by Tamar Sloan
He turns away. “We need to get back.”
And tell the others. Dawn and her unwavering commitment. Riley and her barely contained enthusiasm. KJ and his deep-seated drive. Even Josh, who has adopted this cause as his own. This news is going to cripple them.
I turn to leave. What’s there that I can do anyway? Today I learned exactly what my limitations are. I couldn’t save Kayuh. Why would I think I can change Hunter’s mind?
“What about Kayuh?”
Hunter’s gaze flashes to mine, and I’m taken aback by the anger. “I’ll come back for him. He deserves a grave that’s deeper than a few inches.”
I can’t hold his gaze, not sure what it’s communicating. Frustration at the injustice, or fury at my uselessness?
I walk over to the quad, waiting. Hunter climbs on and I slip behind him. His back is knotted with tension, his sides hard and hot as I clasp them.
Hunter is holding on by a thread himself.
The drive back to Resolve is a jarring, silent one. I don’t know who Hunter is punishing more as he doesn’t bother to dodge ruts or rocks, but it doesn’t really matter. The crushing and smashing of my joints will never be enough penance.
We just released three adolescent pups, and within a short space of time, we’re down to two.
Hunter pulls up at the front of Resolve and I slide off. I expect him to drive off but he kills the engine.
Staring straight ahead, he sighs. “Why don’t you go wash up? You don’t have to be here for this.”
I wait for him to turn and look at me. “I didn’t have to do anything I’ve done here.”
Hunter’s mouth pulls in, and I know that wasn’t the response he was expecting. The thought brings a glow to my chest despite everything we’ve just been through. He shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Ava.”
And the glow dies like it just got slammed into a bog.
I turn to head in, wishing I hadn’t said anything.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe we’ve never met and I’m just drawn to a pretty face and tortured heart.
Maybe I’m wrong.
Ava
Collecting the paper off the printer, KJ hands a sheet to Riley and Josh. “This is the roster. We’re going to be patrolling these guys twenty-four-seven.”
After everyone had gotten over the shock of our news, Dawn had gone into drill sergeant mode. She’d started planning out a patrol roster. I hadn’t even pretended my name would be on there. What would I do if I came across a poacher out there? Ask him to please put his gun down?
KJ passes me a sheet too. “You’re doing the Resolve perimeter, making sure we don’t get any visitors.”
I nod. Everyone in the room knows there are enough cameras in this place monitoring all the places that count, and I appreciate the pretense that my being here makes a difference.
Josh frowns down at the paper. “Have you guys had to do this before?”
KJ shrugs. “No. We’ve seen the odd poacher before, but…”
“But it’s always been one here and there?”
KJ nods. “They’ve always been opportunistic bastards.”
Josh looks at me and I know he’s thinking of Jacksonville. We’ve had the odd wolf shot, hunters proving a point, idiots looking for a challenge. But nothing like this.
Riley combs back her fringe with her fingers. “This feels different.”
The northern wolves, their muscles and sinew exposed, feel like they’ll haunt me forever. “They’ve never been this systematic, have they?”
KJ picks up the knife we found beside Kayuh. “Never an entire pack.” He holds the blade up to the light. “The other questions is, why are they skinning them?”
I wrap my arms around myself, suppressing a shudder.
The door opens and I tense, knowing exactly who it is. Hunter has been out collecting Kayuh’s body. His face had practically been emotionless as he told everyone of his death. Riley had cried as Josh held her. KJ had stared at Hunter like he was trying to imprint something on his brain. Dawn had walked out.
“He’s buried. KJ, we’re going to need another plaque.”
Josh frowns. “You should’ve told us. We could’ve helped.”
KJ passes Hunter his sheet of paper. “Save your breath, Josh. He works alone.”
Hunter seems to ignore the jibe. In fact, he seems to be ignoring the room. He scans the sheet like it holds all the answers.
Looking away, I study my own piece of paper. Essentially, I need to do a few laps of the compound during the night. I consider whether I should wave to the cameras as I pass each one. I mentally shake myself. At least it’s something—it’s not like I’m going to sleep anyway.
Silence fills the air, but I don’t look up. What do I have to say, at any rate? I’m sorry—I thought a bunch of dreams meant I wasn’t just a bunch of left-over genes?
There are footsteps, and I hate that I recognize they’re Hunters.
Riley stands up. “Where are you going now?”
Hunter taps the sheet. “I’m going to take over from Dawn.”
I don’t look. For the first time, I don’t want to know.
There seems to be a pause, one long enough for me to realize I can’t hold my breath forever, but then the door opens and shuts.
I let out the air I’d been holding. It’s time I started being more of a realist.
I just need to figure out how to let everyone else know.
“You okay?”
Looking up, I find Josh beside me. I nod, not sure if it’s the truth.
Pulling up a chair, he moves in close. His hazel eyes crinkle with concern. “I know how hard it is for you to see the loss of a life.”
I glance around the room, but no one seems to be paying attention. KJ and Riley are looking over something on the computer. “It was so unnecessary, Josh.”
He sighs. “It always is. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Kayuh held so much potential…” And I couldn’t save him. I go back to studying the page, knowing I can ask Josh the question that’s camped in my mind, but not having the courage to see that answer on his face. “Am I totally useless, Josh?”
He tugs a lock of my hair and waits. Fortifying myself, I raise my gaze to his.
Josh’s face is serious, maybe even a little angry. “Don’t let anyone have you thinking that, Ava.” He leans forward, hazel eyes intense. “You’re compassionate, determined, and strong. You inspire me every day.”
I swallow, wondering how in the world I’m ever going to believe that. I thought I was something special. There were glimpses that maybe I am…
My white wolf had me believing that.
I slam down on those thoughts before they can gain momentum. That sort of thinking got me where I am now—confused and hurting. That sort of thinking gave Hunter false hope, and that’s not something I’m going to do again.
I stand. “I might go check out my route.”
Josh rises too. “Do you want company?”
But I’m already shaking my head. “I’m going to go solo.”
I head out the door without looking back, knowing Josh’s concern would be dialed up to worry. I’m hoping a bit of a walk will mean I can come back with something that will reassure him.
Outside, the afternoon cold hits my cheeks and I snuggle down into my scarf. It’s probably a good thing I won’t be around for the cooler months. I head for the fence line, planning on doing a lap, glad it will warm me up.
I’ve just come to the corner of the first enclosure when I discover Sakari standing there, almost like she was waiting for me. Seeing as she’s only a few feet away, I pause. If she doesn’t want me around, then I’m happy to give her some space.
She watches me through the wire, those intelligent eyes of hers assessing me. My shoulders drop as she stands there, obviously not intending on moving.
“You’re not making this any easier, you know.”
Why does she have to feel so familiar?<
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Sakari sits, ears and eyes alert. I can feel that she’s inviting me closer.
Moving forward, I settle myself beside the fence, head and shoulder leaning against the wire. Maybe she can sense that we have something in common right now. We’re both grieving—Sakari has lost her mate and her pups, I’ve lost something I never had.
Without hesitating, she comes and settles beside me. She sits so we’re facing the same way, staring down the fence line, and rests her shoulder against mine. I suck in a breath and feel her do it at the same time. Simultaneously, we sigh.
It must be my connection with animals that means I can do this, some product of the threads. Not to mention Sakari has spent two years in captivity now—she’s used to humans. Instead of getting back on that merry-go-round, I decide to just enjoy the closeness of such a majestic being. Her shoulder is warm beside mine, her breathing matching mine. I wish everyone could feel this with some part of the animal kingdom.
When Sakari rises, I know our time is up. She looks at me, golden eyes level with mine, for the longest moment. Then she pushes her head forward, pressing it against my shoulder before trotting off to her den.
I exhale, grateful for whatever that was, not sure exactly what it was. I wonder if the others have seen this on the camera and if so, what they think of it. To be honest, I don’t know the answer to that one either.
“There you are.”
I startle and jump to my feet as I recognize the voice. Dawn is coming up behind me, a tired smile on her face and a vet pack slung over her shoulder.
I summon a weak smile. “Hi, Dawn.”
Her reply smile is broad and full of the Fae serenity that humans are so drawn to. “Waiting to see if Sakari would come over?”
I glance back but Sakari hasn’t surfaced again. “She was just here. She seems…quiet.”
Dawn drops the vet pack to the ground. “She’s adjusting to life without her mate.” And her pups. It’s probably a good thing she doesn’t know what happened to Kayuh. “She’s actually the safest out of them all right now.”
Because of the poachers. “At least we got on top of Furious. That’s one less battle we didn’t need right now.”
“Oh gosh, Furious.” Dawn’s eyes widen with alarm.
I’m instantly on alert. “What about it?”
“Hunter just took over the patrol shift.” She glances down at the black bag by her feet, “But I forgot to hand over the vet pack.”
I look at it too. “Wouldn’t he have one on the quad?”
“I took this one off to restock it.”
Oh. For a second I wonder if he can just do without it for this one shift, but I instantly quash that down. We’ve discovered too many times how unsettled things are at the moment. “Someone will need to drop it off.”
“Can you bring it to him?”
I have to hold myself in place as every cell in my body wants to take a step back. “I can’t.”
Dawn’s eyes fill with something that’s very close to sympathy. “I know things have been…rocky between you two.”
I blink, not sure what to say to that.
She raises her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “But you’re the best person for the job.”
I shake my head. “I’m really not.”
“My guess is you can locate him, Ava. The tundra is a big place—he could be anywhere.”
My jaw slackens but I catch it in time. Have I been that obvious? “Josh could—”
Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “It’s the Fae in you, maybe the splash of Were. But my guess is you could probably find anyone if you wanted to.”
I’ve been able to track Hunter through the threads. I’ve never needed to use that skill over large distances before now…
But it doesn’t mean I’m willing to go see Hunter. There’s only so much punishment this little mixed-breed can take. “Maybe you’re right Dawn, but I don’t think I’m the right person to go out and see Hunter.”
Dawn sighs. “I know he can be grouchy, but it’s only because he’s spent so much time out there alone, looking after those wolves.” She throws me a wry glance. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the rebel in him meant he spent more time as a wolf out there than human.”
I straighten and the pressure on my shoulder increases. A wolf.
Hunter was a wolf. A white wolf.
A white wolf who ran to save Kayuh.
A white wolf who I’ve seen before but was too frantic to recognize!
I’m grabbing the vet pack before I can give myself time to think about the decision I just made. “You know what? Maybe I will take this to him.”
It’s time to trust my gut.
Dawn beams a smile whose glow spreads across her face. “Thank you, Ava. I knew I could depend on you.”
I kiss her cheek on the way past. “Thank you.”
It’s time to get some answers.
Inside the shed, I strap the vet pack to the second quad. Deciding it’s time to mold my own fate, I jump on and start the engine. Like I’ve been driving these things all my life, I nudge it out of the shed. As the weak sunshine strokes my face, I almost smile. This feels much better than apathy.
Driving out over the savage landscape, I tap into what Dawn realized intuitively but I’ve never shared. The thread that connects me to Hunter stretches out like a homing beacon, a line of light for me to follow. Hunkering down against the wind, I narrow my eyes. Without a muscled, warm Were body to shield me, this trip is going to be a little less comfortable.
When I see a white wolf in the distance, my heart does a little hop in my chest. Have I found him already?
But I soon realize the body isn’t big enough. Which means it’s one of the pups.
I slow. One of the pups far closer to Resolve than it should be.
Bringing the quad to a stop, I frown as I watch him. The wolf is moving fast. He’s running across the tundra, a blur of speed that has me narrowing my eyes.
He’s heading straight towards me.
He comes in closer and I realize it’s Desna, he was the only one left that had that size. He’s the wolf we all assumed would become an alpha of his own someday. He disappears into a dip in the landscape and I kill the engine. Something has me on edge.
When he rises again, he’s slowed. He sniffs the air, confirming that I’m here. He’s obviously deciding what his next step is, and knowing wolves, that’ll be to turn around and keep a safe distance. It maintains a buffer, a comfort zone of sorts. I’m happy for him to dictate it—he’ll probably head back to the safety of the wilds in a moment.
Desna shakes his head, and I frown when he starts moving again. There’s an energy about him that’s familiar. He’s pacing, like he’s patrolling a border. It means his approach has a zig-zag trajectory—left to right, right to left.
And that zig-zag motion is slowly bringing him closer.
The land dips again and I push myself up on the quad, straining to see if he’s going to appear where I hope he doesn’t. He breaches the slope and my heart-rate picks up. Desna’s erratic energy has brought him closer.
Close enough for me to see his face.
Eyes bright with an inner fire, his tongue lolls out of his mouth. A mouth covered in froth.
No…
Slowly, carefully, I reach behind me, feeling with my fingers for the zip on the vet pack. I don’t find it straight away, and my fingers scrabble along the edge. I need to get it open, but I can’t take my eyes off Desna.
There are two more rises between me and him. His erratic zig-zagging changes. Now he runs and stops. Paces and stops. There’s no rhythm, no pattern, which only increases the agitation shivering up my spine. I tell myself this gives me more time to get what I need.
My fingers connect with the metal of the zipper, and I tug. Desna seems to stop in that second, so I still. His eyesight, so much better than mine, is probably taking in every one of my movements. He hasn’t taken his gaze off me since he started this trajectory.
I just want to help you.
Then I hear the growl—a low, ominous grinding of rage. Without the obstruction of trees, it spears across the distance between us. It’s a sound I’ve heard before. Images of Achak, a wolf I hold a deep connection with, rabid and frenzied for blood above me, has pure fear pulsing along my nerves.
Furious.
Don’t do this, Desna.
Like he heard the words, as if they were the green light he was looking for, Desna launches forward.
I yank at the zip and the vet pack opens. Taking my eyes off the missile who has me in their sights I grab the tranquilizer gun. Desna has covered more distance than I’d hoped in those few seconds, the growling is now a threatening sound that feels too close.
I grip the gun tight, willing the trembling in my fingers to stop. I don’t have much time.
Scrabbling, I grab three darts and jam one into the bolt. When I lift it, I find Desna is only yards away. I line up the sight with the rabid animal who has violence in his eyes, but my hands are trembling as adrenalin peaks through my body.
My mind already knows that by the time Desna is close enough for me to shoot, there won’t be enough time for the sedative to take effect. My only hope is it kicks in before he’s done too much damage.
I pull the trigger desperately, but the red dart haphazardly slices through the air above him.
I whimper, registering the ice of tears on my face. All I needed was a little more time.
Taking a deep breath, I lock my muscles. My hand is barely shivering as I line up the next shot and pull the trigger. A split second later the dart embeds itself in Desna’s shoulder.
And the instant it does, he rears and roars. As the pain hits him it feeds the fury.
Oh god.
He howls his anger one more time, his intention clear. You hurt me, I hurt you. His head drops as his trajectory becomes an arrow—straight at his target.
I’ve already loaded the last dart, I raise and shoot, knowing there’s no time to aim. By the grace of fate, it slams into his throat. This howl of pain, the shake of his head, doesn’t slow his momentum.