Mark added the shake to the bag of trash from his meal, grabbed his flashlight from the glove compartment, locked up the car, and headed to the camp. As he walked, he swung the beam of light back and forth, raking the ground so he could see his way.
Of course, he should have marked the trail better. Basic camping and hiking stuff. What was wrong with him forgetting something like that?
He trudged on, fairly certain he was on the right path.
Ahead, the trail opened up, and he pointed his flashlight straight ahead, catching his tent in the beam.
Mark exhaled. He’d have to get a fire going and check out the equipment for the night. Maybe tonight he’d have better luck.
He lit the firewood using a few starters, put on a pot of water for some coffee, and went to listen to the rest of the audio tapes. He sat in his folding camp chair as the noises of the night came through his headphones.
There. Something like a howl. He leaned forward, ran the audio back a bit, and then hit Play. Nothing. Weird.
He must be hearing things.
Mark slipped the headphones off his head and tossed them onto the ground. Damn, he was getting loopy.
Aaaaaoooouuuuuu.
“Holy shit!” Mark jumped out of his chair, fumbling for the audio recorder. That was definitely a wolf! And he’d missed it!
“Fuck.” He switched it on, heart pounding and chest heaving, as he waited for it to repeat.
Just as he’d caught his breath… Aaaaaooooouuuuuu!
This time the recorder got it! “Yes!” Mark jumped, pumped his fist, and then rushed over to the video camera to check it.
The howl had sounded close. But noises echoed in the swamp, and he couldn’t tell which direction it had come from. The video light was green—all set.
Nothing to do but sit back and let the equipment do all the work.
If he got this, his career was made, and his theory of swamp wolves would make history. He crossed his fingers. This was just what he needed to boost him to the next level.
Aaaaaoooouuuuu!
Okay, that was much closer. Mark glanced at his tent. Small protection, but better than none at all. He looked over his equipment again. For safety’s sake, he should get into the tent.
Mark got out of the chair and turned toward the tent.
A low growling froze the blood in his veins, and he couldn’t move. His eyes scanned the darkness all around him, but he saw nothing.
More growling.
There was more than one animal. Two, maybe three?
He had it! Unmistakable growling of a wolf. His trained ear could hear it, knew the difference between a wolf and a dog, and yet it chilled him to the bone. He rubbed his hands over his arms and stared out into the swamp.
There, in the dark, a pair of eyes watched him. They reflected light. Mark bent down, moving as slow as he could, picked up his flashlight, and switched it on. He kept it by his side, but played it over the bushes.
The growling continued.
A sharp yip off to the side. Mark swung the beam over there, but all he could see in the halo of the light was a bush moving where something had been.
Okay. This wasn’t good.
Aaaaaaoooooouuuuuu!
The sound filled the clearing. Mark’s heart leaped into his throat, and he backpedaled away from the woods, the flashlight still in his hand. He had to get into the tent. He stumbled backward, tripped over one of the tent stakes, and went down.
The air whooshed out of his chest, he dropped the flashlight, and it went off. He twisted onto his side, using his hands to search for it. Without the light, he was barely able to make out shapes in the darkness.
The growling got louder.
Mark groped wildly, his fingers digging into the soft litter of leaves, and squinted into the darkness for the flashlight.
He touched the cool of metal, and he snatched it back up, hit the button, and swung it around him in an arc.
On the edge of the clearing, a wolf stood, watching him.
A scream bubbled up in his throat, but he clamped his lips together, afraid any sound he made would make the wolf attack.
Just like his father.
Oh, God. He’d wanted to find them. Wanted to prove they existed. Mark feared his remains would be the only thing to tell the world swamp wolves were real.
He had to do something.
“Go away!” he shouted.
The wolf took another step toward him just as four wolves emerged from the bushes and into the clearing.
»»•««
“Okay, where do we start looking?” Scott asked.
Bobby rolled down his window. “Pull over.” He leaned out as Scott eased the car off the road and to a stop. Scott rolled down his window and turned down his radio.
“Hear that?” Bobby asked.
Scott listened.
In the distance, the cry of a lone wolf echoed in the night.
“It’s the pack. They’re on to something.” Scott cursed. “Which direction?”
“He’s camping. Remember that old dirt lane off the road up ahead? At the end of it is that clearing.”
“Got it. I’ve seen campers there.” Scott pulled the car back onto the road and hit the gas. They almost passed the lane in the dark, but Bobby spotted it, and Scott hit the brakes.
“Drive in?”
Bobby nodded. “Yeah. Then park, and we shift.”
After ten minutes, Scott pulled over and shut off the cruiser. “This is far enough.”
They got out and then shut the door. They didn’t bother to take off their clothes; whatever magic changed them also changed whatever they wore. With a quick nod, Bobby called the change, and Scott went right behind him.
Bobby’s wolf scented the air. There. The smell of his mate. In that direction. He started off into the woods, running at an easy lope, leaping over fallen trees and skirting around bushes, with Scott’s wolf hot on his heels.
Another howl.
He stopped, whimpered, and sniffed again.
His mate’s scent had changed. Laced with fear, it tasted bitter on his tongue.
The wolf growled low in his throat. An answering growl sounded next to him. His fellow wolf had caught the scent also. Together they broke into a hard run, heading straight for his mate.
The wolf worried he’d not make it in time. He was prepared to fight every member of his pack. To warn them, he let out a long howl.