by Tamar Sloan
And I’m not sure what that says about me.
Nian narrows her eyes in thought. “And the wolf who we believed was cured?”
Dad’s face is somber. “Achak escaped two weeks ago and is still missing.”
Hunter straightens. “And he jumped the fence, didn’t he?”
Mom and Dad glance at each other before nodding. “We believe so.”
He glances at Dawn and she frowns. “Then he may still be infected.”
I want to shoot up and deny it, tell them all that Achak had been cured. But I don’t. I sit there, mute.
The Lyall Alpha leans forward. “We’re going to have to find him.”
I close my eyes for the briefest of seconds. They’re going to have to kill him.
Before all of this, I would have stood up and fought that decision. Even without proof, with nothing but my conviction, I would have told them they’re wrong.
But I’ve learned too much. I know who I am now.
And that girl doesn’t have any belief that her perspective is accurate.
“We are doubling our efforts to find him. We believe he’s deep in the reserve. In the meantime, we need to stop these poachers.”
There’s nods and grunts of assent. The collective strength of Were and Fae is about to be mobilized. Protecting their own is what they do best. It has me straightening a bit, glad it gives me a sense of hope even though I can’t be part of it.
“We’ve already doubled our patrols,” one Alpha grunts.
“We’re looking at tracking them,” says another.
Dad’s eyes narrow. “If you come across one of these idiots, you take them to the authorities.”
Most of the Alphas nod. One or two slide their gaze away.
“That isn’t a request.”
I think it’s the first order I’ve ever heard my dad make. It shows you how high emotions are getting. The frustration with humans has the potential to spill into hatred.
There’s a muttered round of acknowledgments.
Orin speaks up for the first time. “And Furious?”
“It’s spread has been slow,” responds Mom, “but for only one reason, and that’s the same way we can continue to curb it.”
River frowns. “That cannot be your solution.”
Mom doesn’t falter. “Without a cure, there’s no other solution.” Dad’s arm shifts, and I know he’s holding her hand. “Any infected animal must be killed.”
Controlling my gasp takes everything I have. I want to shout that this goes against everything we stand for. How can we be the ones who take their lives too? We’ll be hastening their extinction.
I take in Hunter’s back again, ramrod straight and tight. Is this how he’s had to feel? He’s given his life to the arctic wolves, and yet he’s killed two of them and lost even more.
Mom is watching me, her eyes full of sympathy and pain.
I look away, not sure I have the strength for this. I’m not like Hunter, or Dawn, or any of them. Going home is probably the best thing for everyone.
Everyone signs off, the goodbyes somber and cheerless. One or two glances at me before their screens go black. With everything so bleak—wolves under threat from humans and a virus—it sure would be nice for them to have some spark of hope. The child born of the Prime Prophecy was what everyone assumed would be the solution in a time like this.
I flick my hair back, although what I really want to do is curve it around me and hide. I couldn’t save Kayuh, the dreams I’ve had for two years have been nothing but romantic fluff, and I have no special ability to help them.
I’m glad I’m going home.
The door opens and Riley strides in like this is any other day and we’re about to have a meeting. “So, extra patrols, huh?”
Hunter crosses his arms. “You were listening at the door?”
Riley flips her fringe as she juts out a hip. “I was in the hallway. I can’t help it if I was born with great hearing.”
KJ and Josh are right behind her. KJ slides into his chair and powers up his computer. “We need to do something about Furious.”
Dawn comes to stand beside him. “Like what?”
I lean forward—maybe this is the flicker of hope we’ve been looking for.
KJ shrugs. “I have no idea. That virus and I are gonna spend some time together in the lab.”
I try not to sag. That’s not a lot to pin hope on.
“Good thinking, KJ.” Dawn heads to her desk. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”
Riley grabs Josh by the hand and pulls him to the door. “We’ll take the next shift.”
Josh nods in Hunter’s direction. “Try to get some sleep or something.”
Riley rolls her eyes. “Or some more coffee.”
They’re gone, taking all noise and movement with them.
For the first time since I entered the office, Hunter’s eyes connect with mine. Today his eyes aren’t copper, they’re darker, more muted. It’s like the fire that powered them has been cooled, almost extinguished. I open my mouth, but then close it again.
I’ve known Hunter’s been hurting from the beginning. He’s carried too much, had too many hard choices to make.
But I’m not the one who can fix it. He knows it. I know it.
I stand up. “I’ll go check out the fence line.”
My bogus job for the useless, non-Were, non-Fae person.
I’m just at the door when a beeping sound cheeps from a computer somewhere. Turning, I see KJ wheel himself to another station.
Hunter strides to join him. “That’s one of the boundary sensors.”
I stop with my hand on the door. “We have boundary sensors?”
KJ scans the screen and presses some buttons. “Yep, recent upgrade. We set them up along some of the tracks the wolves use most frequently.”
“So, it’s one of the wolves?”
KJ looks up at me, shaking his head. “Their collars are designed so they won’t set them off.”
Hunter points to the top right screen. “Bring it up there.”
KJ clicks a few times and the screen flickers from the image of Sakari’s den to the tundra. I walk forward to look closer. “And you have cameras out there?”
“Just a handful, right around the sensors.”
We all look and wait. Dawn and I both jump when a caribou streaks past, a blur of grey zipping across the screen.
KJ leans back, a huff of laughter slipping out. “Always the caribou. Those things are going to make me grey.”
Hunter nudges him with his elbow. “You’re probably already grey.”
KJ yanks down his beanie. “I could be Rapunzel under here for all you know.”
I relax again, pulling open the door. These wolves have a dedicated team with some very special skills looking after them.
“Hunter!” It’s Dawn’s voice, full of alarm.
She’s standing in front of the bank of screens, pointing at the one we were all just looking at.
Hunter is like a coiled ball of anger. “Bastard.”
“What?” I stride over, wanting to know what they’re looking at. I peer at the black and white image, except there’s nothing but rocks and ruts.
“I’m on it.” Hunter spins and before I can ask, he’s out the door.
Dawn frowns at the empty doorway. “Maybe I should go with him.”
KJ shakes his head. “We don’t want to slow him down. He knows what he’s doing.”
I look from one to the other. “What’s going on? I thought it was just a caribou.”
Dawn’s lips thin. “It was. And then there was a poacher.”
“What?” I spin to look down the hallway, knowing Hunter’s long gone. “He can’t go out on his own!”
Dawn’s green eyes fill with compassion. “This is what Hunter does, Ava. If there are any wolves nearby, he’ll make sure they don’t get close to the poacher.”
Can’t they see how he’s hurting though? I turn to KJ. “KJ, you should go.”
He’s already shaking his head. “I don’t shift.”
“What? Why not?”
KJ opens his mouth, holds it there, but then shuts it again. He looks away.
Dawn rests a hand on his shoulder. “Now isn’t the time. KJ is better off staying here and monitoring the situation. We need to keep an eye out for Riley and Joshua.”
“But—”
“You’re right. Someone should be with him.” Dawn heads to the door, giving my shoulder a squeeze on the way through. “I’ll go.”
She shuts the door behind her. No one suggested that I go out with him. I didn’t suggest that I go out with him. I’ve seen what a helpless liability I am.
Maybe they’re right. Everything’s going to be fine.
And I haven’t actually been right yet.
KJ turns back to his computer. “He’s probably long gone anyway. We almost didn’t see him. The prick’s wearing grey or red or something.”
The words stop me, but I’m not sure why. “What?”
KJ shakes his head. “Well, the screens are black and white. He was probably wearing grey considering it’s the tundra, but reds look the same—seeing it in four-megapixel resolution is tough.”
“He was wearing red?”
He looks at me, a quizzical frown scrunching his brows. “Possibly. Why?”
It’s not something I’m ever going to forget. Not many people wear red out here. He was there for one reason.
And then when I tried to tell him it was human ignorance that killed his father.
I’m not sure it matters anymore.
The door slams against the wall as I shove myself out.
“Hey!”
I don’t answer KJ. My heart is pounding painfully as I sprint out the door and to the shed. My heart clenches as I realize this will be over before I could even try. With Dawn and Hunter both out, there won’t be another quad. The relief that floods my system at finding one there is short lived. It means Hunter didn’t take it.
It means Hunter went out as a wolf.
My hands shake as I jump on the quad and turn on the ignition. My mind races as I find the thread that’s always been different to the others.
If that poacher is the same one who killed his father, Hunter is going to look for retribution for a whole lot of pain he shouldn’t be carrying.
And I can’t let that happen.
Ava
I didn’t have time to think of tying back my hair, which means it flies around me like seaweed in a storm. I shove it back, knowing I’m not stopping, knowing I’d cut every last lock off if it’d make a difference.
The thread feels stronger for some reason, and I realize it’s because Hunter’s in wolf form. He must be using his wolf senses to find the poacher.
Maybe he won’t find him.
Maybe he’ll come across the wolves first and lead them away.
Maybe I imagined what I heard in his voice that day.
As each of those thoughts come out as a prayer, I accelerate. Too many wishes have failed to come true for me to put much faith in them.
The thread takes me due east, which isn’t a direction I’ve been before. The terrain here slopes up rapidly, becoming rocky and uneven. I quickly find that by half-standing on the quad, I can spare myself the biggest jolts. Slowing down isn’t an option.
The tundra fast becomes a series of rises and dips, some full of rocks that’ve been sheared and sliced by nature, others still holding the last of summer’s green and gold. I accelerate up the next one, feeling I’m getting closer, and spear over the top.
Except a fist of rock has punched up through the soil on the other side. I yank the handlebars hard to the right and the quad swerves. It narrowly misses the pile of rock, but the tire hits the edge. The bike tips and I instinctively counterbalance. For seconds I don’t know which way gravity will pull me and images of my body tumbling over the rocky ground dominate my mind.
But then the wheels bump back down and I’m powering forward again. I glance over my shoulder, gaping at the near miss. I won’t be helping anyone if they have to pick me up piece by piece.
The next rise looks like it's made largely of rock. I have no choice but to slow, having learned I have no idea what’s on the other side. The rise plateaus at the top, like Mother Nature has sheared the whole top off a mountain, before disappearing down the other side.
He’s close. I can feel it.
I’m about to accelerate as I come to the other side of the plateau, but then I see what’s before me. The land falls away into a valley before rising up to another low hill, which isn’t much different to the terrain I’ve been crossing.
It’s what’s in the valley that has me coming to a complete halt.
To my left, a white-furred body is lying lifeless and I feel the scream echo through my heart. It’s one of the pups, it must be Pakak, her life-force already leached into the soil. And kneeling over her is a man in a red jacket. When the sun catches on the silver in his hand, I gasp.
He’s going to skin her!
I’m about to power down the hill, knowing I can’t let that happen, when my hand goes slack on the accelerator.
Oh god.
A massive white wolf, big and powerful, arrives in the valley on my right. He sniffs the air, sees what I see, and makes the decision in an instant.
No, no, no.
Hunter surges forward, gaze locked on the man kneeling over the dead body of the wolf he raised. With his back turned, his focus on what he’s about to do, the guy has no idea Hunter is bearing down on him.
A Were who’s looking for justice.
I take in the determination and the speed. A Were looking to avenge the deaths he will forever carry.
Yanking down and accelerating isn’t a choice. Careening down the hill doesn’t feel fast enough. I can’t let Hunter do this.
“Stop!” My scream sounds as full of desperation as I feel.
To my right, I see Hunter’s head rise as he registers me coming down the slope. He glances back at the poacher, takes in my trajectory, and drops his head. With the determination of an avenger, he picks up speed.
“No!”
The man looks up, startled. He must follow my line of sight, because he stands and turns. There’s a moment where he freezes in time, realizing that another wolf is running straight at him.
Except this one is much, much bigger.
The second he decides to move he starts to run. Wildly and frantically, he sprints forward, even though he’d know a human can’t outrun a wolf, and certainly not one as big as Hunter.
As I jostle and jolt down the hill, I do the math. My line will intersect Hunter’s before he reaches the man. It’s the only hope I have of stopping him before he does something he’ll regret.
Pushing up, I shout as hard as I can. “You don’t want to do this!”
I know the words register with Hunter because there’s the slightest of pauses, but then he lowers his head, and it’s like I don’t exist. He powers forward, determination a steady thrum as his paws devour the distance between him and his target.
I only have a few seconds, and fear has started to spike through my veins. I can’t accelerate any more, but I can keep trying to reach him.
“This isn’t you, Hunter!”
I know it’s not.
There’s no pause this time, it’s like my words have hit a sheet of ice and vaporized.
The man is running, stumbling, repeatedly glancing over his shoulder. Terror has his eyes wide and his mouth wider. He knows he won’t stand a chance when that wolf reaches him.
I’m close enough to see Hunter’s eyes. They’re the darkest I’ve ever seen them. His magnificent face is devoid of anything but determination. There’s no hope. No belief.
No acknowledgment of everything he is and can be.
The quad loses speed as my body loses strength. I reach the point he’ll pass a second before he does and stop. All he has to do is sidestep me and continue. Just like all the
other times, I haven’t been able to stop this.
I’ve run out of time and I’ve run out of words. All I say is what has had my heart cracking from the moment I learned I wasn’t the one he saw on the tundra. As he leaps over me I reach up, letting his fur brush my fingers.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”
I don’t shout the words, knowing they’re my own confession more than anything, and they trail off on a sob.
I couldn’t stop the death of Kayuh, just like I can’t stop Hunter from altering his life forever.
Altering the trajectory of what’s about to become a war between wolf, human, and Were.
I hear Hunter land, imagining his body compressing, absorbing the impact and using it to propel himself forward. I hope I don’t have to hear any cries for help or screams of pain. At least Hunter will exact his revenge humanely.
The scrabbling of gravel, a scattering of rocks, has me turning. They aren’t sounds that fit into what’s about to happen.
What I see has me climbing off the quad. Hunter has skidded to a stop and spun around. His whole wolf body is staring at me in shock.
My words had an impact?
I stand my ground. “I meant what I said. You’re the strength and conviction I wish I had. I wish I could be part of.”
He doesn’t move.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t…” I shrug, wishing there was another way to say this. “More.”
Hunter steps forward, his copper eyes wide. He stops, shakes his head, then blinks at me.
I don’t know why, but I smile. Smiling is everything this moment isn’t, but at least my inadequacies have been good for something. The man has seen Hunter stop and is now running with renewed vigor, no longer glancing over his shoulder. I notice the motorbike not far away. Good. I doubt he’ll be returning here anytime soon.
Hunter takes another step, his broad body filling my vision. His eyes are studying my face with an intensity that robs me of the ability to breathe. I don’t say anything else. I don’t have anything else. I’ve just bared myself to him.
Another step and he’s only a few feet away. His copper eyes, the ones that have always been so familiar, are wide with wonder. Our thread pulses and my heart hammers. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I step forward too.
