“Something like that.” His voice carries a note of pride, the kind that comes from carrying on something important.
We walk a little farther, the forest growing quieter around us as we move deeper into the woods. The trees are taller here, older, their trunks thick enough that it would take three people holding hands to wrap around them.
“My brother lives on the other side of town,” Maceo says, breaking the comfortable silence. “My sisters too. The rest of the pack spreads out through the area, some in town, some on pack lands, a few in the neighboring counties.”
“They have all seen me, haven’t they?” I ask, suddenly aware that I’ve probably been the subject of pack discussions, analyzed and evaluated by supernatural creatures with enhanced senses.
Maceo grins, unrepentant.
“You are still the most interesting topic of conversation in Ruby Springs.”
I sigh heavily.
“I love that for me,” I deadpan, tired of being the name on everyone’s lips. “Nothing quite like being the local curiosity.”
A breeze stirs the branches overhead, sending a slow cascade of leaves drifting through the air like nature’s confetti. They land on the path, on my shoulders, in my hair. I brush one away from my face and try not to think about how many creatures might be watching us right now from the safety of the forest.
The trail widens ahead, the trees spacing out as we approach what looks like a clearing.
The trees thin until suddenly the forest opens into a broad meadow washed in warm afternoon sunlight. Grass grows here between patches of fallen leaves, and wildflowers still bloom despite the season, purple asters and golden goldenrod nodding in the breeze. The air feels warmer without the heavy canopy overhead, and the view stretches out toward distant hills painted in autumn colors.
Maceo stops walking, and I set the blanket down on a relatively flat patch of grass.
Then I look at him, curiosity finally getting the better of me.
“You said your Wolf is black.”
“It is.”
“I have not seen it.”
He raises one eyebrow, studying my face like he’s trying to gauge my reaction.
“You want to?”
“Obviously.” I shrug.
“You might be scared.”
I snort, thinking of everything I’ve already faced since arriving in Ruby Springs, magical houses, talking cats, mysterious bloodlines, and the revelation that I’m apparently the key to holding this entire supernatural town together.
“Show me the big scary Wolf, Wolfie.”
Maceo laughs and holds out the picnic basket.
“Hold this.”
I take it, immediately regretting the decision as it weighs my arm down.
Then he shrugs out of his flannel shirt.
My brain pauses, completely forgetting how to form coherent thoughts.
“Maceo.”
He pulls off his undershirt, revealing the full expanse of his chest, the tribal tattoos that wind across his shoulders and down his arms.
“Maceo.”
