Page 2 of Dead Wolf Falling (Bad Moon Academy 2)

Jerking my thumb toward the trees, I say, “There’s a little path in there. Want to walk with me?”

He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t, he’s a wolf. They don’t talk. Rolling my eyes at myself, I stand up and grin at the midnight-black animal, holding my arms out to keep my balance.

“I run,” I tell him like we’re good old pals.

God, I’m pathetic.

“You like to run too, right?” I ask, starting toward the trees.

He chuffs.

I spin on my heel, eyebrows hitting my hairline. “Was that a yes?”

Silence. He blinks and prowls closer, keeping his steady gaze on me.

“I’ll race you.” I run, pathetically so in my drunken state, tripping and weaving, but I run all the same.

A sharp yip sounds behind me, and a flash of black races past.

“Show off!” I shout after him as he lopes ahead of me with ease.

After about a minute, I have to stop. I bend over and put my hands on my knees, breathing way too hard for the distance I just jogged. The ground spins, and I tip over, rolling onto my back with a groan when my body hits the earth.

A mouth full of sharp teeth appears above me. The wolf stands over me, squinting at me. He’s probably wondering what’s wrong with me. To be honest, so am I.

“It’s my birthday.” I reach up and brush my fingers over the fur covering his chest. Impossibly soft and silky. This is definitely a dream. Dream wolves can’t bite, right? “You’re so pretty.” Sitting up, I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him despite the deep growl rumbling out of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re a tough guy.”

With a heavy sigh, I lean against him and hold on, soaking up his warmth and forest scent. He smells like midnight runs, earth, and pine. For some reason, it makes my chest pang, and I long for home. Not Aunt Lou’s house, but my childhood home, where on any given weekend my parents and I would explore the forest and hills surrounding our countryside home. Breathing him in, I hold a little tighter.Home.

“I think you and I are going to be good friends,” I tell the imaginary creature, rubbing my hand over the top of his head. I start to doze off, fingers still pressed against the wolf, his steady breathing providing me a sense of security. That is until he pulls out of my arms. My eyes snap open, and I stare at him.

He blinks, releases a small chuff, then turns away.

“Wait!” I scramble to my feet.

The wolf is trotting away now.

“You’re going to leave me too?” I scream, starting off in a jog after him. “Don’t leave, please.”

He picks up speed, so I do, too, ignoring my stomach which cramps in protest.

“Take me with you! Hey! Wolf!” I pant. “Don’t fucking leave me,” I whisper.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he bares his teeth like he’s trying to warn me off.

“You don’t scare me,” I say with a laugh, tripping over my own feet. Shooting my hand out and grabbing a nearby tree branch, I groan.

I’m way too drunk to be chasing after an imaginary wolf.

He tips his head up and howls; the eerie sound should terrify me, but if anything, it draws me closer.

Throwing my head back, I join in, but my ridiculous attempt cuts his short. Looking at him, I shrug to saysorry for interrupting.

He growls again; this time it’s deeper and draws a sliver of fear down my back. When he runs off, I don’t try to follow.

“Stupid wolf.” I wipe my hand over my damp cheek, cursing myself for being sad about something my imagination created.

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