Chương 40: HAPPINESS IN A BOTTLE

It was true. Happiness could be bought in a bottle. I stood happily under my shower, enjoying the hot water cascade and the smell of happiness. The stuff that came out of my new and very pretty pump bottle smelled like wildflowers— a little floral, a little grassy, and a whole lot happy. The shampoo was so foamy that I was really quite surprised when my whole head suddenly lathered up and the foam started slopping down my back before I even really started rubbing it in.

I could get used to this: beautiful, clean, happy smell. There was only one little nagging cloud on my horizon at this point: How would I ever go back to my old shampoo when finished this one? But I was happy. I was smiling so wide on the inside that the smile was sneaking out on my actual face. After washing and conditioning my hair, I made a face at my body wash, which was nice but nothing close to the magic in my new bottles. Maybe I should find a new body wash too.

I tried to remember what other magic could be contained in a bottle. Could intelligence be bottled in body wash? I wondered how much my showers might cost per day. I estimated $5, including heat and water. It was a conservative estimate. All I need in life was my Mum's cooking, a can of Coke, two hot showers, and my bed. It was all the comforts of home. Throw in the occasional burger and milkshake, and I would be content for the rest of my life. Okay, that was a lie.

Eventually, I wanted my own phone, my own car, and my own mate… in that order, and a fancy watch, and a cool grown-up wardrobe… eventually. But I didn't care for those things now. What I needed was my beautiful bed. If someone called and said, "Congratulations! You've just won a car. All you have to do is come down to Gate City RIGHT NOW to collect it." I would seriously have to weigh car ownership and bedtime, and honestly, bedtime was heavier on my scale of life.

The car would probably be a scam too, so I would choose bed. I left my bathroom to go to my beautiful bed. There was an unnaturally big lump in the middle of it.

"Savy!" I yelled, "you're in the wrong bed!" My hair was still wet. I was going to plop on my nice bed and write in my diary till it air-dried, but there was Savy—the little quilt mountain—in the middle of my bed. Mount Savy stretched out and stuck her head out from under my quilt.

"I don't understand. We have the same sheets, but why is your bed so comfy and sleepy-feeling?"

"Because it's well used? Hahahaha. It's got my sleepy scent all over it." Okay, I know there is no such thing as a sleepy scent. But I swear my bed was like a cure for insomnia. All our lives, Savy had come to my bed whenever something kept her up at night. I've caught her more than once, napping in it too.

"Can't sleep?" I asked as I wriggled into the bed next to her. She scooted over to one side to give me room.

"This bed isn't big enough for the both of us," Savy grumbled. I raised my brow at that.

"You can always go back to your room." Savy growled a little and pulled my quilt a little higher. The both of us had the quilt up to our noses. I sniffed it—the smell of laundry detergent layered over with the smell of me and my new happy shampoo. It was also wet, I rolled over. We remained there side by side. Savy facing the ceiling, and I on my tummy, diary laid out on my pillow. I clicked my pen to start writing, but then Savy spoke.

"Was it selfish of me to not have told them that my mate was human?"

"Eh? What do you mean?" I asked her.

"I'm worried," Savy sighed.

"What if everything is because my mate is a human?" I thought about it.

"Lizzy could also worry that it's about her amazing blue-eyed mate."

"No, hers was just a normal meet-your-mate dream," Savy insisted.

"What makes you think yours is different?" I challenged.

"He's human," she answered pointedly.

"How sure are you about that?" I challenged again.

"Did he say so?" Savy was quiet for a while.

"You still can't discount it. What if he's the reason for the war?" This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Yeah. Whenever humans got into our history books, it was usually against a backdrop of inter-species war. Our last great war was caused by a human… or two or three… and eventually a whole army of them.

"He could also be a key to ending the war," I offered the other example of when a human would be mentioned in our history book.

"There weren't that many examples of great wars, even though the Lycan world was constantly fighting around us."

"He could be just your mate and have nothing to do with this war," I told her. And then I asked, just to be safe, "Did he by any chance look evil?" Savy laughed.

"No."

"It's going to be okay, Savy," I told her.

"At any rate, it'll probably be my mate that's the troublemaker… rebel army and all that." Savy laughed softly.

"Our Luna is going to be a troublesome one, huh?" I made a face.

"What? Is that all you have to say?"

"What if I'm the Luna?" I asked, remembering Gamma Harry's input at the meeting just now.

"I'll still say the same thing," Savy grinned. Yeah, I've got my new comeback now. If anyone ever pointed out I was trouble again, I would proudly say, "You think I'm trouble? Wait till you meet my mate!" Actually, trouble was all around us. Cosseted by the false sense of security in Night Leaf, we often didn't notice the wars all around the rest of the Lycan world. Rogue attacks were common for almost every pack, even ours. It varied from packland to packland.

Here, in the Green Packland, bordered by Warlock Land and Grey Packland, it was pretty regular. Rogue attacks were expected on an almost monthly basis, usually in an attempt to steal medical, armory, and food supplies. In bad cases, they kidnapped children and women for ransom (best-case scenario) or for sale (this was pretty bad). Lycan slave trade was a lucrative market in some vampire covens. It was also the most cruel fate for any pack wolf.

Usually, the rogues would attack the Morning Light Pack (nearer to the warlock lands for easier escape) or the Lorent Pack (their extravaganzas were like rogue magnets), or if the rogues felt down and out, they would target the other smaller packs in our Green Packland. The smaller packs were really the most vulnerable. Our Minor Packs had between 50 to 100 wolves each. That would be like maybe 30 fighting males… and it wasn't like they had the resources to keep full time warriors.

Dad usually let them be, as long as they paid the tithe, they could live and run in our Green Packland, fight among themselves, and deal with their own rogue problems. Unless it was a kidnapping. That would almost always be for the slave trade. Our pack always sent warriors to give chase… Morning Light Pack would try to block the rogue's escape route… But we didn't always get the SOS in time to move out. Grrr… In some of the other packlands, there were also wars between packs.

You wouldn't feel it from here, but the Red, Blue, and White Packlands were rife with interpack squirmishes and war. So far, none in Green Packland. We had our hands full just with the rogue infestation around our borders, but also because Morning Light had no Alpha to lead any war; Alpha Lorent and my dad were more diplomatic-type wolves, and there were only us three Major packs who were big enough to be considered a war.

The other packs were all Minor packs, so even if they declared war (usually on each other), Beta Lucas would say a brawl with less than 30 participants over one or two days didn't count as a war. It would require the Green Packland Council to legally preside over the aftermath though, which was, according to Beta Lucas, more troublesome than rogues. Large-scale wars between combined packs were rare. And inter-colored packland wars were even rarer—some say impossible—for so many Alphas to join forces.

There could be only one Alpha, and they usually ended up fighting to see who got to be the Alpha King of the merged packland. There had only been one successful united packland army. It was in every history textbook published about our continent.

In order to make a combined effort against the vampire covens surrounding them, particularly the Lycan slavery practiced by these covens, Alpha Aaron of the Black Forest Pack had summoned all the packs of the Black Packland to band together and fight for the freedom of our Lycan brothers and sisters bound by slavery. However, there was so much politicking and infighting, the entire collation became an unmovable white elephant.

Undeterred, Alpha Aaron went to Plan B, which was two decades of warring against his own Lycan brothers and sisters in the Black Packland until he defeated and absorbed all the other packs into his. But anyway, this was followed by another three decades of war to destroy the coven strongholds, eradicate all vampire life, and free the Lycan slaves on his territory. Now the Black Forest Pack was the largest of all packs in our continent.

They were the culmination of 12 Major packs and countless Minor packs in the Black Packland. This was our last Great War and it was one painted in our history books in every shade of grey. The actual shade depended on who wrote the book. Inter-species wars, like the one the Black Forest Pack waged against the vampires, were more common. Lycan vs. human/vampires/warlocks, in order of frequency. Also, please note, that there were more wars started by humans in our world than any other being?

There was always a human war going on somewhere, usually among themselves. Vampires, on the other hand, were surprisingly peaceful. And they were usually the one being attacked but only because they were sucking too much blood off the humans, or because of wolf territory breaches and the age-old Lycan slave practice. So even if they were attacked, they pretty much asked for it.

And every few generations, there would be a great war, so far consistently triggered by a human, then fanned or fueled by the vampires, and then ended by the Lycan (because we were strong enough), or by another human (because they were the wildcards). Lycan elders often say, "Every generation would face a war of some type". Honestly, I had hoped that it would have overlooked our quiet Green Packland this generation. I think we were all hoping that. But the Moon Goddess was pretty clear it would not.

Now our best hope would be a short war, with minimum casualties and damage, short and sweet, with our pack victorious, of course. Savy's deep breaths told me she had fallen asleep while I bored my diary to tears with my account of Lycan war history. My hair was dry now. I put away my diary and snuggled into my side of the bed for some shut eye. {Dream and little dream of me.}