"Sasha!" Sarah squealed. The grey wolf was at Kim's window again, pawing at the glass.

  Kim shushed her immediately. "Your mom!" she warned, glancing at the door.

  "She's hunting, she won't know," Sarah whispered, unlatching the window.

  Sasha leaped in, a blur of grey fur and wet nose. It was late, and the house was quiet; Mary and Daniel were long gone. Sasha immediately head-butted Kim, sniffing her frantically. She hadn't seen Kim since the Sasquatch attack and was clearly worried.

  "I'm fine, girl," Kim whispered, burying her hands in the wolf's neck.

  "This is Sasha, right?" Sarah asked, inching closer. She hadn't met the local pack yet; they had been recovering at the conservation area.

  "You wanna hunt with them?" Kim asked, seeing the longing in Sarah's eyes. She looked over and saw Sarah had already stripped and changed in an eager grey werewolf standing on the rug.

  Sasha sniffed the new wolf warily.

  "She's good," Kim told the grey wolf, jostling her fur reassuringly. She quickly undressed, letting the change take her.

  The Grey Wolves were already waiting at the tree line. The hunt was fierce. With Sarah and Kim adding their strength to the pack, they managed to bring down a grizzly, along with some elk and rabbits. It was a feast fit for kings.

  Sated and exhausted, the pack piled onto each other to sleep in a warm, breathing heap of fur. Sarah joined them instantly, snoring softly. Kim, initially reluctant, came to rest between Sasha and the one Macy had named "Fred."

  It was supposed to be the perfect end to a good night. But then, a sound cut through the silence.

  An animal fight. Distant, but violent.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The other wolves didn't stir. They were tired, full, and safe. Even Sarah was fast asleep, lost in a meat coma. But Kim found herself drawn to the noise. It sounded desperate.

  She slipped out of the pile and moved into the trees.

  As she got closer, the scent hit her—musk, wet fur, and the distinct, coppery tang of Sasquatch.

  Kim increased her pace, moving like a ghost through the underbrush. From a ridge, she looked down and saw them: three Sasquatch surrounding a single creature.

  It looked like a coyote, but massive—a coywolf, maybe. Its fur was pitch black, darker than the night around it, seemingly pulling the light from the air. It was backed against a rock face, snapping and snarling, but it was losing.

  It looked up at her, helpless. And in the moonlight, she saw its eyes.

  Brown. With gold flecks.

  Instinct overwhelmed sense. Kim leaped from the ridge, a white streak of fury, landing squarely between the wounded creature and the ape-men.

  She growled—loud, deep, and vibrating with the power of it. Behind her, the black coywolf did the same, adding his voice to hers.

  The three Sasquatch froze. They looked at Kim, and she saw the recognition in their heavy brows. They remembered Mary’s warning. They remembered the White Wolf.

  With angry, frustrated grunts, they turned and disappeared into the darkness.

  Kim didn't relax until their scent faded. She turned to inspect the stranger.

  The coywolf watched her warily, favoring a back leg. He was covered in cuts, some fresh, some old and jagged. Her heart broke for the wounded thing. It looked so alone.

  She nudged him gently with her nose, then beckoned him to follow. She led him back toward the kill site, to the remains of the grizzly carcass.

  The coywolf hesitated, sniffing the air, then tepidly began to chew at the remains. Kim, already full, just sat on her haunches, watching the woods for the apes to return.

  As the coywolf devoured the meat, something amazing happened. He stood tall in the moonlight, and Kim watched as his wounds knit together, the magic of the meat and the moonlight fueling his regeneration. Something she thought only werewolves could do.

  He was beautiful in a terrifying way.

  She stepped forward to sniff him, to learn his scent, but he leaped back, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

  This creature, whatever he was, was used to hunting alone. He didn't know how to be part of a pack.

  They circled each other for a moment—White Wolf and Black Shadow—Kim haunted by those familiar, gold-flecked eyes.

  Eventually, the black creature turned and bounded east, vanishing deeper into the woods.

  Kim watched him go, a strange ache in her chest. She returned to her sleeping pack, coming to rest basically on top of Sarah and Fred, but sleep didn't come easil