“Come on.” Daniel's hand found mine, fingers intertwining. “I want you to see this.”
The pack gathered in a loose circle at the edge of the treeline, maybe thirty wolves in human form, their breath misting in the cold air. Evan stood near the center, Nate pressed against his side, and when he saw me his smile was bright enough to cut through the gathering darkness.
Nate bounded over, pulled me into a hug that was all enthusiasm and sharp elbows.
Daniel moved to the center of the circle, and the pack fell silent. Not commanded. Just responding to his presence theway they always did, orienting toward him like plants toward sunlight.
“Tonight we run,” he said, voice carrying without effort. “We remember who we are, what we are, why the forest chose us. And tonight, we have a guest.”
Eyes turned to me. I felt the weight of thirty gazes, assessing, curious. Not hostile. Just aware.
“Michael has earned his place among us,” Daniel continued. “He's bled for this pack. Fought beside us. Lost alongside us. Tonight, he runs with us. Not as wolf, but as witness. As family.”
The pack murmured approval, and I felt something settle in my chest. Acceptance. Belonging.
“Evan leads tonight,” Daniel said, and I saw Evan's spine straighten, saw the mantle of responsibility settle onto his shoulders. “I'll be running with Michael. Any questions?”
Silence. Then Jonah's voice, light and teasing: “Try to keep up, old man.”
Daniel's grin was sharp. “Watch who you're calling old. I can still run circles around you.”
“Prove it.”
The tension broke into laughter, and suddenly the pack was moving. Stripping off clothes with the casual unselfconsciousness of people who'd done this their whole lives. I looked away out of instinct, then looked back because there was nothing sexual about it. Just bodies preparing to become something else.
Daniel appeared at my side, already shirtless, and I tried very hard not to stare at the expanse of his chest, the scars that mapped years of fights and survival, the way the fading light caught the silver threading through his dark hair.
“You ready?” he asked.
“I don't know what I'm supposed to be ready for.”
“Just watch. And when we start running, stay close to me. The forest knows you, but it's easy to get turned around in the dark.”
“Comforting.”
His laugh was warm, genuine. “You'll be fine. I've got you.”
Then the shift began.
I'd seen Evan shift before. Had watched bones crack and reform, watched fur erupt through skin, watched a man become wolf in the space of heartbeats. But seeing one wolf shift was nothing compared to seeing thirty do it at once.
The air filled with the sound of transformation. Bones breaking and rebuilding, muscle tearing and reforming, the wet organic noise of bodies reorganizing themselves into something else. It should have been horrifying. Should have made me want to run.
Instead, I couldn't look away.
Evan went first, his shift smooth and practiced, golden-brown fur rippling across his skin as his body reshaped itself into something magnificent. Beside him, Nate shifted with the slightly awkward grace of someone still learning, his wolf smaller, touched with hints of silver that caught the light.
Jonah's wolf was timber-brown and rangy, built for speed. Sienna's was darker, compact with muscle, all predator efficiency. One by one, they became wolves, and the clearing filled with shapes that moved like shadow and moonlight combined.
Then Daniel.
He moved to my side, pressed his massive head against my hip, and I buried my fingers in fur that was softer than it looked. Warm. Alive. Daniel made a sound low in his chest, not quite a growl, not quite a purr. Something in between that vibrated through my palm and settled in my bones.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, and felt his wolf rumble agreement.
Evan's howl split the night. Long and haunting, calling the pack to run. The wolves answered, thirty voices rising toward a moon that was just cresting the treeline, painting everything in silver light.
Then they ran.
