“We keep a few stashes out here,” Karl said, leading the way down a wooded slope, heading for the stump in a clearing that he knew well. “We come out every so often. Sometimes it’s for a longer run or a hunt, or just to get away from everyone for a while—pack’s pack, but it’s pretty close quarters.” He wasn’t going to volunteer that he seemed to be the only one who needed to get away at times. “Of course, since everything’s happened with Jesse, one of us has been scouting around frequently out here, which is how Dave found that spot.”
They reached where Karl was making for, and he crouched to pry loose the panel in the stump. Christian had crafted it so carefully it looked like part of the tree at a casual glance. Inside the hollow stump was a plastic crate, lid locked down firmly to protect the emergency cache of MREs, water, and protein bars, together with clothes and emergency blankets. Basic but reliable and potentially lifesaving.
Karl tossed a fleece-lined waterproof poncho to Leon and dragged one on himself. They weren’t much higher than the ranch, so a weather front must be moving in to make it so cold.
Leon pulled on his poncho, then carefully lifted his hair out from under it, making sure it was arranged to his satisfaction before he wrapped his arms around himself for further warmth. Vanity evidently trumped comfort, though Karl didn’t know who he was trying to impress out here.
“You don’t mess around with this survival stuff, do you?” Leon asked.
“Trouble doesn’t let you know it’s coming,” Karl replied, already sorting through the supplies. “And young wolves sometimes run farther than they mean to during a full moon.”
Tristan, the only youngster the pack had ever had, never roamed far from Bryce, his unofficial foster dad and, for a time, his only security in the world. But there were a dozen other scenarios in which the caches might be needed. Like the one right now, for instance.
Leon looked up from where he was laying out a couple of emergency blankets for them to sit on. “The effect of the moon’s a real thing with wolves, then?”
“It’s a real thing foreverythingthat lives under it. But yeah, full moon hits different. Not uncontrollable, unless you let it be, but it pulls at something.”
“Weird,” Leon said.
Karl paused, examining why the cat’s judgment didn’t make him bristle immediately. Perhaps because there seemed to be no judgment in the word, just honest curiosity.
“You don’t feel it?” he asked. “The pull of the full moon?”
Leon’s gaze flicked upward, thoughtful. “Cats don’t run under the moon. We vanish in the dark.”
Well, that was certainly true of Leon. His black coat had been glossy in daylight, with those all-but-invisible rosettes making it look soft and luxurious to the touch, but in the dark? Karl had no problem believing he’d disappear. Karl himself almost did, fading into the blackness of the night, but something about the grace with which Leon moved suggested he wouldn’t just hide in the shadows. He’d become part of them.
Karl tossed him an MRE, and they ate sitting on the emergency blankets a small distance apart, steam curling up from the pouches. The wild pressed in around them, full of rustling leaves and watchful stillness.
Karl tried not to look. Really, he did. But every so often, his gaze snagged—on the sharp line of Leon’s jaw, those damn cheekbones, the stretch of muscle as he shifted position. It wasn’tadmiration, but it was awareness. Heightened, and definitely unwanted. Annoying.
“You good for more ground?” Karl asked, more sharply than he meant.
Leon’s eyes flicked to him. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
Karl gave a tight nod. “Just checking. Wolves go forever. Cats… don’t.”
Leon smiled, all teeth. “I’ll try not to pass out and embarrass your rugged wolfish stamina.”
Karl stood, brushing crumbs off his hands. “Wouldn’t be the first time a cat made things difficult.”
Leon rose, sleek and easy. “Wouldn’t be the first time a wolf needed someone else to solve the puzzle for him.”
The moment held, sharp-edged, a reminder of all the reasons Karl didn’t like cats. Especiallythisone. And then they stowed the gear and shifted, and there were no more words. Only the hunt.
Chapter Eleven
LEON
The rest of the day turned into running. Long-distance, steady, and brutal. The scent in Leon’s nostrils grew stronger with every mile, sweat and a sour tang he couldn’t quite identify.
They found the spot where the interlopers had camped the previous night—a place of flattened grass, a fire ring, and more trash. Karl shifted and began gathering the litter like he was on a goddamn conservation patrol.
Leon growled impatiently, and when that didn’t work, he shifted to make his feelings known. “Really? Maybe you want to separate the recycling while you’re at it. Youdoknow we’re on the clock, right?”
Karl ignored him, shifting between forms to dig a hole, then laying the debris in it, and covering it neatly with soil, topped off with a handy rock.
Leon narrowed his eyes, not sure what irritated him more—how much time they were wasting, or how completely Karl ignored him. “You always this persnickety or is this another wolf thing?”
