“Relax, Aunt Terra,” the kid’s voice came toward me through the dark. “It was only a chicken.” My nephew’s tone didn’t quite match the nonchalance of his words, but as we advanced, my wolf and I could see that there were indeed enough feathers lining the ground to prove that the young wolf’s first kill had been of the avian variety. Heaving a sigh of relief, I quickly shifted to human form to join him.
“Whoa,” the teenager said immediately, throwing a hand up over his eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready to see you naked quite yet, Aunt Terra.” For the first time since smelling blood, I was able to take a deep breath—if my nephew could joke around, he was going to be okay.
“Oh, yeah, because familial nudity is much worse than tearing out a chicken’s throat with your teeth,” I muttered, but sank to the ground and pulled up my knees to shield my bare breasts from view. “Okay, I’m moderately decent,” I continued, my voice calm as I tried to soothe the shakes out of Keith’s body. I could tell that my nephew’s wolf was pushing against the boy’s human form, begging to be let back out, but that Keith was afraid to set the canine loose after its round of chicken killing. And while I didn’t blame his human brain for worrying, I needed the teenager to be able to shift back to wolf form as quickly as possible so we could return to Wolfie’s pack. Plus, the sooner my nephew got back on the horse, the less likely he was to end up shiftless like me. “You know you’re going to have to pay for that chicken out of your allowance,” I added in mock rebuke, and was gratified to hear a faint chuckle coming from the teenager in front of me.
“I couldn’t change back,” Keith said just barely loud enough for me to hear after we’d sat for a few minutes in companionable silence. I hummed a gentle assent, but let the kid talk since he clearly needed to get the trauma out of his system. “The wolf wanted out, and then we ran and it was brilliant, Aunt Terra,” my nephew said, excitement coloring his words, then dropping away just as quickly. “But after the chicken, we shifted back to human form and I realized I didn’t know how to find the highway without my wolf’s nose. And the wolf wouldn’t come back.”
“That’s really normal, Keith,” I told him, taking my nephew’s hand in mine, an action that would have felt thoroughly inappropriate for a human aunt and nephew pair if they were naked in the woods, but which gave us both comfort since we were touchy-feely werewolves at heart. “The first few times you change, it’s hard to control, but you’ll get better at it.”
“They say that if you’re lost in the woods, you should just sit down and wait,” Keith continued. “So that’s what I did. I knew that you and Wolfie would come for me eventually, hopefully before I froze to death.” He feigned shivers, which made my heart lift yet further. Keith’s teen cockiness was apparently uncrushable, and I was glad. “So how’s Wolfie doing against Grandpa?” he finished, and I sighed—even my teenage nephew had known more about Wolfie’s plans than I had.
***
It turned out that Wolfie had started practicing pool with my sneaky nephew nearly immediately after the two of us began hanging out with his pack. I did recall several times when Wolfie had taken Keith aside, presumably to give the teenager one-on-one lessons on shifting, and now I realized that the lessons had actually gone in the other direction, with Keith sharing the Wilder knack for pool with a worthy student. Unlike every other man I’d ever known, Wolfie had apparently listened to every word I’d said and had filed the data way for future reference. So when he learned the Chief was a pool aficionado, Wolfie figured the game was a skill he’d better perfect.
The news made my heart a little less heavy at the notion of having left Wolfie alone in Haven … but not much. Even if Wolfie managed to pull off a win against the king of pool, I couldn’t quite imagine my father and cousins submitting to the outsider. “We need to get back there as quickly as possible,” I said, once it had become clear that Keith was feeling more himself in spite of the chicken blood drying on his face and hands.
“Obviously,” my nephew answered impertinently, and I rolled my eyes and paid him back by shifting without warning. The young werewolf was pulled into fur alongside me, but he clearly hadn’t been shaken up by the abrupt transformation. Instead, the youngster pranced around me, making my own wolf seem old and slow in comparison, but cheering us both up with his antics. And once I began racing back along our trail, Keith fell in behind me obediently, almost like a dog trained to heel.