Werewolves (Patreon)

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Story by @mudlark.bsky.social

Ida is taking the fact that Avery is a witch way better than I am. 

It’s been two months since we walked in on Avery using my crockpot as a makeshift cauldron (my stews still taste newty, I swear), and things have settled down, kind of. It’s still weird to sit on the couch in our apartment and wonder what Avery’s doing in her room while I watch NCIS.

When I asked Ida about it, she shrugged and said “Magic exists and Avery still pays rent. How dangerous can it really be?” before going back to filing her antlers.

To some extent, she’s right. Getting used to the idea of magic has been easier than I thought. It’s more the fact that Avery has been our best friend since 6th grade and never told us. It’s hard not to see those years differently.

To make up for the crockpot incident, Avery is taking us to hook up with some werewolves. 

I elected to sit this one out, but Ida had the sort of hard smile a best friend gives you when you need to reconsider your answer. She’s always been the group’s voice of reason. 

Avery also assured us that they don’t bite unless you want them to. I still can’t tell if she was joking.

She’s riding shotgun while Ida drives us through the mountains in her ancient minivan that vibrates if the speedometer passes 60 miles per hour. Our camping gear rattles in the back every time we hit a bump.

Avery has what looks like a miniature lab stuffed in the glove compartment, taking out vials of ingredients and sprinkling them into a mortar and pestle balanced in her lap. She grinds things down and bobs her head to the junky pop music playing softly on the radio. Her ears still flutter in the same patterns when she’s concentrating—something she’s done since we were 11.

Despite the humming engine, the jostling gear, and the music, the van feels quiet to me. I have about a million questions and none of the bravery to ask them.

“Amelia,” Avery says, and my clumsy rabbit ears shoot up so fast that they thunk against the roof. “Can you hand me the bottle of water rolling around back there?”

I do and swallow dryly. “Is it, uh, for the potion?”

Avery smirks and takes a swig. “Just thirsty,” she says.

“Oh.”

Again, that weird not-silence comes back. I watch the silhouettes of trees go by.

“Do you want to help?” Avery asks.

I open and shut my mouth dumbly and without sound before asking “Is it safe?”

Avery’s face doesn’t change, but I see her tail fall to the side. I bite the end of my tongue. Dammit.

“Meels,” Ida says, “she’s not making mustard gas up here. Relax.”

“I know that!” I say far too loud. Ugh, how is she so calm about all this? “And I do want to help. I just…don’t have my safety gear.” Both of them giggle and I know my face is red. I cross my arms. “Well excuse me for following basic chemical protocol. I handle trichloromethane at the lab all day!”

“Mhmm.” Ida grins. “With them bigass goggles.”

“I’m flipping you off,” I tell her.

“Without gloves?” she says, and it’s hard not to laugh with them this time. It’s a sound I realize I haven’t heard in a long time. All of us together like that.

“Okay, okay, what do you need, Avery?” I ask.

“Sprite bottle, if you would,” she says, and I narrow my eyes as I hand it over.

“Are you thirsty again?”

“Nope. Watch this.”

Avery uncaps it and pours a splash into the mortar before handing it to me. I look into the bowl and see what I’m sure is just Sprite with mashed plant leaves in it.

“It doesn’t look very magical,” I say.

Avery rummages through the glove compartment before pulling out another vial. She holds it up to the overhead light. It takes me a second to recognize the shining, thin structures packed in there. Dragonfly wings. She plucks two out and dumps them in the bowl.

“Stir them counterclockwise only,” Avery says, and it very suddenly occurs to me that I’m about to perform magic. A chill sweeps through me.

I hold the bowl back to Avery. “I shouldn’t be in charge of this. I’m probably going to do it wrong and end up cursing somebody,” I say. My head spins a bit and I stare at the floor.

“No problem,” Avery says. Her disappointment is impossible to miss.

She turns back towards the road and presses the pestle into the mix. I look out into the forest again, doing my best to ignore the faint purple glow reflected in the window.

***

Ida stops for fuel and Avery announces she needs to pee. It’s a lonely station tucked in the pines, attended by a skinny possum who’s clearly high. He fumbles for the key and Avery disappears around the back.

Ida slides the car door open and all but yanks me out of the van.

“What?” I ask, and she folds her arms and raises her eyebrows.

“Meels, you gotta get together around Avery,” Ida says.

“What?” I say again, and Ida’s hoof paws over the ground with agitation.

“You’re making her miserable.”

“I’m making her miserable?” My head jerks back. “But I’m not even doing anything!”

“Exactly,” Ida says, pulling out a hand to count on her fingers. “You’re never with us for movie night, you’re staying late at work on purpose, and you’re eating dinner in your room. You’re making her feel like you’re not friends anymore.”

“I am her friend!” I say, and Ida pokes a finger at my shoulder.

“Then act like it.”

“I—dammit. I’m sorry. It’s just, how are you so calm about all this?” I huff, looking at Avery’s lab in the passenger seat.

“Because the world is still spinning and Avery is still our best friend. Magic doesn’t change that.”

Damn Ida for always making sense. I sigh.

“You’re just excited because you get to hook up with a werewolf,” I say, smiling.

Ida snorts. “Like this is going to be much different from the things the three of us got up to in college,” she says. “I’d put money on these guys being cleaner than those Phi Delta Theta losers.”

We laugh at that, and Ida motions towards the store. “Avery’s coming back soon, and when she does, I’m going to go look at snacks for a long time,” she says.

“Gotcha.”

“Good, because here she comes.”

Ida’s hooves clip clop over the asphalt, and she salutes me as she heads through the doors.

Avery walks over, and it occurs to me how timid she looks right now. Avery, the same girl who dumped her entire hot lunch on an 8th grader for making fun of my braces when we were just 7th graders. She’s always been bold like that, leading me and Ida on our wildest adventures growing up.

It also occurs to me how badly I’ve been fucking up when she makes a point to sit on the other side of the car. 

Her foxy face looks surprised when I plop myself next to her in the open door. Our legs touch in the cool autumn air. She’s pleasantly warm. Just like she’s always been.

“Let’s see it,” I say.

“See what?”

“The thing you were making in the front seat. Tell me about it.”

She pulls out the vial and holds it for me to see. It’s a little over half full of a deep violet liquid that glitters and swirls in its own slow motion whirlpool. Tiny lights flash inside as if it were full of microscopic fireflies.

I hold my hand out.

Avery raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

No, I think, but that’s not what’s important right now. “Fork it over, fox,” I say. She places it in my grasp, and I marvel at how cold it is to the touch. It’s producing light, and the atoms are clearly excited, but it feels like I’m holding an ice cube. A tiny impossibility in the palm of my hand. “So does it make me fly or something if I drink it?” I ask. “Or turn me into livestock?”

Avery scoffs. “I’m not nearly that good,” she says. “No, it’s just a hydration tincture. Makes sure you won’t wake up with a hangover tomorrow.”

“So, like, electrolytes, potassium, sugars and whatnot?”

“Try dragonfly wings, salt, and charcoal,” she says.

“Don’t they basically sell these sorts of things at CVS?”

“Yeah, but this one actually works.”

“Because of magic.”

She nods. “Yeah. Because of magic.”

Her words all sound like they’re straddling the line between honesty and defensiveness, as if she’s expecting me to start picking her apart to look for answers instead of asking for them. 

The only other time I’ve heard her this uneasy was after she bombed her very first AP bio test. Avery’s not one to shake easily. Looking at her now, though, I can see the signs of exhaustion and anxiety. The last two months have been just as stressful for her as it has been for me, I’m realizing. Probably in no small part because of me.

I reach out and grab one of her hands in mine and squeeze.

“Try to explain it to me. Like I’m a little kindergartner witch or something,” I say.

“Please, you’re much smarter than that,” she says, then thinks for a moment. “I guess for you, think about magic like me being able to vibe-code science, basically.”

I’m laughing a real laugh now. “Avery, that is the worst thing I’ve ever heard! Don’t ‘vibe-code’ my profession!”

She’s got a smile now, too. “It is, though! You have your intent, and there are specific things in this world that make your intent easier to impart onto things and things that make it harder. I’m sorry, that’s the way it is.”

“And crystals and woo-woo magic energy helps you get there.”

Avery scrunches her face. “Don’t get me started on crystals. That stuff is total bullshit. Just something some idiot spun up so they could sell their rock collection for a fortune.”

“Then why do you have them all over the apartment?”

“Because they look nice!” she says, throwing her hands up.

“So let me get this straight. You wave your wand and think really hard and things happen?”

“Now there’s how I’d explain it to a kindergartner, but yes.”

“Wait, fuck off, you have a wand?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“How come you never showed me?”

“Because it would have freaked you out,” Avery says, and my smile tumbles off of my face.

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, gathering bugs and awkward silence. We sit there for a while before speaking.

“How come you never told us?” I ask her.

Avery leans back and looks towards the direction of the moon hanging low over the forested mountains in the distance. “Historically, people don’t react well to finding out someone is a witch,” she says. “Lots of burning stakes and the like.”

“But we’re your friends,” I say, knocking my knee against hers. Her leg limply wobbles and then stops. Avery smiles a small smile. One that’s not fully convinced. I squeeze her hand and don’t wait for her to squeeze back. “Avery, you’re right. People probably don’t react well. I didn’t react well,” I admit. “For a bit, I tried telling myself to think of it like you coming out as a lesbian instead of a witch. Like, I wouldn’t have a problem with that, you know?”

Avery barks out a laugh. “Amelia, those two things aren’t even remotely close!”

“I didn’t say it worked!”

We’re giggling at the absurdity of it all. When we’re done, Avery leans her head on my shoulder.

“But yeah, I get you. It’s a lot to take in,” she says. “Especially for someone dedicated to the sciences. I shouldn’t be taking it so personally.”

“Pff, shut up,” I tell her. “Sure, it is a lot, but it’s also been two months. The world is still spinning and you’re still our best friend.”

Avery eyes me and her lips curl into a slow smile. “That sounds like something Ida would say.”

I shrug. “I’m not above plagiarizing good advice.”

“Thanks, Meels.”

“Of course,” I say, then do something entirely reckless.

The cork makes a soft pop as I flick it off with my thumb and toss the contents of the vial down my throat. Avery’s eyes are probably as wide as mine are right now. The potion tastes like blackberries and smoke and goes down quickly. 

We’re staring at each other when Ida walks back with a rainbow assortment of candy and chips. “Did Meels just down that whole thing?” she asks.

“Yep,” Avery says, then turns her attention back to me. “I should have told you that you’re going to feel—”

I rocket up from where I’m sitting, nearly clearing the roof of the car as I feel it. It being the fact that my organs have all decided to throw a party, warmth playing hopscotch from my brain to my stomach and back again. I land on the ground and hop around like a headless chicken, a giddy laugh unfolding from places I didn’t know it could. The headrush is intense, and for a split second I lose track of up and down. It feels like I’m going to float off the surface of the earth.

And then it’s gone.

I’m standing there and the possum behind the counter is looking at us with a mixture of disbelief and terror, probably thinking the rabbit girl outside just took a bump of something wild from her friend, and the three of us lose it.

We howl with laughter as we pile into the van and take off into the night, and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. We’re miles from the station by the time we stop.

“So,” Ida says after we catch our breath. “Tell us more about these werewolves.”

***

When Joshua isn’t busy being a werewolf, he works as an actuary in Reno. 

You wouldn’t think it looking at him now, though. 

He’s wearing a 2XL shirt that he’s grown nicely into as the moon rises overhead, and his tongue is hanging out the side of his mouth while I sit in his lap. Both of his hands are the size of catcher’s mitts, and they rest politely on top of my thighs. Seth and Amir are with Ida and Avery doing much less polite things by the campfire. Joshua and I are content to take things slow for now.

I’m two beers deep and a little tipsy. And when I get tipsy, I get curious. Joshua’s got 12 cans crushed next to him and barely sounds buzzed. It’s the moon that’s getting to him, he says.

Avery told us the full moon would make them a little dumb, but Joshua is downright adorable. I know I’m asking a million questions a minute, and the poor guy is doing his best to keep up. His grammar trips up more and more as the night goes on. Regardless, he actually seems interested in teaching someone who’s new to all this, though. It’s incredibly endearing.

“So, the whole transformation thing. It’s technically a type of metamorphosis, but would you say that you’re changing species entirely, or would you classify what happens as a series of abnormal growths?” I ask him.

Joshua scratches his head with a giant paw scrunches his face in concentration. His voice is slow and baritone like an old storyteller.

“Well, only wolves can become werewolves, so there’s no biting other species for us to grow our numbers.” Avery told us that already, but I nod along and run my hand over his collarbone as he continues. “Vampires, though, those guys can do bite—ugh—can bite,” he growls, pronouncing his words slowly, “anyone.”

Ida squeals in the distance, followed by a lot more moaning. I curl up against Joshua and trace shapes on his chest while he talks.

He tells me that the full moon is an inhibition releaser for werewolves, not something that turns them into bloodthirsty monsters. That stereotype spawned from years of torches and pitchforks burning their villages to the ground. I’m starting to see a pattern here.

Joshua tries to tell me about his life as an actuary, and it all falls apart in his mouth as soon as numbers and percentages get involved. Real frustration tinges his voice now, and I feel a pang of guilt for asking so many questions. “I’m know I’m—I. Know. I don’t seem like it right now, but me gots—”

He gives up, leaning his head against the pine we’re sitting under and covering his eyes. His white coat doesn’t do anything to hide his blush. I don’t dare tell him that I might be developing a kink for smart guys getting a little tongue-tied.

I turn to straddle his lap and peel his enormous hand away. His sclera are canary yellow, a gorgeous color that reflects the faint hints of the campfire through the trees. The poor boy’s had enough.

“Joshua,” I say, and he perks his ears. “Me think you very cute.” I walk my fingers with each word to cup his cheek. 

He snorts, and warm air washes over my face. He shifts himself and I hold onto his shirt so I don’t fall off. His paws cup my ass, covering it entirely with ease. I can’t resist one more tease.

“Would you’re like a kiss?” I ask.

“Me would,” he says, and finally shuts me up.

For a seven-and-a-half foot werewolf, Joshua is surprisingly delicate. His lips are soft, and he makes sure not to smother my nose as he pecks around my face. His claws trace lightning down my lower back, and he takes my gasp as an opportunity to nibble on my lower lip. He smells like all the best parts of nature; leaves and river water and pine needles.

My hands are in the scruff of his neck in an instant and I’m pulling Joshua’s face hard into mine. He tastes a little bit like beer and beef jerky, which almost feels more taboo than hooking up with a werewolf. He squeezes my ass. I swipe my tongue across one of his canines. Joshua lets out a playful growl that vibrates my entire chest.

Things get intense fast. I don’t know if it has to do with Avery’s tincture, but I’m soaking wet. Joshua hooks his fingers on the edges of my waistband and looks down at me with a lopsided grin. It takes me a second to realize he’s silently asking for permission.

I nod, and his tail thumps a steady rhythm in the dirt.

I can’t not fuck him. He’s too cute.

My suspicions prove correct when I shuck my pajama bottoms. My panties are completely drenched. I flick them off to the side so I can focus on the aching heat building between my legs.

“Sorry I’m making a mess on your shirt,” I tell Joshua between kisses, grinding against his chest.

“ ‘S okay,” he mumbles. “Pretty. Smell good.”

What really needs to be studied here is how horny I’ve gotten with so few words. I think a lot of men could learn a thing or two about talking less.

“Joshua,” I say.

“Hmyeah?” His breath washes over my stomach.

“You’ve been very nice to me. I know I’ve asked a lot of questions tonight, and I really appreciate all your answers. Would you mind if I asked you one more?” I say.

He shakes his huge head. A small line of drool leaks from the corner of his lips. I hang my arms on his shoulders and lean in slow until my lips touch his ear.

“What do you want to do to me?” I whisper.

His response is a single breathy word, about all he’ll be able to manage for the rest of the night, probably. It’s all we need.

“Lick.”

Joshua slides down onto his back and pushes me up and suddenly his tongue is making its first broad strokes over everything I’ve been wanting tonight. My lungs forget for a moment if they’re inhaling or exhaling.

His pattern is reckless and feral and strong and the moment he finds his way inside me I’m gasping because I think I’m experiencing my second brush with pure magic. That, or a tongue that’s over half a foot long.

Holy fuck he’s deep, twisting and pressing over every spot to build that wonderful pressure in my lower stomach. And my god is he hungry. Lapping and sucking and when he smothers my clit I’m only half aware of the world around me because I’m cumming and I’m cumming hard. Joshua doesn’t hesitate for a second before diving back in.

I promise myself between orgasms that I’m going to build Avery a shrine when we get home and take her shopping for whatever crystals she wants.

His tongue runs laps between my clit and lips, circling before pressing hard back inside me. I swear he’s thicker than some of my toys back home. Definitely more flexible. Every time he exhales, hot air vents between my legs, tickling the fur of my inner thighs that’s soaked with his saliva and my enthusiasm. My legs hug his head as another wave of pleasure rolls through me.

I look down at him and do my best to catch my breath. “I’m not squeezing too hard, am I?” I ask.

Joshua responds by lifting my entire body up a few inches and giving himself access to a depth I didn’t know I had, and it suddenly becomes my turn to forget how to speak.

It’s my turn to forget how to speak. Something that sounds like “Joshooohmyguh” comes out of my mouth, and then it’s all over. I ride his muzzle, bucking and grinding and moaning as he drinks all of me.

It keeps going like that until I fully lose track of time and Joshua eventually comes up for air. His eyes are hazy, and he has the most innocent, dopey grin on his face. He licks his lips, and we look at each other for all of two seconds before we’re ripping the rest of what we have off.

He stands us up and towers over me, both of us breathing hard. I get a good look at what’s between his legs and feel him with my fingers for the first time. I don’t have any idea how sizable he was before the full moon, but something tells me regular Joshua doesn’t spend much time wishing he were bigger. Somewhere deep in the back of my brain, the scientist in me wants to take all kinds of measurements. I tell that scientist that a hands-on experience might be more valuable at this time.

Joshua fixes our height difference by scooping me against his chest with a single arm. A light breeze rolls through, and I cling to him and the incredible warmth radiating from his body. It’s like hugging a fuzzy sunrise. He stumbles us back to the campsite mostly blind thanks to me being a general nuisance with my kissing. I don’t think he minds, though.

The scene is something I’m not unfamiliar with, save for the substitution of werewolves for regular guys. Ida is face-down-ass-up over a log, kicking her hooves happily as cum runs down her legs. Avery’s got Seth and Amir on either end and the three of them are going at it.

None of us were assigned partners when the night started, but my stomach tingles a bit when I see that Joshua’s eyes are still locked on me.

I reach down and grab him, tracing the underside and feeling him jump in my hand. He shivers. I know for a fact it’s not because he’s cold. 

I kiss his neck and then his cheek before throwing a hypothesis into the aether.

“Something tells me you might be interested in me returning the favor from earlier. How does that sound?”

His smile says everything I need to know.

***

No detail goes unspilled on the car ride back to Sacramento. The three of us are rabid, delirious and giddy as we gossip like high schoolers about the boys, Bechdel test be damned. I’m smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt. In some sense, things have returned to normal for us, even after learning that magic is real. 

It’s not to say that I can’t feel the snowball of anxiety building up in the back of my mind, though. There are still so many questions I have and not many resources to find answers. Not knowing something and having to be okay with it is a hard thing to accept. 

I try to shove that thought down and focus on my friends. They’re all over me right now because Joshua and I spent the trip mostly with each other. Avery and Ida’s grins are downright sharkish. 

Avery leers at me in the passenger seat. Her hair is a wild mess of tangles that she’s trying to tame with a cheap dollar-store brush. The battle is not going in her favor.

“How were your moonlit strolls by the river?” she asks coyly.

“That must have been sooo romantic,” Ida chimes in. “Stars overhead, pine needles falling all around, the sound of your two best friends getting absolutely destroye—”

“Yes, we could hear you guys,” I say, flapping an ear against the headrest. “Impossible to miss, thank you very much.”

“Not denying the romance allegations, I see,” Avery teases. 

I know she doesn’t really mean it, but my face gets hot anyways. “Avery, I am in control of this vehicle. I will send us off a cliff if you don’t shut up,” I say, trying to ignore her beaming smile from the corner of my eye. “Look, Joshua was very nice. Super smart guy when he’s not an oversized puppy.”

“I’ll bet he was nice,” Ida says from the back. I can see her waggling her tongue between the V of her fingers in the rearview mirror.

I flick the turn signal on in the direction of the cliff and Ida squeals.

“You would put your blinker on before sending us over the side, you nerd,” she says, and we laugh at how accurate she is.

“But really, no,” I continue. “Super nice guy, but there’s no way I could date a werewolf.”

“Why not?” Avery asks with such genuine curiosity that I can’t find an answer for her. Or myself for that matter. “Besides,” she continues, pointing her brush at me, “Amir told me he heard you asking for his number.”

I don’t have to look in the mirror to know that Ida is gawking. The cliffside looks suddenly very alluring. At least they can’t see my tail standing on end.

“For science!” I say. “For research purposes only.”

“Bullshit,” Ida says right back. “Name one experiment you want to run. ‘For science’.”

“He’s going to send me some of his fur in the mail so I can examine it in the lab,” I say, proud to call out of her bluff.

Silence detonates in the car. 

Avery drops her brush. “Meels, you did not,” she says, mouth agape. “For the love of god tell me you didn’t ask for some of his hair.”

“What?” I say, and a little bubble of awareness pops in my brain. “Oh, come on, guys!”

“You do realize that’s, like, one step above stalker behavior, right?” Ida says. “Actually, no, you’re probably skipping right into serial killer with this one.”

“I’m a scientist! I’m naturally curious! There’s nothing wrong with that!” My words come out in squeaks. I think my face has turned into a soup of embarrassment.

Avery and Ida lose it, and I know instantly that I am never, ever going to live this down. They’re still cackling by the time I pull into the gas station—the same one we stopped at on the way up. I rest my head on the steering wheel. That snowball of anxiety rolls into something bigger than it was before. I give one of my ears a tug to stop thinking about it.

Ida, wiping a tear from her eye, tells us she’s going to grab water, leaving me and Avery at the pump.

I’m still staring at the ground when Avery’s hand lands on my shoulder. 

“I know that move,” she says, motioning towards my hands which are wringing out one of my ears. “I’m sorry if we took it too far. It’s just one of the most you things you’ve ever done. And we love you for it.”

I lean myself against the door and trap my hands behind my back to stop them from fidgeting. “No, you guys are fine. And it’s not that. I think this is all still hitting me. I keep telling myself that I need to get over it. The big reveal already happened, and now it’s time to accept things, right?” A long sigh comes out of me. “It’s hard to suddenly not know things. I still have so many questions.”

A single puffed laugh comes out of Avery, and she looks at me with a small smile. “That’s what we love about you, though. Did you know that we probably wouldn’t be friends if you didn’t ask so many questions?”

That stumps me. “What?”

“When I transferred to your school in sixth grade, I was just starting to practice witchcraft. I was new to the area, new to my studies. I felt like an alien who didn’t belong to either side. And in my little, dramatic sixth-grade brain, I was preparing myself to be a lonely person until you found me after class.

“You, this little rabbit kid with big dorky braces who would not stop asking me questions about myself. What food I liked, what my favorite color was, what dinosaur I would be if I could be one.”

“Oh, man, I forgot all about my dinosaur phase,” I say, laughing.

“I sure didn’t,” Avery says. She looks out in the distance as the sun sets the mountains and trees in a blazing orange, lost in the memory. “Because it made me feel normal. Someone was still interested in me even with all the middle school doom and gloom going on in my head. You made me believe I belonged. I’ve never forgotten that.”

I blink a few times. “I never knew that,” I say.

Avery still looks at the mountains for a while. “And there I was, preparing to keep that part of my life lonely, too. I should have told you both sooner. I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did.”

“Avery, you had every reason not to tell us. I’m sorry I was proving myself to be one of those reasons for the last few months,” I say.

She turns and wraps me in a fierce hug. Even though I can’t see her face, I know she’s teary-eyed.

“I don’t think Ida could care less, though,” I say, and we both laugh, breaking apart.

“She’s always been a badass like that,” Avery agrees.

“Moral of the story? Be more like Ida.”

Avery swipes a finger under her eye, then bumps her hip against mine. “And hey, don’t write Joshua off just yet, either. I say if you liked talking with him, see where it goes,” she says. A mischievous grin takes over her face. “The guy’s mailing you his hair. Not a lot of men out there willing to do that these days.”

I groan and thunk the back of my head against the car. “I still can’t believe I did that. You don’t happen to have a memory-erasing potion, do you?”

Avery taps the side of her head. “Got that one locked away for good, unfortunately.”

“Blunt force trauma will have to do, then,” I say, and then we’re off, me chasing her around the car and into the store, hollering and laughing as the poor attendant tries to ring up Ida’s purchase.

A small part of me knows that I still have a long way to go before accepting it all. It’s a lot of change, a lot of uncertainty. The larger part of me, however, knows that things are better now than when this first started.

Life is going to be crazy and uncertain one way or another, but it’s much better to go through it with your friends by your side. Especially if one of them is a witch.