Page 22 of Ethan
Griffin greeted him with a nod. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Maurice said, voice gravelly but strong. His gaze turned to me. “This the new one?”
“Dean. Transferred in last week from Thornebane.”
Maurice looked me over, from top to toe, slow and considering. His face didn’t move an inch when Griffin mentioned Thornebane, but I felt the air shift. I held my breath.
Then Maurice extended his hand. I shook it. His grip was firm. Not aggressive. But there was no mistaking the test in it. I met his stare and didn’t flinch.
He grunted, then released my hand and jerked his chin toward the woods behind his cabin. “They’ve been restless lately,” Maurice said.
“‘They’?” I asked.
Griffin folded his arms. “Wild wolves. Unaligned, feral. Some of them pass through the deeper parts of the border. Usually harmless. Sometimes not.”
Maurice added, “Couple days ago, I caught scent of a den to the west. Small pack. Not local.”
I frowned. “What are we supposed to do if we run into them?”
Maurice’s eyes gleamed. “Hope they’re not hungry.”
I was about to respond something cocky, when a low, ragged howl split the air. It was too close. I turned toward the sound, muscles tightening, breath catching.
Griffin tensed beside me. “Stay alert.”
The underbrush rustled. Then, just beyond the clearing’s edge, three wolves slunk out from the trees. Lean. Ragged. Eyes glowing with something too wild to be natural.
They bared their teeth and growled low in their throats. My pulse jumped. I didn’t wait. I shifted in a few minutes, bones snapping, fur bursting along my spine, claws hitting dirt.
Griffin shouted behind me, “Dean, no!”
But I didn’t listen. The thrill of the chase hit me like fire in my blood. My wolf lunged forward, powerful and eager. We closed the distance fast, teeth bared in anticipation.
The wild wolves scattered, but I picked one and tore after it, joy flooding me with each pounding stride. This was what I was built for. Not hiking. Not waiting. This.
The wolf I chased darted through trees, tried to lose me in a thicket of brush, but I stayed on him, fast and relentless. I wanted to prove something. Not just to Griffin or Maurice, but to myself.
I wanted to show I could handle this. That I wasn’t some exile they had to babysit. I chased him for maybe half a mile before I lost track of the others.
The second I realized how quiet the woods had gotten, it was too late. They came from the shadows. Not three, but seven.
Snarls erupted around me, vicious and hungry. Wild eyes glinted in the gloom. My wolf froze for half a breath, instincts screaming. Then I was in it, fighting tooth and claw.
I lunged at the first one, sank my teeth into its shoulder. It yelped, retreated, but another took its place. Claws raked my side.
I spun, slammed into a tree, then sprang forward, snapping jaws and guttural growls filling the air. I fought like hell. But I was outnumbered.
A savage bite caught my hind leg and dragged me to the ground. I twisted, kicked free, got up again, but they were circling now. Herding me.
Panic tried to claw up my throat. I shoved it down. I was a Thornebane wolf. I didn’t panic. But dang it, I was in trouble. Then came the howl. Not wild. Pack. Familiar.
Griffin’s dark-furred form exploded into the clearing, slamming into the wolf closest to me. A second later, a silver blur who I realized was Maurice, crashed into another. Teeth and claws flew.
Growls shook the air. The scent of blood turned sharp. I staggered back as the wild wolves turned their focus, now outnumbered, outmatched. They fled, crashing through the trees.
Griffin gave chase to one, but Maurice stayed behind, circling me.
I shifted back, panting hard, bruised, bleeding from a dozen places, and more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life.
