Giannaleaned forward with a twinkle in her eyes. “Thatcould be interesting.Ifthat happens,Iwant to hearallabout it.”
VALEN
Whileeating eggs and sausage,Iglanced out the window of my slope-side cabin.Itwas a good day to ski.Thesun was shining, and the sky was a bright blue without clouds.We’dhad six inches of snow last night that was light and powdery.Thisbluebird day would draw crowds.Comparedto the gloomy rain that kept people away last weekend, this was a perfect one to visit the mountains, which meantI’dbe busy.
Aftercleaning up my plate and finishing my coffee,Iprepared for my shift on ski patrol.Manyof us wolf shifters had a job at theFranconiaMountainResortas well as a role in theFranconia-Saccopack.Ourpack alphaRafeand betaGraysondealt with the business side of things at the resort.Iwanted nothing to do with it.Whowanted to sit in an office or discuss business in meetings when they could be outdoors?Asa pack enforcer,Ipatrolled our territory at night.
Thethreat from outsiders wasn’t as prominent as it had been since our rivals, theSaccopack, merged with us, yet we had to remain vigilant.Ifthere was anythingI’dlearned at a young age, it was that others would do what they wanted without considering the impact on others.
Idonned my ski pants, jacket, ski boots, helmet, goggles, and gloves and grabbed my radio before heading out of my cabin.Thescent of pine trees wafted over with a light breeze.Whata view.Inever grew tired of it.Itshifted over the seasons, from a vast expanse of greens in the spring and summer to the brilliant reds and oranges in the fall.Nowthe mountains were covered in snow, twinkling beneath the sun’s glow.Thismight be my favorite time of year—not only did it look the most magical, butIcould ski.Thismountain had been my home for most of my adult life, andInever wanted to leave it.
Thefreshly fallen snow gave way beneath my heavy boots asItrekked over to the ski rackI’dbuilt to mount my skis.I’dmake the most of the fluffy snow and get some fresh tracks in before the lifts opened to guests.Withthe numbers we expected to visit today, they’d muck up the trails in no time.
Isnapped into my skis and navigated down a path that cut through the woods leading to an easy trail.Thesound of my skis carving through the snow pierced the otherwise quiet of the mountain.AsIpassed in between spruce and pine trees,Iinhaled.Asidefrom the fragrant pine,Icaught a hint of small critters that were brave or foolish to trek too close to where wolves lived.
OnceIbroke out of the glades,Isteered onto a wide, groomed trail with a view of the serene mountains in the distance and the valley below.ThenIskied down to the base and greetedPete, one of the lift operators, who was already listening to his favorite classic rock station, which now played theJ.GeilsBand’s“LoveStinks.”
Itdid indeed—for most of us.
Ibraced myself for the ascent.Fora shifter who didn’t like heights but loved to ski,Ihad to face my fear multiple times a day.Itdidn’t make it any easier.Howcould it?Onlya narrow bar kept me from a haphazard slip forward.Astrong wind could unsettle that meager safety option.
Doit.Don’tshow fear.Ipsyched myself up and sat on the chair.
Aftertaking a few calming breaths,Isearched the trails for any obstacles that needed to be cleared.Nothingstood out.WhenIreached the top,Ichecked in with others at the patrol hut.Wereviewed any recent changes in trail conditions and discussed our plan for what was sure to be a busy day.
“Chairliftdating this morning?” my pack mateAldricuttered in disbelief.
Isnorted. “Humansand their ridiculous ideas.”
“No, it’s one ofGrayson’s,”Damonsaid. “Sophiecreated the graphics.”
Thatmade sense.Graysonoften tried new tactics to draw visitors to the resort and keep the business flourishing.Damonshared the same responsibilities as me—as ski patrol and pack enforcer.SinceIwas older,Ilooked out for him like a younger brother.Butsince he’d found his mate, a human namedSophie,Ididn’t have to worry about him as much.Theyseemed happy and took care of each other.
I’dlong since given up on finding a mate.Inmy mid-forties,Iwas settled in my routine.IfIwas going to meet one, it should have happened years ago.
“Youshould give it a go,Valen,”Aldricnudged. “Meeta ski bunny or two.”
“Notgoing to happen.”
IfIwanted to meet a woman,Iwouldn’t have to join that silly setup.Manyof them ended their day in one of the pubs and were happy to enjoy a fling while away on a trip.AlthoughI’denjoyed plenty of company in the past, it was starting to feel empty, andI’doften return to my cabin alone than to a hotel room with a woman.Somethingwas missing from these meaningless encounters.
Maybeit was because so many of my packmates had found their mates, and with it, a sort of contentedness.Thatsense of peace eluded me.Althoughmy coworkers andIoften finished shifts with après-ski specials atKelly’sPuband then headed out after dark to run in wolf form, those times were shorter and less often than in the past.Mypackmates were no longer as restless to burn through energy.Theypreferred to return to their cabins to be with their mates.
WhichmeantIoften hunted alone.
AfterIleft the hut,Isqueezed in two more runs while surveying the mountain before the lifts opened to guests.
Theday started slowly enough, but the base was soon packed with lines for the lifts.Withit came the first call for help on my radio.Sincemany of us who worked on the mountains were shifters, we could communicate telepathically, but there were others on our team with whom we also needed to coordinate.
“Ayoung skier is down who needs help,” came the call from the hut.
SinceIwasn’t far from the trail,Iresponded, “I’mheading over.”
Icut through the trees to hasten my way to the trail.AsIskied over, a small group gathered around a school-aged boy lying on the ground.
Hismother fretted. “It’shis leg.Doyou think it’s broken?”
Ikneeled beside the boy and carefully examined his leg.Bythe bend, it sure looked that way.Humansdidn’t heal as quickly as shifters, so if it was broken, the boy would likely be in a cast for weeks.
