Frostbitten
Page 24
"At least a mile off," I said. "With luck they'll stay there. But if we can take the snowmobile and return it to the shed, we should."
We went back inside to find the keys. We didn't. Either the mutts took them for the truck or we'd buried them in Dennis's pocket.
Clay tried to hotwire the snowmobile. Lucas had taught him how-for cars-but I don't think Clay had paid much attention. It wasn't a skill he'd ever needed, so he'd only listened to be respectful.
Clay had taught Lucas a lot and if Lucas wanted to return a lesson, Clay wouldn't say he couldn't use it.
Only now he could use it, and could only vaguely recall the instructions.
After about twenty minutes, he settled back on his haunches and growled at the offending vehicle. "I remember how to do it with cars and the basic principles are the same but… " Another growl. "Machines. I'm a lot better at disabling them than starting them."
"Shocking." I hopped off the edge of the porch. "Forget it. By the time we get it going, we could have walked to the car and back."
He hated to admit the challenge had bested him, but after another moment of fiddling, he hefted the book bag, and we set out.
We could still hear the distant song of the wolves, so we relaxed, knowing they were far off. We talked about the kids and the school dilemma-a good distraction.
Clay moved into the lead as the moon slid behind cloud cover. "Kindergarten is a waste of time."
"Says the guy who got kicked out."
"I wasn't kicked out."
"No, they just strongly suggested that Jeremy reconsider your readiness for school… and preferably find you another one to attend."
"Damned private schools. Elitist snobs."
"True. A public school would never get so worked up over a student dissecting the classroom guinea pig."
"It was already-"
"-dead. So I've heard. Which really wasn't the point."
"The point was that they failed to recognize my academic potential, and Logan is going to run into the same problems."
"We'll tell his teacher he's allergic to guinea pigs."
Clay let a branch fling back. I caught it before it hit my face.
"I'd agree," I said. "If Logan wasn't the one wanting to go to-"
Clay spun fast. I jumped, hands flying up, thinking he was goofing. Then I saw his face, rigid, as he stared out into the forest. A pair of eyes appeared from the darkness. Then another. And another.
"Shit," I said. "But we just heard them miles-That was another pack."
Clay stepped back toward me, my nylon coat whispering against his leather. I counted eleven pair of eyes, and a couple more dark shapes farther back. A huge pack.
"Hear anything?" Clay asked.
He meant a growl or snarl, some warning of impending attack. But the wolves were silent, pale statues against the night, eyes glinting where the moonlight pierced the canopy.
"I think they'll leave us alone," Clay said.
"Just curious?"
He nodded and slipped behind me. "Keep walking. I'll keep a watch on the rear. No sudden moves or loud noises."
He knew I knew this-it was just his anxiety talking. For the first ten paces, the wolves stayed where they were. Then their eyes disappeared as they turned and started gliding along, still silent, keeping their distance, flanking us as we walked.
I'll never forget what that was like, the squeak of snow under my boots, adrenaline pumping so hard I didn't feel the cold, my breath coming in puffs, tiny clouds hanging in the air, the moonlight through the trees casting slices of light, the wolves gliding through them, then vanishing into the dark.
A wolf stopped in one of those moonlight slices. Its head swiveled as it looked the other way, deep into the forest. Another wolf stopped, then another, their gray shapes all turning.
One let out a low whine. Another growled. Clay tugged me back against him, his chin lifting, eyes searching, but the wolves paid us no attention. Then, on the wind, a scent whipped past, heavy and musky, the stink of it clinging to my throat.
Clay's face lifted, nostrils flaring. "What the hell is that?"
I took another sniff, but smelled only clean air now. The wolves hadn't budged. I swore I could feel their anxiety thrumming through the air.
The same wolf growled again. A bigger one twisted and snapped, like a grown-up telling a teenager to shut up. The younger wolf's ears lowered and his grumble vibrated across the air, but didn't rise to a growl again.
And then, as if in reaction to a command I couldn't hear, the wolves all turned and started to run, tearing back the way they'd come, paws pounding.
Only one remained-the wolf farthest from us, a dark shape I hadn't noticed hidden behind his lighter brethren. He stood his ground, hackles up, and even from here, I could hear the low warning growl.
The moon slid from behind wispy clouds, beaming light into the dark pockets between the trees, and I got a good look at him-not a black wolf but a dark red one, nearly twice the size of the others. It was the one I'd seen at the window. The wolf that I'd been sure, for a moment, wasn't a wolf at all.
Before I could say anything to Clay, a smaller gray wolf ran back, lunging and dancing in front of the dark wolf, then darting behind him and nipping at his heels. He looked out into the forest. The smaller wolf bumped him, whining. He snorted and turned toward us, green eyes meeting mine. Then he took off after the others.
"Did you see…?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Was that…?"
"Think so."
A werewolf with a wolf pack? I took a step off the path, but Clay caught my arm.
"I want to check his scent," I said. "See whether he was one of the mutts who killed Dennis."
"We'll come back. Right now, we need to get to the truck before we find out what scared them off."
"Whatever it was, I think it's gone. I only caught that one whiff."
Clay kept his fingers on my arm, guiding me along the path.
"Did it smell like wolf to you?" I asked.
"Wolf?" He pursed his lips, considering it. "I thought it might, but I was picking up the wolves following us. With that stink, I was going wolverine. If it made the wolves run, though, I'm guessing bear."
"A pack that size running from a bear?"
We went back inside to find the keys. We didn't. Either the mutts took them for the truck or we'd buried them in Dennis's pocket.
Clay tried to hotwire the snowmobile. Lucas had taught him how-for cars-but I don't think Clay had paid much attention. It wasn't a skill he'd ever needed, so he'd only listened to be respectful.
Clay had taught Lucas a lot and if Lucas wanted to return a lesson, Clay wouldn't say he couldn't use it.
Only now he could use it, and could only vaguely recall the instructions.
After about twenty minutes, he settled back on his haunches and growled at the offending vehicle. "I remember how to do it with cars and the basic principles are the same but… " Another growl. "Machines. I'm a lot better at disabling them than starting them."
"Shocking." I hopped off the edge of the porch. "Forget it. By the time we get it going, we could have walked to the car and back."
He hated to admit the challenge had bested him, but after another moment of fiddling, he hefted the book bag, and we set out.
We could still hear the distant song of the wolves, so we relaxed, knowing they were far off. We talked about the kids and the school dilemma-a good distraction.
Clay moved into the lead as the moon slid behind cloud cover. "Kindergarten is a waste of time."
"Says the guy who got kicked out."
"I wasn't kicked out."
"No, they just strongly suggested that Jeremy reconsider your readiness for school… and preferably find you another one to attend."
"Damned private schools. Elitist snobs."
"True. A public school would never get so worked up over a student dissecting the classroom guinea pig."
"It was already-"
"-dead. So I've heard. Which really wasn't the point."
"The point was that they failed to recognize my academic potential, and Logan is going to run into the same problems."
"We'll tell his teacher he's allergic to guinea pigs."
Clay let a branch fling back. I caught it before it hit my face.
"I'd agree," I said. "If Logan wasn't the one wanting to go to-"
Clay spun fast. I jumped, hands flying up, thinking he was goofing. Then I saw his face, rigid, as he stared out into the forest. A pair of eyes appeared from the darkness. Then another. And another.
"Shit," I said. "But we just heard them miles-That was another pack."
Clay stepped back toward me, my nylon coat whispering against his leather. I counted eleven pair of eyes, and a couple more dark shapes farther back. A huge pack.
"Hear anything?" Clay asked.
He meant a growl or snarl, some warning of impending attack. But the wolves were silent, pale statues against the night, eyes glinting where the moonlight pierced the canopy.
"I think they'll leave us alone," Clay said.
"Just curious?"
He nodded and slipped behind me. "Keep walking. I'll keep a watch on the rear. No sudden moves or loud noises."
He knew I knew this-it was just his anxiety talking. For the first ten paces, the wolves stayed where they were. Then their eyes disappeared as they turned and started gliding along, still silent, keeping their distance, flanking us as we walked.
I'll never forget what that was like, the squeak of snow under my boots, adrenaline pumping so hard I didn't feel the cold, my breath coming in puffs, tiny clouds hanging in the air, the moonlight through the trees casting slices of light, the wolves gliding through them, then vanishing into the dark.
A wolf stopped in one of those moonlight slices. Its head swiveled as it looked the other way, deep into the forest. Another wolf stopped, then another, their gray shapes all turning.
One let out a low whine. Another growled. Clay tugged me back against him, his chin lifting, eyes searching, but the wolves paid us no attention. Then, on the wind, a scent whipped past, heavy and musky, the stink of it clinging to my throat.
Clay's face lifted, nostrils flaring. "What the hell is that?"
I took another sniff, but smelled only clean air now. The wolves hadn't budged. I swore I could feel their anxiety thrumming through the air.
The same wolf growled again. A bigger one twisted and snapped, like a grown-up telling a teenager to shut up. The younger wolf's ears lowered and his grumble vibrated across the air, but didn't rise to a growl again.
And then, as if in reaction to a command I couldn't hear, the wolves all turned and started to run, tearing back the way they'd come, paws pounding.
Only one remained-the wolf farthest from us, a dark shape I hadn't noticed hidden behind his lighter brethren. He stood his ground, hackles up, and even from here, I could hear the low warning growl.
The moon slid from behind wispy clouds, beaming light into the dark pockets between the trees, and I got a good look at him-not a black wolf but a dark red one, nearly twice the size of the others. It was the one I'd seen at the window. The wolf that I'd been sure, for a moment, wasn't a wolf at all.
Before I could say anything to Clay, a smaller gray wolf ran back, lunging and dancing in front of the dark wolf, then darting behind him and nipping at his heels. He looked out into the forest. The smaller wolf bumped him, whining. He snorted and turned toward us, green eyes meeting mine. Then he took off after the others.
"Did you see…?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Was that…?"
"Think so."
A werewolf with a wolf pack? I took a step off the path, but Clay caught my arm.
"I want to check his scent," I said. "See whether he was one of the mutts who killed Dennis."
"We'll come back. Right now, we need to get to the truck before we find out what scared them off."
"Whatever it was, I think it's gone. I only caught that one whiff."
Clay kept his fingers on my arm, guiding me along the path.
"Did it smell like wolf to you?" I asked.
"Wolf?" He pursed his lips, considering it. "I thought it might, but I was picking up the wolves following us. With that stink, I was going wolverine. If it made the wolves run, though, I'm guessing bear."
"A pack that size running from a bear?"
