Then I follow his gaze and see the rabbit.
It’s sitting in a patch of clover about twenty feet away with its nose twitching as it nibbles on something green, completely oblivious to the two predators standing nearby. Its brown fur blends almost perfectly with the undergrowth, and its ears swivel lazily, unconcerned.
Bryan drops into a crouch so exaggerated it’s almost comical. He creeps forward one slow step at a time, making his movements theatrical and intentionally clumsy. His knees stick out at odd angles, and he places each foot with cartoonish care. The rabbit’s ears perk up, but it doesn’t run.
I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.
He glances back at me with one eyebrow raised in mock offense. “Something funny?”
“Your form is terrible.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’d never catch anything stalking like that. You look like a drunk bear trying to sneak up on a picnic basket.”
The rabbit finally bolts and disappears into the underbrush with a flash of white tail. Bryan straightens and turns to face me with his lips twitching with suppressed amusement.
“A drunk bear?”
“Maybe a very uncoordinated mountain lion. With a limp.”
“I’ll have you know I was an excellent hunter in my youth.”
“Sure you were.”
He takes a step toward me, and something in his eyes makes my pulse quicken. Not fear. Something else. Something that makes my skin prickle with awareness. “Think you could do better?”
“I know I could.”
“Prove it.” He gestures at the forest around us as his grin widens. “Catch me.”
Before I can respond, he pulls his shirt over his head and calls on his wolf. The transformation is fast, almost instantaneous, and then a massive black wolf stands where Bryan was a moment ago. His fur is thick and dark as midnight, his eyes are the same striking gray they are in human form. He shakes out his coat, gives me a look that can only be described as smug, and bolts into the trees.
I stare after him for exactly two seconds.
Then I’m stripping off my own clothes and calling on my wolf. The change ripples through me in a rush of sensation. My paws hit the ground, and I’m running, chasing his scent through the undergrowth with my tongue lolling and my heart pounding with something that feels dangerously close to joy.
He’s fast. Faster than I remember, probably from years of hunting things far more dangerous than rabbits. His black form weaves through the trees ahead of me, always just out of reach. But I know this forest better than he does now. I’ve spent a decade learning every game trail, every shortcut, and every hidden path that cuts through the dense undergrowth.
I veer left and cut through a thicket he has to go around, gaining precious seconds. His scent grows stronger as I close the distance, musk and pine. I can hear him now, crashing through ferns up ahead, not even trying to be quiet.
He wants me to catch him.
The realization makes something warm bloom in my chest, and I push harder, my muscles burning with the effort. Branches whip past my face, and leaves scatter beneath my paws.
I catch him in a small clearing and launch myself at his hindquarters, sending us both tumbling across the grass. We roll in a tangle of fur and limbs, nipping and dodging like pups playing in the den. He pins me for a moment, and his teeth graze my ear in a gentle warning. I twist free and dart away before he can claim victory.
We chase each other through the trees until my lungs burn and my legs shake. He feints left and goes right, and I fall for it, overshooting and having to scramble back through a patch of ferns. I fake a stumble and catch him off guard when he slowsto check on me, bowling him over with a triumphant yip that echoes through the forest.
By the time we finally collapse in a meadow, both panting and exhausted, the sun has dipped below the tree line. I lie on my side in the soft grass in my wolf form, sprawled without dignity, and let the evening breeze cool my overheated body. Every muscle aches in the best possible way.
Bryan is a few feet away, equally wrecked. His tongue flops out of his mouth, and his sides heave with each breath. He looks ridiculous. He looks happy. I can’t remember the last time I saw him look this unburdened.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this light.
Eventually, we both call for the change. I turn my back while he dresses, then do the same while he returns the courtesy. When we’re both human again, we settle back into the grass, lying side by side and staring up at the darkening sky. The first stars are beginning to appear, faint pinpricks of light against the deepening blue.
“I won,” I announce.
