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THE WOLF WAS only partway down the hill, walking slowly toward the familiar-scented, human female, perhaps seventy feet away when another shift in the wind brought back the original scent that had piqued his curiosity.
The human female, the intrigue, the almost pack-like familiarity of her scent, the inquisitive desire to get closer to her had caused it to temporarily forget about that other.
But not any longer.
The fur on the back of his neck rumpled as the other’s scent came in strong and sure. It was closer than before and moving.
Moving in the direction of the familiar human female.
And with the other’s scent came the resolve of a hunt. The other regarded this woman as prey.
The wolf needed to get close to the woman, to protect it from the other. He immediately leapt down the hill, racing toward her.
“Michael?” she said, the fear coming through in both her voice and scent. The woman started taking a few cautious steps backward.
A flash of grey no more than three yards from the woman burst from a low set of bushes and leapt through the air toward her.