“You’re craving fresh blood.”
I stopped in my tracks. “What do you mean, ‘fresh blood’? I’m not killing someone just to calm my irritable stomach. That’s not happening, like ever.”
“No, I mean you need to hunt.” He slowed, turning around. “You know, rabbits and squirrels? The hunt is what your body is craving, and a fresh kill staves off true hunger. Your body craves the blood.” He squinted back at me, bringing his hand up. When I didn’t respond, he said, “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve only made one change … and let’s just say it didn’t go exceedingly well. I’m not actually sure I can make a successful change again … um … without help. I haven’t had any Werewolf 101 tutorials yet. If people stop trying to kill me long enough, I may be able to squeeze some in, but so far, other than what I’ve witnessed as an outsider all my life, I don’t know much of anything.”
He turned and continued picking his way up the rocky slope. I followed. “Maybe you can make a change when we get to the cabin,” he said. “I’m certainly not a wolf, but I’ve been a shifter for a lot of years, too many to count. I might be able to help.”
“Maybe.” Making a successful shift could be the ticket back to my Pack. As a wolf, it would be easy for me to find another way out of the mountains quickly. “But, just so you know, there’s a strong possibility I would eat you instead of the rabbit if I change. I don’t have the greatest control and I can’t promise things won’t get out of hand.”
“I’m counting on it.”
He laughed all the way to the next clearing.
The cabin was simple. And beautiful. The aged logs on the small structure were weathered and faded a charcoal gray. The metal roof had a nice brown patina, and a tiny stone chimney, made of flat river rocks, ran up one side. It boasted some new latches and clean boards, so I knew Rourke had recently put some time into it.
“Wow, it’s so cute,” I said as we entered the clearing. “It’s amazing, actually. How’d you find it way up here in the middle of nowhere?” The backdrop to the cabin was the continuing side of the mountain we were on, framing it like a fantastic painting.
“I’ve spent a lot of time in these mountains,” Rourke answered. “When you spend as much time as I do exploring the woods, you’re bound to find something.” He gestured to the right of the structure. “There used to be a rough trail leading to a deserted mine, located a few miles east of here. I figured this cabin must’ve belonged to one of the miners who decided to live here year round.” He shrugged. “Or at least that’s my best guess.”
“How come no one else has discovered it?” Meaning humans.
“A few people have stumbled in here and there, but there’s no easy way to get here other than what we just did.” Which had been a heavy climb up the steep side of a mountain. “The land sheers off in every direction eventually. The old mine was lost to a landslide years ago, effectively eliminating any easy routes that could’ve run up here long before I ever found it. I’ve tried to buy the land, but it’s owned by the state and there’s too much bureaucracy involved. There’s no record of the cabin at all, so when and if they ever find it, I’ll move on.”
The tiny structure reminded me of my home in a strange way. It didn’t have much in common with the elegant Lodge of my upbringing, but the cabin, edged by rolling green on all sides, surrounded by a forest of old growth, felt good. Really good. “You said you had food?”
“Right inside.” He headed toward the door, chuckling again. It wasn’t nice to know everything I did was funny, but at least he had a nice baritone. Marcy was right. Listening to it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
He turned the knob and headed inside.
“No lock?” I followed him through the door.
“Not necessary. If someone wanted something badly enough, all they’d have to do is break a window. Hauling glass up the side of a mountain is a pain, so I figured if I had to replace some of the food once in a while, it’s easier than bringing up more glass.”
Inside, an old wooden countertop ran along the left wall with a cutout for a sink, but an aged plastic basin balanced in its place instead. Homemade cabinets hung on the walls above the countertop, framing a lone, four-paned window in the middle. The doors to the cabinets were long gone, exposing rows and rows of canned goods.