Page 29 of The Alpha Dire Wolf
The wind picked up again, and the shadow flowed with it.
Shit.
Running was the last thing I’d been ready for, and I struggled to keep up. Just when I thought I had it, the shadow would dance around on the current. Somehow it was tangible and ethereal all at the same time.
We ran on, until the wind lifted it up and over the Dyne River. Digging my claws in deep, I shed momentum, coming to a stop right at the river’s edge, water lapping at my paws. The shadow creature continued on, disappearing swiftly into the towering trees at the heart of the forest.
I snarled, letting frustration bloom. I dared not go on.
Not at night and definitely not alone.
Chapter Twelve
Sylvie
All the spots were open, so I pulled into the one directly under the New Lockwood Surplus & Hunting sign. The letters painted onto the black background had once been a perfect jungle-green, but the sun had gotten to them, eating away the paint until it faded and flaked away. Much like the pair of clothing racks sitting out front, loaded with equally sun-soaked standard issue army “camo” gear, the mottled greens were fading to that ugly yellow-beige as all such things did.
Throwing the car in park, I let the war between common sense and “sixth” sense play out one last time. Though, was it really a war if the outcome was already decided? My instinct was telling me that I had to be prepared, that I was making the right decision. If the wolf or the sexy forest lumberjack appeared again, I should be ready.
Ready for what?
The counterargument from my common sense kicked in immediately. What exactly was I going to do if I encountered them again? Follow them into the forest? I didn’t possess any sort of tracking skills, I was no hunter. Simply entering a hunting store didn’t magically change that fact.
They might be the only ones with answers. I have to try.
Back and forth they went, the two sides of the coin spinning endlessly. Until a third argument joined the fray, turning the battle into a free-for-all.
“No,” I growled and bashed the palm of my hand against the steering wheel, trying to deny the thought, to shut it down.
There was another option—an easy one that didn’t involve wild beasts or wild men. All I had to do was sit down and read my grandmother’s journal. All of it. Front to back. Surely I’d find answers in there.
Just the thought made me uncomfortable, twisting my stomach. My instinct was saying I should enter the store. My common sense said to go home. And the part of me that wanted to read the journal? I wasn’t sure what that was. Good or bad?
But rifling through the possessions of the dead wasn’t something that I was ready for. I’d already read some of it, and the uncomfortable sense of intrusion hadn’t faded. That was my grandma’s life, her private thoughts. I had no right.
She left your name attached to it.
I got out of the car and slammed the door shut, trapping those thoughts inside and forcing myself to go over the mental list of things I needed.
Forest gear: boots, pants, a jacket that wouldn’t be too hot in this weather, maybe some rations, perhaps a backpack and sleeping gear. I also wanted to pick up one of those combination smoke-carbon monoxide detectors to install, just in case. Throw in some new clothes as well, since my “overnight” bag that I’d stuffed hurriedly was empty, and I didn’t want to do laundry every day now that I was apparently sticking around. Yet another “hunch” I was trusting.
Why are you questioning it now? When have you ever led yourself astray by trusting your gut?
The better question was what had happened when I’d ignored it? Such as the first time I met Caidyn and shoved aside the warning because he was handsome and kind. Or thinking I could trust my college boyfriend with my best friend at the time. Or thinking I could trust my college best friend with my boyfriend at the time. It didn’t matter, really, the point I had to make to myself was to go with it.
Always.
A tiny bell tinkled overhead as I pushed open the door, hinges squeaking more than enough to let anyone inside know they had a customer. Fluorescent lights ran in rows down the jam-packed aisles, most of the covers broken or just outright missing entirely.
The shelving units leaned precariously, metal straining hard to keep from falling over. Boxes upon boxes were tossed haphazardly, some of them cut open to display the wares within. One of the lights flickered, giving the particular aisle a menacing appeal.
How the hell was I going to find anything in this mess?
“Help ye, ma’am?”
A tall, gangly man with hair turning from gray to white appeared behind the counter to my left, leaning on the glass top with one hand to support himself. I couldn’t imagine how badly his knees had to hurt given his height and age. He had a weatherworn face, and his mouth was twisted up like he’d bitten into something sour.
“Uh, if you please. That would be swell. I need a few things, and I don’t have a ton of time.”
