Pride's Pursuit

by Cathryn Fox

  Or was there another purpose behind it?

  I go higher up the mountain, and soon enough the soil beneath my feet turns to snow. Twenty minutes later, after reaching the eastern tip of the hill, we all gather outside a small cabin. I draw the night air into my lungs and my paws leave tracks in the dense snow as I walk the perimeter and search for signs of life. When I find none, I circle back to the others and that’s when I notice the worry dancing in Logan’s silver eyes.

  I nudge him with my muzzle. “Maybe they went farther,” I say and glance down the mountain to see flames licking the sky. “Maybe they didn’t think it was safe being this close.”

  “Maybe,” Logan says and as he shifts back to human another thought hits and I wonder why I haven’t considered it before.

  There must be other hidden communities around the globe. Other wolves who live normal lives and take to the woods on shift night. Logan’s pack can’t be the only one. I make a mental note to ask him about this theory when we’re alone.

  As Logan uses his shoulder to push open the door everyone takes that opportunity to morph. When we do, the cool mountain air nips at our naked human flesh and Gem hurries us all inside before we get frostbite.

  She rifles through a small dresser and distributes clothes. I pull on a pair of oversized sweat pants and a gray sweat shirt with University of British Columbia emblazed across the front. While everyone dresses, I use that time to catalogue my surroundings, looking for signs of danger in the cozy den designed for two, not seven.

  I take in the small kitchen, the meager furnishings, and the single window with its majestic view of the night sky. Nostrils flaring, I pull the clean scent of pine needles and the fragrant aroma of freshly laundered bedding deep into my lungs. My nose crinkles and I wonder what this place is used for, but when my glance lands on the soft bed, and the fluffy pillows tossed haphazardly about, I don’t need to ask to know.

  Years ago when Jace and Clover—the elders I used to bunk with before they were brutally murdered because of my disobedience—thought I was asleep, I listened in on their private conversations. I remember overhearing them reminisce about what life was like life before capture. They talked about wolf customs and the special, isolated place two shifters would go for their first full moon mating. After another quick scan of the den, I’m convinced I’m in such a place.

  My gaze instantly darts to Logan, my mind remembering the intimacies we shared in the cave the night the moon was full, when he saved me from myself. But that night was about so much more than Logan protecting nearby backpackers from my feral wolf, and I’ll never forget what he asked of me that night, what I freely gave to him. Nor will I forget the implications in our actions and what it means to a pack.

  From across the small room our eyes meet and lock. Everything in the way he’s looking back at me, his eyes full of unchecked emotions, tells me he’s thinking about that night, too. I reach out to him telepathically but when my call goes unanswered it simply reminds me that we were never destined to be mates.

  That dark thought has my hackles bristling and I turn my attention to Nova as she steps in front of me, blocking my view of Logan. My gaze rakes over her tall, curvaceous body, now healed from her shift, and I tilt my head to meet her gaze unflinchingly.

  Her lips peel back to expose white teeth but her smile holds no warmth. Pale blue eyes as cold as the dead of winter meet mine and she opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but her words never come.

  “Nova,” Logan says softly and slips his hand around her slim waist, illustrating his protectiveness of those in his care. With that, she pinches her lips shut and turns adoring eyes on her pack’s alpha.

  Logan’s mouth tightens in genuine concern as he guides her to the sofa. He sits beside her and I don’t miss the possessive way she looks up at him. While I know he’s the alpha, respected and admired by all, I can tell that he’s especially meaningful to her. I think back to the time that Logan told me his name means hollow, like a tree hollow or branch, one that provides a habitat for others. He’s a protector and I know he doesn’t take his role in the pack lightly.

  His voice is low, quiet when he asks, “Do you think you’re ready to talk?”

  When she nods, Stone and my father move to stand by the small kitchenette counter while Gem, Sandy and I perch on the edge of the cushy mattress. With all eyes trained on Nova we sit quietly and listen as Logan asks the question I’m most anxious to hear.

  “Did Malcolm and the others find their way back here?”

  When she answers with no, her words ring hollowly in my head and I don’t know whether to feel worry or relief. The fact that Malcolm and his small army haven’t made it back means they weren’t part of the carnage. But it also means they are still out there somewhere, either caught by the PTF or running from ferocious panthers.

  Either way, if there is a chance they’re still alive, I have to go back to help. And while I’m there, maybe I can convince the PTF that we’re not what they think we are, and that we can be productive members of society.

  When I think about confronting the PTF an uneasy shiver slithers through me and in that instant Logan’s eyes briefly meet mine. He studies me carefully like he knows what I’m thinking, what I’m planning. His legs widen and he runs damp palms along his jeans before he turns the questions back to Nova.

  “There has been no sign of them at all?”

  “Nothing,” she says, her long black hair flaring around her pretty, sun-kissed face as she gives an adamant shake of her head.

  “Okay,” Logan says and exhales a frustrated sigh before redirecting the conversation. “Did you get a good look at who did this?”

  She nods. “The PTF.”

  Logan’s fists clench and I can hear his blood rush faster, but he keeps himself in careful check, the way a good leader always does. But as Nova delivers the blow, confirming what I already suspected, I realize she’s not telling Logan anything he doesn’t already know either. Has her news brought back painful memories of the way the officers killed his parents years ago? Or does his worry stem from something else?

  I watch his throat work as he swallows. “What happened to the others?”

  Hands folded on her lap, Nova’s gaze drops to the floor and there is real sadness on her face when she says, “Some didn’t make it.”

  Logan closes his palm over hers. “And the others?”

  “They fled.” Her eyes widen, then turn hopeful as they lock back on Logan. “Maybe they went to Richmond’s Village in the Jasper Mountains.”

  Logan’s nod is slight, but his voice sounds unconvinced when he answers with, “Let’s hope so.”

  Suddenly Nova’s words sink into my brain, and as I digest what she’s actually saying my pulse leaps. If there really are other compounds such as this one, then it’s quite possible that someday we could reach one and all live normal lives.

  Logan’s next question catches me off guard and my heart stills as I wait for an answer. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

  I catch a moment of hesitation before she speaks and it’s that hint of uncertainty that has me wondering if she’s being completely truthful.

  “I couldn’t,” she hurries out, her voice rising an octave. “They had me trapped.”

  Logan goes silent for a moment, and scrubs his hand over his chin. “Which brings me to my next question,” he says quietly. “Why did they let you live?”

  She shifts unnaturally on the sofa and I can tell she’s uncomfortable and trying to hide it. Her eyes cast down in thought before she grips the hem of her sweater. With a quick tug, she pulls her shirt up to expose a deep purple scar near her hip. Collective gasps cut the silence because every wolf in the den knows there is only one thing that can cause such an ugly wound.

  Silver.

  “They shot me, and left me for dead. But lucky for me, the bullet only grazed my hip and I was able to gouge out the flesh around the wound before any of the poison could seep into my blood.”r />
  There is cold calculation in her gaze, but from the captivated looks on everyone’s faces it’s clear I’m the only one who sees it. It does, however, have me thinking more about the PTF. From what I know about them, they rarely miss their mark and always verify their kills. So why didn’t they ensure she was dead?

  When a tremble moves through her, Logan puts his arm around her shoulders. “Okay,” he says, soothing her in a soft tone. “It’s okay, Nova. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

  She makes a tortured noise, and that’s when I see tears clinging to her dark lashes. “How…how do you know?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

  Logan reacts to the fear in her and drags her closer. “Because you’re with me now. And as long as you’re with me, nothing is going to happen to you.”

  With that, she blinks the water from her eyes and gives him a big smile. Even though I know Nova is in need of comfort, and Logan is her alpha, the wolf in me doesn’t like the way they’re connecting, the way he is empathizing with her. I fight down the tightness in my throat, grab a pillow and plump it with my fists.

  “There is something else,” she announces.

  I sit up straighter, eager to hear what else she has to say.

  “Before they left I heard one guy talking on his cell phone.” She pauses to give a shiver. “He said something about feral panthers.”

  Gem and I exchange a knowing look. Thanks to one panther, she managed to escape and make it to safety while the rest of her family was chased through the mountains. We know so very little about these shape-shifters, but one thing we do know is that they run purely on instinct and the human part of them lacks our sense of right and wrong. Which makes them a very dangerous enemy.

  Then again, I can’t forget about the one who let Gem go. So maybe they aren’t all blood-thirsty monsters like we believe, and maybe if given the chance they can be taught control, and eventually live normal lives.

  “And a few minutes later the men all took off,” Nova adds, pulling my thoughts back. “I think they were going after them.”

  Logan gives a slow shake of his head, like he’s piecing together the chain of events.

  She delivers her next words slowly, as if to emphasize the importance of them. “I also heard them talking about a place called Lewis Lake.”

  Lewis Lake?

  I search the recesses of my mind, trying to figure out why that name sounds so familiar to me. Was it a place where I’d once hunted and killed a deadly drug lord, or was it simply a geographical location taught to me by Miss Kara, the lady who educated my old master’s enslaved wolves?

  I’m not sure. But what I do know is that this whole situation feels off. There is something about Nova that I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t know what it is, or what she’s up to, if anything, but I definitely plan to find out.

  3

  As rain begins to patter on the roof of the den, I inch my eyes open and glance around the tight confines of the cabin. I have no idea what time it is, but judging from the angle of the near full moon as it briefly cuts through a heavy cloud to peek into our only window, I’d hazard a guess that it is well past midnight.

  The air around me grows heavy, suffocating, and after experiencing freedom in the mountains, my wolf growls low, hating the claustrophobic feeling closing in on her.

  Haunting memories of being held captive in my small cage come rushing back, and I quickly rise up from my crouched position on the hard floor. My body protests as I stretch my limbs and my joints pop and twist while I pad silently across the wooden slats.

  My glance moves over Gem, Sandy and Nova who are all curled up on the mattress, to Logan and Stone who are both hunkered down and asleep near the door. I don’t miss the fact that the sofa is empty, my father nowhere to be found.

  Even though I know I should be sleeping, because something tells me I’m going to need my strength in the days to come, I step over Stone and hear Logan mumble something in his sleep. I still for a brief moment, then once I’m sure they’ve both settled back into a deep slumber, I pull on a pair of snow boots left by some previous tenant, twist the door open, and step outside.

  The cool wind hits my face like a hard slap, pulling me wide awake, and big, heavy raindrops spill over my body and plaster my long, blonde curls to my head. I shiver as I blink a fat droplet from my eyelids and edge away from the den, not wanting to wake the others.

  The heavy snow, now wet and slushy from the downpour, squishes beneath my oversized boots. Without conscious thought I wrap my arms around my body and hug my sweatshirt tight, all the while ignoring the fact that it’s far from waterproof and the thick cotton is growing heavier by the minute.

  Moving silently I walk to the edge of the cliff and glance down, taking note of the unnatural silence around me. Deep in the valley below the flames are all but gone, murky smoke polluting the air and obscuring the fire-ravaged village.

  A branch cracks behind me, heralding someone’s approach. Using slow careful movements I turn around and brace myself, my eyes peering into the inky night as I breathe deep to drag in the intruder’s scent. That’s when I spot him. A tall shadow emerging from the dark forest. My father’s glance moves to mine, and he advances with purpose, the air around him awash with blood.

  Fresh blood.

  But it’s not the blood from any animal I’ve ever encountered. This blood is foul. Rancid.

  Diseased.

  A strange sound gurgles in the back of my father’s throat and when he moves closer I nearly gag from the sickly odor that comes with him. I catch a streak of crimson trickling down his chin before he quickly swipes it away.

  He puts his bloodied hands behind his back as if to obscure them from my vision, but it’s a failed attempt to hide them from my probing eyes.

  “I take it you can’t sleep either,” he says.

  Realizing he’s trying to redirect my thoughts, I look past his shoulders and search the ground. But when my glance comes up empty, no dead carcasses in the near vicinity, I ask, “Are you hunting?”

  “Deer. But it got away.”

  I give a dubious look and I’m about to press, but when he asks, “What now Pride?” my brain shifts focus.

  For a moment silence hangs heavy as I turn my attention back to the destroyed village. A long while later I break the quiet.

  “I can’t stop thinking about what happened to Logan’s family.” As the fight for life and death plays out in my mind’s eye, cold shivers move through me, twisting and knotting me up inside. “What if they’re all…” My words fall off as guilt gnaws a hole in my gut.

  “No one is blaming you,” he says, as if he can hear the internal struggle going on inside my head.

  Surprised by his insight, I jab my thumb into my chest and fight back the urge to yell my next words. “I’m blaming me.”

  “Why is it you think this is your fault, Pride? The PTF did what they’ve been trained to do. Seek and destroy.”

  I spin to face him. “What they’ve been trained to do is wrong.” When he hesitates, and doesn’t jump in and agree with my convictions, I wave my hand toward the valley below and this time there is nothing I can do to stop myself from shouting my response.

  “What? You think this innocent pack deserved to be burned from their homes, or worse, burned to death?”

  “No. But not all wolves are good, Pride. Just like not all humans are. I suspect there is no way for the PTF to know the difference.”

  My gaze darts to his and since he opened the door to this conversation, I decide it’s time to grab hold of the knob and tear it clear off its hinges.

  Holding no punches, and glaring at the man whose blood rushes through my veins, I say, “This insight comes from your own wolf experiences, I presume.” Not only do I want to rip open the secrets between us, I want to toss them on the ground and stomp on them until they can no longer hurt me.

  The truth is, when I made the decision to get to know my father, I knew it wasn’t going to b
e easy. Lessons learned have taught me that nothing in this life is ever easy. But in order to face my future, I know I have to understand where I came from. In order to do that I have to confront my past, no matter how dark it is, or how much I might hate what I might discover. And right now, whether I like it or not, my traitorous father is the only connection I have to my heritage.

  “Yes,” he says honestly, his voice deathly quiet. “I know this from experience.” He takes a small, tentative step toward me. “I’ve done things. Things I’m sorry for. Things I hope you’ll one day forgive me for.”

  Anger hits with the force of a hurricane wind. “You say you left the compound to protect us, so the master couldn’t use your empathy against us. Fine. I accept that. But that didn’t stop you from harnessing other wolves and using them to do your killing.”

  “I didn’t just leave that compound to protect you. I left so you’d never become like me.”

  “And by ‘like you’ do you mean a traitor to your kind?”

  “I got involved in things that weren’t easy to get out”

  I press my palms to my temples. “Then, why now? Why, after all these years did you decide to come back? That’s the part I don’t understand.”

  We exchange a long look, then he answers with, “Because it was time.”

  Frustrated by his cryptic answer, I spit out, “What is that supposed to mean?” My feet stomp in the slush and I hug my damp sweater to my chilled skin. “That’s not even an answer.” As I pace to the jagged edge of the cliff, I listen to the rain gush down the mountain’s rock face and wonder what it is he’s still not telling me.

  He steps up beside me and glances at the sky. His eyes are distant, like he’s remembering something from the past as rain soaks his face. “I never meant to hurt you, or your mother.”

  When I think about my mother, I gulp air, a tortured sound catching in my throat.

  “I want the hurting to stop,” I say around the lump lodged in my esophagus. I wave my hand toward the valley below. “I want all of this to stop.”