Epilogue #2
Kit put his head in his hands, and Sage met Quin’s amused eyes. “That’s settled then. I’m throwing you a double stag.”
“Just promise me one thing,” Kit said tiredly.
“Yeah?”
“No strippers.”
“I don’t want to lie to you, Kit, so I can’t make that promise,” Sage said.
Kit harrumphed, and Sage smiled serenely at him. He wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity for strippers. It was of vital importance—a rite of passage, a cultural exhibit, a time-honoured tradition of his people.
It also happened that one of Sage’s favourite things was watching hot dudes dance whilst wearing tiny little thongs.
But that was just a coincidence, of course.
Undressing with gusto in front of your cousin might seem odd, but Sage and Quin were so used to seeing each other’s junk that it barely registered these days.
Sage’s clothing felt wrong on his skin, so freeing himself of its confines to stand naked in the woods was a balm to his soul.
He dug his toes into the damp ground and resisted the urge to dig his hands in, too.
He wasn’t quite ready to be on all fours yet.
Gone were the chirping finches or the coos of the wood pigeons. Only the sound of Sage and Quin’s deep inhalations and the wind breathing its own cadence through the trees remained. Quin and Kit’s scents bathed the area, mingling together. To Sage, it smelled like pack. Like family.
Since moving back to Wales, Quin had come to the main pack lands—an hour away by car—on a couple of full moons, but he preferred the sanctuary of the farmlands. This was Sage’s third occasion running with Quin and Kit here, and he knew that Quin’s parents had done it once.
“Fuck, my teeth hurt,” Quin said, rubbing at his mouth.
Sage mimicked the motion, scratching at his stubble.
He ran his tongue over his incisors, expecting them to be sharper.
“It’s my nose that won’t stop throbbing.
” He touched the spot where his piercing usually sat, the silver hoop and matching earrings removed to avoid them getting lost when he changed.
“That’s ’cause you broke it when Glyn caught you with that rugby ball.”
“I broke it? Glyn broke it, given he was the one to throw the ball at my face.”
“Aren’t balls flying at your face your primary source of entertainment? Would’ve thought you’d have been a pro by now.”
Sage laughed, then threw himself at Quin in a rugby tackle. Given that Quin was stronger than him, Sage ended up on the ground first. They tussled and rolled, even throwing in a few half-hearted punches for good measure. It distracted Sage enough that the change hit him without further warning.
They broke apart as their bodies remade themselves. Sage flopped over, panting, his chest heaving as he drew in lungfuls of air. It hurt—it always did—but Sage fell into the change, letting it wash over him. It was more raging typhoon than gentle wave, but it was over in a matter of seconds.
Sage went over and licked the side of Quin’s face and got a growl for his trouble. So, he nipped at Quin’s flank in retribution before loping off to avoid Quin’s snapping jaws. In both human and wolf form, Quin was bigger than Sage, but Sage was faster.
He sprinted off through the woods, letting out little yips to spur Quin on. He was almost at the pond when a figure stepped out in front of him, appearing out of nowhere. Sage swerved to avoid them, plowing headfirst into a bush.
“Real smooth,” Kit commented, arms folded across his chest.
With difficulty, Sage removed himself from the bush, then used his teeth to pull out a twig that got stuck in his coat.
Kit came over and flicked a few leaves off Sage’s fur.
A howl rent the air, long and deep. Kit smiled, threw his head back, and answered the call.
Sage joined in, the three of them singing a discordant tune thanks to someone’s inability to hit the right pitch.
Sage side-eyed Kit. Well, at least he’d got better since the last time.
Quin came running, making a beeline for Kit, who neatly dodged him. Skidding to a halt and turning, Quin chased after him again. Sage left them to their game, nose catching the smell of a herd of deer farther into the woods.
As Sage passed through the forest, he made sure to scratch at the trees.
This might be Quin’s territory, but it didn’t stop Sage from pissing along the way to leave his own scent trail.
Part of him was horrified by his boldness, but his wolf just continued stalking his prey, paying little notice to Sage’s human sensibilities.
He trailed the herd, keeping his footfalls quiet. His ears twitched as he listened to them milling around, foraging on the forest floor. He kept his distance for a while, moving with them as they listed to the east. The breeze was light, but he stayed downwind anyway.
Then he caught sight of them. A small herd of fallow deer, made up of a few dozen does and a smaller number of bucks.
It was too early in the year for fawns. Inching closer to the deer, belly close to the ground, he surveyed the offerings and homed in on his target.
A buck of perhaps five years, with broad palmate antlers and the distinctive spotted coat of his species.
It’d be more of a challenge than the others.
Sage’s mouth salivated at the thought of tearing into its flesh.
A few minutes later, the buck drifted out from under the cover of the trees as it went to graze in the open land. Sage then did what few predators would: he lifted his snout into the air and growled a warning.
The herd scattered.
The buck bolted.
And Sage gave chase.
He thundered after the buck, his legs eating up the distance. The buck made a good go of it, displaying impressive feats of agility as it jumped and stotted in one direction and then another. But Sage grew wise to its twists and turns, and the hunt didn’t last long.
He leapt onto the buck, jaws wide as he aimed a bite at the back of its neck.
Its antlers were useless against his teeth and claws.
Hot blood spurted over him as he took it down, killing it as quickly as possible.
Sage might have been a monster, but he wouldn’t prolong the deer’s suffering. Besides, he wanted to eat.
He dug in. It tasted earthy and rich, the flavours mingling on his tongue. The rest of the herd had left, not wanting to become his next casualty. He could hear them, and the smell of fear lingered in the air.
Sage swivelled his ears when a twig snapped behind him, but relaxed when he realised it was Quin and Kit. Turning, he saw Quin stalking towards him, Kit perched on his back. Sage chuffed at the sight.
“Okay, so you weren’t joking when you said it was only your human side afraid of blood,” Kit said, slipping down onto the ground.
Sage licked around his snout, tasting the mild, sweet tang of the deer blood.
Kit wandered over and peered at the mauled deer. “You’re a bit of a messy eater, Sage.”
Sage ripped another hunk of meat from the deer in response. He growled in warning as Quin lumbered over, but let him share in his kill when Quin nipped at his ear. Sage was magnanimous like that.
He yelped in surprise when a flash of light went off. He turned to see Kit holding up his phone, a sheepish expression on his face. “Whoops. Was taking a photo to send to DJ. He’s been hounding me for one.”
Sage rolled his eyes and focused on his meal.
Kit came over and dipped a cautious finger into the exposed innards of the deer’s belly. He sniffed his bloodied finger, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah, no, that smells rank to me.”
Quin licked Kit clean, and Sage watched them make heart eyes at each other.
All of a sudden, he felt like he was encroaching on their night.
He couldn’t stop the whine that escaped him.
His human side would rather die than admit he was jealous that they had each other, but his wolf side was a needy little creature.
“Sage?” Kit asked, concern marring his face. “Are you all right?”
Quin came over and nuzzled against Sage, Kit following. He petted Sage’s head, and Sage leaned into the touch.
“You’re lucky you’re a wolf right now,” Kit said. “Otherwise, I would be duty-bound as your friend to force you into speaking about why you’re sad.”
Sage bumped his head against Kit in silent acknowledgment.
“Should I take something for the dogs?” Kit asked.
Quin barked in agreement.
Sage lay down and cleaned himself off as Kit broke the legs off the deer. “I’m going to need an hour-long shower after this.”
Once Kit had all four legs secured, Sage decided he wanted to play. He snuck over and grabbed one of them out of Kit’s hand, then bolted away.
“Hey!”
Sage grinned around the leg in his mouth as he heard Kit and Quin come after him.
Now he was back in his element. No more melancholy, he told himself.
It was easier to ignore his emotions when he was human.
His wolf had them all coming to the surface, and he didn’t need that.
So, he distracted himself by sprinting away.
After a while, he dropped the leg, his tongue lolling out as he panted for breath. Once he’d recovered, Sage threw his head up and howled. The answering calls—one quieter than the other, but no less confident—comforted him. He’d always have Quin, and he knew that Kit wasn’t going anywhere either.
But Sage still sang to the moon, drowning out the insistent voice in the back of his mind that told him he wanted something more.