The Crossed Pathways to Home

Lucy's world is fading. Sad, alone, her grandmother dying, the rest of the world hating her, what's to look forward to?
But when a mysterious blonde haired boy turns up...

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8. Chapter 8

~~We stood outside Grandmas' cottage.
"I'll wait out here for you then" Finbarr shrugged. I remembered Grandmas' curiosity from a few days ago.
"Want to meet her?" I enthusiastically asked.
"Uhm...I..."
"Lets go!" I yapped. "She'd love to see you!" I dragged him in.
"Hey" said Sophie cautiously, looking both interestedly and worriedly at Finbarr.
"Grandma wants to meet him, it's alright!" She shrugged and gestured to go in. I pulled him into Grandmas' room. She weakly opened her eyes, and my excitement of her meeting Finbarr were drowned at once. She looked like you could break her by merely touching her. She was pale and frail.
"Hi, Grandma" I said softly. Her eyes dimly shinned.
"Who's this?" she whispered. Her voice was extremely hoarse.
I pulled over a chair and pushed Finbarr into it, and I crouched down beside her bedside.
"Finbarr. Remember I was telling you?" I hated my voice for sounding so condescending.
"Oh, yes" she smiled. Or, at least, tried to smile. "Come over here, Finbarr." Finbarr, looking as if he was at a loss, came down to hunker beside me.
"Yes, ma'am?" She laughed, but not in the way that I fondly remembered. It started and stopped. It was low and coarse.
"You are quite the charmer, aren't you?" she feebly asked.
"I do try" he smiled sweetly.
"Now, I want you to look after my Lucy. You are to respect and look after her."
"You can be sure of that, ma'am" he said softly.
"Good boy." She weakly put her hand on top of his, and he put his other hand on top.
Who said that getting your boyfriend to meet your parents was hard?
And it was nice. It was the first time in ages that I was able to sit and talk to Grandma. School, with many details left out, memories, all that stuff.
Sophie poked her head in about half an hour later.
"Hey Lucy. Time for meds. Your Grandma will probably fall asleep then." I nodded.
"Better go, Grandma" I sighed, kissing her scarily frail, paper-like cheek.
"Goodbye, dear. Please remember to come soon."
"Course!" I reassured her, my voice filled with pity. Motor Neurons is a horrible disease. Imagine not being able to move, eat or speak properly.
Prisoner within your own body.
"Oh, Finbarr, love, a pleasure to meet you. Come again, if you can."
"Of course, ma'am." He only smiled a small smile.
She horrifically chuckled. Sophie came in with a tray of medicines.
"Bye, Grandma. See you tomorrow" I sadly called, hating to leave her.
I raggedly breathed as we stood outside the cottage.
"You alright?" Finbarr asked.
"Yeah, I'm O.K."
"She's lovely" Finbarr encouragingly nodded.
"I know" I sighed, roughly blinking back the tears.
"Want to go home or with me?" Home was Grandmas' house, not Aunt Peggys'.
"I'll go with you." He picked up my bag, and gently took hold of my hand.

I sat quietly outside Finbarrs' house, Finbarr lying beside me, me doing my last bits of homework before the Summer holidays. Exams were finished, we had them early this year, and you'd think they'd give us some leeway.
But no.
I wasn't quite able to shake off the sadness. I was staring at a maths problem. It's weird when you're in honours maths, people think that you're really smart with a mathematical mind. This, of course, is a total lie. It seems to be more like work and luck.
"Ninety-seven."
"What?" I looked up.
"The answer's ninety-seven" repeated Christopher. "Divide the number of numbers by four, multiply by three, divide the number again, round up then take away." I looked at my maths book.
"Yeah, you're right. Seriously, I have a horrific memory." I only learned about quadratics in second year. O.K, in fairness, that was two years ago.
"Thanks, Christopher." He nodded, uncomfortable with my gratitude and left.
"I thought you guys didn't go to school" I said to Finbarr.
"Well, we learn how to read and write. Christopher teaches himself what you guys learn in school. Smart guy. Keeps him and his mind occupied, too, I guess" Finbarr shrugged.
"How come you don't just all go to school?" I asked in confusion.
"Are you crazy?! That would give the Swedish wolves every excuse to use their Swedish Wolvien law and kill loads of people." I sat back and frowned.
"Swedish wolves, Irish wolves, Wolvien laws, what's the difference?" I asked.
"Well, werewolves came about in the 1880's because of some freak experiment" he explained. "Trying to cure a disease from dogs. Anyway, werewolves started to spread, and people had a disagreement over what we should do with witnesses like you. Some said to let you live and, like me, become a werewolf if necessary. Others said the werewolf population should be purebred, and witnesses should be killed to keep ourselves protected. They called themselves Swedish wolves, since that's where we originated, and we called ourselves Irish wolves. No-one's sure why. It might've been the Irish peoples' stubbornness and bravery in the past, but maybe because the wolves back then liked it here. When Irish wolves change to their werewolf form, their fur is the same colour as their hair. Swedish wolves all turn black. If an Irish wolf has black hair, they have a white stripe running down their back."
"Why don't you all stay here and they stay over in Sweden?" This was making little sense to me.
"We're not confined to two countries!" he laughed. "We're spread all over the world! Some Irish wolves in Sweden, some Swedish wolves in Ireland, and both of us in the rest of the world."
"Oh, O.K. But why didn't that other wolf leave you to get on with your law and leave me be?"
Finbarr shrugged.
"I'm not sure. He broke Irish and Swedish law by going on our land for violent purposes." Then he sighed. "The conflict between the two types have gotten worse over the past couple of years. There's a prophecy that someone will bring peace, half wolf, half human. But no-one believes it. There's no such thing. It's ridiculous!" he scoffed.
Then his eyes flickered towards the setting sun.
"Time to go, babe." I sighed.

 

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