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Night runs ran differently around here.
Back at home, Rosanna and I were among the four female werewolves in the pack—my grandma and mother included. They weren't all that concerned about letting us join in with the guys, but it seemed Dad wasn't coached on this subject. He even suggested that I sit out for the night, and he'd show me around until it was dark and we'd head back.
"I can handle myself out here," I argued, hands on my hips. "I do this all the time back at home."
"Well, this isn't exactly where you grew up now, hm?" he countered, and I was certain he would have mimicked my salty pose, but instead he just raised his eyebrows at me. "You'll need to familiarize yourself with the area before expecting your subconscious not to wander too far. Give it a week, okay?"
I boiled at the news of not being able to shift for a week. The last time that happened was ages ago, when Rosanna and I probably did something stupid and Mom relinquished our shifting abilities. She even went so far as to block the shift, which Alphas often did to lawbreakers or newly-shifters who weren't quite grasping the ropes. It was one thing to have a bug bite on your leg, but a completely 'nother story to be itchy on the inside—absolutely everywhere.
Thankfully, Dad wasn't the sort to block a shift just over a little argument. I didn't want to push my luck by sneaking out the silo door and making a break for it—I'd come back at dawn filthy and bloody and Dad would know just where I'd been.
Everett joined us on the walk around, but seemed less-than-thrilled to be there. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and looked a helluva lot like Dad with how stoic he was throughout the whole goddamn thing. We'd been hiking for an hour or so before Dad's cell went off on him. He looked at the sky and said we had another hour before dusk.
"I have to head back—you two keep going on without me," he told us. I knew Everett was about to argue, but I elbowed him in the rib and he just scowled at me. By the time he had the chance to object, Dad was already gone, chatting away on his cellphone.
"Goddamn it," Everett muttered, kicking a nearby pine tree.
I scoffed at him. "You don't have to stick around," I told him, and started hiking ahead. "Dad's just worried I'll be eaten by a bear or something."
"He's worried you'll shift and attack one of our men," Everett corrected, and I had to do a double take to see him right. He wasn't looking at me, as if he expected me to be on the same wavelength as him.
"Excuse me—what was that malarkey spewing out of your mouth? As if I would ever attack another wolf—Alphas are supposed to protect their people anyway," I told him, hoping down the ledge of rock and landing on flat feet. Everett followed.
YOU ARE READING
The Wild Hunt
WerewolfReagan considers herself to be a fair and just daughter of Emma Austen, so when she's showed the dirty underside of werewolf communities, it's difficult to wrap her mind around it. Stray alpha wolves start to cause havoc around her father's town in...