Page 19 of Betrayed By the Wolf

“You’re just afraid. You’re a coward, Rami.” She kicked the pile of trash with her toe and pushed past him, back into the store, and out the front door before he could find the words to stop her.

Maybe he did know the words to stop her. Maybe she was right and he was too afraid to say them. He scooped up the trash she’d left him and deposited them back into the box again. Some day, he’d get rid of them. He just wasn’t ready yet.

Chapter 9 - Vera

Mud caked her fur, up her legs, and through the ruff around her neck. She could taste it, grains of dirt sticking to her tongue when it lolled out and getting caught between her fangs. The rain had stuck around for days. Now, the skies were cloudy but dry, and Vera needed to get out of the house.

There was too much on her mind lately, after Rami’s confession. In some ways, it made her feel better if she believed he was being honest and not just trying to soften the blow. At least it hadn’t been her fault after all. In other ways, it was even more frustrating knowing that there hadn’t been anything she could’ve done to fix it. The problem was all in his head.

He’d never realize it. Perfect childhoods, perfect marriages, perfect relationships? None of those existed. Even if his parents had an awful, contentious marriage, it didn't guarantee the same for him. Stubborn, foolish man.

Vera dug in and put on a burst of speed. Moira worked to keep up, panting beside her, falling back a little when Vera stretched her legs. Running until they burned made the thoughts in her brain feel more distant.

They were out searching the border of the cabin she and the others had discovered, staying far enough away that the scent wouldn’t reel them in. Footprints, human footprints, dotted the ground around the cabin. They were easy to follow in the fresh mud, even when the scent was buried in the cabin’s wafting smell.

Rami was at home with Jessa. He’d hung the schedule he’d made, the avoiding-Vera-schedule as she’d dubbed it, back up in the kitchen. At least this time, he’d used a ruler and madea proper straight-lined version so that her eye didn't twitch each time she looked at it. She still hated it.

“Vera!”Moira’s mental call broke through Vera’s introspection, and she got the feeling that it wasn’t the first time she’d said her name.“There’s something up there. Slow down!”

Vera dropped down to a lope, letting Moira catch up. She peered through the underbrush.

“What is it?”

“I think it’s a person.”

There. She spotted them. Someone was lying at the base of an old spruce in a carpet of its needles. Vera scented the air, searching for the person’s smell through the layers of other scents.

“It’s a shifter,”she sent to Moira, catching the unique dual scent of best and human from the man. “He looks hurt.”

“Maybe we should call for help before we go in there,”Moira slowed to a walk, shoulders hunched and wary. “This close to the cabin, it might be a trap.”

“He’s hurt,”Vera repeated, loping up to the man.

She could spot that from twenty paces away, even if she couldn’t yet see exactly what was wrong with him. There was no blood in his tracks, nothing to indicate a severe injury, but the man was crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, a boneless heap at the tree’s base.

Moira stayed back as Vera neared the man, searching the surrounding area for an ambush. And maybe it was a trap, and Vera was being foolhardy, but she couldn’t ignore an animal in distress.

He didn’t stir, even when she stopped before him and reached her nose toward him warily. His face was half-hidden against his shoulder. He was young, maybe early to mid-twenties, with close-cropped hair and a strong jaw, in the kind of shape that said he spent a lot of time in the gym.

“I’m going to examine him,”she warned Moira before shifting, letting the wolf form melt away.

Her shape animal senses were replaced by duller human ones, but she needed her hands for a proper examination. She watched his chest rise and fall, steady and strong. His eyelids fluttered.

“Hello? I’m Vera. I’m here to help you. Are you okay? Are you injured?” She spoke like she would to any wounded animal, talking more to soothe than to elicit a response.

To her surprise, he stared. Heavy eyelids flickered open, revealing moss-green eyes with huge, blown pupils. He struggled to focus on her. His gaze drifted over her shoulder and back again.

“Where…” he stammered, “Where am I?”

“We’re in a forest outside of Silversands. Do you know where that is? How did you get here?” She wanted to keep him alert and talking.

Head injury, probably. Or some kind of intoxication. His speech was slurred and his eyes kept shutting, snapping open again with a jolt, like he couldn’t control himself.

“Are you injured somewhere I can’t see?” She asked, reaching out to grip his shoulder.

This time, he didn’t stir. He’d fallen back into the deep slumber she’d found him in. Vera sat back on her heels and tookin his disheveled state, the filth of his clothes and the scratches over his arms and cheeks.

“If he’s a shifter, why does it look like he’s been walking in the woods for weeks as a human? It’d make more sense for him to travel as a wolf.” Vera mumbled to herself, cupping her chin in her hands.

---