“Okay.” He nodded eagerly and sniffled. “Can we hurry? It really hurts.”

  “I know it does. My dad used to look for these and set them off on purpose, just so no one else would get hurt.”

  And that was the truth. Hunters were always setting up traps in the woods, and every now and then, an unfortunate canidthrope would come across one. After the first couple of incidents, they finally wised up and prevented the problems before they could become problems.

  She missed him so much.

  ‘We will get him back.’

  “I don’t have a dad,” he stated matter-of-factly, pulling her attention away from the fox.

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” she said softly, pausing with one hand against the cool metal of the jaws. “What about your mom? I’m sure she must be worried sick about you by now.”

  “No mom.”

  “Oh.”

  Well, damn. Now her heart really went out to him. He was an orphan?

  “But you have a pack, right?”

  He shrugged, eyes remaining on his wounded ankle, which was still trapped; she really needed to focus.

  “I guess.”

  “Well,”—she struggled to think of another topic for them to talk about; something to distract him—“do you live around here?”

  “Nope.”

  “Neither do I.”

  She grabbed both sides of the trap and looked him in dead in the eye.

  “Dimitri, I’m going to push down on this, and I need you to be very brave,”—she licked her lips and kept her eyes on his—“When I push down, you’re going to have to push down on that little round plate in there,”—she nodded to it—“Do you see it?”

  “Uh huh,”—he winced, and his expression became one of agony—“but it’s gonna hurt.”

  “I know. I know, and I’m so sorry. But this is the only way. Do you understand? No matter how bad it hurts, this is the only way.”

  “Okay.”

  “All right. I’m going to push them down, you push down on that plate, and it’s going to let loose of your leg.”

  He chewed at his lip as he contemplated her words, and then he nodded vigorously.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Good boy,”—she smiled and readied herself for what was sure to be the most intense seconds of her life—“On the count of three. One...”

  You can do this. You’re strong enough.

  “Two...”

  This little boy is depending on you to be strong enough.

  “Three!”

  She pressed down with all of her might, and yes, the grunting noises were necessary.

  He cried out in pain as he pressed down upon the rounded plate with his badly injured foot. If his ankle wasn’t broken already, it most certainly was now; the sickening snap made her stomach churn.

  His suffering paid off, though, as the jaws slowly but surely opened, and when they were far enough away from his ankle, he pulled back with one final howl of determination and immediately cradled it.

  “Good job!” She exclaimed, pulling her hands back as fast as she could.

  The jaws snapped shut again, and she winced at the thought of that much pressure smashing against his tiny bones. She fell back against the ground and tried to gather herself.

  ‘I am proud of you,’ her fox said softly. ‘You did well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He cried as the sound of bone attempting to mend reached her ears, and she scooted closer to him.

  No matter what beast he could turn into, he was still a kid.

  “It’s going to be okay now,” she said tenderly, offering him a smile. “You’ll heal quickly, I believe.”

  “Uh huh,” he agreed, nodding weakly. “It just hurts.”

  “I know.” She wanted to hug him, comfort him, but she was also still weary. How could she not be? Wolves were so unpredictable—and dangerous. “I’ll sit right here with you, until you’re good as new.”

  He was silent for a few moments, both hands cupped around his ankle as he rocked back and forth. It seemed to help whatever process he was going through. But after another beat of silence, he tilted his head back to peer at her.

  “Why are you so nice?”

  She frowned.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re nice,” he said. “I thought others were supposed to be mean.”

  “Well, I guess it depends on who it is,”—she shrugged—“But most foxes are pretty nice.”

  “I guess.” He shrugged and focused his attention back to his ankle. “No wolves I know are nice.”

  ‘Tell me about it, kid,’ she thought, somewhat amused.

  But it was also sad. She could sense his loneliness and vulnerability; this was a child who hadn’t been shown much affection, apparently.

  ‘Well, we can’t show him that. He isn’t a fox.’

  ‘I’m aware, but it doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for him. He doesn’t have parents.’

  ‘And you will be one parent less if we don’t get a move on.’

  ‘Just give me a few more minutes with him, and then we’ll go. I need to make sure he’ll be all right.’

  ‘He is a wolf; he’ll make it.’

  “Hey, lady.”

  His voice pulled her from the inner conversation she was having, and she looked at him. He stared at her somewhat intently, though there were obvious questions behind those hazel eyes of his.

  “It’s Henley, remember?”

  “Henley,” he repeated as he pulled his hands away from his ankle, slowly bending his bare foot back and forth. “Were you talking to your fox just now?”

  “I was,” she replied. “Don’t you ever talk to your wolf?”

  “Sometimes.” He shrugged as he wiped his bloody hands against his already far-too-dirty pants. “He’s quiet a lot.”

  ‘Hear that? His wolf is quiet.’

  ‘Are you insinuating I am a big mouth?’

  ‘Hey, you said it.’

  “Mine hardly shuts up.”

  “I wish mine would talk to me more,” he admitted as he stared at his hands. “Maybe he could have said something about that dumb trap.”

  “Well, they aren’t psychic, Dimitri. I’m sure he would have warned you if he’d seen it.”

  “It was my own fault. I was so busy trying to find something to eat, I wasn’t paying much attention to the ground.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  The sound of his stomach growling reached her ears, and she had her answer.

  “I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday.”

  Why wasn’t his pack feeding him?

  Dread pooled in her stomach as she speculated if he’d been neglected like this before. She recalled how he said he never got to play, and maybe that was true for many aspects of his life.

  ‘Don’t try to get involved. It is not our place.’

  “Let’s find something to eat then, hm?” She stood from the ground and dusted off the back of her pants before offering a hand to him.

  It didn’t matter that he was covered in dirt, nor did it matter that he looked as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks. She didn’t care if he could turn into a wolf. All she cared about, truly, was showing him the kindness he obviously didn’t find at home...wherever that was.

  Somewhat hesitantly, he placed his hand in hers and allowed her to pull him up. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and then back again.

  “Feels good,” he said, giving her a toothy smile.

  He was awful cute for a little wolf.

  “I’m glad. Now let’s get some food in your belly so you feel even better.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “She was here, and not long ago.”

  The three of them stood in a clearing in the woods of North Carolina, only about forty-five minutes away from their destination of Greensboro.

  Trace had his back to him with his hands on his hips, the scent of his frustration becoming stronger and stronger by the second.

  Decker was crouched down by a tree, his fingers lightly running over fresh footprints—prints far too tiny to belong to their missing vixen.

  The scent he put off was one of fear and anxiousness; the truth was known, and now he knew that Henley knew.

  It only felt right to tell him as they left Kadenburg behind. The boy couldn’t stop talking about her, and the way she had behaved at the diner.

  He had to throw him a bone, metaphorically speaking.

  So with one of them frustrated, and the other one scared, he found it increasingly difficult to focus on the task at hand: locking down Henley’s exact location.

  He could smell her here; he’d been able to smell her from the road, and it was the first calming thing that had happened to him since she’d decided to go solo.

  “So, what?” Trace finally turned to stare at him, his eyebrows furrowing. “She stopped for a midnight snack before delightfully bee-bopping towards her demise?”

  “Don’t talk like that,” he bit threw clenched teeth. His skin tingled from anger as he shot him a warning glare. “Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

  “So you say,” Trace shot back. “I don’t see how you can say nothing will happen to her when she’s out there, all alone, with no one to protect her.”

  If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought his baby brother was starting to feel scared for her.

  Even Decker seemed to take notice of Trace’s change in behavior, because it was enough to pull him away from what he was doing.

  “I think we can safely say she isn’t alone.”

  “Yeah, but look at the size of those prints, Deck,”—Trace pointed towards one of them—“whoever that is, they aren’t even big enough to take down a sheep, let alone a wolf.”

  “Mmm, a sheep,” Decker said thoughtfully, his eyes sliding closed. “I could go for some sheep.”

  “Now isn’t the time to be thinking of food,” he said, ignoring his own hunger pangs. “She couldn’t have gotten too far.”

  “Do you guys smell that?”

  His brother’s question immediately caused him to inhale deeply, and that led to the strongest sense of doom he’d ever felt in his life.

  “Blood,” they all said at the same time.

  “We can’t be sure it’s hers,” Decker offered, leading the way as they followed the scent. “Maybe it’s not hers.”

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he followed closely behind him, a million different scenarios racing through his mind.

  ‘We shouldn’t have let her go,’ his beast whispered angrily. ‘We have failed to protect her!’

  “Shut up,” he said aloud, eyes scanning the area for any sign of his vixen. “Just shut up.”

  “Yours is being a dick, too, huh?” Trace asked as he appeared beside him. “Mine hasn’t shut up in weeks.”

  “Mine’s being a pain in the ass, too,” Decker added, shoving a rather large branch out of his way. “Stupid trees...stupid bushes!”

  They made their way through a thicket of bushes, and as they exited on the other side, the smell of blood became nearly nauseating.

  “What happened here?” Trace asked.

  His brother’s anxiety was really starting to become a problem for him.

  “Looks like somebody got hurt.” Decker squatted by the culprit—a bear trap—and frowned. “Damn, those things hurt.”

  “Doesn’t smell like Henley.”

  His brother’s observation caused jealousy to bubble in his already too-fluttery stomach, and he had to keep himself in check.

  She was his first, he reminded himself. Of course, he knows what she smells like.

  As if he somehow knew the thoughts going through his mind, Trace turned to gaze at him.

  “It’s not her, Rane...must be whoever she’s with.”

  For some reason, that just didn’t ease his mind—at all.

  “She must have freed them,” Decker continued, sniffing the air around him. “I can still smell her here...and—”

  “Wolf,” all three of them said in unison.

  Various growls sounded then, as the three of them automatically switched into beast-mode. They were angry at the discovery; they were scared; they were so many things.

  “Not good,” Trace said hoarsely, his eyes glowing fiercely. “They’ve got her.”

  “Maybe not,” he replied, trying to force his razor sharp teeth back into his gums. “Could be an explanation for it all.”

  Decker was on all fours upon the ground, his back arching awkwardly as he snarled.

  “Wolf!” He cried, digging his fingers into the grass.

  As much as his cougar wanted to jump free, he needed to think this through. There had to be an explanation...

  “She wouldn’t just free a wolf from a trap like that,” he reasoned, squeezing his eyes shut. Claws burst through his fingertips and he hissed from the pain. “She’s s-smarter than that.”

  Decker’s eyes glowed a furious orange as his body cracked and popped, a howl of pain escaping his pursed lips.

  “Gotta...get it under control...” Trace struggled to say, doubled over. He shook his head violently as whiskers sprouted from the flesh of his face. “Deck...get a hold of yourself.”

  “You get a hold of yourself,” he shot back, a whimper sounding deep in his throat. “My tail’s stuck.”

  “Tell it to go back down! You have to stop yourself from shifting,” Trace instructed, struggling to closer to him. “I know it’s easier said than done, but...”

  “Think about each other.”

  With wild eyes, both Trace and Decker turned their heads to stare at him.

  “Seriously,” he continued, rubbing at the side of his neck, urging the pain of his shift to subside. “It’ll take your mind off it, and you’ll stop shifting.”

  Despite the fur upon his face, and the big cat nose to match, Trace blushed.

  “Think about how you make each other feel,” he said, clearing his throat. “Trust me—it’ll help.”

  It’s what he’d ultimately had to do in the moment. As his cattail tried to burst through his pants, he filled his mind with thoughts of Henley.

  Beautiful Henley.

  Sexy Henley.

  His Henley.

  ‘But she is in danger!’ His cat all but growled. ‘She is with a wolf!’

  ‘I refuse to think she’s not okay,’ he argued, trying to keep his breathing calm. ‘She’s smarter than we’re giving her credit for. She’s okay.’

  ‘You’re being stubborn and stupid. You need to let me take over so we can find her—now!’

  ‘You need to back off and let me do my job. I’m just as concerned about her as you are.’

  “You’re okay, babe. Stay grounded.”

  Hearing Trace’s gentle words to Decker was what finally pulled him out of the mental spat he was having. His eyes snapped open once more and landed on the two of them.

  It was heartbreakingly tender.

  His brother was crouched beside the fox-shifter, a hand upon his upper back as he continued speaking softly to him, coaxing him back to his human side.

  “Remember I love you, huh? I kinda really need to see that handsome face now. As much as I like your fox, I need to see you.”

  “I k-know,” Decker answered, his voice strained. “I’m t-trying.”

  It was absolutely insane how one scent could set them all off like that.

  If only the world could be extinct of wolves.

  “Come on, Deck. That’s it. Deep breaths.”

  The rusty red fur growing on the boy’s arms slowly began to retreat, and those black pointed ears he was sporting disappeared as well.

  They’re kind of perfect together, he thought sadly. Can I stop their fate?

  It was a question that would have to wait for another time, apparently, as the sound of movement beyond the thicket caught his attention.

  He whirled around and met glowing topaz eyes, which automatically caused him to groan.

  “Oh, great,” he muttered, taking a step back towards Trace and Decker. “We’ve got company.”

  Five bobcats stalked towards them, their eyes never leaving him. The largest of them, presumably the alpha, gave a growl of greeting—whether it was meant to be friendly or not, he wasn’t certain.

  “Now’s a good time for you two to get up from the ground,” he said quietly.

  “Not these guys.” Trace sighed heavily and straightened up, offering a hand to Decker. “C’mon.”

  Slightly dazed, Decker accepted his hand and stood. He wobbled for a few seconds before finally steadying himself.

  “Bobcats?” He questioned, surprised. “There are bobcats here?”

  “There are bobcats, wherever bobcats want to be,” he replied, his eyes remaining on the largest of the group. “We’ve invaded their territory.”

  The alpha growled again, confirming this, as he stopped a few feet away. He licked his lips and stared at him, ears flicking back and forth a few times.

  “We mean no harm,” he said, his voice loud and firm. “We’re just passing through, looking for a friend.”

  The bobcats looked at one another, soft growls sounding here and there, as if they were debating his reasoning. They had no reason to doubt him—they were cousins, after all. Cougars and bobcats were the most common panthropes in America, and their numbers weren’t what they used to be.

  What good would it do any of them to mistrust one another?

  The alpha shifted then, revealing not a man, but a boy. He couldn’t have been over thirteen, if he had his guess.

  “You’re...the alpha?” Trace asked, his tone confused.

  “Yeah, got a problem with that?” The boy asked, glaring at him.

  He was much shorter than a typical alpha.

  And far too young.

  He was trying to act tough, but Rane could sense his nervousness as he folded his scrawny arms across his chest and looked at each of them in turn.

  “Whatcha doin’ here?”

  “As I said previously, looking for a friend.”

  “A purty friend with red hair, maybe?”

  It was amusing, really. The kid had more twang than the bear-shifter they’d met earlier—and Richard Bamey had been pretty country.

  “Yes, that’s right,”—he nodded—“A fox-shifter.”

 

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