Pride's Run (13 page)

“No, not always.” He fidgets and his throat
works as he takes another long pull from his cup. The movement is
slight but my wolf picks up on his sudden unease. What is it that
he doesn’t want me to know?

“So your parents taught you?” I ask,
prompting him to continue.

“Yeah, my dad taught me to how to stay
downwind, how to look for weaknesses and how to approach from
behind. If you want I can show you those things.”

I know if I want to survive out here it would
be wise to learn whatever I can and accept whatever skills he’s
willing to teach me. “I do.”

There is real sadness in his eyes when he
says, “My dad also taught me how to spot infection in a pack. We’ll
want to avoid diseased game.”

Talking about his dad has me thinking of my
own and sorrow that I never got to know him well saddens me. I was
only a pup when the master removed him because he was becoming too
powerful, too influential amongst the pack. I might have been young
but to this day I still remember his scent, his voice, and
everything he taught me.

“Is your dad still, you know…” I can’t seem
to bring myself to finish the sentence.

He shakes his head and when he says, “No.
PTF.” I get the sense he’s sharing something very private with me,
something very difficult.

I look at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“How about you, are your parents alive?”

“No.” I reach for another stick and stir the
dirt at my feet, and without conscious thought begin to draw a
picture of the ocean. “My master.”

We both go quiet and I want to ask him where
he lived before capture and where he’s headed now, but the next
question comes from him.

His brow furrows in thought and when I
realize he’s watching me draw, I scrub it away, not wanting to
share that private part of me with this stranger.

“Why did they call you Pride?”

“Because I’m a runt.”

“How is that—”

I cut him off and say, “Despite my
deficiencies I was the only one in a litter of three to survive. I
proved to have strong survival instincts so in my parents’ eyes I
was their pride and joy.”

Even though that brings a smile to his face,
as soon as the words leave my mouth I want to grab them back and
swallow them whole. I’m not sure why we’ve fallen into such a deep
conversation or why I’m telling him such private things. I don’t
want him to know anything about me and I want to be the one asking
the questions, not answering them. I drain my cup and think perhaps
the buzz from the coffee has managed to overstimulate me and make
me careless.

I turn the conversation back to him. “Why did
they call you Logan?”

“It means wisdom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he says grinning like a mischievous
kid. “That’s why I know so much.”

I give him a suspicious look and in response
he simply offers me a playful smirk full of secrets. I get the
distinct impression that Logan doesn’t really mean wisdom, or that
his smarts come from his name. Names are very important in the
packs, so I’m not really sure why would he lie about the meaning of
his. Unless it has something to do with the secrets he holds close.
I wish I had Miss Kara’s laptop so I could look it up.

We remain quiet for a long time and listen to
the animals scurry about and the birds squawk overhead. Rays of
sunshine filter down and warm my body. I turn my face to the sun to
absorb the heat, but what I’d really like is a nice long shower to
wash the forest from my skin.

“I like your name. It’s pretty.” His glance
races over my small body, which is almost completely swallowed by
the oversized clothes he snatched for me. His smile is warm,
wolfish and it makes my wolf stir to life in response. “I think it
suits you,” he adds.

“You don’t know anything about me,” I blurt
out, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation, not to
mention the way he’s looking me over. I dart a glance around the
clearing, not wanting to talk anymore. “We should go.”

“Good idea.” Logan instantly starts packing
our supplies. “We have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall
and I still need to find us a tent.”

“A tent?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to jack one because I can’t
imagine we’ll get lucky enough to stumble upon another cave.” When
he turns and catches the fraught look on my face, one I can’t seem
to cover, he questions, “You don’t want to freeze to death out
here, do you?”

No, I don’t want to freeze to death but I
don’t want to snuggle up with this alpha and use our naked bodies
to create heat either. My brain instantly recalls the way we woke
up only a few short hours ago. As my wolf bristles and those
memories stir all her senses, a soft, primal growl crawls out of my
throat.

“You okay?” His brow furrows as he kicks
debris on the fire to smother it.

As smoke billows upward, I watch it absently
and say, “Define okay.”

He angles his head. “What, you have issues
with sleeping in a tent with me?” When I don’t answer he says,
“Come on, Pride. We slept together last night and you don’t seem
any worse for wear.”

“We didn’t
sleep
together.”

“You know what I mean.”

I scowl at him. “You shouldn’t have moved
me.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “You would
have frozen to death in your sleep.”

“You still shouldn’t have moved me.”

“So what, dying is better than sleeping next
to me?”

“Yes.”

He gives a humorless laugh. “You’re really
something, Pride.”

“So are you,” I shoot back, because this
alpha is unlike any other wolf I’ve ever met. With a simple smile
he has the ability to stir my senses and rattle my focus. That in
turn means this boy threatens my very survival.

After this morning’s attack I’m smart enough
to know that without him I can’t make it out of here alive. But the
real question is, can I make it out of here alive with him?

August 27
^th.
Two days until full moon

W
e continue to head
north, and for the most part we walk in silence, the quiet broken
only when Logan stops to point out the difference between edible
berries and ones that will make me violently ill.

As we pick a few along the way and fill our
stomachs, he also talks about plants. He distinguishes between the
poisonous and the ones that hold healing properties.

With my thirst for knowledge and my desire to
survive in the wild, I can’t deny that I’m enjoying his science
lessons. I pay close attention, absorbing and hanging on his every
word. I store the information and memorize the foliage because deep
in my gut I can’t help but think there is going to come a time when
I might need to draw on it.

Continuing through the dense forest, we keep
off the main path and push on for hours, until blisters form on my
feet, and a sticky layer of sweat coats my body. I ignore the
discomfort and continue my forward trek, shoving low-hanging tree
branches out of my way and keeping an eye out for possible
traps.

As I move through the trees quickly, my
footfall silent on the rough terrain, I turn to catch sight of
Logan. He appears to be having a hard time negotiating the forest
in his human form. The way he twists and turns and ducks and bends
around the low hanging limbs is almost laughable. Although, judging
by the few curse words I hear him mumble under his breath, he
doesn’t seem to be finding humor in it like I do.

Off in the distance a noise reverberates off
the mountain and when I come to a halt Logan nearly crashes into
me. His body presses against mine and a shiver of awareness
trickles down my spine. I suck in a sharp breath and hold it, my
ears perked for movement.

“It’s a long way off,” he whispers from
behind, but I scan the forest to be sure and try not to think about
the way his breath is causing the fine hairs on my nape to
tingle.

After deciding the noise is coming from some
hikers we spotted about over hour ago, and not hunters, I allow
myself to relax a little. I’m not sure if it’s the same group Logan
stole from and I’m not about to stick around to find out.

“Let’s move,” Logan says his thoughts
obviously running in the same direction as mine. Even though we’re
off the beaten path their too-close proximity prompts us to move
quicker. I’m just grateful that so far we’ve been able to avoid any
direct threats, or contact with other people.

I stifle a yawn as day bleeds to night, and
as the near full moon rises higher in the sky I calm my restless
wolf and try not to think about what will happen in a few short
days. As I fight down a pang of unease, I turn to Logan who still
seems lost in his own thoughts.

I take a moment to assess him, and while his
athletic body doesn’t appear to be tired or winded, I want to do my
share of the work so I ask, “Do you want me to carry the bag for a
while?”

He shakes his head. “It’s light, but we
should probably start thinking about sheltering down soon.”

“We don’t have a tent.”

He sniffs the air. “I’ll track back to where
I heard those hikers.” He points to a cluster of trees. “Why don’t
you rest for a minute and get a fire going. I won’t be long.”

“Do you want me to come?” Still uneasy after
the events of the day a chill scurries up my spine, and suddenly I
don’t want to be left all alone out here, doused in darkness with
danger all around me.

“No. It will draw less attention if only one
of us goes. Besides, I need you to set up camp and keep watch over
our supplies.”

Not wanting to press, or show any signs of
fear I nod then take the bag from him—which is by no means
light—and work to push down the anxious feeling invading my
stomach. I remind myself that I’m a strong wolf, a survivor, and
I’m not going to let one bear attack shatter my confidence. As I
diligently try to gather my composure, I walk to the trees and drop
the bag with an undignified thud.

As Logan darts off in the dark, I settle
myself on a tree stump and peel off my boots. Wet socks stick to my
oozing blisters, and I take extra care to remove them. Cringing, I
examine my sores as I drape the wet socks over a rock. A cool
breeze tickles my toes as I stretch my legs out and drag the
backpack closer to me.

I pull out the matches and with my goal to
get my clothes dry before I have to climb back into them, rustle
around the ground to find enough sticks to light a fire.

I think about morphing into wolf to heal my
feet, but with the full moon so close I quickly decide against it.
Hikers are nearby and I don’t want to do anything to provoke her
into action or taunt her hunger.

After I get a good blazing fire going, I grab
the pot and decide to go find some water. Now that I’ve stopped
moving I can feel a chill in my bones and could use something hot
to drink. I’m sure Logan would enjoy a cup, too. That last thought
stops me in my tracks. Disconcerted, I remind myself that we’re
simply running together for one reason and one reason only.
Survival. He is not my friend.

I slip away but when I can’t find water, I
gather fresh snow and fill the pot. As I head back to the shelter I
think more about Logan, and how he’s able to seep under my skin
without even trying. But thinking about Logan has me missing things
I shouldn’t have missed.

When I round the large oak tree, my skin
prickles in warning and my steps automatically slow. I peer into
the dark and what I see instantly snaps my attention back to the
present and has my survival instincts kicking into full gear.

Startled, I step back, and hold my breath
when I come down on a soft twig. I wait for the thin piece of wood
to snap, to give away my coordinates, but fortunately, I’m light on
my feet and don’t weigh enough to break it. Once I’m out of the
clearing, I press my back against the scratchy bark and camouflage
my body in the shadows. As the scent of the hunters reaches my
nostrils, my ears perk and I listen to their exchange.

“Do you think it’s them?”

“I don’t know. Let’s wait until they come
back. They can’t be gone too far.”

With the utmost care I begin to retreat, but
when I hear leaves crunching behind, I stiffen. I prepare to turn,
to attack, but a big hand closes over my mouth to silence me. As my
body crashes hard against a rock solid chest, I let my canines push
through my gums, ready to bite through my assailant’s hand. But
when I catch hold of his scent I nearly howl with relief.

“It’s okay, Pride. It’s me.”

As my heart crashes against my ribs, I nod
and Logan eases his hand away. He puts his mouth closer to my ear
and whispers. “We need to go.”

We back away slowly and once we’ve put enough
distance between us and the men we can only assure are officers we
turn and bolt. Even though I’m tired, the adrenaline pumping
through my veins gives me a fresh burst of speed. We cut through
the trees and run until we reach the other side of the mountain.
Once we’re well out of sight, we stop to catch our breaths.

Logan grimaces as he looks at me. “You
okay?”

I lean forward, brace my hands on my knees
and take a moment to scold myself. “I should have heard them
coming.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Pride. These
guys are professionals and know how to close in.”

I shake my head and dart him a quick glance.
“What if I’d still been sitting there?”

“Then you would have smelled them and escaped
before they reached you. Or you would have shifted and killed
them.”

“They have silver, Logan.” I stop to shiver.
“They could easily have stopped me.” I pause for a minute and
think. At least it was the PTF and not another tracker, because
death would be preferable to the master’s demands. At the thoughts
of my master and what he wants me to do with Stone an angry tremble
moves through me.