Authors: Naomi Clark
A few minutes later, the feral’s stink was
everywhere. He’d scent-marked several trees and bushes, a clear
warning we were entering forbidden territory. I hoped I was
imagining it, but I thought I could smell Molly too. Maybe she’d
come this way last night on her way home.
Glenn growled as he picked up on the
scent-marking too and we both slowed down. We were reaching the
edges of the marshland and I guiltily remembered my promise to
Shannon. The sensible thing, the human thing, to do would be to
head home and report to Eddie in the morning. I wasn’t feeling
sensible or human and the faint traces of Molly’s musk didn’t help.
I was all wolf and the wolf wanted to keep hunting.
I looked to Glenn, wanting it to be a joint
decision. If he wanted to, we’d press on. If not, we’d go back.
Pack stuck together—hell that was why he’d followed me this far. He
dipped his head with a soft bark and nudged me gently. We were
going on.
Excitement burned through me as we set off
again, slinking through tall grass and rushes. The ground grew damp
and marshy underfoot as we approached the long, winding river that
was the boundary between open countryside and protected land. The
reserve was faintly sinister in the moonless night, tall riverside
plants swaying back and forth with hushed rustles, the leafless
willow trees like skeletons in the shadows.
The feral’s scent was a stimulant to me,
firing all my lupine instincts. It overrode the bitter smell of
rotting pondweed and the musty aroma of bird feathers, drawing me
in like a fish on a line. Glenn was just as intoxicated, stopping
to sniff every rock and patch of slushy mud the feral had marked.
He whined and huffed under his breath, tail flopping back and
forth. The thrill of the chase had infected us both; I don’t think
we could have gone back anymore.
We reached a point at the riverbank where
the feral’s musk disappeared and without hesitating, I plunged into
the icy water to swim across. Seconds later there was almighty
splash as Glenn joined me, yelping as the cold hit him. The river
wasn’t very wide and we were across in minutes, shaking ourselves
off and sneezing violently. I licked my paws, pulling a few strands
of weed from between my claws, then set about picking up the
feral’s tracks again.
Glenn caught it first and bounded off down a
dirt track, yapping for me to follow. I could definitely smell
Molly now and other wolves too. I didn’t recognize any of their
scents, but there was a clear difference between urban wolves and
ferals and I found both on the track. That set me on edge. Chasing
down one feral was a daunting proposition. The idea that we might
run into a whole pack of them was just scary.
Once again, my human self reared her head
and whispered that it was time to turn back. I stopped, looking
back the way we’d come. A sense of dread that was more human than
wolf settled over me and I was suddenly shivering with cold and
ready to go home. The two of us couldn’t take on a pack, if it came
to it. I called Glenn to my side and licked his muzzle with a
whine, telling him it was over.
He returned the gesture and we both swung
back. My unease lifted as we reached the river again. The human
part of me was back in charge and she knew this was the smartest
course of action, despite my wolf’s desires. Then Glenn came to an
abrupt halt beside me, hackles raised, a savage growl rumbling in
his throat. I snapped irritably at him and then I saw what had him
snarling.
A pair of amber eyes glowing like hot coals
in the shadows ahead of us.
The feral.
TEN
There was no warning this
time. One
second the feral was crouched in the shadows; the next he was
flying at us—at me—with fangs bared and claws ready to rip. There
was no time to dodge: he was on me before I could react and we went
down in a riot of barks and snapping jaws.
Like I’d known when we first met, the feral
was heaver and stronger than me and it wasn’t long before I found
myself trapped beneath him, the soft flesh of my throat and belly
exposed to him. He raked his claws across my belly and the coppery
smell of blood flooded the night. I strained my neck to snap at him
and caught his ear more by chance than design. I clamped down and
yanked, ripping part of the ear away. He howled and rolled off me,
giving me space to get to my feet again.
Glenn darted in then, catching the feral’s
tail and biting down hard. At the same time I went for his throat,
getting a mouthful of fur for my trouble. The feral whipped back
and forth, trying to fend me and Glenn off. We danced around him,
taking turns to lunge and snap at him. It wouldn’t work for long. I
could feel blood dripping from my stomach wound and the fiery ache
was spreading through my limbs, wearing me down second by second.
Glenn, light and quick, was unhurt so far, but if I went down, he’d
be defenseless against the bigger wolf.
And the feral, wiry and tough, could
probably keep up this game a lot longer than either of us
Desperate to end it before I got any weaker,
I threw myself at him, hitting his midsection hard and sending us
both tumbling towards the riverbank. We crashed into the water, the
shock of the cold driving everything from my head. I yelped and
thrashed, my wound stinging like a thousand needles had been
plunged into the skin. I went under the water, came up blind and
disorientated. The feral grabbed my hind leg, pulling me under
again.
Ice-cold water filled my lungs and ears and
panic gripped me. The feral released me and I was dimly aware of
splashing as he swam to the bank, leaving me fighting the rising
tide of terror inside me. Beneath the water, in the lightless,
airless murk, I was lost and my hot blood was chilling fast.
Stricken, I grasped onto one thought:
wolf-shape was no good now.
The change was the most painful and
frightening I’d ever endured. In those nerve-shredding seconds it
took my body to reform in the dark water, I was utterly helpless.
If the feral returned I was dead.
I popped back into my human body with a
scream that brought more water burning into my lungs. For a second
I was sinking like a stone, limbs numb and leaden, and I knew I was
drowning, going down in a tangle of slimy waterweeds.
And then there was a sharp pain in my arm;
teeth clamping into my skin and I was dragged to the surface. I
broke free of the water with a choked gasp, flailing wildly at my
attacker…no, my rescuer! My frozen brain dimly recognized Glenn’s
scent and I threw my too-heavy arms around his neck, letting him
drag me to the riverbank. I managed to crawl partially out of the
icy water, sobbing in pain as pebbles and weeds scraped my wounded
stomach. I vomited violently, bringing up a gush of water and
chunks of dinner. The sight of the wetly glistening mess made me
throw up again.
Glenn bounced out of the water and flopped
to the earth, his nose pressed to my cheek, sides heaving. I was
still half in the river, too weak to drag my lower body out and I
clutched at him with shaking fingers, trying to communicate
wordlessly that I still needed him. My arm was bleeding where he’d
bitten me, red droplets mixing with river water and splashing onto
Glenn’s muzzle. With a sigh, he surged to his feet and gripped my
arm again. I cried in pain, then bit my lip and let him drag me all
the way out of the river.
We both collapsed, tangled together, wet fur
to wet skin. I shivered against him, the feral driven from my mind.
The fact that Glenn had saved me told me the feral was gone, for
now. If he came back, we’d probably both just roll over and give
him our throats. I certainly didn’t have the strength for anything
more.
After a few minutes, Glenn shifted back to
human and maneuvered me into a sitting position, wrapping his arms
around me. “Sweetie, we need to move,” he said, teeth chattering in
my ear.
“
I don’t think I can,” I
moaned. I pressed a hand to my stomach. It came away sticky with
blood. A deep wound, probably now crawling with infections from my
impromptu bath. I shuddered. “I’m hurt,” I said
pathetically.
Glenn gently pushed my hand aside to prod at
the wound himself. His touch was light but it still sent spears of
agony through me. “It needs cleaning, but it isn’t as bad as it
looks.”
“
What about the feral?” I
looked around, half-expecting him to explode from the darkness
again and finish us off.
“
He ran off after he got
out of the river,” Glenn assured me. “So why don’t we get out of
here before he comes back with his friends?”
We staggered to our feet, me clinging to
Glenn as pins and needles cramped up my legs. It was a relief to
have the feeling back, but dammit, it bloody hurt. Keeping one hand
pressed to my wound, I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself to
walk. I wavered a little at first, but Glenn supported me and we
started to make progress.
“
God, this is the last time
I go anywhere with you, Ayla,” he told me. “I just can’t do the
rough stuff, you know?”
“
Wuss,” I said, managing a
very stiff grin.
“
Darling, I can’t afford to
have this face ruined by romping with the local hicks.” He brushed
a hand over his flawless skin. “My career is built on my
looks.”
“
Lucky mine’s not.” I
huddled closer to him, stealing the meager warmth his body had to
offer. Movement and natural werewolf reactions were warming my body
up, but slowly. I still felt the chill of the river right down in
my bones and I wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground and
pass out.
I was too scared to stop though. Fear kept
my feet moving while my mind fought to just shut down. The feral
could be anywhere. Could be stalking us right now. I scented the
air, but his odor was everywhere anyway, spun around us like a
spider web, so I was none the wiser.
“
He’s gone,” Glenn said,
sensing my unease. “Keep walking, sweetie, just keep
walking.”
I did. We did. I lost track of time, but
eventually the pain in my stomach lessened as my body began to heal
and my blood ran hot again. My feet ached and my legs cramped and
my head throbbed, but we kept going, Glenn chattering all the while
to keep us both distracted.
Dawn was breaking when we reached the road.
The sky was a cheery blur of pink and blue as the city came back
into view. By then we were both limping and Glenn’s voice had given
out. We’d run so much further than I’d realized and I felt stupid
and guilty now. Stupid for going after the feral in the first
place; guilty for dragging Glenn along with me.
By the time we were back in the city center,
my wound had healed up, leaving smears of blood across my torso. My
entire body ached and I hoped the feral hadn’t done any internal
damage.
“
Your place or mine?” Glenn
asked hoarsely. “I need a hot bath and some fluffy
slippers.”
“
Yours,” I rasped. His flat
was closer. Once there I could ring Shannon, who’d probably be
frantic with worry. It was another thing to feel guilty
about.
Glenn lived in a roomy apartment over a
glittery clothing boutique on Miller Street, one of the bohemian
areas of town. We dragged ourselves up the stairs and practically
fell into his living room. I tumbled onto his plush sofa, too
exhausted to do more than lie there and look at the mossy green
carpeting. Glenn, not quite as worn-out as me, disappeared into the
bathroom. A few minutes later I heard the sound of running water
and Glenn’s almost orgasmic cry of appreciation as he climbed into
the shower.
I closed my eyes, listening to him splash
around like a child. I’d call Shannon in a minute, I promised
myself. I just needed a few seconds rest. Just a minute or two to
recover myself…
Glenn shook me awake and I snapped to with a muffled yelp. “What
time is it?” I asked stupidly, heart racing.
“
Six in the morning,” he
replied. “You should have a bath, sweetie, it’ll do you a world of
good.”
I sat up, running my fingers through my
knotted, ratty hair. Glenn was scrubbing his hair dry with a towel;
I couldn’t have been asleep that long. “I need to call Shannon,” I
said. “She’ll be so worried—”
“
Have a bath first,” he
said firmly, pulling me to my feet. “A few more minutes won’t
hurt.”
“
But I promised I’d be
home, I told her…” I drifted off again, a sense of helpless
frustration filling me. “I promised,” I repeated.
“
Bath.” Glenn propelled me
to the bathroom and all but threw me into the steaming water. I
gasped, a sense-memory of hitting the river crashing over me. Then
the scent of citrus shower gel wafted over me and I relaxed again.
“Wash your hair,” Glenn instructed me. “I always feel better with
freshly-washed hair.”
“
You always shove a wig
over it too,” I muttered, obediently reaching for his suspiciously
pink shampoo.
He flashed me a very Glory-esque smile.
“See, darling, you feel better already.” He sashayed off, leaving
me to lather, rinse and repeat alone.
Fifteen minutes later I was truly warm again
and sitting on the sofa wrapped in Glenn’s purple dressing gown. He
was in the kitchen making tea and singing songs from Phantom of the
Opera to exercise his voice.
I tried to shut that out as I reached for
his phone. The need to hear Shannon’s voice was overwhelming now,
my wolf needing to touch her mate, make a connection with her
family. I dialed and waited for Shannon’s voice to answer.
But she didn’t pick up.
Irrational horror gripped
me when the call went through to the answer phone.
It’s early
, I told
myself.
She’s asleep. Of course she
is
.