by Noah Harris
Dominic pecks him on the cheek, still pretty dazed, and then all three of our phones start buzzing at once.
Assuming it’s more Highpoint news, nobody’s in a hurry to grab for them. But this isn’t Highpoint, it’s something else entirely: A pack wide alert of the highest urgency.
Ranch meeting in 30.
2 new shifters, S side of town. Coming up on their first full moon.
Come for the party?
— Gboy
Jonesy thrusts one fist in the air, with a mighty roar, and Dominic slaps me a high-five without looking. What a wonderful Christmas surprise.
Epilogue
True to his word, Bodhi is quiet as a mouse as we watch the target’s house from the woods, smelling them on the night air and hopping with excitement.
In the back bedroom of the house, there are two boys, probably thirteen or fourteen, full of pent-up energy and trying to be quiet. One of them reads a book on the bed, looking up occasionally at the movie on the television.
The other is a flurry of activity, dancing around the room fiercely and then hopping back and forth over his friend on the bed seemingly without regard for gravity. They have toys piled up on the bed, but neither of them seems too interested. Tonight’s far too giggly and wiggly and strange for that.
The quiet boy watches with a quiet grin. The hurricane never takes his eyes off the other as he goes. They’ve been smiling, big or barely visible, since we arrived. Dominic reaches out to squeeze my hand, and I wipe a happy tear away before turning to Goodboy for instructions.
Soon enough he nods, and the pack spreads out across the yard in the waxing moonlight, silent. Probably more than a little scary in the dark. Black as crows against the light snow.
They’ll hear something, a twig cracking or a light tap on the window frame, and they’ll investigate. They’re brave kids, you can tell by their puffed-out chests and easy laughter. They’re confident. Bodhi looks from me to them, and back to me, and smiles. He likes them already.
They’ll come out into the darkness, past the circle of light the house casts and into the silver light of the moon. Turn off their flashlights, to be in the quiet and the darkness of it for just a moment. This night, with its infinite promise. The moon on the snow, lighting them up all blue and wild. A thousand mysteries on the air they haven’t learned to scent yet, but calling them, nevertheless.
We’re probably more than a little scary, out here in the dark.
But only for a moment. Then the story can begin.
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