“I’ll hang back with the girls,” Alma offers. “My knee’s acting up. Not feeling a run tonight.”

“Thanks. Is it bad? You should’ve told me. I’ll make you some compresses soaked in ginger and willow bark to help. Maybe some arnica, too.”

“I’m alright for now. Go let your wolf out. Beatrix, help me prop my leg up by the fire and I’ll be good.”

“You’ve got it, Miss Alma.”

I draw Avery to the trees. “Ready to run with the pack?”

She smiles and I want to bottle the electric feeling in my heart.

We leave our clothes on a fencepost by the road and let our wolves free. Her stunning red wolf climbs a partially downed tree, taking in the scents and sounds of the forest. Paws thump the ground and yipping barks filter through the trees.

She howls, bounding off to join our pack. I’m right on her heels, marveling at her.

A group of brown and gray wolves link up with us. We explore a hollow in an oak and weave through elderberry thickets. She pounces on the small gray one and one of the other wolves joins the fun. My wolf sits, content standing guard.

Two from the group split off when they scent the groundhog burrow nearby, then we cross paths with a bigger group. I recognize Taryn trotting along with my sister. They run with us.

Avery’s wolf releases a series of joyous vocals.

This is how her first shift should’ve gone. A celebration of camaraderie with packmates.

We reach Silver Falls. Several people have shifted back in favor of swimming or climbing the rocky overhang to plunge into the wide pool. Laughter echoes above the rush of the falls. I wrestle for a bit with Callie’s wolf, our sibling bond restored. Then Taryn and Callie drink at the water’s edge before flopping to the mossy bank in a dogpile.

Despite the tense start to the evening, everyone looks like they’re enjoying themselves, my mate included. I nudge Avery and we go off on our own. Time for a hunting lesson.

I keep my ears pricked, searching for easy prey to get her started on. There’s a hawk circling overhead. A couple of wild boars roaming the hillside moving south away from the pack. Fish splashing upstream where a beaver dam interrupts the brook.

When we’re far enough from Silver Falls, secluded deep in the wilds of the territory, I crouch low in the cover of ferns, listening. She mirrors me, ears swiveling to me. I rumble until she focuses, then send praise along our bond.

Wait. Listen and wait.

The boars crisscross near our hiding spot. They get her excited, but she remains with her belly to the ground. Good. Progress.

I show her how it’s done, tracking a gopher I hear leaving its burrow. I’m completely still, breathing shallowly.

Waiting until the gopher is close enough to be an effortless catch, yet far enough that it doesn’t sense the predators stalking it, I make my move, swiftly leaping from the ferns to snatch the gopher before it has time to escape.

I drop the offering at her feet, chest puffed. She tears into it and my wolf purrs. She allows it when he takes a bite for himself, basking in her attention when she licks his jaw. I nudge her back into position for her turn to try.

She scents a prairie dog and dismisses it for the hare that stops to munch on the weeds. Her instincts are sharpening.

I paw at her to signal her when to go. She darts forward in a bolt of red fur, focus locked on the hare. It evades her in a ditch, but she anticipates the opening, jumping to cut it off. It squeals, but it’s no use. She’s on the creature, teeth snapping its neck as they clamp down.

If I wasn’t in my fur, I’d be cheering for her. I race to her, circling her and lifting to my hind legs with a rush of energy. She jerks her prey with a shake of her head.

My wolf is all about providing for his mate. I am, too. But pride fills me to see Avery coming into her own with her wolf. I want to teach her skills to fend for herself because I like seeing her strong.

I’ll always fight for her. Protect and treasure her. Never again will she fight on her own, not with me as her mate.

32AVERY

Hunting is exhilarating. Hunting with my mate? Indescribable.

My wolf is in her element, showing off what she’s picking up from Caden’s guidance. Every time he watches us with that proud gleam in his golden eyes, she’s simpering, enthralled with her mate’s attention. She hasn’t mastered it by any stretch, but there’s definite improvement.

We make an excellent team. He allows me to pick the prey as we lope through the woods and doesn’t do much work other than herding our target back to me when it evades me. Some of the smaller critters are fast, intriguing me with the challenge and strategic approach they require. It’s not enough to be a hulking red beast of a wolf driven by instinct alone.

While we’re drinking from a stream, my ears prick. Grunts and rustling through dead leaves. Boars.

My wolf wants the meat. She goes on the prowl, stalking their trail. Caden’s wolf trots after her, hanging back to let her figure it out on her own. Her mate trusts her. Believes in her abilities as a huntress.

The boars prove a new challenge—their intelligence. They sense her before she’s close, skittering off with disgruntled chatter. Annoyance ruffles her fur.

She allows distance to stretch, giving them the idea that they’ve avoided a predator, waiting until their guard lowers before trying again. This time she climbs to a higher position, balancing on a fallen aspen’s trunk wedged between an outcropping of rocks. Sneaking across, she waits until they pass beneath her before making a move.

Her claws swipe one boar’s flank, wounding it. They bolt.

Caden cuts off their escape. One goes squealing in the opposite direction from his giant black wolf in a panic. I pounce on it, fangs going for its vitals. Its shrieking cries grow louder, then cut off with a gurgling wail when I tear out its throat.

My wolf stands over the hog, releasing a victorious howl. Our packmates echo it in the distance.

Caden strides over with the other hog in his jaws. He bumps against her side, adding his meat to her catch. Good job.

They feast together and she basks while he cleans her coat. The moon is high and she’s not ready to give up control anytime soon. She lures him into playing with her, batting him with her paws. He chuffs, rolling to his back, rumbling in contentment when she nuzzles into his exposed throat.

When she wants to run, he races alongside her. The wind sifts through her fur and the ground yields beneath her paws. She stops at the edge of a clearing when a new scent carries on the breeze.

A deer grazes in the meadow. My mouth waters and I succumb to my instincts.

I creep in first, intent on the doe. She has no idea of the danger encroaching on her. I check if Caden’s going to herd her like he did for the plump hogs we took down. Golden eyes bore into mine.

Something shifts in his posture. He’s no longer hunting our prey.

He’s hunting me.

My wolf is excited. Unbridled. Shivering in anticipation. She won’t let her mate catch her so easily, yet she craves the moment he succeeds.

She forgets all about the deer, taking off in a sprint. The doe startles. Caden’s wolf jumps from the high ground. His howl follows through the trees.

It’s a promise. A vow of what’s to come.

My heartbeat races, veins and limbs warming. I want it. After I make him work for it.

His wolf is powerful and fast. He has no trouble keeping up with mine, hovering at her heels, nipping at them with a series of whuffs that sound like laughter. I manage to evade him when we reach a section of woods I know well from foraging.

A hollow to the left ahead leads me down to an old blackberry bramble that was choked out by vines years ago. My wolf is much bigger than I am, though she manages to squeeze through it and slip down the drop. He can’t fit, barking behind me.