Since the Northern Lakes Pack was so immense, Greyson most often held what he called “games.” Frequently they chased a target—me—other times they tracked a target—also me—as a Pack to promote comradery, but I knew it also served as a way to keep the wolves in shape and their senses sharp.
They’d also sometimes have “playfights,” which let me tell you there was nothing playful about. Wolves would draw blood in a playfight. They dragged me into those, which were probably my least favorite, even though the chase sessions were the most physically taxing.
(All of this and more was what the humans from the Pack were missing. Naturally, I could absolutely see how all of this fun would make them jealous and feel hurt that they were excluded.)
My back ached as I finally found a spot on the tree where I could wedge my feet between branches and almost stand up while holding myself secure. I really just wanted to sit down and sleep, but to finish tonight’s round of “chase,” I needed to make it to Lake Cleary.
Thankfully, it was just on the other side of the thatch of trees that I was nestled in.
But how to make it over there when I’ve got three wolves sitting around the base of my tree?
While I thought through the problem, I used my hunter magic to weave together a trap.
Hunter traps were another kind of magic all hunters shared. We used our raw powers to weave a literal trap. They could be set off in a variety of ways, and could do everything from stun an enemy to knock them out unconscious, or just tangle a wolf up and hold them still.
Typically trap magic was woven together by multiple hunters—it made the spells stronger so they could hold up longer to werewolf strength and teeth.
But I wasn’t looking to actually hold any of the wolves, I just wanted to annoy them. So I wove a sticky trap between two thick branches, then dropped it over the side, hoping it would land on someone.
It bounced its way down—hitting other branches as it went—but I heard the familiar thump when it smacked into a wolf, eliciting a snarl as the unfortunate victim realized gobs of sticky, sap like material were dripping off the trap and matting their fur.
Serves you right, I thought as the wolves complained down below.
Finished with my moment of pettiness, I brushed my hands off on my thighs.
I’d have to jump—but I hated jumping from tree to tree. With my slight increase of strength I could make jumps a normal human couldn’t, but for crying out loud, I wasn’t a squirrel. Flinging myself at another tree could—and had in the past—go very wrong for me.
I’d give up, but I can’t let Rio claim this game!
I found a thick, sturdy branch that stretched out long enough I’d be able to walk myself to the end and fling myself at the tree’s next-door neighbor, which also happened to be downwind from the wolves if I placed myself right. If I rigged some of the branches on my tree to rustle—easy enough to accomplish by bending some back with a rope and releasing them when I jumped—I’d be able to misdirect the wolves on where I went.
I heard the wolves sniffing around the base of my tree as I rigged up my escape mechanism. I shimmied as far out onto the branch as I dared, tensing up so I remained still when the branch shook under me.
The trees in this area were huge and old, which made them nice for climbing. But I needed to do this fast, or the branch would break under me. I let go of my rope hand hold, which released the branches so they whisked across the tree, creating a lot of noise as I jumped from my thick branch down to a thick V of the neighboring tree.
I smashed my face into the trunk, but thankfully I didn’t scrap anything—the scent of my blood would have been a dead giveaway, even if I was still up in a tree.
I held my breath as I clutched my new tree and peered back over my shoulder just in time to see Rio’s black colored tail disappear as he and the others circled around to the other side of the tree.
There were other wolves in the forest—too many for me to easily pinpoint. Eighteen wolves had joined today’s practice session, and all of them were close enough to show up in the expanse of my senses, making my magic bright in my mind, and practically useless.
I shimmied around the trunk—putting it in between me and the wolves—then scurried down and did my best to pick my way through the forest, making sure I stayed downwind.
I had to be quiet, so I wasn’t moving as fast as I would have liked. But stealth was the only way I’d make it to the lake when they were on my tail like this.
I made it about halfway through the thatch before tattletale Rio howled somewhere behind me.
Clenching my teeth, I gave up being stealthy and ran through the undergrowth as the other wolves howled, closing in on me.
I popped out of the trees, kicking up pebbles as I zipped across the lakeshore.
There was a wolf nearby, but with the Pack crowding my senses I couldn’t tell which direction he was coming from.
Probably Rio coming up behind me.
I jumped a large rock, landed on wet sand, and kept sprinting toward the lake as I glanced over my shoulder to see if any of the wolves were behind when I rammed into something that was almost chest height.
Hitting it with as much force as I did, I flipped over the top of it, landing with a splash in the shallow waters of Lake Cleary and getting a face full of sand and cold water.
I sat up—spitting out lake water with a cough, and raised my hands to wipe grime off my eyes when I felt a very familiar but insistent grasp on the side of my neck.
Gentle but firm, I wasn’t all that surprised to find Greyson’s immense white body standing next to me, his jaws lightly clamped around my neck.
Chapter 7
Pip
I sagged in the water, disappointment dragging a muffled groan out of me. “I get it—I lost. You wolves won. Again.”
Greyson released my neck, but huffed his warm breath into my ear.
I rolled deeper into the lake rather than sit there and put up with his not-so-secret jabs, and scowled at him.
He tilted his head, watching me with an open amusement I could read in the forward position of his ears and the relaxed curl of his tail.
Although he was big, he was possibly the fastest of the Pack—and most certainly the quietest, which was why he got the flip on me and managed to trip me even though you’d think that as a hunter I’d be observant enough to notice the gigantic white wolf sitting on the lakeshore.
I stood up, water dripping from me as I waded through the shin high water. “I thought I had it—it’s all because Rio phoned ahead, isn’t it?” When I reached the pebbled shore I plopped down with a wet squish.
The lake had been cold—particularly after getting hot from sprinting and climbing—but the air was still warm enough that I wasn’t uncomfortable, though I knew I wasn’t going to dry very well with so little daylight left.
Greyson circled me with the stealth of a shadow, then stuck his black nose in my ear, ripping a squeal from me.