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“How is that possible?” He shouted. “Did the humans have weapons? I was told they were fishing and camping on the shore with no visible defenses.” Jaron moved to tower over the young wolf, intimidating him successfully. He cowered and dropped his head.
“Eamon and another wolf interfered and saved the humans. Eamon also reported the incident to the elders.” The young wolf’s voice grew softer and softer as Jaron’s anger escalated.
"They hid the fact it was a wolf attack?" He questioned, and the young wolf nodded. Jaron was more infuriated by the fact he hadn't been able to start a war with the humans than he was with the death of his four men. His hand shot out and grabbed the young wolf by the throat and began to squeeze.
He fought and scratched at Jaron's fingers around his neck but could not remove them and could not draw a breath. Jaron stared crazily into the young wolf's eyes and continued to tighten his grip. Then, suddenly, he threw the young wolf across the room.
"Get out of my sight." He growled and turned his back on the wolf, who was struggling to get to his feet. He fell several times before making his way out the door. Jaron held no concern for the condition of the young wolf and quickly walked over and slammed the door shut.
“That was unnecessary.” An older wolf commented as he walked out of the kitchen and stepped into the living room with Jaron.
"I didn't see you trying to stop me." Jaron shot back, still pissed by the failure last night.
“I didn’t say that I cared, I simply told you that it was unnecessary and a waste of your energy. Anger without control is chaos and chaos will never lead this pack.” The older wolf stated and took a seat on the couch. Jaron stomped over and sat in one of the chairs. This was an elder and it was prudent for him to listen even if he was exploding with the need to kill something or someone.
"Two of the humans were taken to the hospital, and the third was taken by Eamon's friend, Sean Brendon." The man told him.
“Why would he take him?”
“It’s rumored that he saw them shift.”
"That could mean death for the human." Jaron flashed an evil smile, suddenly feeling so much more hopeful in his endeavors than he had been a few minutes before. "Is he someone important or well-known?" He could only hope.
"He's a local and well-liked from what I hear."
“Good, that’s good.” He started to laugh.
Lowell was regaining consciousness by the time they reached the lake house. The man or wolf rather brought him inside and took him into a bedroom and laid him down on the bed. He then went into an attached bath and got a wet washcloth and towel.
When his vision cleared, he could see that the man was no longer naked but was wearing a pair of loose-fitting sweats. He had jet-black hair that hung straight and was swept back from his face. His face was tanned and firm with hard angles and deep shadows. It was his eyes, though, that transfixed. They held the fire and warmth that pulled him closer and kept him staring. This was definitely the man from his dreams, but Lowell wasn't sure what to make of that.
Lowel just lay there watching the activity not sure what was happening. He didn’t know where he was, who this man really was or why he was in this house. His panic started to churn slowly in his gut as the man began cleaning Lowell’s wounds. He wasn’t hurt bad just some deep scratches. He was very lucky, and he knew it.
“Where are my friends?” Lowell croaked out the few words finding it hard to breathe and to speak clearly. The man had been one of the two who had saved them but in his mind Lowell had seen this man as a wolf. He may have been hallucinating or tapping into his dream world.
“They’re being cared for don’t worry.” The man’s voice was deep and easy it was a voice Lowell could listen to forever. His look, his scent, his tone and his touch lulled Lowell into the twilight of peace. It was the same feeling of peace and security he felt in his dream.
“Why am I here?”
"I wanted to speak with you about what happened." The voice gently washed over him, much like the touch of the soft washcloth. "The one that lay on the ground the one you two were protecting is most serious, but he will be okay. The other is in a condition much like you." Lowell appreciated that he told him the situation rather than trying to keep it from him. "You were very brave. What is your name?"
“Lowell French.” He saw no reason not to tell him. “We were going to spend the long weekend camping and fishing.” His tone fell with the realization that all their plans had been torched the moment those beasts entered the clearing. “Wolves don’t usually act like that. Were they diseased?”
“My name is Sean Brendon and I’m here visiting a friend we were out in the woods when we heard you and your friends.” He was being very careful with his words and Lowell wondered why.
"Patrick was on the ground, and John stood with me." Lowel wanted them to have names and not simply identified as his friends.
The man stopped what he was doing and focused on Lowell capturing his gaze and holding it. “None of you ran or panicked you all did your best and you survived. You were prepared to live or die together. It was impressive. You’re a good man Lowell French and you have good friends.”
Lowell found himself blushing under the praise of this man who he did not know and had never truly met. This stranger was eliciting all kinds of feelings and emotions, and they were nice, satisfying feelings. Sean took the washcloth and towel into the bathroom and then returned with a soft t-shirt and helped Lowell put it on.
“Thank you.” He said realizing how good it felt to have a clean shirt on. Lowell went to sit up and Sean instantly helped him into a comfortable position with his back against the pillows. Sean took a seat on the edge of the bed at his side.
“How are you feeling?”
"Good considering what I went through." Lowell took stock of his body and was surprised by his lack of pain and discomfort. "Did you give me anything for the pain?"
“Do you have pain?”
