A Wolf's Fear: Wolves of the South, #2

Chapter 1

Liz

Wolves don’t cry.

Which is why I had no tears when I was lying under a bush, watching our house burn down to the ground.

Dad had forbidden us to watch, of course, but I had hidden my backpack and returned, needing to see the end of our life as a family.

Nessa had left in the morning, taking the motorcycle. She was my older sister, and Dad had sent her off first, hoping the Hunters wouldn’t follow her on what looked like a normal grocery shopping run.

He had sent me and Ben to walk to town separately, through the forest. I was supposed to take a Greyhound, and Ben would hitchhike, since it was safest to do so for a man.

We were supposed to meet up at a library in Asheton, in North Carolina, hundreds of miles to the south.

And Dad would give the Hunters the longest run in history to ensure that we got away safely. I knew I would probably never see him again, and it hurt more than I wanted to admit to myself.

We were wolves. And when Hunters found us and decided to act, we rarely fought back. Instead, we ran and tried to hide elsewhere. It had been that way for centuries, and nothing would ever change that.

I tried to tell myself that I could handle it. That I was a grown wolf, that I knew how to live in both shapes, and that I would find a place and a mate and be happy.

And knew that for the lie it was.

It took hours for the fire to burn out. Not a single fire-fighter came, and that was no surprise, either. We had few friends in the region, and when Mom had disappeared two weeks ago, we knew our time was up.

When only glowing embers and a sooty brick chimney were left of our home, I got up and slipped away to the forest, to pick up my backpack and start that long journey south.

The sun rises early in summer, and it was just peeking through the trees when I reached town again, back in human shape. I went to check the Greyhound schedule. But before I even reached the wall where it hung, I recognized the dog of one of the men hanging out there, and knew he was one of the Hunters.

Of course, they were looking for us. And if that dog got a good whiff of me, I’d be dead.

I walked past the station, checking the wind. Fortunately, it was blowing my scent away from that dog. I kept walking, knowing I needed a hiding place, knowing I was prey, a young woman alone, the backpack indicating I was likely not living here.

The forests would be safer than a town, but I couldn’t carry my backpack as a wolf, and so I needed another solution.

I could probably pretend to walk the Trail. That would get me south eventually. I hid a sigh, since it would take weeks, if not months. At least I could hunt my own food.

So I settled at one of the stores, backpack prominently displayed, knowing I could probably hitch a ride across the valley to the Appalachian Trail. At least it would take me to the right region, even if it would take long.

But time no longer mattered and it was early summer. I studied the leaflet the store had offered, trying to think of the best way to contact my family.

Of course, we had destroyed our cell phones, leaving not trails, not even online. Not that Dad would let us leave trails online much, either. Maybe some of the neighbors would miss us, but I doubted even that.

The only ones looking for us would be the Hunters. And I didn’t think they would expect me to hike out.

A woman came out of the store and stopped to look at me and then smiled. Are you a Hiker?

Yes, I am. I smiled up at her. Or rather, I want to be.

She eyed my equipment and frowned. You’ll need better shoes.

I shrugged. I knew my boots were no longer new, but I also didn’t want to stop to buy new ones. I could do that in a few days when my trail wasn’t hot anymore.

I’m used to them, they won’t give me blisters.

She nodded thoughtfully. You have a point. Want a ride? I need to put out new leaflets at the Trail Head.

Yes, please! I smiled even more, opening my wolf senses and finding no deception.

Come on, then. She smiled back at me.

She drove a little car, not one of the big trucks the Hunters preferred, and that made me feel even more safe.

We rode in silence, which I appreciated. I wasn’t ready to answer questions or even making small talk, with my heart still heavy. I wondered where Dad was and bit my lip.

The woman stopped the car at a parking lot after just a short ride and turned off the engine.

Well, here we are. I wish you lots of luck. May I know your name?

It’s Liz. I wasn’t about to tell her my last name, those Hunters could find out.

I’m Chris.

Thanks, Chris. It was hard to dance through human manners today, but I forced myself to do it anyway. Soon, I’d be alone, and I was relishing that thought.

Take care, Liz.

I nodded, got out of the car and strode to the trail head. When I looked back, she waved her hand and drove off. I was finally free.

The moment I stood under some trees, I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on nothing but the present. It was time to start walking, away from my old life, and into my new one, whatever that would be. So I did, shifting my backpack a little.

Just then, a bloodhound started baying, and I turned and ran.

Chapter 2

Eric

Grandpa put his phone down, grinned at it and rubbed his hands. I looked at him, wondering what he was watching.

Up north, they are having a huge hunt. He chuckled. They uncovered a whole pack of these beasts.

A pack?

A male and his brood. Three pups. He grinned with glee. And they are hard on his heels, and tagging the spawn, too.

Children? I frowned. I had never thought about these creatures having families. Of course, that’s what they meant with pack, but somehow, I never made the connection.

They are monsters! Grandpa slammed his fists on the table.

But… but children aren’t monsters.

He always slammed the table when talking about wolves, and it no longer bothered me. The special kind of wolves, not the natural ones. We didn’t have any of those in this area, we just had coyotes.

They grow up into monsters, so they need to be culled, as well. His voice was harsh.

Killed, he meant. And while I had been following him and his friends and had watched two kills, I still didn’t like it. I hated the trophy videos that he made me watch.

Killing wasn’t right. But I didn’t have any better ideas. Maybe those creatures should be locked away instead. But then, locking away kids seemed also rather horrible.

Eric, don’t let them fool you. These monsters are not human, they are natural born killers, rapists and criminals. They will do anything to hurt humans.

Yes, Grandpa. I made my voice meek, it was the best way to deal with him when he was in hunting mode.

Good. He smiled at me. Good. At least you understand.

I gave him a nod, wanting to please him.

Yes, those hunts were exciting. We were pitting our knowledge, experience and the hounds against the cunning of a being that was both human and animal, a creature possessing the same sharp mind as we, but also more strength and stamina. And Grandpa believed they also had some healing power.

They could change at will, too, take on the shape of a wolf and melt into the forest. It was a challenge to corner one. And I enjoyed the excitement.

I just hated the kill.

Which was something Grandpa didn’t need to know.

While he was glued to the screen of his phone, I made dinner. That had become my chore in the last two years, and I didn’t mind much. Grandpa had taken me in when my father had kicked me out, and I felt it was only fair to take on my share of the chores. I also did most of the work in the garden, proud of the crops I grew.

Grandpa ate dinner absentmindedly, often tapping something into the phone, stabbing it with his index finger.

I was familiar with this behavior. He always got drawn into a hunt, although this time it was even more intense than usual.

Man, he’s going to run north! he was shouting, pushing his plate away. I just got up and cleared the table, then did the dishes and straightened the kitchen.

I chose to walk the garden while he kept shouting, obviously intensely involved in that hunt. It was good to leave the house, to breathe in the mild evening air, although soon, too many mosquitoes would hunt for my blood.

I made sure to give them no breeding grounds in my garden, but there were enough little pools in the forest surrounding our house to breed plenty of them. It was just something people had to live with in this area.

The beans were coming in well, the zucchini were producing, and I picked a nice handful of tomatoes. Strawberries went into a bowl, they would be dessert tomorrow. I made one round checking the fence protecting the garden against the deer. We really needed a dog again, I thought, but Grandpa had given the hounds to Steve. That was fine, I never liked the hounds, but having a nice, cute dog would be wonderful.

Privately, I admitted to myself that gardening was something I liked much better than the hunting. I also liked building things.

Grandpa was really good at fixing things, too, and I loved learning that from him. Most of the time, he ordered me around to carry things and hold tools, though. Doing so allowed me to have food, a bed and a roof over my head, so it was a good deal. Or so I thought.

Of course, Sylvia had gone on to college.

I hadn’t thought of my cousin a lot, even though she, her brother and I had been inseparable as kids. But she had called the other day and was coming down for a visit during summer break, and now memories were bubbling up.

Grandpa had gloated after that call.

Coming home to roost, he had crowed, grinning at me, and then getting the extra room ready for her.

Sylvia and I shared a longing for peace, I thought. And I had found it here, except for that hunting.

Slowly, it got dark and the mosquitoes were arriving. I picked up the bowls with my harvest and went back inside.

Grandpa was still shouting, so I just put everything into the fridge, gave him a nod and went upstairs. Tonight, TV wouldn’t happen, and I hoped I could sleep despite the shouting.

Chapter 3

Liz

I raced up the trail that was leading to the actual Trail, frantically trying to think of a way to hide my tracks. Some hounds only track on the ground, but others actually track scent clinging to trees or simply blowing on the wind.

Rain was my best bet, but there were only some small fluffy clouds drifting in the sky. Dew would help, but it was still early in the day.

I couldn’t outrun a hound. But I might be able to outrun a Hunter, I realized. The only trouble was that they could easily coordinate and set up a trap for me at the next trail head.

Now that I was expecting an ambush, however, I might be able to avoid them. So I slowed a little, settling into a jog that I could maintain for quite a while despite the backpack on my shoulders.

I was not quite ready to ditch the backpack and everything it contained and shift into the wolf. Especially as it held my Dad’s ring, the one he had entrusted to me to keep in the family. I could not carry that as a wolf.

This early in the day, there were no other hikers, and I just kept jogging. I knew I could run at that pace for hours, and that my wolf stamina would help me even in human shape.

The baying of the blood hound stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief. For now, I was safe.

I slowed down to a walk a little later, remembering to take in the surroundings and the scenery. And I even stopped at a look-out point, drank some water and just sat there for a while.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to walk for a few days. Ben and Nessa would make their way to that town, and set up camp. Joining them later would make that part easier for me. And I didn’t have to