Yellowwood
National Forrest. The towering pines with their snow laden boughs
reminded him of a scene from a Christmas card, so serene and
picturesque that he briefly forgot his purpose for being in the
woods.
Fur as black as night, orange eyes glaring,
Asher moved swiftly. Neither the cold, nor the foot of snow
hindered him. He climbed higher, leaping over snowdrifts and fallen
trees until he was successfully standing on top of a large hill,
panting out puffs of white mist. Under the glow of the crescent
moon he saw a cabin hidden among the trees in the hollow below,
black smoke bellowing from its chimney.
Parked outside were six snowmobiles and a
four-wheel drive with a winch on the front. He guessed that was how
they tricked Ari by pretending to be good Samaritans. That would be
just like his brother to be so trusting. Asher tilted his head
upward and howled, and then pricking his ears he rotated them from
left to right, like a satellite dish. Alert and quiet he waited
until faintly he heard it, the sound of Ari’s dog-form howling
back. He was all right, just a little tired and cold.
Asher closed his eyes and allowed the relief
to momentarily wash over him. He tried desperately not to cry.
Seldom did he allow such emotions to surface, but this time it was
different. Ever since accepting the bond again, Asher was highly
aware of his brother’s spirit and the sadness within Ari was
overwhelming. Another howl penetrated Asher’s consciousness leaving
behind tiny mental goose bumps. This howl had not been sent by
Ari.
Crouching down out of sight, Asher began
scanning the area around the cabin until just beyond, near a large
pine, he spotted a single wolf. Once again the grey howled, in all
things a warning. Since the wolf apparently knew he was there,
Asher stood and sniffed the wind. He picked up nothing, no sign
that the wolf was real.
The screeching of a falcon sounded overhead
and Asher cursed. The tiger and the rodent brats weren’t too far
off. He commended them at least for catching up. When he looked
again the wolf was gone.
Shifting back into a man, a sudden wind
caught Asher off guard and whipped his hair madly about his face.
Even in his fur lined parka, the wind was frigid. He quickly pulled
up the hood drawing the string tight around his neck, and taking
fingerless leather gloves from his pocket, he slowly pulled them
on. He noticed tracks of his wolf form leading up to where he stood
and bitterness welled inside of him.
For ten years he had resisted the urge to
shift, as his powers only proceeded to grow stronger. Now thanks to
a bunch of outcasts, the persuasion to change would be even greater
for him in the future, especially during the next full moon. And
this night, Asher knew that he would need every ounce of his
magic—magic that was decreased in the transformation process. Nixon
descended from the sky and changed back before his feet could
successfully touch the ground. Landing on his knees, he quickly got
up and hurried toward him.
“They probably know we’re here now,” Asher
said in a low voice as he approached.
“You think?” Nixon shivered pulling his
leather coat together with his bare hands. It seemed so like him to
wear such a garment of vanity despite the cold. “I figured with you
and Ari’s howling session they already figured that out.”
Asher snarled, “I needed to communicate with
him.”
“They must not care if he’s in dog form
then.”
“Obviously not,” Asher answered
sarcastically. “Hopefully, they didn’t pick up your screeching.”
“I don’t believe it’s the fowlers, we should
be concerned about.” Nixon said.
Asher sensed tension in his voice, so he
arched his brow, and urged Nixon to speak his mind.
“About two miles back on the service lane,”
Nixon told him, “I saw a whole herd of parked snowmobiles. I took
roost in a tree and since I was waiting on Kennedy to catch up, I
decided to watch the road. Sure enough a truckload of people
National Forrest. The towering pines with their snow laden boughs
reminded him of a scene from a Christmas card, so serene and
picturesque that he briefly forgot his purpose for being in the
woods.
Fur as black as night, orange eyes glaring,
Asher moved swiftly. Neither the cold, nor the foot of snow
hindered him. He climbed higher, leaping over snowdrifts and fallen
trees until he was successfully standing on top of a large hill,
panting out puffs of white mist. Under the glow of the crescent
moon he saw a cabin hidden among the trees in the hollow below,
black smoke bellowing from its chimney.
Parked outside were six snowmobiles and a
four-wheel drive with a winch on the front. He guessed that was how
they tricked Ari by pretending to be good Samaritans. That would be
just like his brother to be so trusting. Asher tilted his head
upward and howled, and then pricking his ears he rotated them from
left to right, like a satellite dish. Alert and quiet he waited
until faintly he heard it, the sound of Ari’s dog-form howling
back. He was all right, just a little tired and cold.
Asher closed his eyes and allowed the relief
to momentarily wash over him. He tried desperately not to cry.
Seldom did he allow such emotions to surface, but this time it was
different. Ever since accepting the bond again, Asher was highly
aware of his brother’s spirit and the sadness within Ari was
overwhelming. Another howl penetrated Asher’s consciousness leaving
behind tiny mental goose bumps. This howl had not been sent by
Ari.
Crouching down out of sight, Asher began
scanning the area around the cabin until just beyond, near a large
pine, he spotted a single wolf. Once again the grey howled, in all
things a warning. Since the wolf apparently knew he was there,
Asher stood and sniffed the wind. He picked up nothing, no sign
that the wolf was real.
The screeching of a falcon sounded overhead
and Asher cursed. The tiger and the rodent brats weren’t too far
off. He commended them at least for catching up. When he looked
again the wolf was gone.
Shifting back into a man, a sudden wind
caught Asher off guard and whipped his hair madly about his face.
Even in his fur lined parka, the wind was frigid. He quickly pulled
up the hood drawing the string tight around his neck, and taking
fingerless leather gloves from his pocket, he slowly pulled them
on. He noticed tracks of his wolf form leading up to where he stood
and bitterness welled inside of him.
For ten years he had resisted the urge to
shift, as his powers only proceeded to grow stronger. Now thanks to
a bunch of outcasts, the persuasion to change would be even greater
for him in the future, especially during the next full moon. And
this night, Asher knew that he would need every ounce of his
magic—magic that was decreased in the transformation process. Nixon
descended from the sky and changed back before his feet could
successfully touch the ground. Landing on his knees, he quickly got
up and hurried toward him.
“They probably know we’re here now,” Asher
said in a low voice as he approached.
“You think?” Nixon shivered pulling his
leather coat together with his bare hands. It seemed so like him to
wear such a garment of vanity despite the cold. “I figured with you
and Ari’s howling session they already figured that out.”
Asher snarled, “I needed to communicate with
him.”
“They must not care if he’s in dog form
then.”
“Obviously not,” Asher answered
sarcastically. “Hopefully, they didn’t pick up your screeching.”
“I don’t believe it’s the fowlers, we should
be concerned about.” Nixon said.
Asher sensed tension in his voice, so he
arched his brow, and urged Nixon to speak his mind.
“About two miles back on the service lane,”
Nixon told him, “I saw a whole herd of parked snowmobiles. I took
roost in a tree and since I was waiting on Kennedy to catch up, I
decided to watch the road. Sure enough a truckload of people
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