Chapter Four

And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.

—John Muir

 

THOMAS SAT IN the woods alone in his Wolf form and thought back to that day with his father nine long years ago. So much time had passed. So much had happened since the accident. Everything had changed. He had changed. Thomas wasn’t sure if Ryan would even recognize him, remember him, or want anything to do with him. They were both twenty-seven now. But Thomas’s heart still ached and yearned for the only boy he had ever loved.

Man.

He is a man now, Thomas reminded himself.

Thomas didn’t know how Ryan had done it, but somehow, he’d escaped from prison. The timing had been perfect; it had been on one of the long annual journeys Thomas took each year to Ryan’s prison to check on him. To try to just sense him inside those walls, to know he was still breathing, to hear his heartbeat from outside those fences, gates, and concrete. He’d seen him a few times throughout the years when Ryan was released to the yard, but nothing more than a few sightings.

Considered dead, Thomas was only allowed to be in his Wolf form outside their pack lands. He’d followed that disgusting vehicle that transported his mate in that ungodly box. Thomas had trailed along when Ryan had escaped and run from it, trying to guide and encourage him without being seen. That had been harder than he’d anticipated, seeing Ryan up close and then having to leave him to return to his time-warped pack family and all their laws, back to their way of life.

Thomas couldn’t believe how much time had passed, how much he had changed. Thanks to his father saving his life and Grace and the others accepting him and teaching him their ways, Thomas finally felt normal, healthy, and loved by a family. And what a family it was. Thomas shook his head at its wild cross between old Puritans, with a dash of Dutch—even Amish-like—and some old-school USSR thrown in the mix.

Simple but complex, his people believed in hard work, pack law, and their makers. They were the most nonmaterialistic people Thomas had ever known. With its group mentality, everyone shared everything. They all looked out for and helped one another. Family, hunting, and protecting their ancient way of life were the priority.

It was all about the pack.

How in the hell am I ever going to explain all this to him? Thomas asked.

Truth, Wolf responded.

And as they sat there, within their shared self, they thought of their mate again. Ryan, who was currently on the run. He’d been spotted recently in a city only a few hours away. Ryan was making pretty fast time and covering quite a bit of distance. Thomas wondered where Ryan was heading, but something inside him, his Wolf, whispered that Ryan was coming to him—to them. Ryan just didn’t know it yet.

It had been a nearly two-year fight with Thomas’s father, their Alpha, and the pack council. They finally gave approval for Ryan to be allowed into the pack should he choose it. It had taken a lot of praying to the Pillars—their Gods—who Thomas, like his father, often didn’t understand or agree with. Unfortunately, Ryan had been in prison, serving out a hefty sentence. This was why the council had finally agreed, likely thinking the possibility would never come to fruition since Ryan would be an old man by the time he was released.

But Ryan had gone and done the impossible.

He had escaped at just twenty-seven years old. And if Thomas could find him and convince him to turn Wolf with Thomas as his mate, Ryan would be protected by the pack, under the protection of their four Pillars, and never face going back to prison. This was their—Thomas and Wolf’s—current shared plan as they sat in the woods and waited.

While Thomas was confident about his feelings for Ryan, he wasn’t as optimistic about Ryan’s feelings towards him. As far as Ryan knew, Thomas was dead and had been for the past nine years. In his heart, Thomas knew that would have deeply hurt Ryan. Getting him to forgive Thomas for not finding a way to let him know he hadn’t died would take more than mere pleading for forgiveness. Not to mention Ryan was extraordinarily stubborn. Or that Thomas had ended up doing the one thing he swore to never do to Ryan—leave him like everyone else had.

He’s going to be so pissed, Thomas said with the heavy burden of guilt.

Wolf grunted his agreement.

Thomas smiled over just how well he knew Ryan. His Wolf did not. Ryan had always been slow to embrace anything new he didn’t understand. He’d been a broody boy with a quiet disposition and murderous stare. He was, of course, secretly sweet—to Thomas. But no, Ryan’s unyielding personality would make forgiveness a nearly impossible feat. He didn’t just hold on to a grudge; he embraced that sucker and death-gripped it for dear life. Thomas had seen it so many times before but rarely directed at him. And those times, Thomas had wormed and manipulated his way out of the doghouse. Methods that were not going to work this time. Yes, Thomas would have his work cut out for him—and he deserved it.

You don’t know him, Thomas reminded his Wolf. You think you do because you feel my thoughts and memories. I know the beforetime that you don’t remember, but… Thomas thought about all the voices from his childhood, about a boy with a trapped half Wolf inside him. Wolf remembered little of that time before his own true birth.

What if you don’t even like him? Thomas worried.

Will, Wolf replied.

We need a plan, Thomas muttered.

They growled at themselves now for not having some sort of plan. It had been nearly a decade, and here they sat alone in the woods, trying to figure something out. Ryan was the thinker and planner; Thomas was the joker and doer. Constantly reacting without thinking things through. Thomas believed he’d gotten better at this since turning Wolf, but Thomas was still Thomas. He was just a little different now.

Since the Ryan sighting after his escape, Thomas had been patrolling the borders of all of their pack lands, the Forestry lands, and the Wildlife Conservation lands. Thousands of acres, and finding Ryan would be like a needle in a haystack. But something inside Thomas kept telling him Ryan would head north. North to the most extensive uninhabited woodlands in the country. Ryan would think he could disappear into the forest and evade capture by living in the wild.

Thomas knew this because they had discussed it many, many times, read books related to it, and it had all but become their youthful dream or fantasy, really. Two incarcerated boys with Robinson Crusoe dreams. They never truly believed Ryan would get out before he was in his sixties. Thomas couldn’t help but think and hope they had a real chance now.

Had he not been bitten and turned Wolf by his father, Thomas would have committed another crime just to go back to prison to be with Ryan. But as he was now, Wolf could not survive on the inside. He would have died in under a year. Wolves had to shift, and they had to eat meat. They had to be around their own kind, with their mate, or eventually go mad. They’d go feral.

Thomas lifted his nose, sniffing the air, and smelled another Wolf, Penn, not far from his location but heading north for his usual assignment. As they were both scouts, Penn and he had the same patrol rotation and would usually eat dinner together once their shift ended. Thomas ran the southern lands. His ear twitched at the slow metallic squealing sound that echoed and bounced off the mountains several miles away to the east.

Thomas ran through all of the options: the metal gate to the forestry’s fire road, the metal door to the forestry ranger tower, the gate at the old Steele place, and the two tree-line hunting platforms. The only metal for miles. He listened, turning his head. Thomas could just make out the sound of an engine and then the metal squealing again. Like a gate that hadn’t been opened for a very long time.

Thomas stood on paws and headed east. It had to be the fire road or the Steele place, but the fire road gate didn’t make that sound. Rangers kept their equipment, even their gates, in top working order. No…it had to be the gate to the old Steele place, which meant someone was going to the cabin. Thomas picked up his pace. No one ever belonged there who wasn’t a Steele. It was in their treaty with the Steele elder, the only human Thomas’s council and pack had ever trusted.

But Mr. Steele had died years ago. Thomas’s father had told him the cabin and land had been all but forgotten for years. The son, then; it had to be the Steele son. Malcolm had said the son would honor the treaty as the father had done. But the Wolves didn’t know the son as they had his father. This could mean trouble. Thomas knew he wouldn’t have been the only one to have heard it.

Father, someone has come to the Steele land. I will patrol and report. Thomas communicated with his father through the special mental connection all members of Wolf packs shared. Thomas frequently found himself annoyed with the way it worked, a live group chat vocalized in his head with no mute button.

I’ll meet you there, Malcolm replied from the packhouse.

The son honors the treaty? Thomas asked.

Yes, and he is the only keyholder, Malcolm answered.

Thomas lengthened his stride to quickly cover more ground, digging his claws into the earth to propel him. Large paws and strong tendons reached farther forward as the power he now possessed moved him with unbelievable speed. His fur rippled, and his tail whipped behind him. Thomas had learned to love being Wolf. It was the only time the utter sadness didn’t consume him completely. When he was human, his emotions were all over the place. Being Wolf tamped them down—somewhat—an epic form of denial.

If it was hunters or poachers, they’d need to act quickly to report them before they could hurt a packmate. Thomas slowed as he crossed the line to the Steele family land. He made his way to the path the Wolves regularly used to travel through this area.

Malcolm waited for Thomas several hundred feet from the old cabin, crouched low and watching. Two males, inside now. They just went in. Only one vehicle, and that was Steele’s truck, Malcolm said.

The son’s name? Thomas asked.

Tristan Steele, Councilman Adler chimed in.

Thomas rolled his eyes at the busybody remotely inserting himself, from his office back at the packhouse, into their conversation. Still, he was the record keeper and the one who would know such things.

Councilman Adler added, He’s on the record and in the treaty.

Malcolm and Thomas watched as the old lanterns turned on one by one, illuminating each room through the cabin. Only one of the men inside spoke, and the Wolves listened as Tristan Steele told the other man about his father building the cabin and where everything was. Tristan talked about the weather, about finding food and fishing, and then he explained about the Wolves.

Thomas and Malcolm’s hair rose on their backs as they leaned forward and listened.

“Never hunt or harm the Wolves, and they won’t hunt or harm you,” Tristan Steele said. “My dad felt really strongly about that. Don’t mess with the Wolves. You have to share this land with them.” Then he admitted that the Wolves scared him, so he had no problem giving them plenty of respect and distance.

The man’s speech about the Wolves seemed to be knowledgeable and made in earnest, and Thomas and Malcolm’s fur settled back down as they relaxed and continued to watch.

The son upholds the treaty, Malcolm said. Let it be known. He has instructed the other male that the Wolves are protected.

The men exited the cabin to retrieve the remaining firewood, but Thomas couldn’t see them from his position.

Closer, Thomas told his father.

Wait, Malcolm replied.

They listened as Tristan continued on about storing food and bringing more supplies. How no one would ever find the man there.

Thomas crept forward on his paws. Something niggled… He lifted his nose to the sky and sniffed…something strangely familiar in the air. But another smell hampered it, a heavy overshadowing scent. And such a quiet voice said Thank you to Tristan.

Thomas shrank back next to his father. They bowed their heads at the sadness that washed through the night as the man cried. Thomas glanced at his father.

That is grief and gratitude, Malcolm said.

Thomas turned back to the cabin as the truck started and began to move. There was a brief exchange as one man left. Then the other, who Thomas couldn’t see from their position, closed the door and stayed inside the place as the truck drove away.

One is staying, Malcolm reported. I don’t sense a threat.

Your read on the human? Adler asked.

Grieving. I sense great loss and sadness, Malcolm repeated. And the entire pack seemed to relax, a wave of sympathy washing through their links with one another.

I will stay, observe, and report, Thomas said.

Malcolm agreed and returned to their pack home.

Thomas moved down the path, closer. Would the man come outside or onto the porch? His crying had been brutal to witness, ragged and heartbroken. And now, waves of his grief washed over Thomas, mourning much as his father had described. Thomas could sense it now, for the first time. He hadn’t been around humans since his transition. To this day, it still perplexed Thomas, the sometimes strange things Wolves were able to do. He rested his head on his front paws and whined. This poor man had lost so much, and his feelings were so…loud. Still, something made Thomas stay put and wait.