They’re hunters. They might not be best buddies with werewolves, but they’ll be fair. Besides, Greyson and I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s that weird magic the wolf was dosed with that they’ll need to work on, and that’s important for the werewolves’ sake.
Even so…I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Amos Fletching was going to be a problem.
*
A wolf howled, and I ran as silently as I could across the meadow, sprinting to safety.
My lungs burned, and there was a stitch in my side that felt like a dagger was stabbing me between the ribs, but I kept running.
The sky was painted red from the setting sun—which had long disappeared behind the tall trees. It gave the meadow—some of the most dangerous territory I’d crossed all night—an ominous red glow.
Almost there. If I can just make it to the trees…
Behind me, another wolf howled—this one’s voice was clear and loud, projecting across the meadow.
They’d found me.
When I glanced back over my shoulder, I saw three wolves emerge from the shadows of the trees—their white fur swirled into their brown and gray coats was a stark marker in the evening light.
Larger than average wolves with the frightening intelligence of humans glittering in their eyes, the wolves blitzed across the meadow, running faster than I ever could.
A low growl closed in on me, but I laid out one last burst of speed, reaching the trees.
My hands scraped on rough bark as I shimmied up the closest tree.
The wolves snarled and snapped at my feet—which I yanked clear just in time. They circled the tree, their lips curled up to flash their white teeth at me.
“Yes, I regret to inform you that this evening, Hide of Hunter is no longer available on the menu.” I tried to bow at them like a waiter in an expensive restaurant, but it almost knocked me off balance, so I hurriedly fixed my grip and then scooted up higher so the maze of branches and leaves gave me better cover.
The largest of the trio—a yellow-ish gray colored wolf with black brushed over his back and tail and a narrower head—snapped at me.
“I made it fair and square, Rio!” I called down to the sore loser.
He growled as I climbed higher still.
“Throw a temper tantrum as much as you like, but I still made it.” I peered through the dark innards of the tree, waiting for my eyes to make the adjustment. （That was another standard hunter power—better night and low light vision.）
One of the wolves sneezed, and Rio snarled again.
I stayed silent—the game wasn’t over. I still had to make it to the lake.
Three times a week, I was “invited” to train with the wolves.
Wolves trained in a variety of ways—and it varied a lot from Pack to Pack.
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.