Made of wood
Elara
The library was spectacular. It was a massive, imposing structure, strangely enough a stone’s throw beyond the Alpha's residence. Of course, we didn’t walk to the library, as according to the old mad man, it was not yet my time to be seen outside.
“If anyone knew who you are, they’d kill you,” he said. “You’d be nothing more than a snack to them.”
That was another arrow plunging deep inside my chest.
“Don’t tell me you people actually eat humans, do you?” I questioned.
He smiled. “Once upon a time, in my father’s time, yes,” he said. “You know the story of Red Riding Hood?”
I was surprised he knew of it.
“Red was a human and the wolf was, well, a werewolf.”
He smiled. “An Alpha, a rogue however—a boy who grew up in the woods—was still eating humans then, seen as a senator and an occasional delicacy.”
My mouth opened again. “You’re kidding,” I said after a moment.
He simply entertained himself by laughing softly. “You should see your face, girl. You shouldn’t wear your emotions so easily on your sleeve, you know. It’s not good.”
“Well, excuse me for actually having emotions,” I mumbled under my breath.
“It’s not like you cannot have emotions, girl. It’s the act of making them so obvious for the world to see that’s foolish. If you’re happy with something, quite good. Must everyone know you’re happy about that thing?”
Too many years of experience dwelt within the depths of his eyes. He was not just old, he was also learned—and far gone too. He probably saw everything in life at this point as a rehashing of what he had seen before. Same old story to people like him; nothing new under the sun.
The library itself comprised one main hall that looked to be about 50 feet from the floor to the ceiling. Huge glass panels lined the walls in most areas, and wooden panels on the other sides.
The glass panels overlooked a large garden outside with another seating area. As beautiful as the garden was, no one was there save butterflies and what appeared to be birds I had never seen before.
Inside the library was another story. The floor was covered mostly in marble save for some small areas that were wood so brightly polished I could see myself in it.
“Why isn’t the whole thing just marble?” I mumbled.
“Because occasionally people die in the library and marble is easier to clean up,” I heard a female voice.
She was not so far from me, making me wonder just how she had snuck up without me knowing.
“I was wondering when you would come out of your hiding place, Amelia,” the old man smiled. “It’s good to see you, my sweet niece.”
He stretched out his hand and took hers.
She was young—at least she appeared to look it—but then again, with these furries it was hard to tell how old exactly they were. She was pretty too, inasmuch as the rest of them were pretty. She had bright green eyes with dark auburn red hair.
All those striking features of hers stood in contrast with her pale face upon which she had a button nose and full dark red lips. Her lips glistened slightly as though she had applied some lip gloss, and the faint scent of berries and apples lasted in my nose.
I found myself smiling slightly.
“Something funny, human?”
I raised my eyebrow, the smile falling, and all emotions of pleasantness within me locked up in a box and tossed to the bottom of the sea. I said nothing, I simply looked at her.
“Do all of them stare like that, Uncle?” She leaned towards the old man.
“No,” he said. “I think you’ve just apparently really gotten her angry. I don’t think she quite likes being called human.”
I felt my eyebrow twitch. “And I don’t quite like the way the both of you are talking about me like I’m not here.”
Logan clicked his tongue. “You’d think you would learn a few lessons,” he said. “Words, my dear. If Amelia wasn’t trained in the art of, well, everything within this library, she would have killed you on the spot—as was old custom.”
I rolled my eyes at the sound of “custom” yet again. I swear if I heard the word “custom” one more time, I would roll my eyes, grab my hair, and probably scream out loud. My eyebrow twitched again.
She was watching me. “Are you going to say anything?” she asked, her tone full of style.
“Are you going to stop looking at me?” I shot back. “In fact, where I come from everybody’s just human. You lot are the ones with tails hanging out of your butts, and you’re the ones that like sniffing each other and howling at the moonlight, so maybe I should be the one staring.”
Her eyes widened in surprise and slowly morphed into nothing. She stared at me with no expression whatsoever on her pretty face.
“I see what you mean, Uncle, when you told me she was uncouth.” She smiled suddenly. “I don’t quite hate her,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll make an interesting addition to your collection, yes?”
“She belongs to him. Some other players have their eyes set on her, so it would be quite easy to want to add something so precariously strange to my collection. But I do see the appeal.”
He smiled.
My expression was now one of horror. My breathing had quickened, my heart rate faster now.
“It’s only for educational purposes, my darling. It’s nothing creepy like you’re probably thinking. I’m a man of academia. I’m not so foul.”
He puffed out his chest.
But the exchange seemed to have gotten his niece in a laughing mood. She giggled rather girlishly, touching her lips to cover it.
“Cute,” she said. “Very cute. If only all humans were like you, perhaps the world would be a much more fun place.”
She turned to her uncle. “A lesson with her, then?”
“Unfortunate,” he replied. “Equally safe with me.”
She turned to walk away, and that was when the rest of her hit me like a freight train. She was voluptuous—delightfully so. She had one of those figures that I’d see on screen and genuinely wish for. I rolled my eyes and looked away. This population of furries somehow were several cuts above the human population in terms of attractiveness.
Logan led me toward the farther aisles from the main area of the library. He led me deeper and deeper into what looked like a jungle of shelves and more shelves. Then came the scent of leather and old wood—the scent of books, very old books. Somehow, it made me smile a little bit.
A vague memory came to mind—of myself running through a place like this—but it was probably a self-inserted memory. Maybe I desperately wanted to belong in this place, so I had come up with something that would put me there when I was younger.
I closed my eyes and shook my head, still following him deeper into the jungle. Those memories did nothing for me now. Their meanings were long gone, after all.
He finally stopped in front of a pair of large double doors. There were sculptures on the wood—beautiful carvings of what appeared to be a forest.
“Good one,” I thought, being that the library was predominantly wood.
He opened the door and beckoned me in. Inside was effectively a glass room, but from those old fantasy-style shows—with the blackboard, wooden desks and seats, and a table covered with many things that I did not understand.
“Oh great, this is literally Professor Snape’s class. What am I going to do?”
I looked at Logan, who stared at me with a dead-end expression.
“Potion making?”