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“What were you thinking?” Michael’s hiss caught my attention as I shimmered down to lupine form inside Luke’s tent.
“I had to!” This time Carly was the one going heavy on the exclamation points.
Sticking my nose out the door, I peered toward the conversation. At any other time, I would have debriefed the youngsters. Found out more about Easton’s skin and whether anyone had pried the existence of mine out of Michael.
But I couldn’t afford to show my pelt. Instead, I trusted Grace to deal with the kids while I padded toward six furry beings who had already assembled on the far side of the campsite. Sure enough, Bastion was present along with Victor, Arthur, and three wolves whose names I hadn’t caught.
“Thank you,” I sent to Luke. But it was as if there was a wall between us. Either he didn’t hear me or he didn’t care to reply.
Instead, Luke spoke aloud to all seven of us. “Race to win but stay safe. Remember that you are a pack.”
No one except me was really listening. Already, the males had begun jostling for position. Noses were nipped. Shoulders were bumped.
And, okay, so I wasn’t really listening either. Instead, my gaze locked on Luke’s. “Are we good?” I asked. “Luke? Can you hear me?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he addressed the chaffing contestants—“Go.”
His word released us like a snapped rubber band.
***
DESPITE LUKE’S ADMONITION, we didn’t act like a pack. A strong scent trail suggested Carl and his crew had run through the forest in a straight stream of united efficiency. In contrast, our group snarled and sniped over who would hold the lead position. The first contender twisted an ankle when he was pushed into a tree trunk. The next ended up in a briar patch.
Perhaps I should have fought for the fore, but I didn’t have Luke’s ability to freeze pack mates with a single glance. I also couldn’t shift to human form and speak without showing off my pelt. Instead, I let the skinless wear out their aggression, glad enough to hang to the rear with Bastion until we reached a tree-fall gap that opened up our view of the landscape below.
There, Carl’s pack was barely visible as a flicker of movement heading straight for a difficult-to-cross highway. He was on the path of Luke’s cinnamon—felt in my gut, not scented by my nose—but that path zigzagged crazily before sliding under the highway nearly half a mile north of their present position.
“Did you add a dogleg to lengthen the race?” I asked Luke, and was disappointed but not surprised when I received no answer. Our connection was slippery with any sort of distance between us, and we hadn’t exactly left on the best of terms.
So I went with my gut. Pushed past the milling skinless and followed the straight path toward our destination.
Unfortunately, the straight path was less obvious to my pack mates. Bastion followed me blindly, but the others had nothing to go on other than the scent of Luke’s passing. No wonder Victor pounced on me in a fury as I started off at an angle. His teeth cut through my skin and I yelped. I should have been expecting this, but I’d dropped my guard....
Bastion’s body slamming into Victor’s side broke his tooth-hold and sent us flying in two different directions. I rolled end over end, the world spinning even after I came to rest against a rock.
Above me, my gentle cousin stood snarling, daring anyone else to attack.
For a long moment, Victor faced off against him, fur erect all the way down his spine. From where I lay, I could see at least three other skinless ready to jump in and finish what Victor had started.
But...they didn’t. Instead, after several seconds of attempted intimidation, Victor huffed dismissal. Then he turned away to follow Carl and his cohorts along the obvious route.
Skinless fell in behind him one after another. They didn’t even glance at me and Bastion. Didn’t bother to jostle my cousin or step on my tail, even though the latter appendage lay along the route they were taking.
Instead, they slid into a single-file line of unity. One, two, three, four....
I cocked my head, waiting for Arthur to fall in as rear guard. Instead, he sidled toward me, sniffing at the droplets of blood oozing out of my shoulder. He sniffed...then licked.
I struggled to my feet, preparing for another round of skinless posturing. But Arthur didn’t engage. His scent was mild yet deep, as if sharp gunpowder had mellowed into salt spray through years of hard-won experience. He stood beside me, firm and quiet, and it took me an embarrassingly long moment to realize he was waiting for me to take the lead.
I cocked my head. There were ripples beneath the surface I didn’t understand here. Why Victor had been angry when I tried to go off on my lonesome. Why Arthur was now willing to break ranks with his relatives and ally himself to a near stranger instead.
I suspected it all had to do with skinless dominance battles. Roles of the sword maiden I hadn’t been clued in to. But the only sure way to know was....
I cocked my head. Sent out another question. “Luke?”
No answer. The distance between us yawned wider than the mere mile or two I’d run that morning.
Still, Arthur seemed to hold Luke’s trust. Plus, unlike Victor, he’d chosen to stick by me. Sliding down the hillside at a trot, my chest expanded as two sets of footsteps followed along the fastest route toward our shared goal.
***
THE REST OF THE DAY passed in a blur of running, running, running. We stopped for a moment here and there to lap water out of a stream or catch our breath after a particularly arduous ascent. But every time, signs of Carl’s group’s progress shortened our rest period. We were almost ready to cut him off, but not quite. Without words yet in tandem, the three of us quickened our steps.
The sun was low in the western sky when we curved around a rockfall and scented old urine. Luke’s territory. We’d achieved the furthest corner of the route along which he and I had run on that golden-turned-bloody day, before Luke became leader of the Acosta pack.
Tension sloughed off my lupine shoulders. I was pretty sure we’d slipped ahead of Carl, which meant we’d won the contest. Ruth and Luke would have had plenty of time to move the rest of the pack to Wolf Camp. It would have been nicer if Victor and his cronies were here with us, but other than that the game had gone well.
Despite my best intentions to remain silent, I raised my chin and released a pent-up howl. Bastion was the first to answer. Bastion who’d matched me step for step all day in complete silence. His voice buoyed up mine, pushed our notes higher and higher.
Then Arthur joined us. And, far too close for comfort, more wolves. One after another after another.
Carl or Victor or both had made good time. And my group wasn’t quite at Wolf Camp yet. Reluctantly, I released the final note before I was ready then set my muzzle to the ground.
Luckily, I knew this terrain well despite having run across it only once before. Knew the barriers and shortcuts with some deep muscle memory that seemed to throb out of the bite on my shoulder. Luke might not be speaking to me, but our mate bond was still active.
So I knew that the gully over there dead-ended the most obvious path toward our destination. If we veered right, though, we could scamper across a fallen log and set up an easy ambush to slow our pursuers down. Perhaps I could sidetrack Carl and join up with Victor after all....
I was running flat out, aware of the fallen pine directly ahead that I’d need to leap over, when I was the one ambushed. A human hand reached out of the bushes and snagged me. My back slammed into a tree trunk. Snarls erupted in my wake then stilled, suggesting Arthur and Bastion had been similarly overwhelmed.
As I blinked away the stars obstructing my vision, my captor gazed at me smugly. Carl no longer looked like a clean-cut businessman. Dirt streaked his cheekbones, he was entirely naked, and his eyes glinted with the wildness of the wolf.
Meanwhile, his words, although calm on the surface, were redolent with the threat of fangs and claws he no longer bothered hiding.
“Sword maiden. It’s past time that you and I found an opportunity to talk.”