by Tamar Sloan
"No!" Shock slams through my stomach. Not Achak's mate! I shake my head in denial. "We haven't seen poachers in over a year."
"It wasn't poachers. It was one of the staff at the center."
What? They know how precious every last wolf is. Every loss is another life, another unique individual we’ll never see again. Mom's face, so serious, so sad, has my whole chest tightening. "Why?"
"She tried to attack another of the pack."
My hands clench by my sides. "That's not a shooting offense. The wolf probably tried to upset the hierarchy."
But Mom is already shaking her head. "And then tried to attack them."
I gasp. This is too similar to what happened with Achak yesterday.
I look at Dad, who's never been the silent partner type. He's always known the right thing to say when things are tough. But his lips are a tight line. It tells me there's more to be said.
Oh no. "You've tested her, haven't you?"
Mom nods. She says what’s already written in her frown. "It was rabies."
I'm gone in a breath, racing back down the hall, barreling into the room holding Achak. He stands in alarm, then relaxes when he sees me. I open the cage and throw myself inside before shutting the gate. My arms are clamped around him by the time my parents have followed me.
Several tears have already fallen onto his fur when Mom comes to kneel on the other side of the bars, Dad standing behind her.
I look up at them. "If it was rabies, I wouldn't be able to do this."
"I know."
"When we deliberately sever a thread, it bleeds."
Only three people know I see the threads. Mom, Dad, and Josh. And although they seem to understand how overwhelming seeing the intricate web that we are all part of can be, they've never seen what happens when an animal is killed. Their ties to those around them, to Mother Earth and life itself, snaps. The stump left behind eventually shrinks and disappears, but not before it weeps and hemorrhages like a cut vein.
"Oh, honey. I know that too."
My head sinks into Achak's fur, losing myself in his familiar canine scent as he curls protectively around me. I wish I had something else to say…but I don't.
"It's still too early to tell, but I think you're right."
I look up. "What?"
Mom reaches out to grasp one of the metal bars. "It looks like he may be cured."
I suck in a breath. We all saw how sick he was. Achak jostles me with his head, like he does when he's ready to play. I scruff his neck, knowing I'm going to have to disappoint him, but glad of the proof of what Mom is suggesting.
Dad kneels beside Mom. "Maybe we can talk about this sitting on a chair or something? You may be okay with lounging around on tiled floors, but this old body likes its comfort."
I roll my eyes. Dad is one of the youngest fathers I know, even by Were standards. "Like a lab stool or something?"
Dad straightens, making a show of doing it like he's eighty. "Right now, I'll take it."
Shaking my head, impressed that my dad almost has me smiling, I stand. With a quick hug, I promise Achak I'll be back soon. Being in a cage for this long isn't going to be easy for him.
In the next room, I'm not sure how to feel anymore. The past twenty-four hours have been a yo-yo of emotions. I cross my arms, wishing I felt prepared for this. Why does it feel like we're standing at a precipice?
"So you think Achak had rabies?"
Mom nods, letting me process this. "The frothing, the tests, the aggression—it all fits."
"And you think the vaccine worked on Achak after he developed rabies?"
Mom glances at Dad before settling her gaze back on me. "As far as we know, there's no therapeutic vaccine for rabies, but it's the only explanation that makes sense. It must've been the blend of vaccine and globulin."
Dad’s rubbing his chin in that way of his. "That was some pretty intense aggression."
"This was no run-of-the-mill strain. Faster, more virulent," Mom says.
The flashes of what I saw, and how it felt when my beloved friend attacked me, are still fresh in my mind. "More furious."
Mom nods. "Far more furious."
Dad narrows his eyes. "So, you're saying the vaccine worked on it after infection, because this strain is different somehow?"
Mom shrugs. "It's a hypothesis."
Hope flares fast and bright. "Which means Achak is cured."
But Mom's face doesn't match the light that’s sparked in my chest. "Only if the theory is correct. And if it is, we have a much bigger problem on our hands."
Dad's hand drops to his side. "A fast-acting, highly aggressive form of rabies amongst wolves."
Mom looks out the window to the forest beyond. "What wolves we have left."
Hunter
24 MONTHS BEFORE
“You’re not heading out tonight.” My sister uses her Were speed to slot herself between me and the door, like her small form would stop me going through it. She flicks her chestnut fringe back from her forehead. Ever since we were kids that’s signaled ‘I mean business.’
I keep pulling on my boot. “Bad weather never stopped us.”
I wince at my choice of wording. There isn’t an us going out. Tonight, and every night, will be just me.
Riley crosses her arms, dark brows frowning. “You know it’s not the weather. You’ll probably strip down to a t-shirt the minute you’re out of human sight.”
For a short period of time, for only a few weeks after changing at the age of sixteen, I did love doing that.
I grab the other boot, letting my actions speak rather than trying to find my voice.
Riley’s arms tighten. “KJ rang. He wants you to stop by.”
Jamming it on, I don’t look up. “I’ll do that tomorrow.”
Riley’s arms flop to her side, the sadness we all live with rising to the surface. “I hate it when you go out alone.”
The ache in my chest intensifies, but I ignore it. “It won’t be the first.” I make sure I’m looking straight at her. “And it sure as heck won’t be the last.”
Purely because I’m the only one left to do it.
Grief, it’s the aching mix of pain and anger and another emotion I refuse to acknowledge, sledgehammers my chest. One day that feeling will diminish. One day…
“Maybe I can come?”
That has me smiling, especially when the clatter of a dish in the sink reaches us from the kitchen. “And miss Bachelor in Paradise?”
Actually, Riley hates The Bachelor. She used to rant to Mom that any woman who had more depth than her foundation wouldn’t dream of watching it. But that clattering plate tells us Mom is listening. She always does, as we go through some variation of this discussion every night.
Riley’s shoulders drop another notch. The Bachelor was always Mom’s escapism from an isolated, sub-arctic island. But Bachelor in Paradise, filmed on a tropical island, is the only hint of warmth she seems to find right now.
“You could stay home?” The hope in Riley’s face is about as authentic as a fluorescent light. She already knows what the answer to that will be.
“Then it would all have been for nothing, Riley.”
Silence falls over the house. I’ve said the words that acknowledge exactly how cemented my destiny became two months ago, only a few days after my sixteenth birthday. Only a few days after I shifted for the first time and finally became a Were.
“Be safe, Hunter.” Riley’s voice is a whisper, but she knows I can hear it. It’s the hitch that I choose to ignore.
“Always my first priority.”
There’s a snort and a muttered ‘bullcrap’ as I pull on my coat. I shut the door behind me, welcoming the sting of wind on my face, my mantra my only companion as I head for the road.
I won’t let Dad have died for nothing.
The Ski-Doo bumps over the snow, the rumble of the engine sounding more and more alien the further I drive out. I leave it as soon as I’m out on the tundra, striding into
the desolate wild. Evelyn Island only has one inhabited area, weathered houses that line the southern edge, looking over the water. Originally, the Inuit people were the ones tough enough to brave this snow-drenched land. But Evelyn Island, the largest in the archipelago dotted between Canada and Greenland, developed into something different when white people saw its potential.
It’s a good thing the Rendell pack was already here, because as the township grew, the space shared by humans and wolves began to grow too.
For the most part, the intersections were rare. The odd wolf tearing open someone’s rubbish or dragging away some road-kill.
Until some power crazy Were back on the mainland left behind a legacy.
Kurt Channon. His name is as well-known as the Phelans. He wanted Weres to stop hiding, to show their power. To dominate humans. So, he set in motion a domino effect that he never lived to see. He had his followers attack humans. He butchered animals at a sanctuary. He left behind video footage showing a massive wolf tearing apart a bear.
And so, the culling began. Population control they called it. For everyone’s safety.
Tell that to the poachers who had their sights on the white wolf standing on the top of Resolute Mountain. Tell that to the guy who pulled the trigger. Tell that to the family left behind because as that wolf tumbled over the other side, he shifted back to his human form.
Bitterness floods my mouth, and I resist the urge to swallow. If I’m not careful, it will start corroding me from the inside out.
As I head inland, the landscape becomes wilder and more rugged. The isolation here has always called me. I suspect it’s the lack of eyes that also attracts the poachers. Arctic wolves have never attacked anyone but their pelts are the color of snow, and in a world where the killing of wolves is encouraged, that’s a pretty cool trophy to spread over your shiny timber floor.
But we haven’t lost one since we started the patrols. There’s so few of them left that we can’t afford to.
I shove back my hood and undo my jacket as I look around. My Were sight scans the twilight, wondering if they’re still here. They’ve been hanging out in this neck of the tundra for a few days. It makes me nervous as it’s closer to the town than I would have liked. It might be time to move them on.
I shift to wolf form before I let myself think about it too much. In the space of a heart-beat I’ve multiplied in size, everything exploding outwards and it feels like I’m made of fireworks. The thrilling change into something that should be impossible is discouraged nowadays, but I know I’m unlikely to see them if I don’t. I’ve learned that the sight of any human spooks them. They don’t hang around long enough to find out if it’s friend or foe.
I scent them almost straight away, loving the extra layers of information I can extract with my wolf senses. They haven’t gone far at all. I head north, paws powering over the ground. At this time of the year, the beginning of summer, the vista is a mismatch of harsh rock and white snow. The cold stings my eyes as I push to go faster. It would be exhilarating if it wasn’t so important that I find them.
I spot them in the distance, white moving on white. The average human is unlikely to see them from here, which is a relief because it seems they haven’t moved far at all. I throw my head back and howl, letting them know I’m coming. I see one head hike up the tallest. Zephyr, the alpha, has spotted me. He arches his head back and throws out his own greeting. With the green light given, I break into a lope.
As I come closer, I do the headcount. It doesn’t take me long, there’s only six of them. All largely related now that so few are left. Except I can only count five. I pick up the pace, registering that Sakari isn’t amongst them. As the alpha mate, she’s always close by.
Checking again, I only come up with five.
Please no. We were so sure we’d halted the steady decline of these amazing animals. That’s what Dad put his life on the line for.
And lost.
As I near, the wolves start to pace, contracting around Zephyr. Although they’re used to seeing me, they still look to their leader to gauge how they should respond.
Zephyr, white except for the mane of grey that surrounds his broad head, watches me. I slow, never coming too close. We have an understanding, Zephyr and I. He is the alpha, the one who belongs to this pack.
My role is protector. The one tasked to keep safe what little of the world they have left.
He barks once and turns, running a few yards before stopping. I follow, tense at what I’m going to find.
Only a few feet away from Zephyr I discover why these animals, usually nomadic around their massive territories, haven’t moved. Sakari, the alpha mate, is curled up in a rocky outcropping. What little soil there is has been padded down to create a shallow depression. The squat rocks around her offer limited protection from the elements. It’s about as good a den as you can create out on the tundra.
I glance at Zephyr, wide-eyed. Wolves don’t build their dens until the birth is near. Looks like he’s going to be a dad very soon.
I can’t help but sit, my back legs giving out. I nod at Zephyr and I swear he grins, white bushy tail high, probably feeling quite proud of himself.
Well played, you sly dog.
I head back, finding a vantage point on the largely flat ground. I need to be close enough to see the makeshift den, but far enough to give these wolves their space. Sitting, I take it all in. For the first time since we lost Dad, since the role of Alpha was placed on shoulders too young, a new emotion flickers.
Hope is about to be born in that little alcove.
Hope that I am going to have to protect.
Challenge. Accepted.
As the night becomes absolute, I feel my body yearning for sleep. The battle I have with the Sandman is a nightly one. I’ve discovered if I half-doze, it lulls him into a sense of security. I’m convinced Sandman believes that when my defenses are down, he’ll be able to strike.
But he hasn’t won yet.
Ultimately, his pull is strong, but my determination is stronger.
I must have one foot in slumber land a few moments later because a wolf appears. One that has my spine straightening because this isn’t one of the snow colored animals that camouflage in this mostly white world. This one is beautiful. A golden, glowing being that I know has to be a dream.
Dammit. Sandman won.
I struggle to wake myself, but I can’t seem to find a way out. It’s like I’m being held by something that doesn’t exist.
She stares at me across the rocky tundra. I’ve never seen a wolf, or a Were, that color. She’s layers of gold, from burning ember through to sun-on-fire. Her gaze doesn’t leave mine, like a connection was just forged. Forged and set in ancient stone.
She moves forward, not in the least bit nervous. Maybe there’s nothing to be afraid of in this dream state. I blink, no longer caring how she materialized or from where. In a world that is cold and desolate in more ways than one, I’m drawn to her.
A few feet away she stops. I try once again to wake myself, only to find there’s no foe to fight. Although this is a dream, nothing seems to be holding me here. I admit it’s a battle I didn’t want to win as I move forward too.
Her eyes are an amazing shade of green, her face fine and graceful. She looks like she’s full of curiosity and I’m totally captivated. We hold there for long seconds, studying each other, and I’m lost in the moment.
Until she moves. She walks past me, behind me, before coming up beside me. There’s a chance I’m hallucinating.
Standing beside me, slightly smaller, so much more impressive, she looks around. Seems she’s visiting my dream world. I look over at the wolf pack, they’re all asleep, curled and furled around their alpha pair.
I look back at her. I want to share this magical place with her. No one gets to see the wolves like I do. And if this is my dream, I’m going to make it a memorable one.
I take a few steps forward, and she’s there with me. A few more and it’s like
an invisible rope has attached us because she’s still by my side. Fine by me. Right now it feels like I’ve found my mate.
We cover the space between where I was resting and the wolves. Seeing as this isn’t real, I take us closer than I’ve ever been. Sakari opens her eyes, takes us in, and closes them again. She’s never minded me being around. The others are just as unconcerned.
Zephyr looks up, a low rumble vibrating past his throat. At least the dream is realistic. Our relationship has been based on a mutual agreement. You help me look after them…but don’t mess with the system. Seeing as I’m bigger and faster, I can pose a threat to his status as alpha. He stands, obviously not comfortable lying prone with us so close.
Good on him. A protector is always ready.
The golden wolf doesn’t seem fazed. She leans into me like we’ve done this all before, as if we haven’t just met, and I marvel that I can feel her weight and warmth. The sensation has awareness zinging along every nerve ending. The touch is far more electric than should be possible in a dream.
She straightens all of a sudden, head tilting like she heard something. I glance around, surprised I hadn’t heard it. But there’s no noise to register. The tundra is silent.
I turn back to find her gone. I jump to the side, loss a sharp pain in my chest. Zephyr growls beside me, but I ignore him. This is my dream, and this is not how I want it to end. She only just got here, for Pete’s sake.
Another growl and Zephyr steps forward. I ignore him again—it’s not like he can hurt me here. Can’t he see she’s gone? I step around again, walking in a circle. Weird things can happen in dreams, maybe she’s playing teleport hide-and-seek or something.
When Zephyr leaps forward, it’s not the whistle of wind past my ear that has me freezing. It’s not the snap of teeth so close to my face that has me jumping back.
It’s the undeniable drop of drool that has landed on my muzzle that has my jaw go slack with shock. It sits there and I almost go cross-eyed as I stare at it. I can feel its slight weight, the pinprick of warm that is rapidly going cold. What ultimately has my breath evaporating is that it doesn’t go away.
