by Kayla Wolf
God, what was she going to do?
Feeling suddenly restless, she stood up from her perch by the river. She’d rested long enough, and her stomach was beginning to growl. There were deer in the stand of trees downstream, she knew that from the smell of the air. Time to sort out a meal or two. If she could catch a big enough deer, it could sustain her for a few days, and she could think about what to do next. Perhaps she would find some more wolves? She couldn’t be the only wolf in these hills outside of Fallhurst. Had other wolves left their villages to live alone? Perhaps they could form their own pack. A pack where people were free to do as they pleased—where women weren’t forced to marry the Alpha just because he was powerful and could have what he wanted.
She slung her bag over her shoulder. First things first, she’d find somewhere to set up camp. There was a steep hillside upstream a little, with a series of craggy rocks that seemed to have tumbled down from a higher place—they’d since been overgrown with vegetation, but with any luck, there’d be a little cave or similar that she could take shelter from the elements in. Sure enough, there was a suitably wolf-sized indentation that she knew she’d be able to rest in when night fell, hemmed in on three sides by stone and earth. It would be warm enough, especially in her wolf form with her thick fur—Fallhurst wolves were made for snow. She left her backpack there and took her shoes off. She could transform them easily enough after a lot of practice, but it was much easier without them.
Back in wolf form, dark fur rippling in the breeze, Jessica felt a lot more at home in the little valley she had found. She could stay here for a while at least. Scenting the wind, feeling a lot less lost, she padded down the stream towards the stand of trees where she knew the deer would be. Hunting was a lot easier in a pack, she knew that from experience—but she’d always gotten a secret thrill out of doing something by herself that was usually done in groups. It made her feel powerful, independent, self-reliant—not qualities generally prized by wolves, and something she kept a staunch secret from her father. Being different, going against the pack—these weren’t habits a good wolf tended to cultivate. But the pack wasn’t here now. It was just her, and the wind, and a pack of deer who hadn’t caught her scent yet.
There were about six of them, grazing in a small clearing in the stand of trees that the creek ran through. She spied her target immediately—a large male, clearly protective of the females and young under his care. He was standing a little away from the others, closest to the stream, and she could see a collection of slippery rocks just to the left of his hooves. Perfect.
Wild wolves hunted differently to shifters, Jessica knew. They had studied their little cousins as young wolves when they were learning about their shifter powers. Wild wolves—wolves with only one shape, wolves with whom their kind shared a common ancestor but not much else—would always target the weakest members of a group of prey, picking them off as easy kills to ensure the survival of the pack. Their cousins would never target the biggest, strongest member of a herd for fear that the hunt would be unsuccessful. But shifters were clever, and resourceful, and knew how to use the environment to their advantage. So Jessica crept around the grazing herd, silent in the cool air of the afternoon until she had lined herself up with the male just so—
And then she lunged, deliberately loud and cacophonous. Sure enough, the big male started and lunged instinctively away from the loud sound of her movements. She saw him realize what she was, and how close she was—and she watched in satisfaction as he attempted to reverse his trajectory mid-air. The clumsy movement, in coordination with the slippery rocks he’d lunged over, sent him skittering wildly off-balance, his hooves scrabbling for purchase on the rocks as the rest of the herd scattered, braying their alarm. By the time he’d managed to right himself, it was too late—Jessica was there, a sleek blur of black fur and sharp teeth. She leapt onto his back, her considerable weight bearing him down—another advantage wolf-shifters had over their little cousins was their size. Even the smallest shifter was much, much larger than the largest wild wolf, and Jessica was a powerful young wolf, her thick frame packed with muscle. The deer couldn’t keep his footing on the slippery rocks, not with hundreds of pounds of wolf on his back. So he fell—and it wasn’t long before his blood was mingling with the water of the stream.
Jessica had always loved the hunt. And she’d always been very good at it.
Her belly full, she dragged the rest of the carcass into a shallow depression in the grass. The air was cold enough that the meat would keep for a day or two at least—just as she’d planned. It was unlikely that the rest of the deer would ever return here, of course, not with such a traumatic memory fresh in their recollection, or with the blood of their old patriarch staining the grass. But that was fine by Jessica. A few days from now, she’d move on. Find a new herd of deer to prey on. It was easy enough. And in wolf form, there was something tempting about the idea of simply living that life indefinitely. Of travelling, hunting, resting—continuing about that peaceful, ancient life until she died of old age. Tempting… so tempting. But her human mind was restless at the concept. There had to be more to life than that. That was what had driven them to organize the way they had originally, so the legends went. Once, shifters had been just like wild wolves… but something had made them crave more than simply the hunt. They had wanted homes, a society like the societies that humans lived in.
Humans.
There had been a strange smell on the breeze for what must have been ten minutes before Jessica fully realized what she was smelling. Sure enough, as her ears revolved, she could hear the distant but unmistakable sound of human voices. What on earth were humans doing this far into the wilderness? Camping, she assumed, her heart racing. They couldn’t be allowed to come upon her, not in this form. Shifters were enormous compared to regular wolves. There were countless tales of humans hunting down the enormous wolves they’d heard legends about. She felt her lips rise in a snarl at the thought. Humans didn’t need to hunt—they did it for sport, for fun. There was nothing more repellent to her. The deer she’d killed had been to sustain her own life—she respected him, even thanked him as she tore into his flesh. But human beings hunted for the rush of it alone. And they used tools, not the weapons given to them by nature. It was unnatural. Abominable. There was a reason the wolves of Fallhurst had spurned all of human civilization. They interacted just enough to get what they needed—and no more.
If these humans were hunters, Jessica didn’t know what she was going to do. She had always been cautioned that harming a human was more trouble than it was worth. Humans had a way of investigating, of trying to find out what had happened to prevent it from happening again… and that often took the form of a lot more attention than the pack members of Fallhurst wanted.
But at the very least, she couldn’t let them see her wolf form. From the sound of them, they were coming from upstream, where her gear was stashed, so running up there in wolf form was out of the question—and she didn’t know what lay further downstream. Best to use the ancient disguise her kind had developed for situations like these. She’d never met humans before, but she knew the drill—it was part of learning to be a wolf. She shifted back and moved over to stand in the stream so that the humans wouldn’t notice her bare feet and ask questions.
It wasn’t long before they broke into the clearing. There were three of them—she examined them quickly, trying to take note of weaknesses in case they came to blows. Two males and a female, huge, cumbersome backpacks on their backs, sticks in their hands, breathing heavily.
“Oh!” one of the women said with surprise, her eyes on Jessica. “Hello!”
“Hi,” she replied, guarded. One of the men was looking at her deer with an expression of disgust—the other, like the female, was looking at Jessica.
“We didn’t know anyone else knew this trail!” the woman said, shifting her stick to her left hand and hastening over to extend her right one to Jessica. She shook it. “I’m Anna, this is J
osh and Henry—”
“Jessica,” she replied, trying to smile and hoping fervently that she’d gotten rid of all the blood.
“What happened here, d’you reckon?” the man called Josh asked, still staring down at the deer.
“Coyotes, maybe. Or wolves. It looks fresh,” Henry said, crossing to join him. “Did you see anything?” he asked her.
“No,” Jessica said. “It was here when I got here.”
“Poor old thing,” Anna said, and Jessica blinked in surprise at the look of sincere sadness on her face. Didn’t humans hunt for sport? “Are you camped around here somewhere? We’re going to set up a little further down the trail.”
“Yeah, there’s an old rock formation that works perfectly as a firepit,” Henry was saying, crossing to join Anna. Jessica noticed the casual way he put his arm around the woman’s waist. Were they mates? Despite her distraction, a flash of Samuel’s face came to her mind, and she banished it, aggrieved. Treacherous memory. “D’you want to join us?”
“We’ve got plenty of food,” Anna chimed in, smiling. “Henry always packs way too much.”
“Only because my brother eats like a horse,” the other man objected, and Jessica couldn’t help but smile at the look of mock-outrage on Josh’s face. “But please do join us. It’s nice to run into another human being out here. It’s been nothing but these two and the wildlife for the last week and a half.”
And though she wasn’t sure why, Jessica found herself picking her way down the stream later that evening, heading for where the humans had told her they were setting up their camp. She was back in her running shoes, and had put her jacket on as well to protect from the chill in the air—she’d intended to spend the evening in wolf form, but clearly, that wasn’t an option.
Sure enough, just beyond the trees, there was a raised area of stone, half-claimed by vegetation but flat enough to pitch a tent on. There were two tents already erected, and a small fire crackling cheerfully in a natural divot in the rock. The humans waved her over, and she felt a stirring of surprise that they seemed legitimately happy to see her. Why? Why were they so interested in her presence, in spending time with her—so much that they’d even share their limited supplies of food with her? She sat quietly by the fire, warming her hands, listening to the easy conversation between the three humans, even laughing occasionally at their jokes.
Could these really be humans? She’d spent her whole life being told that humans were unfriendly, suspicious, not to be trusted. That they hunted for sport, that they killed each other for fun, that you could never have a real friendship with them because they were only interested in their own wellbeing. But here these three were, caring for each other, even inviting a stranger to their campfire for no other reason than that they thought she was another one of them, out in the wilderness. Almost like a pack of their own, in some way. But how could that be true, if humans were so self-obsessed and evil? All the TV shows she and her sister had watched seemed to confirm it… so why were these three, the only real humans she’d actually met, so kind?
“Penny for your thoughts, Jessica?” Anna was smiling at her across the campfire. “You seem—pensive.”
“I just haven’t spent much time around—people.” God, she’d almost said ‘humans.’ That would’ve blown her cover and no mistake.
“I know that feeling,” Anna smiled. “It’s good to get away sometimes. Reminds you what’s important. And who’s important.”
Her mate smiled down at her, and Jessica felt again that strange upswelling of feeling in her chest—the feeling she’d had when she’d been with Samuel, and when she’d heard his voice on the phone, and when she’d considered the ridiculous, impossible prospect of staying with him, finding some way they could be together. Had he called back, after she’d hung up? Had he tried to reach her again? Was she someone that was important to him?
The humans began yawning eventually, and apologized to her, explaining that they’d been walking all day and were exhausted. She said goodnight and started the trek back to where she was sleeping, her mind still racing. She could feel her phone in the pocket of her jacket, almost glowing with the urge to turn it on, to check if Samuel had tried to call her again. Could her instincts, her intuition—could they really be this wrong? Could she be this caught up by the idea of a person if he was really so terrible? Or could it be that her family was wrong—that pack doctrine was short-sighted, that things had changed since hundreds of years ago when Fallhurst was founded to defend its residents from the outside world? Impulsively, before she could stop herself, she pulled the phone out and turned it on. Sure enough, it buzzed over and over again—dozens of missed calls. Most of them were from her family back home, she noticed, feeling an ominous weight settle in her stomach. She should probably deal with that at some point.
But among the calls were several missed calls from the unsaved number—the one she recognized, with a burst of joy, as being the phone that Samuel had called her from. And there weren’t just calls—there was a text message, too, sent some time after the phone calls. She opened it with trembling hands, the phone lighting up her face in the dark.
Hi Jessica, it’s Samuel. I’m sorry if I upset you when we talked earlier. I know it must be difficult to trust me, given the history of our families. But I’d like to talk more and get to know each other. And for what it’s worth, I would be proud to be seen with you. Take care.
She stared down at the phone, her chest full of conflicting feelings. Should she reply to the message, or delete it? Should she answer the phone if he called again? Should she call him? Should she go back to the cave she’d fallen into, run through the corridors until she found him and hurl herself into his arms? Paralyzed, she did none of those things—she just walked, automatically, one foot in front of the other, back to the lonely little cave she’d made a temporary home out of.
And then her phone rang.
Chapter 8 – Samuel
“You messed up.”
Samuel blinked at Lisa, still holding the rectangle to his ear. There was a strange sound coming through the phone, and Jessica’s voice had disappeared completely. What did it mean? Had something gone wrong with the technology? Had he pressed the wrong button somehow?
“I’m hundreds of years old, Lisa, this device is impossible—”
“Not with the phone, you did fine with the phone. You messed up with the girl.” She looked exasperated as she took the phone from his unprotesting hand and tapped a few buttons on it. The screen went blank and dark again. Did that mean Jessica was gone? Could she still hear him?
“Messed up? How? I just told her—”
“You made it seem like you were ashamed of her, of how you felt about her,” Lisa said, exasperated. “When she asked what would happen if someone found out you were seeing her, you were supposed to say you didn’t care, that you’d be happy to be seen with her because you care about her. Instead, you just said you’d keep it a secret.”
He stared at her. “But I would keep it a secret. I wouldn’t want Alexander to find out. I’d be in trouble. She’d be in trouble.”
“How do you think that makes her feel?”
He hesitated, giving the matter some thought, then groaned. “Like I’m ashamed that I care about her.”
“Exactly.”
“Call her back. Get her back on the phone! I have to explain myself better.”
Lisa rolled her eyes, but she tapped at the phone again. Samuel still wasn’t convinced that what she was doing wasn’t some kind of witchcraft. She held it up as it made strange sounds—but Jessica’s voice didn’t sound again.
“Why isn’t she answering?”
“She would have turned it off.”
“What does that mean?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Lisa sighed. “It sounds pretty complicated between you two. Are you sure you want to pursue this? Wouldn’t it be better to just let her go home to her family?”
Samuel hesitated again, chewing on his bottom lip
. It had been so wonderful to hear her voice. But Lisa was right—there was so much blood in their histories, so much to overcome if they were even to ever see each other again, let alone pursue a relationship that was more than friendship. But God, he wanted to. He wanted to talk to her, to find out all about her family, what it was like to be a wolf. They had some things in common, at least. He could show her his dragon form… he could even take her flying if she wanted that.
“I’m the last person in the world who’d tell you that falling in love with someone from a different species is a bad idea,” Lisa said gently, “but you have to admit—the wolf thing is hard. Are you ready for that?”
“I really don’t care that she’s a wolf,” Samuel said. “But the thing is, I don’t know if she’s okay with me being a dragon.”
Lisa sighed and reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “It’s hard. This used to be my whole job, and it’s never easy, even without all this … war and bloodshed in your history. I reckon you need to spend some time thinking about it. Take the afternoon—I’ll tell Alexander you’re doing important stuff for me, searching for a good place for the wiring to go, whatever. Do whatever helps you think.”
Samuel knew straight away where he should go to think. To the library. Ever since he was a boy, reading helped him work through his own problems. Investing himself in the stories of other people somehow served to distract him long enough from his own dilemmas that he could come up with a solution, as if by magic. And there was a great deal of wisdom to be found in old books, that was for sure. He’d go to the library, find a story to lose himself in, and see how he felt about Jessica when he came out.
Lisa hugged him when they parted, her eyes full of sympathy. “I hope it’s okay, Samuel, really. And anything I can do to help… just let me know.”
“You’ve already helped so much,” he said sincerely, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze to try to convey his thanks. “I wouldn’t have even known what a phone number was if you weren’t here. Thank you.”