Bitterroot, Part 2

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Deer?” My voice came out a squeak.

  She shot me a look that was a clear challenge to man up. “Dad said to bring the biggest. I can’t let anyone else beat me, uh, us. We’re the alphas.”

  “Right.” I decided not to point out that technically only one of us could be alpha. It didn’t seem like the time, especially after our fight yesterday. For the hundredth time this morning, I wished I could skip school and just train with Owen. At least I’d be with someone who didn’t dismiss the very idea of me.

  “Are you coming? The deer are this way,” Regan said, yanking me out of my daydreams. I hurried to catch up, forcing myself to focus.

  “Deer,” I repeated, as if just saying the word would conquer my revulsion of the idea of killing one.

  Regan didn’t answer.

  We crossed the road and stepped into the canopy. “We should shift now. We’re quieter as wolves.”

  “All right. Um, Regan, about this hunting thing …”

  She softened. “The first time’s always the hardest.”

  “You had a hard time, too?” I looked at her, hopeful, glad I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. Maybe if I could just explain it, and Regan could back me up, Dad would change his mind.

  “I was five, so it was a little different,” she explained.

  “You made your first kill when you were five?” All I could do was gape at her.

  She shrugged. “It was only a squirrel. Not a big deal. Anyway, if you don’t come back with something Dad will freak. And not just on you. I’m supposed to be teaching you. If I can’t do that, I don’t deserve to be alpha regardless of the contest. Charlie?” She waited until I met her gaze. “You can do this.” I nodded an agreement that I didn’t feel. “Just do what I do,” Regan added.

  “Which is?”

  “We’re going to follow their scent. When we find them, we’ll lay low until we’re close enough to make a quick kill. Go for the throat. If you can’t make the angle, go for the back leg joint. It will make running harder and they won’t get far even if they do try to bolt. If you can lock your jaw, do it. Then you won’t have to chase them at all.”

  “All right,” I whispered. My hands curled and uncurled, pumping against the nerves I felt. I could do this. I had no choice.

  “It’s best if you give in to your werewolf side, once you taste the blood.”

  I remembered how Owen had said something about giving into my animal side. He’d never explained what that meant exactly. “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “It’ll make it taste … good.”

  I blanched. “Animal blood?”

  “Yeah, don’t tell the vamps,” she muttered. “They think it sets them apart.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, but Regan didn’t seem to need an answer. She squared her shoulders. “Ready?”

  I swallowed hard. “Ready.”

  We shifted at the same time.

  The first part of the hunt was almost fun. We ran, taking turns letting each other choose the direction, stopping every so often to sniff out a strange scent. We signaled each other with low barks and head nods. It was kind of amazing, actually, to be so in sync with another wolf. It had never been this way with my mother.

  But then Regan must’ve caught the scent she was after. Her head shot up and her eyes narrowed in concentration. She turned a complete three-sixty, sniffing the air, and then her ears pricked back and forth. She gave a short bark and took off. That was the signal.

  I ran after her, bounding over thick shrubs and exposed roots. I was good at this part. My paws made no sound. My breaths were shallow and quiet. A few yards in, I caught the scent she followed and felt my muscles tense in anticipation. I steeled myself against the nerves and concentrated on the chase.

  When Regan halted, so did I. We crouched behind a grove of trees. My ears flicked back and forth, trying to get a sense of what had stopped her. I couldn’t hear anything. The smell hadn’t gotten stronger. At least that I could tell.

  I thought of Owen and what he’d said about my extra senses. I closed my eyes. Seconds ticked by. Regan was still beside me. I knew she wasn’t looking at me but over the hedge of brush that concealed us. Watching, waiting. Gradually, a sense of something reached me. Air shifted around me. So slight it was almost imperceptible, but there it was.

  I opened my eyes again. Regan’s lip curled up in a silent growl. Her eyes flickered to me and then back to our prey. I peeked through a hole in the hedge. Just ahead, a pair of deer wandered this way.

  Their black, beady eyes darted here and there, in tandem with their ears. They were on edge, watching for hidden danger. The male was broad chested with a large rack of antlers. Full grown and strong. He walked a step ahead of the female, protective and alert.

  The female stopped to nibble on a leafy branch that overhung their pathway. She stood slightly away from the buck, and I got a clear look at her. She was spotted white with flecks of gray in the center. She shifted again, moving on from her snack, wandering closer to where Regan and I lay in wait. Her scent intensified. My heart beat faster. I remembered what Regan had said, about giving into my animal side; that it would make this easier.

  She took another two steps—a little closer.

  I dug deep, not even sure what I was looking for. The deer shifted, exposing her throat. For a split second, the human in me fell away, and there was only my wolf; a wild, instinctual beast. And, in front of me, the perfect prey.

  Hunger rose in the back of my throat, making a trail to my belly. Something twisted there. Desire. Anticipation. I fell into a crouch, my muscles coiling. Beside me, Regan was stiff. Any second now…

  Go!

  I could feel the command so deep in my bones, she might as well have yelled it. Regan sprang from our hiding place a split second before I did. She leapt at the buck, her teeth catching his lower throat. Her snarl echoed in my ears, followed by the sound of flesh ripping apart.

  I faltered. The animal instinct faded, and I was myself again. Charlie, a seventeen-year-old high school senior who was sometimes a wolf. A girl who had never killed anything except house spiders.

  The buck fell underneath Regan’s locked jaws, writhing and braying. The female froze.

  At the last second, I altered course and lowered my head, plowing into her like a linebacker. I landed on top of her, pinning her with my paws. She writhed and stretched, frantically trying to free herself.

  Beside me came the sound of gnashing teeth and bone grinding. Regan ripped and tore at the buck. He jerked twice and let out a strangled cry, and then he was still. I squeezed my eyes shut. The female twisted unexpectedly. I felt my paw give, scratching deeply into her shoulder before losing purchase and falling away. She slipped out, twisting to her feet, and bolted before I could regain my balance.

  Regan growled at me with wild eyes and a red-stained jaw. I cringed away from the sight of her—and the carnage behind her. She shook her head and bolted after the female.

  The leaves shook in her wake, and then everything was still.

  I wanted to run away, to shift back to human and escape. But I knew if I did, the consequences—for both of us—wouldn’t be good. So I stayed downwind from the dead buck and waited for Regan to return. I whined and whimpered, with my chin on my paws and my belly in the dirt. What would Dad say when I returned empty-handed? Probably nothing; the look in his eyes would say it all.

  I didn’t want to think about it. I tried thinking about anything else, to take my mind off it. I wondered what Owen was doing right now. Probably something similar, though not with animals. I shuddered. As much as I enjoyed his company—preferred it to most of the werewolves I’d met so far—seeing Regan take down this buck had been a blatant reminder of Owen’s diet.

  Something white caught my eye through the trees. I sat up, instantly alert. Whatever it was disappeared from view, shifting against the leaves and branches that separated us. It couldn’t be Regan, not with that pale coloring. I rose and wandered clo
ser to the edges of the trees. Far out in the forest, where sunlight was dim and the trees were thick, something pale moved. The smell hit me just as I caught sight of a face.

  Vampire.

  It stared back at me, crimson eyes easily focused despite the distance that separated us. I blinked at him, too surprised to feel any malice or danger. I didn’t recognize the man, but he was clearly a vampire. His red eyes and pale—almost ghostly—complexion were easy to make out. He had a shock of dark hair that hung over his forehead. I wondered what he was doing out here, this far outside the vampire’s boundary. Was he after me? Or Regan? Was she in danger?

  I hadn’t been afraid until that thought dawned on me. I couldn’t let Regan get hurt.

  What if he knew about Owen and me? What if he was here to tell her? That scared me even more. It dawned me that Regan hadn’t smelled me during our shopping trip after all—she’d smelled this guy—our stalker. The realization didn’t make me feel much better.

  I took a step. And another. I had every intention of chasing him down and forcing him to tell me what the heck he was doing out here. But then he stepped back and disappeared around the thick trunk of a tree. I paced back and forth, searching for a glimpse, a movement. But there was nothing. He was gone.

  Behind me, branches quivered. The sound of leaves being flattened reached my ears. I ducked behind a hedge and lowered myself, ready to pounce on the newcomer, if necessary. A moment later, Regan appeared. She dragged the female—now dead—behind her. A thick trail of blood marked their path. She stopped in front of me and let the deer fall into the dirt between us. Its eyes were open and staring.

  Regan bent down, nudging the carcass with her nose, eyes fastened to mine. Then, her message delivered, she turned and went to the buck, gathering a sizable amount of its flesh into her teeth. I wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or grateful. In the end, I was both.

  Somehow, despite the nausea that rolled in my stomach, I managed to drag the female deer through the woods and back to Dad. Everyone else was already there. Bevin and a couple of others looked impatient, but they stood and stared as Regan, and then I, appeared—dragging the deer in our mouths.

  Carcasses littered the clearing. I tried not to look; the smell was enough. I dragged the deer as far as I could before the sight and smell grew to be too much. I dropped it into the dirt, resisting the urge to spit against the sharp tang of blood in my mouth.

  “Well done, Regan,” Dad said. “Charlie, a deer your first time out. I’m impressed.”

  I bowed my head as Regan’s form rippled at the edges and her human form reappeared. I could tell he was waiting for me to shift or at least to explain how I’d done it, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t my kill.

  I’d failed. It would be much easier to withstand the humiliation as a wolf.

  “Regan, you must be a good teacher,” Dad said.

  “Thanks,” she said. I could feel them watching me, but I didn’t meet their eyes.

  “Is Charlie okay? She hasn’t shifted back,” Dad said, talking about me as if I wasn’t even there. But I didn’t care. As long as they didn’t ask me about the kill.

  “She’s fine. Just a little shaken,” Regan said. “I think she feels better as a wolf right now.”

  Dad nodded. “Understandable after a first kill.” He looked down at the deer and then back at Regan. “The buck yours?” She nodded, her chest puffing out in obvious pride. “Hmm. A little messy, but it’ll do.”

  He didn’t seem to notice Regan’s expression as it shuttered closed against his dismissal. “All right, everyone. Regan and Charlie are today’s challenge winners. You know what that means. PT time. Ten miles, the usual track. Everyone shifts. Stay clear of the boundary line and when you’re done, shower up. Get some rest for tomorrow. We’ll be tracking.”

  A collective groan sounded. Dad ignored it. Bodies drifted toward the trail, shifting and shimmering as each one became their wolf.

  Dad looked back at Regan and me. “You are both excused for the day.”

  “Both of us?” Regan asked.

  “Charlie’s had an eventful day, what with her first kill. And you won the challenge. I don’t mind excusing you both, just this once. But don’t fall behind in your workout schedule.”

  “I won’t,” Regan muttered.

  “Come see me at the office once you’re showered. I have some paperwork that needs looking over,” he told her.

  She nodded her agreement and Dad patted me as he left. I tracked him with my eyes all the way out of the woods. Even then, I listened for the retreat of his footsteps long after they were silent. When I was sure he was gone, I shifted.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Regan looked up from where she’d been gathering handfuls of moss. “Whatever.”

  “I’m serious. You didn’t have to go after that deer for me. And you didn’t have to cover for me with Dad. I appreciate it.”

  “It was just as much for me as for you.” She continued her moss gathering.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Someone will be here to retrieve the animals. Recover what meat is good for eating and skin them for blankets and such. We don’t waste when we can avoid it,” she explained.

  “And the moss?” I asked.

  She knelt over the buck and began layering the moss over its body like a blanket. “It keeps the animal fresh and the bugs out until someone can get over here.”

  “Is that our job?” I asked, kneeling to help her with the female without waiting for an answer.

  Regan worked in silence for a moment and then said quietly, “A good alpha doesn’t take a day off, even when it’s offered.”

  The words sounded recited, memorized. I wondered which of her parents had told her and then realized it was probably both.

  We worked in silence for a few minutes, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the differences in our childhoods. Regan seemed to have a soft spot for her mom but our dad was harsh, especially to Regan. We finished with the moss and rose together. I dusted my hands on my pants, remembering too late the layer of blood underneath the dirt. My hands came away streaked in dirty blood. The sight of it coating my hands reminded me of the vampire I’d spotted earlier. I opened my mouth, fully intent on telling Regan about him, but then thought better of it.

  If I did that, it would only perpetuate her belief that Owen’s people had killed her mother. Or bring me one step closer to exposing my secret friendship. I decided neither one was a smart move. Not today.

  Her expression set with satisfaction, Regan moved toward the trail that led home and I followed, my thoughts drifting back to our dad and his cold reaction to Regan earlier. It bothered me to see her hurting. Finally, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “I get that he’s hard to please, but why do you try so hard?” I asked.

  She stopped mid-step and stood there for a long moment, shoulders stiff. Slowly, she turned to face me. For a split second, her expressed was pained. No, that wasn’t right. Injured, maybe. I remembered how Dad had brushed off her win today. How he always seemed to do that with her. But then whatever vulnerability she’d allowed to show vanished. In its place was a coldness I’d only ever seen her use on the vamps. Her enemies.

  “Not having a dad, you wouldn’t understand,” she said icily.

  Then she turned on her heel and strode off.

  I blinked, more surprised by her sudden change in demeanor than anything. Slowly, the cut her words left behind opened until it became a deep slice.

  If I’d been tempted let my guard down and attempt a sisterly bond, Regan’s comment cured me. I ran for home, not caring who saw the hot tears streaming down my cheeks.

  Chapter Seven

  Regan

  Charlie’s words wouldn’t stop replaying in my head, even as a wolf. I get that he isn’t easy to please, but why do you try so hard?

  They were like a bad song on repeat. I ran harder, trying to drown them out. A few minutes later, my wolf picked up a familiar scent.
The rest of the pack was about half a mile west. I adjusted my path and pace accordingly. I wasn’t quite ready to catch up yet.

  Stupid long-lost half-sister. She didn’t know anything about it. She’d been here five minutes and thought she knew the score. Please.

  Charlie didn’t know what it was like, being the only daughter, the future alpha of the pack. My mother hadn’t made it difficult to win her favor either. Despite that, she and I had been close. One of the reasons everything felt so empty with her gone. But there was still always the pressure of being good enough, measuring up. And the demands, physically and mentally. You had to be better. Run faster, hunt bigger, patrol more.

  Which is why I’d chosen to run with my pack despite my win on today’s hunt, and Charlie hadn’t. It was also why I had no choice when it came time for the competition. Shopping trips and shared DNA aside, I had to fight her. I had to put her down. I just hoped I could do it without killing her.

  I concentrated on the huff-huff of my own labored breathing and made a wide arc. Despite my late start, my anger had fueled me and I was coming in from a wide loop—directly in first place on the pack run. That, at least, cheered me a little.

  I’d just begun to clear my head when I sensed company approaching. Warm puffs of air ruffled my fur as Carter veered in from a side path and fell into step beside me. His shoulders bunched and rippled powerfully as he propelled himself forward. Flying noiselessly over the ground, he shot me a curious look.

  I ignored it and pushed faster. He kept pace without a word. I was glad for the silence. And, even though I wouldn’t admit it aloud, the company.

  About a mile out, I slowed and let the others pass by on purpose. Carter did the same, never straying from my left side. My wolf got a certain satisfaction out of watching the flanks of my pack as their paws covered the miles. It felt good to be a part of something, a part of them.

  Carter and I were the last to arrive at the clearing. Most of the others were already gone but Bevin waited, shifted and sweaty.