stings in my eyes.

Eva shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Winona.”

I don’t remember much after that, only that my mortification was strong enough to kill a cow. I ran away from home that very night, going into the woods, where I found one of the original cabins my family built. It was sagging to the side, but it was a shelter all the same. I ran inside, bawling my eyes out until there was nothing but blood and regret left inside me. Eva was my first love and I was nothing but a fresh fool. 

I had been told all my life there were things bigger than us living in the woods - guardians who watched over the earth and us. It was a comfort to me as a child, and it filled me with wonder to think of forest spirits keeping an eye on me. As I grew, I started to believe less and less, until it was just a story I shared with the young kids of Hearthway Hollow.

That evening, sobbing and aching with my first heartbreak, something visited me in that abandoned cabin. Their gentle touch stirred me from sleep, my eyes swollen, puffy, and aching from my hours of self-pitying sobs. I raised my head to see a bed of flowers and grass growing from the floor. I looked higher, and saw a shimmering glow that darted around me, moving like liquid in the air. 

I rubbed my eyes to make sure. After all, I could be seeing things, or even dreaming. The shimmering glow was a soft, pale green, with trails of violet, pink, and peach. Where it touched the walls, plants sprung to life, filling the cracks of the old cabin with green. 

“Are you hurt?” a gentle voice asked.

I blinked hard a few times, then shook my head. “I’m losing my mind,” I whispered to myself. “I’m losing it!”

“You must be thirsty,” the voice sang again. All of a sudden, from the floor, a spring of water rose up like a fountain. “Drink, dear. Drink.”

This was no rotting werewolf, but it frightened me all the same. I charged backwards, smacking against the wall.

The shimmering glow came rest before me, settling down onto the ground. It parted, and two small hands came from within. The glowing nimbus moved aside like hair, revealing a small body knelt down before me. The figure’s hands cupped water between them.

“You need to drink, pretty wolf,” it coaxed. “Please.”

They pressed their hands to my lips, and some of the water sloshed up my nose. I snorted and coughed, and the strange creature gasped in horror. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” They pet my hair and rubbed my back.

As I caught my breath, I looked into their eyes. They were beautiful - soft, feminine, and delicate as the flowers that blossomed under their feet.

“Who are you?” I asked.

They shook their head. “I have always been here, watching over the trees and keeping the rivers flowing.”

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

They cupped their hands over their cheeks. “Not as pretty as you, wolf,” they sighed. “I have seen you run through my woods many times. Each time, I grow more curious. This is the first time I’ve been able to get so close.” They placed their palm on my face, letting their cool fingers brush under my swollen eyes.

I named her Kaga, after a story my grandmother used to tell me. During that summer, I renovated the old cabin, rebuilding it and fixing it up like new. I lived in the woods, only going into town now and again for supplies. For the most part, I lived off what I could find and catch in the forest. Kaga stayed close, watching over me and keeping me company. She left me a gift each day. Sometimes it would be bundles of mushrooms for me to eat, or herbs from the woods. Other days, she would leave me flowers, but each day there was always a new gift.

She was beyond years, that much I could assess. She was gentle and kind, but I could see a raging tempest inside her at times. She tried to play innocent, but I had caught her more than once watching me as I bathed. 

“What are you doing?” I asked her once as I came up from the water.

“Nothing,” Kaga’s eyes traveled down my body, then darted back up to my eyes. “Just sitting by the water.” 

I smirked, seeing the look in her eyes I recognized so well. “Why don’t you come in and join me?”

Kaga stared at me in surprise. “Do you need help?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” I chuckled. I turned back around, wringing out my long hair.

Kaga slipped into the water, coming up behind me. Her hand stroked up my back, then rubbed down. I stood stiff, keeping my shoulders up. Back then, I was proud of my muscular physique, and having someone like Kaga touch me made me even more proud.

“Didn’t you grab the soap?” I teased her.

Kaga ducked her head down behind my shoulder. “No.”

I turned around, looking into her eyes as they shifted from the cool gray of the stones to an earthy green. “Did you just want to touch me, Kaga?”

“And if I did?” She stood her ground.

“You only need to ask me,” I whispered to her. “You just might get an answer you like.” I pressed a soft, quick kiss to her lips, leaving the water as her green hair spread out over its surface and bloomed with pink blossoms.

One afternoon, as the chill of autumn was in the air, Eva appeared on my doorstep. Kaga hid away while I approached her.

“I need you to come back, Winona,” she pleaded. “More than ever, I need your help.”

“You sure you want me around?” I asked. 

Eva smiled. “Are you not angry with me?” she asked. “I would be.”

I scoffed and shook my head, kicking at the dirt. “I made an ass of myself, Eva,” I grumbled. “Why would you ever want me on your council?”

“Because Hearthway Hollow needs a Locklear,” she said staunchly. “Come home, please.” She held out her right hand to me.

“Let me think about it,” I replied, pushing her hand down. “The full moon is coming up. I’ll decide then.”

Eva nodded. “I understand. It was-” she hesitated, “it is good to see you.”

After Eva left, Kaga came into the cabin with me. She stood over me as I sat down on the bed. “Was she the one who made you cry?”

“She was,” I sighed. I leaned back, stretching out my legs. “It was my fault,” I grumbled. “I fell in too deep and she didn’t feel the same way. I should have known.”

A scowl crossed over Kaga’s face. “I will not allow her to hurt you again.” She knelt down before me, grasping my hands firmly. “I’ll protect you.”

I smiled at Kaga, gently brushing away the vines and branches that made up her hair. “Why would you do that, Kaga?”

She rose, moving closer to me. “Because I love you, pretty wolf.”

I closed my eyes expectantly, and felt Kaga’s kiss as she closed the distance between us. I sighed softly, grasping her as our kiss deepened. I had fooled around with many a pretty girl when I was younger, but never had I been kissed like that. Kaga took the breath from my lungs, shook my heart, and weakened my knees. 

I gasped for breath as she pulled away, grabbing her for another kiss. She moved me onto the bed, placing me beneath her as our kisses turned into something else. That evening, Kaga and I shared something sweeter than I had ever tasted before. My body felt more than I thought I could take, and by dawn, I realized I had met my match.

“Why me?” I breathed as my skin cooled. I was covered in sweat, and my hair was matted against the pillow. “Someone like you… Why me?”

Kaga looked unfazed by our lovemaking. In fact, she looked perfectly ready for more. “I can’t explain why,” she confessed. “I only know it was meant to be.”

I chuckled gently. “You believe in such fairy tales?”

“I believe in what I know,” she replied. “And what I know is that I love you and for as long as I can stand it, I will always love you, my pretty wolf.”

I blinked tears from my eyes, nodding as I looked up at her. I kissed her, pulling her down into my arms, where she lay with me until I could move again.

She has been with me ever since that night - my Mrs. Locklear.

I returned to Hearthway Hollow, joining Eva again as one of the elders. In my time away, new rules had been put in place, and a new tradition was being discussed. As it was, werewolves could take any mate they wanted, although they often had one which they stayed with for ages. It was Eva’s plan to implement a courtship ritual that would protect both werewolves and humans from harm, and it was my idea that courting werewolves would bring gifts to their prospective mates each night. From there, the plans grew into what we now know the ritual as today.

As the years went on, Hearthway Hollow grew, blossoming into something unique and powerful in the world. More werewolves came, seeking peace and tranquility with us. Businesses were built from the ground up, homes were made, and lives were started. Eva’s dream had become a beautiful reality.

But then, she got sick. It started out simple enough, like a lingering cold she couldn’t kick. For years, she battled a tickle in the back of her throat. As time moved on, it got worse. Her grandson, Adam, was born the day she died, as if she had been waiting to see him. Hearthway Hollow felt so empty the day she passed. 

My father took over for a while until Nora could assume the role of leader. For the first few years of his life, I never let go of Adam. I was always with Nora and the baby, helping her get through her grief, and acting as Eva would want me to. Adam was the happiest kid I had ever seen, like a labrador puppy. I have had many children in my life, but there is just something so special about Adam.

It had been ages since Hearthway Hollow had had any sort of trouble. Usually, when there was something lurking around the corner, it was taken care of. Kaga always gave me a warning when she sensed something. But one day, a monster came to Hearthway Hollow.

He was big, young, stupid, and feral. He barreled into town like he owned the place, ready for blood and carnage in his wake.

“What should we do?” Nora gasped. She had never seen anything like this since she was a child. Her husband, Abel - my youngest cousin - came running up beside us, having already taken Adam somewhere safe. 

“There’s blood,” I whisper. “I think the bastard is hurt.”

There was a look on Nora’s face, one of a strange sense of calm. “If we can stop him, maybe we can talk to him.”

We rushed out, the three of us. I fought against the massive oaf with everything I had, and with Abel’s help I wrestled him to the ground. Nora was adamant that we get him help, seeing the creature as nothing more than her own child pitching a tantrum. 

The feral werewolf was taken to the hospital, where Maria McAllister was a new doctor, and the unlucky doctor on call that evening. To this day, I can’t say who I should blame for unleashing Billy on Hearthway Hollow, Maria or Nora. In any case, the big guy has been underfoot ever since. But I will give Billy credit - if anyone in this town exemplifies what Hearthway Hollow is all about, it’s him, and he isn’t even a Locklear.

When my father passed away, I was devastated. My north star had fallen, and I was lost in the dark. He died in his sleep, happy and content. My mom wasn’t too far behind, dying of a broken heart a few months later. Kaga took care of me, and all my sisters started coming home to pick up the pieces. The grief was too much for me.

One afternoon as I moped on the family porch, Billy walked up the steps. He opened a bottle of whiskey, poured me a glass, then sat down as he looked out over the yard.

“I used to think the only thing good about you was your father,” he told me. “Abe was… is my hero. When I first got here, he was the one who helped me find a job, gave me money until I could get myself going.” He raised his glass. “I’m sorry, Winona.”

I sniffled and rubbed my eyes. “Did you come here to annoy me?”

“That’s all I know how to do, Winona,” he chuckled. “Sorry. Should I call you Mrs. Locklear now?”

I smiled at him, tapping my glass to his so they rang. “I’m the heir, so it seems fitting.”

The house was far too big for me and Kaga alone, so I started taking in strays. Young pups who didn’t have homes or anywhere else to go. I took in Jack when his father ran out of town. I took in any of my nieces and nephews when they wanted to visit, and still do. Kaga and I have given homes to more kids than I can count. I suppose I’m trying to continue what my father and Eva always wanted.

Adam became Alpha, and just before he was to take over, he came to me one evening. He was all grown up, but I still saw the labrador puppy in him. He was such a handsome young man, and one of the kindest people I had ever met. But that evening I recognized something in him that was familiar to me, but I had always been on the other side of.

I took hold of Adam’s hand, squeezing it the same way my father used to take my hand. “It’s okay, Pup,” I told him. “I’m going to stand by your side, just like your grandmother and just like your mom. I’m not leaving you.”

“What if I mess up?” Adam’s voice was cracked.

“You will,” I said with a smile. “That’s where you’re lucky. Do you think I’m perfect?”

Adam hesitated.

“Well, I’m not,” I grinned at him. “I’ve messed up a lot in my life, and I am grateful for it. My dad,” I started, “he took a lot of chances. Some good, some bad. But he knew where to put his faith, especially in people.” I squeezed his hand again and Adam squeezed back. “I would do anything for you.”

Adam pulled me into a hug, “Thank you, Mrs. Locklear,” he whispered. “You’re my hero.”

As he left that evening, I cried.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Kaga gasped.

I smiled up at her, chuckling to myself as she wiped away the tears. “I’m happy is all,” I sniffled. “I always wondered what it was like to be my father, and now I sort of understand. That dumb kid is all grown up.”

Kaga smiled brightly at me, kissing me and taking the breath from my lungs. “You’ve helped a lot of kids grow up, Winona,” she whispered to me, kissing the tears from my cheeks. “A lot of them see you the same way Adam does. Abe would be so proud of you.”

I wrapped my arms around her. “You think so?”

“Is that even a question?” she giggled. “Was he ever not proud of you?”

I look into her beautiful eyes, watching them shift from the pink dusk of the evening into a warm and loving brown. “Are you proud of me?”

“Silly,” Kaga laughed, kissing me. “Of course.”

My sisters - Adele, Matilda, Layla, Josie, and Dyani - moved away or traveled for awhile, but they all eventually came back into Hearthway Hollow. Their families grew there, fulfilling the promise that Heathway Hollow would always have a Locklear. 

Once a year, on the anniversary of the town - which is celebrated on my father’s birthday - the newspaper reissues the first article my father ever wrote. I look forward to it every year, and have formed a ritual around it. I get a bottle of whiskey, the same kind Billy shared with me, and I go out alone under the big oak tree behind the house. I sit where the scent of lavender surrounds me, and drink the whiskey as I read the paper. I marvel over how much the town has grown, all the pups I’ve seen grow up and become leaders. Where downtown was once the only strip of shops in the entire place, now there are buildings sprawled out everywhere. The old lumber mill serves as a museum to Hearthway Hollow, as well as housing artifacts from the Cherokee and Lumbee that had first come to these woods, and old family heirlooms my relatives and I have donated to be preserved. 

Hearthway Hollow is in good hands. Adam has been an amazing Alpha, someone that Eva would have adored. He was exactly the sort of future that Eva had envisioned all those years ago. The world is peaceful here, and on a good day, the scent of lavender wafts over the town from my house on the hill, as if my parents are coming to see what is going on.

These days, I’m happy doing as I please. I keep watch over the town, and have my arguments and competitions with Billy. I also take my nieces and nephews, grand or otherwise, on walks or to the park. One of my favorites is little Eve, Adam’s daughter.

“Grandma,” she says. “Can you tell me a story?”

“Always, baby,” I say as I take her in my lap. “Which one shall I tell you this time?”

Eve settles down, her hair a shimmering honey color. “The French werewolf and the soldier!”

I smile softly as a sense of nostalgia washes over me. “That one?” I ask. “But you’ve heard it so many times.”

Eve beams up at me. “It’s my favorite!”

How many times had I sat in my father’s lap to say the exact same thing? How many times had I begged him to tell me a story and to hear him reply, “That one? But I’ve told it so many times!”

“But it’s my favorite!” I would reply.

“Okay then,” Dad said as he took my little hand into his warm, calloused one. “Just one more time.”

I take hold of Eve’s tiny hand, noticing the bright blue polish on her nails. “The soldier was very brave and handsome, and he was willing to help anyone who needed it.”