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I was so shaken by thoughts of Gunner that it took a solid minute for the implications of that spray can to sink into my conscious thought processes. But then I flinched as the male in question slipped past my arm and into the tunnel I’d just pointed out, his possible identity making me want nothing more than to turn tail and run.
Was this the male who’d tried to kill Gunner? Who’d thrown a javelin without imbuing it with his aroma? If so, I’d been looking at this issue from all the wrong angles...or, rather, I’d thrown in my lot with the enemy when I’d opted to include Sakurako and her lackeys in my escape.
“It’s standard issue.” Yuki was the only one who noticed my hesitation, the only one who didn’t slip beneath the overhanging greenery and follow our companions inside. “Werewolves are our greatest e—” He paused, glanced at Curly still clutched in my arms, then chose a different word. “Danger. So we carry these spray cans to cover our footsteps, to protect ourselves from attack.”
Sure enough, a similar canister appeared between his fingers...which didn’t make me particularly inclined to trust him more than his friend. But my grandmother reemerged from behind the veil of plants at that moment, grabbed my shirtsleeve, and yanked me inside.
“Shift,” she demanded, her word lacking alpha compulsion but nonetheless spurring everyone around her into action. Kira’s clothes dropped into a pile along with the males’ cell phones, then my sister shimmered into fox form even as two different humans sprayed the pile of discarded possessions to make it harder for werewolves to find us using either biology or technology.
So maybe Yuki was right. Maybe there were dozens of people out there carrying similar sprays meant to confuse werewolf nostrils. I’d stay alert, but my choice of allies had already been set in stone when I abandoned my mate.
Still, I didn’t obey Sakurako, merely stood my ground and stated my case for remaining human. “I’m not leaving Curly.” I couldn’t carry the pup in fox form, and he’d last about three minutes under his own volition at a sprint.
Sakurako shook her head in answer then turned her back to slither out of her nightgown. Like Kira, the old woman glowed as she shifted, but her transition was more of a supernova than the twinkle of a distant star. I rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of the vision. Sakurako’s luminous white fur gleamed in the near darkness. And was night playing tricks on me or did she really boast multiple tails?
I only had a second to stare at the strange kitsune, however, before tires on gravel heralded the arrival of enemy werewolves. We’d left the RV blocking the roadway, so it was inevitable our enemies would begin searching momentarily. We had to be out of earshot before that happened. Was I really ready to endanger our entire party for the sake of one bloodling wolf?
Curly whined, peering up at me. Then Yuki was at my shoulder, arms outstretched. “I’ll carry him.” He glanced toward the white fox, already receding into the darkness, then told me: “I’ll put his life before mine, I promise.”
And Yuki must have had kitsune blood somewhere inside him, because his words came out oath-like and binding. That was exactly the confirmation I was waiting for. So even as the first car door creaked open, I relinquished my burden and fell down into the form of my fox.
***
WE RAN FOR EONS. OUTSIDE the tunnel, snow fell harder and faster, the fraction that filtered down through interwoven trees and shrubs not quite sufficient to slow our footsteps. I’d never thought kitsunes could control the weather, but it seemed like a strange coincidence that such a dramatic snowstorm had blown in out of nowhere at the exact moment we started fleeing from hunting wolves.
Because I’d been wrong—the snow helped rather than hindered us. It muffled our scent and covered our tracks even as we fled through the network of tunnels some long-dead werewolf had created out of bushes and trees.
Our enemies didn’t give up the chase, however, even though passage through the forest had to be much more difficult outside our vegetative pathway. Instead, their howls were terrifyingly close at first, then only a little more distant when trees laden with both leaves and snow began thundering to the ground and further blocking our pursuers’ paths.
One huge trunk in particular smashed into the tunnel behind us, making Kira squeak and Curly whimper inside the shirt-turned-knapsack twined across Yuki’s shoulders. But Sakurako didn’t hesitate as she chose turn after turn in a winding, twisting labyrinth that led us who knew where.
Then the cold air outside descended into eerie silence, nothing but our own pants of exertion evident as moment after moment flowed past without any additional werewolf howls. We’d lost them, had shed our followers like winter fur wafted away by a breeze in springtime. And in that elation of survival, my pack bond momentarily flickered back to life....
Gunner, living. His lungs billowing and his muscles aching so drastically I stumbled over my next footstep.
Pain was acceptable, however. Pain and the knowledge that even though Gunner was losing the battle, I could now tell him that he’d won the war.
“We’re safe,” I attempted to shout down the pack bond. “Stop fighting. Save yourself!”
But my presence just spurred Gunner to work harder, leaping at his enemy until they went down together in a pile of fur and claws. Something broke in one of his extremities, something tore above his ribcage....
Then I was knocked backwards into my own body by brilliant lights above us combined with wind roaring so loudly it couldn’t have been a natural part of the storm.
Sakurako squeezed out through a gap in the shrubbery, led us into a whirlwind of snow and ice. Above our heads, a helicopter hovered. Somehow, my grandmother had called upon human technology to complete our escape.
As I stared, a rope ladder fell from the open access hatch. The first of Sakurako’s guards was already climbing up while the second reached down to grasp Kira’s fox body in his arms.
This was it—the moment of decision. I could trust my grandmother to protect those I cared about and run back to assist my partner. Or I could follow her into the chopper and leave Gunner behind.
A mate wouldn’t have hesitated, but I stood so long in the snow that ice formed pellets between my vulpine foot pads. Meanwhile, the fifth male knelt beside me, offering his arms as an easy route up.
This was the same male who’d sprayed our footprints as we entered the tunnel, the same one who might have tried to kill Gunner and actually killed Edward. Could I really leave him alone with my sister and a defenseless bloodling puppy? Could I trust any of these strangers to do the job I’d accepted as my own?
I couldn’t and I didn’t. But I did accept the male’s offer of assistance, leaping into his arms and closing my eyes against the pain in my temples as he clambered upward into the aircraft above our heads.
Then we weren’t hovering but rather flying. And my connection to Gunner abruptly winked all the way out.