Page 3 of Midlife Animal Rescuer Wolf

He was pretty sure he could find the foal just fine, but if he hoped to get back in time to join the others at the diner, he’d have to make this quick.

Out of habit, he scanned his surroundings first, in case anyone happened to be nearby. The last thing he needed was a human spotting him mid-shift. The last time that had happened, well, it hadn’t ended well for him. Humans, for the most part, didn’t understand shifters or supernaturals in general. What humans didn’t understand, they feared.

And what they feared, they tried to destroy.

The coast was clear, thank goodness. Bryon divested himself of his clothes, tucking them at the base of a nearby tree, then sucked in a breath and began to shift.

Fur sprouted from his skin, racing up his forearms, until even his face was covered in brown fur. Claws emerged from his fingertips, and he fell forward onto all fours, the crackle of his bones filling his ears as they grew and took shape. His mouth elongated into a snout, and he felt his teeth slowly being replaced by the wolf’s longer, sharper ones.

Immediately, his senses were heightened. His vision brightened, and a myriad of scents found their way into his nostrils: leaves, flowers, some dung, a few other animals, and... a foal.

He could practically see it in his mind’s eye, a lone creature struggling somewhere deeper in the woods. Had it ended up in some trap? The faint scent of blood reached his nose. It had been injured.

Without another moment’s hesitation, he took off, bounding through the woods until the trees became a blur in his vision. More sights and smells rushed his senses, as creatures scampered across his path or out of the way, but he paid them no notice, zeroing in on the scent that mattered most. That foal was in danger, and right now, only he could save it.

He powered faster, darting between the trees. The foal’s scent grew stronger. Good. He was getting closer. But not close enough. The animal was still far away.

The wind rushed in his ears as he picked up speed, leaves and branches brushing against his fur. Up ahead, the earth sloped downward, a narrow dirt path leading into a clearing. A tangle of roots protruded at the clearing’s entrance, and Bryon immediately leaped over them.

He never saw the shard until it was too late.

In his defense, it was a small shard of glass, small enough for anyone to overlook. It wasn’t until he’d launched himself into the air that the gleam caught his eye. Then he hit the earth and pain lanced through his hind limb. With an agonized yelp, he fell.

***

“This is why I never go hiking,” Miranda grumbled.

Resisting the sudden urge to scream, she stared at the tree before her. It was a short tree, shorter than the rest, its branches crooked almost comically. Miranda knew that tree. She’d seen it at least four times already, which could only mean one thing: She’d been walking in circles for the past hour or two.

“I’m going to die in here,” she muttered, running her fingers through her hair. “I’m going to starve to death at the ripe age of forty-two, and then I’ll decompose right here in these woods, and no one will ever find me. They’ll think I fled town or got kidnapped, but I’ll have turned into one of these stupid trees.”

At least she couldn’t hear Jerry’s voice. In fact, she hadn’t heard him in a while. Did that mean he’d given up the chase?

She doubted it. If she had to guess, he was still in these woods, searching for her. Jerry didn’t know when to give up. When she first met him, it had been one of his more admirable qualities, but she no longer held that sentiment.

Right now, her problems were bigger than just Jerry. She was lost, and if she couldn’t find her bearings somehow, she just might end up spending the rest of her days surrounded by trees. Miranda gulped. If she’d thought she was in trouble before, she was waist-deep in it now. What were the odds that she wouldn’t get attacked by some predator lurking in these woods? It wasn’t like she could call 911 either—she hadn’t thought to grab her phone when Jerry’s threats jerked her out of bed.

Maybe she could wait for help. Even as the thought occurred to her, she couldn’t help but scoff. If she did that, she’d be a sitting duck. It would only be a matter of time before Jerry or some creature found her. Yelling for help was out of the question as well.

She turned, pulling her bathrobe tighter around her as a silent panic diffused in her chest, and took a few deep breaths, trying to settle her nerves.

“You could stay put, Miranda,” she said to herself, “and maybe help will come, or maybe that won’t work. Maybe your best bet is to mark the trees like they do in the movies.”

With that, she picked up the nearest rock and hacked away at the tree in front of her until she’d peeled off a layer of its bark. She stepped back, examining her handiwork, and shook her head.

“Who am I kidding?” she said aloud, tossing the rock aside. “I’m an accountant in pajamas and bunny slippers, not freaking Lara Croft, for goodness sake. And it’s my fault I’m in this mess, anyway.”

Maybe if she hadn’t agreed to date Jerry in the first place, she wouldn’t be lost in these woods and wondering about her life expectancy. And maybe, if she’d thought to get as far away from him as possible when she found out he was cheating and broke up with him, she’d be having breakfast or heading to work in some other town.

But no-o-o. In her most recent years, Miranda hadn’t always made the right choices, and the consequences were staring her in the face, except now wasn’t the time to bemoan her fate. She needed to take action.

With another glance at the tree, she headed forward, brushing branches out of her path as she moved through the trees. The least she could do for herself right now was to keep moving. It was less risky than standing still. Her survival instincts might be nothing to write home about, but they weren’t nonexistent.

She’d only cleared a couple of dozen feet when she heard the cry.

Immediately, her entire body went rigid, her eyes widening slowly. The sound had come from somewhere to her right, not far off. Could it be...?

No, she told herself.