Page 31 of Wild Wolf

I wondered, then, if cancer had as clear of a scent as encroaching death did. The underlying notes of old age polluted the witch’s scent, but I’d never thought to try smelling out something like cancer before.

In any case, something about Amber no longer smelled right, but I’d been blind to it before the ghostly wolf had made her appearance.

How much else had I been blind to?

The wolf investigated the bleeding nip on Amber’s throat, tilted her head to the side, and gave a light nip, as though afraid she might hurt the witch.

Amber squirmed in my arms, and I tightened my grip on her, aware of the warnings of how painful the first shift could be. Then, my worries for Amber and what she faced surged—and why she might throw everything away to escape the cancer’s final, gruesome days.

Amber had been right: either way, she won. She either continued life bonded with the wolf, or she died and avoided a fate nobody deserved.

Letting go hurt as much as holding on, and I’d have to thank Richard for understanding what he saved his friend from, even if it meant losing her in the process. If the ritual failed, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault.

The wolf decided, and the wolf had as much to lose as Amber.

The wolf’s attention turned to me, and she sniffed with the same curiosity, her ears pricked forward. Could she smell my wolf the same way I could smell other wolves? Once through the ritual, for better or worse, I would ask Richard or Desmond my questions.

Like she had with Amber, the wolf nosed at my neck and gave a light nip, hard enough I recognized she’d touched me with her teeth and could do damage if she wanted.

Some might view her behavior as a warning, but I got the feeling it was more of a greeting than anything else.

Then the wolf invaded Amber’s lap, her weight startling a grunt out of me. The animal draped her paws over Amber’s shoulders in a hug, she gave a final nuzzle, and then bit the woman hard enough to draw blood.

A few moments later, rather than scream, Amber turned her head, sank her teeth into me, and held on tight.

From start to finish, the ritual had taken seven minutes, concluding with Amber’s transformation into a pocket-sized wolf, a gagging one who hacked up blackened blood and other bits all over her clothes and the floor. I eased her out of the clothes and held her while she coughed. Richard wasted no time shifting back to human. “I’d really hoped it would have expelled during the transformation,” he growled, his voice hoarse from pain. “Which rabbit is closest to done? She’ll need to eat, even if it’s not fully cooked. Don’t worry about her clothes. I’ll clean out her pockets, burn it, and get out a change of clothes from our bags.”

I pointed at my fridge. “The entire bottom is dedicated to Petra, and it’s raw. Any one of the rabbits will suffice. They’re all close to done or done now.”

Richard jerked on his pants, tossed his shirt to me, and headed for the refrigerator. “Use the shirt to clean up that mess. We’ll burn the clothes once the first wave is over. She’s going to have pretty horrible ritual sickness, so we’ll have to feed her as often as we can, expecting her to throw it all up. Once she’s over the ritual sickness, she’ll be a handful. She will eat enough for five or more of us, and she’ll probably try to take your pants off. She’s going to have a lot of new instincts to learn. In good news, no smoke. That tells me she was so far gone her witchcraft failed when the ritual started in earnest. It can go either way. We probably should have done that outside.”

Amber panted to catch her breath and resumed hacking out the foul, blackened substance. Wrinkling my nose at the acrid stench, I used Richard’s shirt to mop up the worse of it, gave up, and directed her muzzle so she got it on the fabric rather than the floor. “Did you see the wolf? During the ritual?”

“I can’t see them like that,” Richard admitted. “Some witches claim they see ghostly figures, but I’ve never experienced that myself. I’m aware when they’re close, though. This went a lot better than I expected it to. Did you? See her wolf, I mean?”

“I did. She was wary at first, and then she became curious. Then she smelled around at Amber’s head for a while before sniffing at me. I got a light nip, but then she went to Amber and the shift started.”

“We nip a lot, so that doesn’t surprise me, and you’re a single male. The bitches love the scent of single male wolf.” Richard brought several paper-wrapped packages of raw meat I’d gotten from the butcher. “These are recent enough it won’t bother her, but we don’t give anything raw that’s been in the refrigerator for more than two days. We cook it first. Nothing is quite as bad as a new wolf sick from food poisoning on top of having ritual sickness. Most make beef stew, but for some reason, I expect you can do better than that. Petra, however, won’t care if it’s older than two days, so don’t worry about that. Fenerec are more sensitive to raw meat.”

“I rarely have anything older than two days in the fridge anyway. I tend to thaw it same day for her. Things were just a little hectic.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, handing me the meat. I tore into it, grateful I had Petra’s cut into small cubes so she wouldn’t choke on it. I offered the first piece to Amber, and she swallowed it whole before squirming in my arms to get to more of the meat. Richard observed while I fed Amber everything he’d brought out of the fridge. Once she’d eaten, he said, “I’ll get Desmond, and we’ll deal with the mess, and he can help handle finishing the rabbits.” Flinging open the door, Richard bellowed, “We need some help in the kitchen, Desmond.”

“Coming,” Desmond called back, and after a few moments, he stepped into the cabin, closing the door behind him. “Petra and Nicolina are romping. It might be a first, Richard. There’s a mundane canine that my daughter isn’t trying to bite because of you.” Lowering his voice, he asked, “How did it go?”

“She pulled through. It went better than I thought it would, but she’s expelling a lot. Declan’s going to either need you to take over holding her and cleaning up the mess, or you’ll have to handle the rabbits.”

“I already took care of turning and checking on the ones outside, so I can work the rabbits in here, too. I may not be a chef, but this is within my abilities.” Desmond crouched. “You okay with her being in my pack, Richard? You’re already stretched thin being so far away from your pack, and I can give her more attention.”

“Take her. Nicolina will cope with it, and it’ll keep Amber with Declan. Her wolf’s already introduced herself to him, so that’ll keep her comfortable.”

“Hand her to me, Declan. I want to be as gentle with her as possible for this.”

I obeyed, and Desmond sat beside me, stroking his hand over Amber’s fur. “You’ll get all the pampering you could ever want, so you just try to relax. And if we don’t pamper you right, Wendy will let us know about it later.”

Amber coughed, and to my relief, she didn’t resume hacking or throw up her lunch, which had weighed more than she did.

Magic worked in mysterious ways, and I wondered how the tiny wolf, who had a bulging stomach from having just fed, managed to hold everything we’d given her.