Hitchhikers (Wolf Point #1)

-57-

They swarm through the trees and into the clearing, yipping and barking, one jet black wolf howling as if the bugle to call more soldiers to battle. This one is not the leader. No, there is no alpha here, but I sense that the black one is in charge. More than five wolves line up facing me.

Nine. Nine wolves.

I draw my paw back into the shadows.

I wonder, for a long moment, if they plan on talking to me somehow. I wonder if we can settle this without fighting, and if I'd be able to hear the black wolf's thoughts, like the way I hear Kayla's sometimes.

Then two of the wolves come for me, the brindle and the gray.

I jump backwards into the alley. I wait for the wolf to jump up and grab the steering wheel

(....)

Nothing. And in the split second before they're on top of me, I realize that I'm alone in the driver's seat, and I can't count on my inner monster to do the dirty work this time.

The gray

(the female)

lunges at me, snapping her teeth at my neck. I jerk backwards and reflexively lash out with my paws, as if I'm human, a boxer. I'm momentarily confused that I don't have fists.

(teeth use your teeth)

Before I can recover the gray is back with her fangs, and the brindle behind her in the alley leaps over her. He sinks his teeth into my back.

(rabbits pretend they are rabbits)

But the rabbits never fought back, I only chased them. I don't remember those times I fought as a wolf. How did I do it?

When I reach around to bite the wolf who's biting my back, the gray grabs me by the neck.

Their teeth are sharp, as sharp as mine. Their jaws are as strong. And they've probably had years to learn how to fight.

As my breath is choked out of me, I realize that I may have overestimated myself.

It is as a curtain of darkness is falling across my eyes that I hear the tinkling, far-off sound of glass shattering.

Zeke Mr. Whittemore danger

The wolf rears up inside me, matching his skin to mine, and we twist away. The two wolves with their teeth in me fly off, taking chunks of me with them. I dodge their bodies and race into the fray of wolves in the clearing. Snake through those that attack me.

One catches my rear paw in his teeth, too close to my injury for comfort. I snap around and sink my teeth into his throat, shake until I feel blood spray in my face and flood down my throat, then drop the limp body to the ground.

Three of the wolves jump me at once – I am a fury of fangs and fur

rip shred kill

cutting them down, tossing them aside. Running toward the picture window, broken into the living room. I smell fire and fear and panic.

All I want is to get into the house.

I claw my way through the remaining wolves, chase another as he leaps into the building. My paws crunch on broken glass; the darkness of the interior without the moonlight is disorienting.

There are shouts, human shouts, both Zeke and Mr. Whittemore. I lunge down the hallway. I never went into this section of the house when I was allowed to stay here. Zeke's bedroom is closest, on the right, a narrow room. I nearly run past it then skid to a stop and face what is inside.

"Dad!" Zeke calls out, his voice querulous. The white t-shirt he's wearing over his pajama pants has blood on it. I growl, not at Zeke, but at the man behind him holding a shard of glass to Zeke's throat.

"That's right, you'd best stay back," the man says. He has black hair and eyes to match his wolf's pelt, and thick, overdeveloped muscles in his shoulders and biceps.

I glare at him, emanating hatred from my eyes, my lips in a snarl that shows him my fangs. If I move quickly enough, perhaps the black wolf won't have time to slit Zeke's throat before I remove the manhood dangling between his naked legs.

The man grins, a toothy smile stretching across his face, revealing a scar that cuts deep into one cheek. "All I want is to talk. A nice conversation. That's all."

Part of me, the wolf part, still wants to rip him to shreds. The other part is relieved. It's just like I hoped. We can come to a compromise.

I close my eyes and prepare to change.

In the midst of my focus

fur melting away

Zeke screams, and a scuffle breaks out down the hall. For a moment my change is halted, concerned that the other wolf might have gotten Mr. Whittemore. Then I hear distinctly human feet moving across the floor, Mr. Whittemore's familiar tread muted by socks, and I relax into the change. Then

click BOOM