Suddenly there’s no air in my lungs and no spit in my mouth. I’ve walked right into the middle of the werewolf pack. Well, this was what I was going for. Right? But I can’t say I’m not scared shitless. The silver wolf, Randall, breaks free from the swirling pack and stands before me. He bares his teeth in what may be a snarl, or a smile. You killed my brother. You took my life away from me. I lunge at the silver wolf. Surprise in his eyes, he leaps aside, but my boot connects with his ribs. He yelps. I laugh. Randall flattens his ears and snaps at me, his teeth clicking. I grab a stout stick off the ground and raise it high. A woman’s voice cuts through the night. “Enough!” Randall lowers his head and retreats from me. The swirling wolves halt, their ears pricked, paws raised questioningly. A tawny-skinned woman with a long mane of black hair strides into the circle of wolves.
