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Four

THE WOLF

Tavik’s paws pounded against the ground as we headed toward the border to our lands. In spite of us not yet finding the Rogue we’d been tracking, I was eager to be home. To be in a place where I was respected and trusted.

To be with my people again.

We were less than half a mile from the border when I heard it—a horrifying, blood-curdling scream.

“Wait,” I told Tavik, and his pace slowed.

“We must cross the border,” he argued.

“Someone is in danger,” I said. “If it’s this close to our lands, it could be the Rogue attacking someone.”

Tavik growled in agitation, but he halted mere steps from the border. Nell stopped, too, his head tilting curiously at Tavik. The wolves rumbled and growled to one another as they communicated.

After a moment, Tavik said, “I can smell him.”

Dread swarmed in my mind. “The Rogue?”

“Yes. The same one we’ve been tracking. He is close.”

“Go,” I urged. “Go!”

Nell and Tavik bolted, racing in the direction the scream had come from. I prayed to all the gods I could think of that we weren’t too late—that we would actually be able to save a life instead of taking one this time…

The early rays of dawn peeked through the trees as another scream sounded, this one full of despair and pain. Then, a howl split the air, so powerful and anguished that Tavik and Nell came to a full stop. I felt Tavik trembling from the force of that howl. It rent the wind, swarming around us and making his hair stand on end. The wolf’s cry spoke of torment and sorrow, a tale of unspeakable tragedy.

“Gods’ breath,” I said, stricken with part awe, part horror.

The howl was desperation.

Loss.

Pure agony.

Tavik started running again, but I was still numb from the shock of such a sound. In my lifetime, I had heard the sounds of many different breeds of wolves.

But nothing like that.

What could have possibly happened to evoke a sound like that? A shudder wracked through me. I almost didn’t want to know.

After what felt like an eternity, we came upon a cottage nestled in the woods. Tavik and Nell slowed, and I urged him to let me take over.

“The wolf could still be there,” Tavik argued.

“The cabin is intact. If it is indeed a Rogue, it would have torn it apart by now.”

“And what if it isn’t?”

I had no answer for that. It was true that we had no idea what we were up against.

Instead, I promised, “If the Rogue is inside, I will shift again. But the cabin looks quite small. It will be easier to maneuver in my human form.”

Tavik begrudgingly agreed, and we shifted. The pain of my skin stretching and reforming swept through me like a scorching fire. I gritted my teeth as I took shape as a man once more, wearing nothing but a pair of gray breeches. Awareness slammed into me as the clarity of my senses hit me in full force. The smells of oak and soil filled my nostrils. The birds and insects sounded far too loud, and the blinding sun burned against my eyes.

Beside me, Reid was also shifting. When he had finished his transformation, he stood in a white undershirt and brown trousers. Our wolves were often able to knit clothing together for us through the magic of the shift. Nell was more adept at it than Tavik, which was quite obvious when comparing Reid’s clothing with my own.