The Cunning

TYLER RACED THROUGH the forest, his clumsy feet barely touching the ground but still finding all of the holes and roots to trip over. He pushed forward, no matter what. He didn't have any time to lose. He had to put enough distance between himself and the hospital. He swatted at low-hanging branches that threatened to block his way. The sun had only just set and the woods were growing darker, crowding in on him, tearing at his clothes and his skin as though the very trees were part of the conspiracy to rip his world apart.

It wouldn't be long before the moon rose above the tree canopy.

Would the change come over him right away, just as the moonlight found him? Or would there be some kind of transitional grace period that allowed him to prepare mentally and physically for the shift?

There was so much he didn't know.

It had been a painful couple of weeks since he'd checked himself into the hospital. Convincing the staff he needed to be put into secure isolation hadn't been as easy as he'd thought. There were too many doctors wanting to try this or that medication, urging him to experiment with theater therapy or cathartic finger-painting. No padded cell where he could keep them all safe. They wouldn't lock him up alone. Tyler had wondered if it would have been more expedient to commit some heinous and violent crime to get himself into solitary confinement in prison—but harming others wasn't his nature. That was the whole point. It was why he was running now, so he wouldn't hurt anyone.

Tyler heard the fabric of his shirt rip as it snagged on the trunk of an evergreen. Was this the Olympic National Forest? The trees were tall, and old. Maybe there would be a nook someplace or an abandoned animal's den where he could take shelter for the night, afterwards. He didn't have any hope that hiding from the moon would do any good. But first he had to put as much distance as possible between himself and any other human being.

He ran harder.

The toe of his sneaker caught an upturned root. Tyler went sprawling, landing chin-first in the dirt. He coughed and spat out a mouthful of what he hoped was pine needles, and he was pretty sure he'd swallowed a small slug. He sat up and gave himself a moment to catch his breath, but no longer. He could smell the blood on his cheek before he wiped his hands across his face.

"This is crazy," he whispered to the surrounding trees. A chittering animal somewhere high above seemed to answer, and Tyler scooted across the dirt to lean against a wide trunk. He didn't know how long he'd been running, but he guessed he hadn't yet come far enough.

How far could a wolf travel in the night? How fast?

He'd slipped off the ward just as the lunch service was starting. He'd faked stomach cramps and made for the bathroom, then ducked down a seldom-used hallway and through a wired gate that had a habit of sticking instead of locking. After that, it was a simple matter of stealing some clothes from a janitor's closet and navigating a series of secure doors and stairwells before he was out of the building and running loose.

Loose, but not free.

Tyler wasn't sure he'd ever be free again.

He climbed back to his feet and started running.

Darkness was falling fast in the woods. His time might be shorter here, but when the moment came he figured there would be no better place for a wild animal than the depths of the forest.

He tripped over another outcropping of roots and smacked into a tree. He tasted the blood in his mouth, felt the stinging cuts on his cheeks, and kept moving. Every step had to count.