Feral

by Nicole Luiken

  “On your mark, get set, go!”

  Brian took off down the track. He was a little slower and had only covered two-thirds of the distance when Dean reached the top of the rope. Dean dropped down, landing in a crouch and gave the tire a hard swing before Brian got there. First slowing it, then trying to crawl through, wriggling his wide shoulders, cost Brian precious seconds.

  I can catch him. Chloe bent and toed the line.

  “On your mark, get set, go!”

  Chloe sprinted forward.

  Dean cleared the mud puddle/long jump and then two makeshift hurdles.

  The ground flew by under her feet. Her breaths came hard but deep and regular. Halfway there.

  Brian had almost reached the top of the rope. His arms and shoulders were well-muscled, but he had more bulk to haul up. He touched the top beam, started to slide down then “youched” when he gave himself rope burn and jumped the last four feet. His hair flopped over his eyes.

  Almost there—

  Gasping for breath, Brian gave the tire a spinning twist before lumbering off.

  Chloe didn’t slacken her speed, mentally timing the tire swing. Now! She dived forward, threading the tire, then somersaulted up. She’d scraped one arm a little, but otherwise gained time. Grinning, she jumped for the rope and muscled her way up as fast as she could. Slapped her hand on the beam. Let go. She landed with her knees loose and springy.

  Judy had only covered half the distance to the swing. Good. Dean was partway through his Change for round two. Not good. Chloe gave the tire a shove and dashed on to the long jump.

  From the muddy ruts, Brian had fallen into the puddle. She sailed over it, her cross trainers only slipping a little on landing. She ran on, legs pumping, fierce joy singing in her heart as she closed in on the luckless Brian.

  He broke off his approach to the first hurdle and simply stepped over it, but managed the second one with poor form.

  Chloe was a good jumper, but the on-its-side barrel they were using as one of the hurdles was a little wide. She took the first barrier with ease, but clipped the second one with her leg. Stumbled. Managed not to fall.

  Her lungs laboured, gasping, but she put her head down and powered toward the finish line. Ahead of her—but not by all that much—Brian tore off his T-shirt and threw it aside.

  She crossed the finish line only five strides behind him. Her mom and dad cheered.

  Brian kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his underwear.

  Stomach twisting in sudden dread, Chloe followed suit. Practising smooth, fast Changes was part of their Pack training. Stripping was part of it, something they’d dared each other to do since age fourteen. The boys got a chance to look—and Chloe had done her own share of ogling back. True Pack weren’t embarrassed by nudity.

  And if she repeated that a hundred times maybe she’d start believing it.

  Maybe if she could actually Change instead of just standing there with sweat chilling on her skin, she wouldn’t be so self-conscious.

  Training her gaze forward, Chloe saw Judy almost reach the top of the rope, then give a cry and let go. Kyle had caught up to her and squirmed through the tire like an eel. Dean raced to close the gap in wolf form. He, of course, would get to skip the rope climbing on the second lap.

  Beside her, Brian grunted in pain and dropped to the ground. Fur sprouted on his arms, then swept across his flesh in a wave. His nose pushed out into a muzzle, his legs shortened and a tail popped out.

  Come on, you can do it, Change. Chloe closed her eyes and willed the Change with every atom of her being. She strained every muscle.

  She tried to shut out the cheering audience, tried to ignore the knowledge that her lead was tick-tick-ticking away, and the blush that wanted to surge because she was standing before everyone, including non-Pack, in her sports bra and panties.

  Nothing.

  Deep breath. Try again. She ran over every helpful hint she’d ever heard. Unfortunately, many of them contradicted the others. Be loose. Keep your focus. Think like your wolf. Don’t think about it, just do it. Concentrate on one part of your body, like your paw. Always start with your skin.

  Cheering made her open her eyes. Judy had finally made it to the top of the rope. Brian’s wolf form was stuck halfway through the tire. Dean and Kyle were in a race for home, Kyle still on his first lap, Dean as a wolf.

  The wind blew, and she shivered. Despair squeezed her heart as Dean and Kyle sprinted closer.

  Change!

  Still her body remained stubbornly human, except colder.

  Dean crossed the finish line. Then Kyle. Both started to Change, Dean to human, Kyle to wolf. Kyle cast her a pitying look, then began his second lap. Soon after Judy puffed up and stripped down.

  Chloe tried to copy her, tried to see the moment when the Change began.

  Judy wasn’t as smooth as the boys. She whimpered as the Change swept over her, slowly but inevitably . And then Judy’s small red wolf gave a derisive sniff and headed out on her second lap. Leaving Chloe standing alone in her underwear.

  Chloe could feel the press of eyes on her. Of pity and contempt.

  Rage flickered inside her. Instinctively, she fed the feeling, nursing it along to ease the sting of total humiliation.

  She let it build, feeding oxygen to the ever-present coals until the rage burst into red-hot life. Then she took the rage and imagined it blasting through her skin, Changing her—

  A hand pushed on her shoulder. “Give up and get dressed. The race is over,” Coach said.

  Startled, she opened her eyes, ready to growl at him to back off. But Judy’s wolf had crossed the finish line and was halfway back to human.

  Her shoulders slumped, but she didn’t allow herself to cry as she quietly dressed herself.

  “Dean is the winner,” Coach declared. “Kyle came in second, Brian third, Judy fourth. Chloe Did Not Finish.” As if everyone couldn’t see that for themselves.

  A round of polite applause followed. Dean and Kyle’s dad congratulated his boys, and the party broke up.

  Chloe’s mom crossed the lawn, sympathy in her eyes, and handed Chloe her jacket. She gave her a quick hug. “Excellent first lap, especially the dive through the tire. You had the second best time on the first lap. I’m so proud of you for not giving up.”

  Chloe just nodded.

  They trooped out to the SUV in silence. Chloe slumped in the back seat, incredibly weary. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. Instead she started dissecting the race. The rage might have helped; she’d felt close. If Coach hadn’t interrupted her, maybe—

  Her dad suddenly thumped his hand on the steering wheel, startling her. “Damn Conrad Wharton anyway!”

  “I never liked that man,” her mom said icily. “He’s far too arrogant. Two years ago he came to our Pack a beggar, and now he’s acting as if he’s Beta. And I’m not impressed with Nathan either. He should have stepped in and squashed the contest before it went that far. He never would have let Conrad humiliate Judy that way.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened, feeling slightly alarmed, but also warmed by her parents’ support.

  “It’s probably my fault,” Chloe said. “Because of the whole invading the Alphas’ territory thing.”

  “You’re not the first teenager to ever push the boundaries, dear,” her mother said. “You apologized and accepted your punishment; that should have been the end of it.”

  “Actually,” her dad said, “I think some of the blame falls on me.”

  “I doubt it,” Chloe said.

  “Nathan’s preoccupied with protecting his mate. He was desperate for anything to distract Scout—and Scout’s visit here is my fault.” He sighed and slowed the SUV to turn down their driveway. “Chloe, Scout got his name by doing just that—scouting. Packs who need to recruit someone with a particular skill set—a lawyer, a carpenter or what have you—ask him to be on the lookout for prospects. That’s why he’s welcome at any Pack in North America, despite
belonging to La Ronge at least nominally. When I was in Winnipeg for that convention two years back, I bragged you up a bit to the other Packs. As a potential Alpha. That’s why Scout was here, to check you out. His visit had nothing to do with rumours of our Alpha being sick.” Her dad parked the car. “It was just bad timing.”

  Chloe sat back against her seat, stunned. “You thought I had the potential to be an Alpha?”

  “Yes. The other kids have always followed your lead. And I was very impressed with the way you took charge and made sure everyone was safe when your bus slid in the ditch that time.”

  Chloe remembered that. It had been deeply cold, -30 plus windchill, and Mrs. Patil had been dazed from hitting her head on the steering wheel. “All I did was a little first aid.”

  “You kept the kids on the bus, bunched them together for warmth, and made sure no one got carbon monoxide poisoning. I was very proud of you.”

  Well, of course he was proud of her. He was her dad. Chloe didn’t think she’d done anything that special, just used common sense.

  Two years ago she would have been thrilled at being talked up as a potential Alpha. Now she just found it sad. According to Pack Lore, Alphas were better at everything—including the ability to Change. Even if she wasn’t a Dud, there was no chance she was an Alpha.

  She didn’t want to be Alpha anyhow. At this point her only ambition was to become part of the Pack.

  Determination gathered in her chest; she envisioned it hardening into rock. They can humiliate me from here until eternity. I’m not giving up.

  chapter

  9

  Pebbles hit Chloe’s window, waking her just before midnight the day after the barbeque. Who? Could Marcus have Changed?

  But when she rushed over to the window, Kyle stood on the lawn below, wearing a safety-orange hunting vest. He beckoned furiously and then faded back into the shadows of the elm.

  Chloe started to ghost down the hall, but slowed when she heard her father moving around the kitchen. Although by preference he was early-to-bed early-to-rise, his job meant he often received emergency calls after hours. From the pauses in his conversation, he was speaking on the phone.

  “Are you sure this wouldn’t better wait until morning?”

  The way he’d couched the question gave her pause. With an animal owner he was soothing, but decisive.

  Intuition prickled. He was talking to one of the Pack. Someone Dominant to him.

  “Yes, of course Chloe is home. It’s a school night.”

  She turned and tiptoed back into her bedroom. She barely got the covers pulled up when her dad peeked in the door. She struggled to keep her breathing even and regular while her pulse was racing. This had something to do with why Kyle had thrown pebbles at her window, something to do with Marcus.

  As soon as her father’s footsteps retreated to the kitchen, she got out of bed in a flash. She found ballet slippers in her closet—not as good as her cross-trainers, but far better than bare feet. Then she popped the screen and went out the window, dropping six feet to the ground and landing in a crouch.

  “What took you so long?” Without waiting for an answer, Kyle grabbed her arm and pulled her along. “Hurry. We have to find Marcus before Coach and Dean and my dad do. They’re out looking for the feral right now with rifles.”

  Chloe stumbled as if she’d been slugged in the stomach. “Dean told your dad?”

  “Dean sneaked Ilona into his bedroom yesterday. Dad smelled a stranger and got on his case about dating a townie. Apparently, Ilona’s mom is involved with the boycott movement, which really put things in the toilet. Then Dean started yelling back about how you were the one who was really endangering the Pack by harbouring a dangerous feral.”

  Chloe bared her teeth. “I told Dean it was Marcus.”

  “I tried to tell Dad, but, well,” Kyle grimaced, “he doesn’t listen when he’s mad. He grabbed his rifle and stalked out of the house. He phoned Coach on his cell and now there’s a hunting party.”

  They’d reached the stand of pine where she sometimes met up with the feral, but she couldn’t see him. “Marcus?” she called softly. Her night vision might be better than a regular human’s, but clouds hid the moon, and the shadows lay as thick as blankets. Her chest felt tight. They had to find him. Warn him.

  She squeaked in surprise as a nose nudged the back of her knee. Marcus lolled his tongue at her in a lupine grin. He seemed pleased with himself for making her jump.

  Another time she might have laughed, but tonight her nerves were strung too tight. “Marcus, you’re being hunted. You need to get out of here. Run!”

  The wolf stared at her, either uncomprehending or unwilling.

  “She’s right.” Kyle added his voice to hers. “You need to make tracks. They have rifles. They’ll shoot you.”

  She dropped to one knee, so that she could look directly into the wolf’s gleaming eyes. “Run, Marcus. Once you leave the Preserve, they’ll stop chasing you.”

  Marcus whined as if he didn’t want to leave her.

  “You can come back in a week or so,” she promised. Did the feral understand units of time like weeks? Her eyes grew hot. What if he left then forgot about her?

  A distant howl split the night. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She recognized the wolf’s voice as Dean’s and the note of triumph in it. “He has your scent. He’ll be tracking you, and the others will follow him with guns. You have to go,” she said urgently.

  The wolf tugged at her sleeve, wordlessly asking her to accompany him.

  Her heart twisted because part of her wanted to go with him, run free into the night. She shook her head. “I can’t Change. I’d slow you down.” The admission tasted like ashes.

  The wolf tugged again.

  “Chloe, it won’t take Dean long to track him.” Kyle bounced on the balls of his feet like he did before a race. “We don’t have time to stand around arguing.”

  She stood. “Okay, Marcus you win. But if you won’t run, then you have to hide. We need to cover your scent.” Too bad she couldn’t run back to the house for some mint extract or bleach to overpower Marcus’s scent, but her dad was doubtless still awake.

  Running water? A tiny trickle flowed at the bottom of the gully—but that was half a mile away. It had, however, rained yesterday.

  “Roll in the mud,” she told Marcus, giving him a shove for emphasis.

  He obediently lay down. While he rolled back and forth in the mud, her mind raced, coming up with, then discarding hiding places. Not her garage or anywhere close to her house. Definitely not anywhere near the Alphas’ house. Maybe the gully itself?

  Marcus stood again, his fur thoroughly caked with mud.

  “Good. That ought to help. Now let’s move.” Chloe broke into a jog, quickly pushing her pace up as much as she safely could without crashing through the trees. Silence was just as important as speed right now.

  They ran for about ten minutes. Chloe took deep breaths, falling into a rhythm. Just as she started to search for the ravine, another howl came from behind them—closer this time.

  Kyle swore and stopped dead. “Dean is probably following my scent and yours.”

  Chloe winced. She was an idiot. She’d figured Dean would dismiss Pack scents because they regularly ran through the Preserve, but the recent rain meant that he would know that her scent was fresh.

  She kicked soggy leaves away from a muddy spot and reluctantly wallowed in it. Ugh, she hated getting mud and twigs in her hair. It didn’t help that both Marcus and Kyle smirked at her. She glared at Kyle. “Your turn.”

  He shook his head. “I have a better idea. I’ll draw them off. They won’t shoot me.”

  He had a good point. Dean and his dad would know his scent, and his orange safety vest stood out like a lighthouse in a prairie. She nodded and Kyle veered left while she and Marcus continued toward the gully.

  A minute later, the feral pulled up suddenly, turning across her path so that her thighs hit his b
ack. She stopped and squinted. A deeper blackness lay ahead. They’d reached the edge of the ravine, but the bank here looked too deep to scramble down without breaking another limb—no, thanks.

  They were forced to turn and pick their way along the top.

  “Stop!” a voice called out. Coach.

  Chloe froze, not because Coach was talking to her, but because he was obviously close enough to hear them. She put her hand on Marcus’s furry head, and he obediently stilled.

  “Tell me where the feral is.” A growl vibrated in Coach’s voice as he used Dominance to inflict his will on Kyle.

  Kyle whined in distress. “That way. But Chloe’s with him. Don’t shoot her.”

  Crap.

  “Stay out of my way,” Coach ordered Kyle. Then he started toward them.

  Chloe bolted, legs and arms pumping, head tucked down, barreling down a dim path. Branches scratched down her cheek, and she hurdled a fallen sapling, but she didn’t slow down, desperate to get out of rifle range.

  Marcus loped just behind her, though he could easily have passed her and escaped. Stupid, loyal wolf. He obviously considered her part of his Pack. He didn’t understand that he was the only one in danger.

  Frustration bit into her with sharp teeth. Two legs were too slow. Her weakness was going to get Marcus killed.

  A rifle shot cracked out.

  Her heart stuttered as Marcus yelped and fell back. She couldn’t see much in the greyscale of night vision, but thought he’d been hit in the shoulder.

  After an agonizing pause, he gamely kept running. His stride now hitched.

  Too slow. He was going to die, killed by his own Pack. The bitter unfairness of it filled Chloe with rage.

  A wolf howled and a black shape hit her in the chest, knocking her to the ground. Dean.

  His weight pinned her down. He growled in her face, but kept his jaws closed. He was taking her out of the field of fire so Coach could shoot Marcus.