I’ve imagined it plenty of times—hunting with weapons, the way humans do. Everything about it feels wrong to me. If I wanted to hunt, why would I leave my best, most effective weapons at home, exchange them for something man-made and less reliable? My wolf body was made for hunting. It’s evolved that way over centuries. There’s no better way to run down prey than as a wolf.
“It’s been a while,” I tell Brandon.
“Well, do you think you can keep up with me?”
“You really think you’re good, don’t you?”
He shrugs. “Iamgood.”
He’s not being boastful. It’s just an accurate description of the facts. Brandon has always been one of the best hunters in our pack, even when we were young. On campfire nights, he could be counted upon to bring back a whole pack of squirrels when the others were only good for one or two.
So no, actually, I’m not sure I can keep up with him. Especially since I’m so out of practice.
“I was going to hunt today,” I say, “but I wasn’t planning on having company.”
“You’ll be all right,” he says. “We’ll start slow, okay?”
“I can keep up with yourunning. I’m probably faster than you are in a foot race.”
He laughs. “You think so?”
“Have you forgotten the year I outran everyone our age in the Campfire Games?”
“Yeah, I remember that. We were ten, right?”
“Something like that.”
He grins. “I’m a little bigger now,” he says. “I’m not sure you’d be able to outrun me if we tried that today.”
“You’re on,” I say.
Brandon raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that?” he asks. “I don’t want to push you too hard on your first time out.”
“I can handle myself,” I say evenly.
“All right. To the highway and back?”
The highway’s about five miles from where we’re standing right now, so a ten-mile run overall. It’s doable—I can run that distance as a human. Whether I can run it as fast as Brandon can remains to be seen, but I’m going to make him work for it.
He shifts back into his wolf form, and I take a moment to admire him. It’s been years since I’ve really looked at him like this. He’s right: heisbigger than I remember him being. I can see the lines of his muscles winding around his limbs. His shoulders are broad and his hips are slim, but he’s unmistakably Brandon. I can see all the same scars he has on his body in human form. Anyone who’s ever seen him naked would know.
He paws the ground, clearly anxious to get started.
“Hold your horses,” I laugh, and he snorts at me.
It occurs to me that it would be nice if we could just be wolves together all the time. If we didn’t have to worry about all the complications of being human and managing our conflicting human lives. While we’re wolves, things are simple between us. I don’t need to think about going back to the human world, or the clash between the cultures we’ve each chosen for ourselves. I don’t need to think about the huge secret I’m still keeping from him.
We can just be free.
I shift, settling into the easy, straightforward feeling of being my animal self, and look at him, imagining that he’ll start the run when he’s ready.
He jerks his head toward the highway, inquiring.
Well, if he’s going to be a gentleman about it...
I break into a sprint, huffing out a laugh as I go. I hear his footfalls pounding away behind me almost at once—I only got half a second’s head start, so I can’t afford to let up on the gas, not even for a moment. I run as hard as I can.
He’s in my peripheral vision, already starting to catch up. He was right. Heisfaster than I am.