by Zoe Chant
But now that Roy had revealed what he was, his captors would be after him for sure. They could have his entire unit’s phones and email tapped, waiting for Roy to contact one of them. He couldn’t risk getting in touch with anyone he knew until he learned more. He needed to find some safe place to lay low.
An odd feeling tugged at his mind, an inexplicable urge: That way.
That way didn’t look any different from any other way. But if he’d learned one thing in his years as a Marine, it was that funny little feelings were worth paying attention to.
Funny little feelings could mean that you’d noticed tiny clues, without even noticing that you’d noticed them, that meant that there was a bomb in the road, or that the innocent-looking civilian wasn’t innocent and wasn’t a civilian, or that the wild-eyed man trying to charge the roadblock was an innocent civilian who was trying to get help for his sick wife.
He’d travel faster as a wolf. And with no supplies of any kind, he’d probably sleep safer and enjoy eating raw rabbit more as a wolf, too.
Roy found his wolf. And loped off through the redwoods, heading that way.
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