Silver-White (The Great North Woods Pack #1)

by Shawn Underhill

  “I told you,” Erica said to Evie with a scratchy rasp. Her eyes were darkly narrow; her sharp bangs were clinging to the side of her face. “I knew I wasn’t far behind. I told you.”

  Evie nodded and smiled a halfhearted smile. “I never doubted,” she said.

  “Somebody get her some more water,” Earl called.

  Erica began struggling to stand from the couch before anyone could, pushing against her mother and her aunt. “I’m good, let me up,” she complained. “I don’t need it. Let me up!”

  Evie stepped back. Earl moved closer to his daughter. All the elders were imploring her to calm herself.

  “Relax,” her father said, standing over her. “Do you hear me? Keep your cool, you little devil.”

  “I’m fine,” Erica said, swaying where she stood, bouncing from one relative to the next for support. “I need air. Let me out of here, I’m hot. Let me out!”

  Earl moved through the crowd ahead of his daughter, clearing the way to the sliding glass door. He stepped out and Erica followed. Matthew came along supporting her, and shut the door after he was out.

  “It’s best to let them handle it,” Evie’s mother said.

  Evie nodded weakly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Evie said. But she didn’t feel it.

  “It’s the excitement stirring you up,” Janie said. “Go relax. Sit quietly.”

  Evie nodded and turned away. Quite suddenly she had a terrible thirst of her own. She went to the kitchen to get herself a cold drink. Though she was greatly relieved for Erica, there was a nervous feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Whether it was just “the excitement” or concern for all the “wild” talk or something else, she wasn’t sure. She drank down a glass of cold water and stood leaning against the kitchen counter, until she felt too hot to remain inside.

  On the porch near the front door Evie sat in one of the Adirondack chairs. In long and steady breaths she took in the cool air, trying to calm herself. The sun was setting on the opposite side of the house, and the driveway full of cars before her was darkening under the creeping shadows. Erica had made it through the fever. She should have felt ecstatic. But all she could think was, Please, Papa, get home soon.

  She had not been in the chair for a full five minutes when she heard a very distant howl, a mile or two away. She could not be sure of the wolf that made it, but she understood the message clearly; her spine tingled and she began to shiver. From what seemed to be the center of town, a pack member had sounded a call that Evie had never once heard but instinctually recognized. Carried within the single call there was at once a sorrowed, urgent plea for assistance, and an angry summons to battle.

  -16-

  From the rear porch Evie heard an instant scuffle breaking out the moment the howl died away. She knew what was happening. Erica was changing. Or wanting to change. Earl and Matthew were fighting to control her.

  The front door opened beside her. Before she could fully rise from the chair several of the men rushed out. Eli, Nathan, her older cousin, and his father, Uncle Anthony, sprang from the porch steps, shifting as they flew, and landed in a dead run. Yipping short and halting return cries to their troubled pack mate, they tore down the drive and disappeared in the early dark. Evie knew as she stood shivering that they were making for the corn filed. There they would take the wide southbound snowmobile trail and enter downtown Ludlow from the cover of the trees.

  “Don’t move,” said Evie’s grandmother from behind her.

  Evie turned to see Evelyn’s worried face, just as she felt her strong hand grip her nearest arm. “What’s happening?” Evie asked.

  “There’s been an attack, by the sounds of it. It’s no place for you.”

  Evie pulled herself from her grandmother’s grip, but she did not run. Instead she hovered on the porch step as several more family members rushed out and by her. At the same time, from out back she could still hear the confrontation surrounding Erica. It grew, indicating that at least some of them had shifted as well. “Let me help them,” Evie said to her grandmother.

  “Go around the back of the house,” Evelyn said. “Do not leave. Focus your mind on them, not the southern dispute. Understood?”

  Evie rushed around the northern corner of the house. From there she climbed the steps onto the back porch, closing on the scuffle that now involved Aunt Ruth in addition to the others. Three gray wolves had formed a circle around Erica, corralling the newest wolf that was sleek and dark. Not a hair on her upper body was anything lighter than blackest black, and to Evie’s eyes, only traces of silvery gray marked her forelegs and chest. The black wolf’s eyes were deep amber, like smoldering coals. Evie stopped short when those eyes found her on the far end of the porch.

  Two thoughts of differing opinion crowded Evie’s mind at once. One; keep calm and remain human. Two; let go and shift; she’s going to run anyway. The corral is merely a speed bump. Evie knew exactly the rush of energy Erica was experiencing, and highly doubted that she’d be kept from running.

  The black wolf turned from Evie and made her most violent protest yet to her captors. Her charge was met by rearing wolves pushing her down with strong paws. Clearly attempting to leap the railing to an escape, she was thwarted at every try. But then, snapping and snarling as she thrashed her newfound weight and strength, she suddenly calmed, lowering her head. And as her family relaxed around her, she stretched herself thin and, barely fitting between the porch floor and the middle railing, in a second she wriggled her way to freedom, stumbled, gained her footing, and was off.

  The gray wolves sneezed clumps of black hair snapped from Erica’s long tail as she fled. Within a second they leapt the railing and tore off in pursuit, leaving Evie alone on the porch.

  Evie took one glance into the house through the windows. The remaining family was in an uproar, scrambling to get control of the younger children and prevent them from seeing more than they already had. Then she turned away from the house, thinking, here goes another outfit. She took off into a run, hurdled the railing, and landed on the grass below with four white feet.

  The fear sweeping through the animals in the barn met Evie’s ears as she ran, tearing the grass, then the dirt of the driveway as she raced for the lower cornfield. Ducking into the corn stalks, she followed the sounds and scents of the wolves before her, gaining on them by the minute.

  On the wide snowmobile trail Evie reached full speed within seconds, and soon the four wolves of Earl’s household were in her sights. Gulping the cool air, she breathed as a machine, her heart beating madly, propelling her sleek speeders frame to within yards of her quarreling-on-the-run family.

  “Help us,” Matthew grumbled, looking back to Evie. “Keep her from cats. We must fight.”

  Evie yelped her reply, noticing only after the mention that there was a slight scent of cat in the air. She passed Matthew and drew up alongside of Erica. “Shiny black,” she said in a weak attempt at distraction.

  “Get way,” Erica growled.

  “Run with me,” Evie said.

  “Out of my way!” the black wolf roared with a snap of her jaws.

  “Stay near her,” Earl said to Evie.

  “Yes,” Evie acknowledged.

  The pack of five sped on until a smaller trail broke off from the larger one. There they turned sharply, heading toward one of the southernmost houses of downtown Ludlow. At the center of the running corral the young black wolf snapped and snarled, but ran on as their mobile prisoner.

  Ahead Evie now saw a clearing, which was a yard behind a house. From that yard the original howl had come, she suddenly understood, because from there now the sounds of battle increased in her ears, and a smell of shed blood entered her head. They, the five, were upon it sooner than Evie had expected, and at once she set her mind to the coming task of taming the black wolf once the others had entered the fight. Which fight would be worse, she could not guess.

  The five entered the yard at a trot, surveying
the scene for several seconds. Even the young black wolf hesitated, taking in the surrounding chaos with pricked ears and nervous whines. Like Evie had done with the wolf circle, Erica had followed her instincts to a confrontation, only to find on arrival a very disturbing scene.

  Before them was a mash of sights, sounds and smells that combined into one awful sense in their heads and hearts. All around wolves and cats were clashing, gnashing, tearing and emitting terrible sounds of fury. Evie realized then, too late, that she had not run to the controlled wolf circle of the prior night. This was no border skirmish managed by her grandfather. This swirling mass of raging bodies—a sight disheartening to even the greatest of the old wolves, let alone a young fun lover—would not end with small bloodshed, and would not be satisfied with the giving of scars. The feud was old, and this battle that had erupted would only brake when the dealing of death had too greatly impeded one side or the other. It was war.

  What they had come upon was the worst any wolf of Ludlow could fear. Over a dozen cats had slunk silently across the southern borders, and in a tactic highly unusual for their kind, had banded their strengths together, systematically closing on one household of greatly outnumbered wolves.

  When the pack of five arrived on the border of the yard they saw, far across the open area, near the house, the first family that had been accosted. Three wolves had formed a barrier around one that lay thrashing on the grass. Around them cats crouched and swiped, hissing terrible threats and jeering the injured wolf. Beyond that inner circle there were more cats, facing outward from the circle, fending off the first wave of wolves that had responded to the alarm call.

  The arrival of Eli, Nathan and Anthony, the second wave of wolves, had drawn more cats away from the first family, and as Evie and the four others moved in, they heard and saw the heated battle that had ensued. Some wolves struck fast and drew back quickly from swiping claws, while others charged in fury, enduring the claws in exchange for a chance at a death grip upon the throat of a cat.

  To Evie’s young ears, the sounds of the battle were almost worse than the sights. Both wolf and cat issued screams of rage and pain—growls and hisses and snarls. And then, in a sickening second, above the many confused sounds of battle which together formed a dense fog of war, somehow Evie discerned a single cry of only pain.

  Of the first family of wolves she saw one that she knew by sight—David. The other two standing by she did not recognize. But then, as she watched them, the wolf on the ground, though she could not see clearly, cried terribly with the voice of Emmy, the young she-wolf of the Wilson family. As the sound entered her ears Evie’s entire body trembled with the horrible understanding. Her newest friend was injured horribly, and her family was now fighting for their own lives as they tried to defend her.

  From the pack of five Matthew and Earl leapt into the battle after their short appraisal of the scene. Within seconds they were deep within the mix, snarling and tearing at whatever portions of cats they could reach. Evie and Erica stood trembling near the tree line, their young senses overwhelmed. Ruth paced indecisively; to join the fight or guard her daughter pulled her equally hard in both directions.

  “Emmy,” Evie whined. “She’s hurt!”

  The black wolf at her side snarled and slightly crouched, as if she were preparing to spring.

  “Stay back,” Ruth ordered, pacing and stamping with bared teeth. “No game!”

  The argument that ensued was hard for Evie to follow. With the noise of the battle in the background, Erica’s new voice became harder to distinguish through its panic. Rage had compelled her to the battle, but now fear had entered into her heart, confusing her delicate new senses and hampering her ability to communicate.

  But then Erica growled clearly, “Doctor Wilson.”

  “You cannot beat them,” Aunt Ruth scolded.

  “Try, try!” Evie said.

  At that same time, across the yard another small group of wolves entered the scene from the opposite end, just seconds after Matthew and Earl joined the fight. More cats were drawn to them, and the first family, with Emmy wounded on the ground, became clearer to Evie’s eyes. It was like a whole within the line of a football game, and the sight of the opening sparked a sudden plan in her mind.

  “Up the center,” Evie said.

  “No!” Ruth scolded.

  “Not fight,” Evie clarified. “Run. Distract. Dr. Wilson helps Emmy.”

  Erica understood well enough. In an instant she dashed off, grazing past her mother’s attempted block. With no choice, Ruth followed her daughter. Evie darted at her side, and within a few long strides she pulled slightly ahead.

  The black wolf was sleek and stealthy, and she weaved between various battles with surprising ease in the early dark. Distracted cats saw her only at the last moment, and the sleek black evaded them with surprising cunning, catching several hasty swipes in passing that tore fur from her body but could not reach her skin.

  Then, when they were halfway through the crowd, a wolf suddenly fell back only a few strides before the silver-white Evie. She saw, adjusted her stride, and prepared to leap her fallen pack mate. As she sprang, the cat attacking that fallen wolf noticed Evie’s white coat. Losing its focus to take a greedy swipe at the young Snow, as Evie leapt, the cat’s claws grazed the hairs of her soft belly. When she landed on her feet, she was surprised to feel no pain at all.

  Looking back for a split second, Evie saw the clenched jaws of the fallen wolf tearing the throat from the cat she had distracted. The cat’s claws dug the wolf, but only for the second it took him to remove half of the cat’s unprotected neck.

  There was no time for her to think or comprehend the ugly sight. In the next blink Evie was facing her destination once more. David Wilson was battling savagely with one cat, while his parents still shielded Emmy from one more. Erica, running several body lengths ahead, was nearly behind that cat now. With her body crouched low to the ground, Evie saw her cousin snap her jaws upon that cat’s tail, bite down hard, pulling and twisting with her neck while moving herself away, and tear the final foot of the its tail completely off.

  In a pained rage the cat spun on Erica, swinging its forelegs wildly. As it spun, the white coat of Evie flashed in its large eyes—the most hated symbol of the Snows. In a fury blinded by pain and hatred, it set itself to catch the silver-white, who was now running straight for its claws like a surprise gift.

  From Evie’s view, as she began to swing left in chase of Erica and away from the waiting cat, she saw the Wilson elders make their moves; one moment the cat’s eyes flashed and its mouth hissed, and the next moment the mouths of two angry wolves had closed around its neck and head from either side, severing its spinal cord. As Evie whisked by, the cat’s body quivered and spurted dark blood, but there was no longer any life in its reflective eyes; black-red skin was all that held its head to its dying frame.

  Erica and Evie were away from the fight in seconds. They darted wide, spun and looked back into the mass of bodies. Ruth had evidently stayed in the fight and was now aiding another wolf against a cat.

  “It works,” Erica growled.

  “They want me most,” Evie said.

  “Again!”

  “Again,” Evie agreed.

  “You lead. I bite what chases.”

  Without taking another second to consider how dangerous this plan was, or how lucky they had been to survive the first run unscathed, Evie sprang once more into the mix. Erica followed close to her white tail.

  Near the Wilson house, Doctor Wilson had dragged his daughter away by the scruff. Evie swept by them in a flash, her eyes just catching the true horror of the situation; then ahead of her she saw David. His face was wet with blood, his eyes blazing, and his growls seethed with a rage that would have terrified Evie in any other circumstance. His movements were fast, his strikes vicious as he battled a cat; the corpse of one slain cat lay strewn on the grass, quivering its final movements behind his tail.

  Intent on distr
acting the cat, Evie rushed close by this battle—so close that she felt the cat’s heavy tail lash the side of her face. The instant the tail touched her she reacted with a turn of her head, felt the tail against her whiskers, and bit down on it with all her strength. Her angry bite was so strong that it actually surprised her when the cat’s thick tail broke free in her jaws. And as the cat reacted to the unseen attack with a slight turn of its head and a screech of pain, David struck with his full force. Closing his strong jaws around the cat’s turned neck, in a fast rip he tore its jugular, setting its lifeblood free, and instantly sprang for the next closest cat, leaving another foe behind in the red-stained throes of death.

  The two youngest wolves wheeled around once more and stood on the fringes of the chaos. Surveying the grounds, they realized that the tides of battle were quickly changing. The middle of the yard was still a mass of snarling bodies, but at least two more wolves were now joining the fight from the far corner of the Wilson yard, and many of the cats that had fought on the outer ring had now lost their battles. Some thrashed upon the ground in agony. Others were completely still.

  As Evie stood watching with the black wolf growling at her side, she realized that the first to die were the first to change. Where bloodied cats had lain moments before, the smaller forms of men took their place; dead, horribly mutilated men—and one woman. Evie’s insides turned over in disgust.

  From the corner of the yard a massive dark shape emerged from the shadows. The shape caught Evie’s attention, and lifting her eyes from the dead and dying, she realized the outline of a wolf—the largest wolf she’d yet seen. He was a monstrosity of an animal, larger even than her white grandfather; his eyes were almost flame-red; his white teeth in his open mouth the only light betraying his black bulk. At Evie’s side, Erica issued a whimper mixed with a growl, a single expression of both awe and fear.