She lay down in a clearing, out of the safety of the evergreen canopy, exposed to the falling snow. And then he watched her body break apart and reshape into the fox that had changed everything. Only when she was safely sitting next to the trunk of a white-bark birch tree did he let his own beast out.
And when he towered high above her on all fours, he blasted a roar, his breath steaming in front of his muzzle, expelling the pain of the impending separation from the only person who’d ever really seen him.
Tonight, his fox shared her woods with him. She showed him every place she had attached to over the weeks. Every nook and cranny and frozen creek. And when their backs were covered in white, she turned them for home and Changed straight back, just like he knew she could. It was her fastest shift yet, and the last thing he needed to go into hibernation.
Vera and her fox were okay.
In the shed, she fell asleep against him, her back to the wood burning stove. And when her breathing turned deep and her muscles relaxed in sleep, he slipped out from under the blankets, dressed silently, and set the letter he’d written on the empty cot.
At the door, Tobias allowed himself to look back once. His mate was tucked on her side, knees drawn up, the curvature of her body beautiful under the thick blankets, and her face relaxed in her sleep for the first time in weeks. He closed the door gently, adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder, and strode away from the closest place to home he’d ever known.
Link’s gray and white wolf sat somberly near the cabin as if he’d been waiting. He trotted beside Tobias through the woods until he reached the edge of Wolfland.
And when Tobias continued on and couldn’t see the bright-eyed wolf behind him anymore, the haunting notes of Link’s howl sent him off into the night.
Chapter Eighteen
Something shook Tobias hard. With a soft warning growl, he relaxed again. A small prick of pain, like a bee sting, burned through his shoulder.
He let off another growl, but was helpless to wake up.
He could hear the murmur of voices now, slurred and too low to understand. Men’s voices. Humans. Shit.
He tried to pry his eyes open to defend himself but couldn’t muster the energy.
His shoulder had ignited as if someone had built a tiny fire on his fur. With a grunt of anger, he managed to move his paw. So fucking tired. How had they found him? He was deep in the den, hidden from the outside world. He’d bled three bruin bears to claim this spot. Stupid humans. He would bleed them, too, for waking him from hibernation.
Clamping his jaw against the pain, he blinked his eyes open.
“Oh, shit, he’s waking up.” Was that Dalton Dawson?
“Not fast enough.” That was definitely Chance Dawson.
“Should we give him another dose?” Dalton asked. “Vera said it might take two.”
“No,” another familiar voice murmured. Link? “Let him come out of it easy.”
Something hit Tobias in the chest, and the fragrant smell of cooked chicken hit his nostrils.
“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,” Dalton sang.
“Let’s go,” Link said. “He’ll wake up pissed.”
“I don’t want to die out here,” Chance murmured low.
“Me either,” Dalton admitted. “Tobias is a beast. I’ve never seen his bear before. Holy fuck, dude, he’s huge.” The voices faded, echoing off the cave walls. “It’s cold as dick out here.”
Just before the trio disappeared around a rocky corner, Chance shoved Dalton. “Man, dicks aren’t cold! That doesn’t even make any sense.”
Tobias couldn’t understand them anymore, though he could still hear the Dawsons arguing. The pain was too bright now, the snarl in his throat unavoidable. Something awful was happening to him. His eyes flew open as agony rippled up his spine. It was followed by a hundred tiny cracking sounds. His bones. His bones were breaking. The anguish became so bright, he roared, but as his body exploded with pain, the sound in his throat turned to a scream.
He landed on his hands and knees, gasping and confused. His human hands were splayed against the branches he’d gathered for the floor of his den. His bleary eyes focused on a whole cooked chicken on a paper plate, a bottled water, and three plastic containers. They held what looked like green beans, mashed potatoes, and stuffed mushrooms, like the ones he’d eaten with Vera on their last date. Vera.
He jerked his attention to the tiny dot of blood on his shoulder. It wasn’t April yet. Too cold still. Had she done it?