Page 34 of Return to the Pack

I charge down the dirt driveway, heading for the woods, for somewhere I can clear my mind.

“Leave her be,” Elder Amexaryl says from what sounds like far behind me. “She needs time to process.”

“But…” Axel protests.

“No, Alpha. Don’t follow her,” Elder Amexaryl says in that voice of hers that could make you slit your own throat, the one even an Alpha must obey.

Shifting, I run as fast and as far as my legs will carry me. I propel my body beneath branches and over stumps. I swim through ponds and streams, heedless of my surroundings.

Once I come to a stop, I throw back my head and howl. “How could you do this to me, Mama? How could you keep me all to yourself? You knew the entire time it wasn’t the pack who betrayed you. It was the same bastards who are hunting me now.” I fall to my knees as sobs break through the rage. I feel betrayed by my mother and by the entire pack. Most of them must have been alive to tell the tale when I emerged from the woods and entered their world.

The stillness of the woods seems to cradle me in its arms, rocking me. I curl into a ball the same way I used to curl in our ramshackle shack, feeling alone and too young to care for my mother. Eyes squeezed shut, I listen to the birds fluttering about in the trees. Insects crawl across my skin, tickling me. But being alone like this, the way I lived every day of my life out in Bogbeast Waters, now feels foreign. I have people who care about me now. Axel, Ethan, Callan, Warrick—even members of the pack care for me. Despite my mother’s foolishness, I’ve come to know and appreciate pack life. I know what it’s like to be part of a loving family.

The soft pad of wolf feet pricks at my ears. Is it one of those murdering wolves? I scramble out of my curled-up position and set my senses to high alert.

But the wolf who emerges from the trees is a welcome one—Axel, come to comfort me.

Tail wagging, he trots across the leaf-strewn forest floor to me and licks my face, my ears, my neck, my muzzle. I roll over, presenting my belly to my Alpha.

Three more wolves pad through the underbrush, and I wriggle to my feet and trot towards them. It’s my pack—Callan, Ethan, and Warrick, joining Axel in consoling me.

Once we’ve loved one another in that joyous manner that wolves share. When they’re done, we all shift back into human form.

“That pack bond let us know Luna was in distress,” Callan says. “The others heard it, too, so we took off as fast as we could to find you.”

“Your call came through as clear as a bell,” Warrick states, grinning at me.

“Being in a pack is beneficial to all wolves,” Axel says from his position by my side. “Lone wolves too often get into trouble—like these maneaters.”

“So, what it is, Luna? What’s causing you so much grief?” Ethan says, smoothing my hair away from my face.

“It’s my mother,” I say, my lip trembling a little. “She lied to me all these years about who murdered my father.”

“How so?” Callan asks.

“Those horrible freak wolves killed him, not pack members,” I say.

“Whoa,” Callan says. “Seriously?”

“It’s true.” Axel nods his head. “Elder Amexaryl just told us.”

“Why would she think to tell us now? Why didn’t she say something before?” Warrick says, scratching his scruffy beard.

Axel shrugs. “The pack apparently beat the maneaters back. Maybe she hoped it wasn’t true—that they’re back.”

“I feel so betrayed,” I say, scooting closer to Callan. Leaves and sticks are digging into my rump. Being a wolf in the woods is so much easier than being a human with our too-soft skin.

Callan lifts me onto his lap. “You can’t change what’s passed, Luna. You know that. She made a mistake. We all make mistakes. She’s no longer around to make amends—that’s the bitch part about death. You’d better hope you make your peace before you cross over because you might not get another chance.” He leans over and kisses my cheek.

“Is there anything good you can remember about your mother?” Ethan asks.

“No,” I say, without thinking twice.

“Nothing?” Warrick says, sitting directly across from me. “I mean, we can relate to not having the best stories to tell about our upbringing, but I can remember a time when Mom and Dad took us hunting. We were all pups. It might have been our first hunting lesson as a family. And you, Ethan, your legs wouldn’t cooperate with your body, and you kept stumbling. You fell over logs, rocks, everything… Dad kept pulling you to your feet by the scruff of your neck.” Laughing, he points at his brother.

“Did not,” Ethan says with a scowl.

“Yeah, you did,” Callan says, joining Warrick in the slide down memory lane. “And then you got obsessed with your tail and chased it around and around. Been chasing tail ever since.”