Page 97 of White Wolf

The wind came to him as a complex layering of sighs, and whispers, and squeals.

He heard the droning of flies.

Heard a squirrel’s claws grip tight to the bark of a tree.

Heard the soft, barely-there crunch of a leaf underfoot. Ahumanfoot.

He breathed deep and smelled pine sap, leaf mold, the richness of the earth.

The scent of small wild rodents, bird droppings, fresh water.

Smelled the musk of his wolves and, distantly, the unwashed tang of human bodies – the rest of his pack.

He opened his eyes and smiled. “Swing wide,” he told his alpha female.

She snorted and trotted off, taking the rest with her. They would be his backup, but stalking he had to do on his own, to prove that he could.

He had a true mission now. A purpose. It filled him with something almost like joy.

Grinning still, he set off through the trees, as silent as his four-legged wolf family.

~*~

“You’re a crack shot, but you can’t hide to save your life,” Nikita drawled beneath her, and Katya inwardly cursed.

“I don’t think soldiers look for snipers as closely as you look for me,” she shot back, glancing down to him.

He stood with one gloved hand braced on the tree trunk, looking up at her with an expression she was beginning to read as fond.

“You’re ruining the exercise,” she said, tone as flat as she could make it. “We aren’t supposed to be chatting.”

He shrugged. “Who cares? What’s the old man going to do? Set us on fire?”

Which was something he actually could do. She’d seen him light their campfires with little balls of flame in his palms.

Katya shivered. “That’s not funny.”

“No, I guess it isn’t.” He made a face. “I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

She huffed out a breath that stirred the fine hairs that had slipped from beneath her hat. To think she would wind up feeling exasperated by the kind attentions of a Chekist. Old Her could never have predicted something so crazy.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Nikita continued. “Holy men coming back from the grave. Government coups.” His smile was tense. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were frightened.”

She’d been frightened two nights ago, standing with him in the dark, her face pressed to his coat, wondering if she could work up the courage to kiss him at some point. But now, in her element, perched in a tree with her rifle in her hands, she felt composed and, thanks to his breach of the exercise, irritated.

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” she said, which was only partly a lie.

He lifted his brows. “I’ve seen a lot, and even I wasn’t counting on Rasputin.”

She snorted.

“Okay. Maybe I was a little.”

“You’re a very strange man.”

“Yes, I think that’s been well-established by now–” He cut off, face going white, and that was when Katya heard the sound.

It was tinny, and muffled, but it sounded like the ringing of a bell. A small one, like a little hand bell.

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