Chapter 16
RODERICK
There’s not a single cloud in the sky to obscure the beautiful glow of the moon.
The entire Pine Falls pack, every member old enough for the change, gathers behind an abandoned barn on a plot of land my father—the former alpha—used pack funds to purchase years ago.
He decided it was important to have a designated space for a large group of us to transform that random campers weren’t likely to stumble upon.
So far, the place has worked perfectly.
There’s a crowd of bikes, trucks, and cars on the grassy lot. Everyone appears to be in high spirits in anticipation of what comes next.
The run.
My entire focus is supposed to be on my pack. On the upcoming full-moon run. But I find myself staring across the clearing at Warner.
My brother is talking to Courtney, the two of them probably trading jokes. He looks happy. More so than I’ve ever seen him. He’s not one to brood, usually smiling at the world, which leads everyone to think he’s in a good mood all the time.
But Warner can’t hide from me. I know he’s felt lonely for a while now.
And I know that he doesn’t feel that way any longer because of one person.
The human woman, Zoey Gunner.
She came up to me the other day at the gas station on Main Street, looking for him. Zoey didn’t seem intimidated by me in the slightest, and though I’ll take the secret to my grave, she talked circles around me.
Then, yesterday, Warner got into a brawl with another member of the pack over insults the wolf had thrown at Zoey. A fight Warner won handily.
Now, here’s my brother, practically glowing. The happiness is shared by his wolf, man and beast in harmony.
There’s an uncomfortably sharp sensation under my breastbone, so prominent that I find myself rubbing the spot. Something like … envy.
Not because I want Zoey Gunner. But because I want to experience the same joy my brother does. Contentment would be a nice change from this jittery discomfort I’ve had for the past few months.
It’s her fault. The librarian.
My wolf—already strong from the moon’s bright glow—pushes to the front of my thoughts. Tonight, the beast’s voice is clearer than any other time of the month.
Juliet. Our Juliet, the animal croons. We will run. Then we will find our woman.
No, we won’t, I shove back, taking control of the situation by addressing my pack.
“If you’re separated, we meet back here at dawn. Head count is required before we return to town.” My voice register dips even lower than normal, the words growling from deep in my throat.
Then, as if we’re a nudist colony, everyone starts stripping.
Werewolves are not modest. Kind of hard to be when your clothes hinder a smooth transformation. Fabric doesn’t magically disappear when we want to take on wolf form, and why would anyone want to Hulk out on a perfectly good shirt?
Despite the energy thrumming through me, demanding I shift now, I take the time to fold my clothes neatly and place them in my truck.
Then I let the moon have her way with me.
The glowing orb is a magnet, pulling my inner beast to the surface with an ease that I only feel this one night a month.
Shadows solidify and dance around me, caressing my skin, tempting me to change my form.
I relax into the transition, feeling little pain, mainly just adrenaline.
My means of viewing the world alters. The height of my gaze lowers, but I don’t rely on my eyes so much.
Not when the perfume of the forest amplifies.
Damp earth. Pine needles. Decaying leaves. Cold mountain water. Animal musk.
All blend into a symphony for my nose.
We run, the wolf demands.
And I let the animal assume control, easing into a meditative state as my wilder half surges to the front.
As I plunge into the woods, the pack follows behind, us all running for the joy of freedom. My paws press into soft soil, coated in pine needles. Small animals skitter over dried leaves, fleeing into their dens to avoid the hunters sprinting through the trees.
For a time, we simply charge forward, stretching our muscles, panting in cool, fresh air found high in the mountains.
But the wolf in all of us longs for a hunt.
I sense my uncle Mason off to my left. His attention splits from the pack’s, a scent caught in his nose. Veering off to join him, I discover the same. Musk and heat, with traces of wary fear.
We stalk forward, soundless, eventually coming upon the heard.
Mule deer, the human part of me identifies.
Food, my wolf agrees.
Some of the pack followed our hunting trail while others continued to run in celebration of the moon. The ones behind me slink closer, and together, we stalk the prey, eventually breaking out from the underbrush to cause a controlled chaos. Easily, we bring down the weakest of the herd.
Blood is rich iron, warm and delicious on my tongue. With crimson dripping from my muzzle, I raise my head in a triumphant howl.
All around me, my pack members join in the song.
And for the moment, I let the troubles of my human half fade into the shadows.