My girl is what we call a Keen. She’s a Mystic, through and through. There are three types. Mages, Mystics, and Seers. Seers are prophets. Their powers allow them to see glimpses of the future and last, and bend time to their will. Mystics focus their magic on chaos. They perform tricks, can control objects and animals- sometimes eve people. Finally, there are Mages. Mages focus purely on elemental magic and are the peace keepers. They are known to be quiet and prefer to be alone, only stepping in to provide a neutral verdict in a disagreement.

Well, I don’t know if I can say she’s my girl, exactly. Before relations with a pack we call the Northwood, she would just show up at this bar, called the Moonlit Maw. We never planned it. She would just show up, and so would I. The we would talk and drink and she would come home with me. But, after she found out about the maybe-war, she’s been staying with me.

I’ve never seen her this long before. Usually, she’s something pretty and teasing that I have to be patient to put in my mouth for a night at most, then she’s gone. But that’s just the behaviour of Mystics, trickery and thievery. But I like my Keen, I like her just fine.

I’ve asked her why she’s staying with me, but she doesn’t say a damn thing. She follows me around, my not-so-silent shadow. She follows me to training, where she practices her magic and I my killing skills. She follows me to Warpack strategy meetings, to the market and to pack gatherings.

She plays tricks and causes just a little chaos, but always ends up back by my side. She’s like a little Pixie, flitting all over the place. She disappears sometimes and won’t tell me where she’s gone, but she’s always back before I’m in bed. I imprinted on her, and I think that’s what keeps her coming back. Well, that and being able to sleep on my chest.

I asked her, once, why she was here. She just said, “Where else would I meet you, Wolfy?” She carries this air of mystery that confuses everyone, me included. I’m grateful she’s staying, even if I don’t know why. Somehow, this all feels easier to handle when she’s here.

Today, she’s followed me to a Warpack Council meeting. I’m sitting down and she’s sitting beside me. My father and older brothers keep looking at her and saying things only Werewolf ears can pick up because it’s being said French, a language she doesn’t speak, and they’re whispering. But I hear loud and clear how they think she’s a spy.

Her legs are up on the table in front of us, and she’s using her magic to make the knitting needles weave the yarn in front of her to what I can only assume is a blanket. She’s playing tricks like making cards disappear, and is making cigarettes from my dance in the air around her head. She’s bored- anyone can tell.