Page 2 of Shared With The Pack

The son they tried to sell off.

I close my eyes and give into the cold night. I don't know how much time passes, but when I open my eyes again, I'm not alone. There's something here in the forest with me.

A set of glowing green eyes watches me from the dark.

Chapter 2

Griff

The storm came from nowhere. It has all the makings of an ill omen on an unfortunate night. Halloween, as humans call it. Or Samhain, as the witches say. Werewolves don't have a special name for it. Ain't even a full moon tonight.

In our isolated cabin, deep in our woodland territory, my pack is safe and sound from any nonsense. From the comfort of my armchair, I watch the rain tap against the window and listen to the wind knocking along the walls. In my hands, I hold my knife and a piece of wood.

Slowly and carefully, I whittle away and the wood takes shape. Something small and delicate. With a friendly face...a little beak. As I lose myself to my woodworking project, my pack mates busy themselves with their own ways.

Ridge bustles around the kitchen, preparing dinner for everyone. Heath's shifted, as usual, and lies on the floor, hoping for Ridge to drop something. The fireplace crackles, its warmth keeping the chill of the night at bay. The serenity of the moment vanishes as something smashes onto the rooftop.

Glass breaks. The cabin lets out a shuddering groan, and in a blink of an eye, hunks of stone fall down the chimney, crushing out the fire's flames in a puff of smoke and debris. I spring to my feet, knife gripped tight in my hand, losing my project to the floor. I narrow my eyes and cough, waving an arm to clear the air.

"Ridge?" I call out. "Heath?"

I don't think about the damage to the cabin. We'll deal with that later. My thoughts now are only for my pack. Ridge and Heath are my brothers in all but name. Neither of them are pups, but as the oldest among us, their safety and well-being are my responsibility.

With the knife still in hand, I cross the floor toward the far corner we've set up as the kitchen. I take note of the window's cracked glass. Jagged shards are spilled everywhere. Those dangerous slivers are all over the water basin, the countertop, and the floor.

Ridge and Heath are gone. I glance around the empty cabin. Ridge is a big fella, there's only one place he could hide. Glass crunches underneath my boots as I walk over to the pantry. I find Ridge shifted, his clothes ripped to shreds, the hackles of his dark brown fur raised as he cowers beneath the hanging cured meats and feebly tries to hide himself behind a shelf of canned goods.

No hope there. Ridge is the biggest wolf I've ever seen in my life. Great paws paired with an enormous head and a long, fluffy tail. Twice as big as any natural wolf. His golden eyes peer up at me, his hairy form pressed as low to the wooden floor as he can get. Ridge is so big one would think nothing should be capable of scaring him, but he's full of fear right now.

I do my best to soothe him.

"We're okay, Ridge. We ain't under attack." If it were hunters come to kill, well, bullets would already be flying...and I'd be ripping their throats out. "Must have been a lightning strike. Get dressed and have a look at the window. Need that patched over before the rain floods us."

I pat his head. Ridge is an alpha, same as me, but that doesn't make him immune to panic. He's got a soft soul. Slow to anger, but quick to worry. No helping that. He had a hard life before we crossed paths, and I took him as my second. For a long while, it was only us. Only us and -- no.

I can't think about her. Not now.

I leave Ridge be and seek Heath, the last member of our three wolf pack. Where has he gone? What is he up to? Daily, sometimes hourly, questions when it comes to Heath. He's not anywhere in the cabin, so I pop out onto the porch.

The wind has sent the rain in all directions, soaking everything. Heath, too. While Ridge shifted into a wolf from the disturbance, Heath shifted into his human shape. An odd choice for him. He spends more time wearing fur than skin. I half think it's because he abhors clothes so much. He ain't wearing any now. The pale globes of his ass are the only bright things out in the darkness.

"Heath!" I shout. "You seen what happened?"

He grins over his shoulder at me, his blond hair hanging in soaked strands around his face. Heath's the youngest of us. No longer a boy, but what sort of man he's shaping up to be has yet to finish forming. Though Heath will always be more wolf than man.

"There was a boy in the sky."

Well, that doesn't make a lick of sense. Nothing but the storm rages around us. "Get inside."

Heath turns to fully face me. His eyes...they shine with the strength of all the stars missing from the sky. "Ours. He's ours. I have his scent."

Crazy fucking bastard.

Heath's grin grows into fangs. All those fair locks grow into a sleek expanse of whitish blond fur. Heath takes off past the clearing of the cabin, darting into the trees.

From the dark, he lets out a long baying howl.

A rallying cry to come and hunt.