Page 36 of The SnowFang Storm

“So. Anais.”

“This creates a debt between our packs,” I warned him, and damn straight I’d be keeping it on my ledger. “We’ll get your Chronicler back, but you’re going to owe us, EarthSpine. Are you sure you want to be in debt to SnowFang?”

“If my choice is a debt to your SnowFang, or allowing Jerron to harm one of my she-wolves, then I will choose the debt. Anais will give you the key and information. I’ll text you our lead scout’s details.”

He hung up, and I juggled my phone between hands for a few minutes while I turned it all over in my head.

Sterling emerged from his shower with a towel around his shoulders and not a thread elsewhere. I asked, “How do you feel about a trip to Montana to steal something from Jerron?”

He rubbed the towel against his hair. “Depends on what we’re stealing.”

“Her name is Anais.”

“A she-wolf?” Sterling asked with interest.

“More to the point, an adjunct Chronicler who has something Jerron wants,” I said.

Sterling grinned. He flung the towel to the side. “I’ll arrange a flight out.”

What's Yours Is Mine

We met up with the three EarthSpine—two hunters, one scout—in a snowy field a couple hundred yards off an unnamed road at one in the morning. One of them had brought a paper map for us to contemplate by moonlight.

“Here.” The EarthSpine leader, Charles, pointed out the spot Anais would meet us at four. It was a corridor created by two lines of heavily forested areas. It was also sixteen miles overland from SilverPaw’s heart. As far as dead-of-night hikes through unfamiliar territory for a non-hunter wolf it was straightforward: leave the house, head due east along the road until she came to a creek bed. Follow the creek south until it dissolved into a mucky, low-lying swamp that opened onto open terrain. Head south until the trees started, then east again so that the trees would be on either side. Keep going until she bumped into us.

Our trek would be ten miles of mostly uphill, rough going to get within the SilverPaw boundary. Then a hard two mile sprint, plus whatever distance was needed to meet Anais.

Charles smelled of skepticism while he watched Sterling study the map. “This isn’t like running on sidewalks with shoes or whatever it is you city wolves do to not turn sloppy.”

The time to ask about fitness had been before we got here. I growled, but Sterling took off his shirt and jeans like Charles didn’t exist.

Charles started to growl like he expected an answer. Then the growl stopped, and Charles’ eyes rounded out to big saucers when he saw Sterling’s silver scar.

Sterling smiled unpleasantly and walked towards Charles. “Do you want a closer look?”

The EarthSpine wolf twitched. His lips worked as a bunch of retorts formed, but he re-acquired his intelligence and didn’t ask them. Instead he looked away, refusing to speak and offering a silent apology.

Sterling crowded Charles with his body and ducked his head down to Charles’ height. Charles held his ground but looked down, head tilted in aversion and unwilling submission. Sterling pressed closer. The lilt of a chuckle undercut his voice. “You shouldn’t ask how I got it. That’s not the interesting story.”

Charles couldn’t resist shifting his gaze back to Sterling.

“The interesting story is what happened to the wolves who did it.”

I shuddered.

“Do you want to know that story?” Sterling pressed.

The EarthSpine put on their collars and shifted to wolf form without further eye contact.

The EarthSpine had also brought us pouch collars containing the usual basic supplies for scouts: nuggets of high energy trail rations that tasted like something you’d fish out of a bear’s toes (having been paw-struck by an angry bear, I could confirm this is exactly what they tasted like), an army knife, a flashlight fob, a compass, and pad toughener. Charles also squirmed into a coil of sturdy nylon rope, which one of his packmates tightened the quick-release knot once it was around his ribs. Never knew when you’d need ten feet or so of stout rope.

The achingly familiar scents of Montana flooded my senses for a few seconds.

Sterling nosed my shoulder.

His wolf-form was large and a beautiful silvery-blue shade, longer, shaggy fur like arctic wolves, and ice-blue eyes. I licked his snout and wagged my tail. His fangs were large and gleamed white in the starlight. I bounced and put my forelegs over his shoulders, and tugged playfully on his ear with my teeth. I’d never seen his wolf form so clearly before—and it did not disappoint.

Wolf-form wasn’t a good form for adult fun, and lupine litters were a what the fuck are you thinking level of stupidity, but I entertained every single primal, debase, naughty thought of my mate.

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