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Chapter 4
Lacey inhaled the rich scent of ash, pine, and sycamore as she trekked through the forest. Tall branches swept overhead, dominating the canopy, competing against each other for the light’s nutrients.
An abundance of dancing light played across the ground, highlighting the various shades of green to be found – moss, leaves, twigs, an endless variety of plants she’d not seen for years. An array of flowers clung to corners, looking almost out of place amongst the rich green tapestry.
The sounds of critters through the undergrowth resonated through the air, nearly drowning out the sounds of the trees swaying in the breeze. Early September in North Dakota seemed to be the ideal place for a spot of hiking.
And for werewolves.
How long has it been since I’ve been in a place like this? Lacey wondered, her feet snapping a branch as she glanced around. Not since Nathan, she realised. Her heart constricted in her chest at the thought.
After his death, she couldn’t bear to be in the woods. They reminded her too much of him. Nathan had been made for the wild – that werewolf heart of his couldn’t be tamed in the big city.
But he’d been willing to try.
For her.
And it had cost him everything.
“Don’t think of it,” she told herself, gritting her teeth against the memories threatening to burst through the wall she thought she’d erected strong and tall. What good would come of it anyway? Memories caused nothing but pain and heartache.
She’d had enough of both to last her a lifetime.
She pushed back that whiff of pine, that caress of black hair, and concentrated on her surroundings. Hiking through forests were not only a great form of exercise, but also meditation, a way to clear the troubles plaguing one’s hearts and understanding what the soul truly wanted, truly needed.
Lacey had spent much of her life in the woods, playing hide and seek with her mother as her father worked the mines. Her feet should have been stained with mud and twigs considering how long she’d played amongst the trees, exploring all the nooks and crannies that it possessed.
Memories of her mother teaching her the names of the trees fluttered within her head. Pine, oak, aspen, ash. So many others. Some were hardwood, others softwood, and every single one of them were beautiful and unique. Lacey recalled endless hours of watching the birds high in the branches, singing sweet songs that drifted along in the wind, and desperately trying to remember what kinds of birds they were. Even now, she couldn’t remember, but her father could. He could tell a species simply from listening to their songs.
Lacey continued marching through, following what seemed to be a well-worn trail. She’d been hiking for what seemed like hours, hoping to stumble upon one of the cabins people claimed were there. Not that anyone could give her real directions. It didn’t matter, she’d follow her gut.
But she’d been thankful she’d picked up some supplies along the way. A couple of bottles of water, a sandwich she’d convinced the matronly owner of the B&B to make, thick with ham and cheese and lettuce, along with another bag of chips and an apple. In addition to food and drink, she’d packed a first aid kit, a charger for her phone, and a pocketknife in case of emergencies. Her iPhone, the only real luxury she possessed as old and scratched as it was, sat nestled within the pocket of her black jeans. The rest were in her backpack, the leather as worn as the chair in her office and ten years old at least, but considering it was leather, it would last another ten. Which was ten years more than what most crap in the stores would.
After another thirty minutes of following the trail, Lacey stopped. Voices fluttered on the air. It took a few seconds to recognise them as male, and definitely more than two. She couldn’t make out any of the words from where she stood, but they were interspersed with laughter.
Hope swirling through her veins, Lacey followed the sound, finding the men they belonged to a few minutes later. They turned in her direction as her boot snapped a twig beneath their weight.
“What we have here, then?” one called, a hunting rifle resting barrel up on his shoulder. Appearing to be somewhere in his mid-twenties, he wore a baseball cap that covered most of his shaggy blonde hair, a plaid shirt over a faded yellow top and ripped jeans. For someone so young, he seemed to have already acquired a pot belly. A beer belly, more like, Lacey thought.
Four more men wearing similar clothes and brandishing rifles stood close by, their faces etched with amusement. And a hint of something darker within their shifty eyes.
“Hi, guys,” Lacey called out, pushing down the rising tide of apprehension at the sight of them. “Don’t suppose you know anyone living out here, do you?”
The guy in the plaid shirt spat on the ground and played with his hat. It desperately needed to go through the wash. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom, lingering over her chest. “What’s a pretty thing like yourself doing in these here woods?”
Urgh. “Trying to find someone.”
“Well, you found us.” Chuckles echoed through the trees and Lacey shoved down the urge to roll her eyes.
A frown pulled between her brows. “What are you doing out here?”
One of the guys, a burly guy with more fat than muscle, crossed his arms over his chest. Even from where she stood, she could see the ice in his eyes and the corners of his mouth curved up into a dangerous grin. “There’s a pack of wolves here. We’re gon’ get them.”
“Wolves?” Lacey repeated, mentally thanking her gut. She was on the right track. Wolves were rare in North Dakota, with occasional sightings and no known breeding population, so any signs of them could be her targets. But it also meant that they were targets. The wolves that were seen were always vulnerable to the small-mindedness of those with the dicks on their heads bigger than the ones tucked into their pants.
And if that was the case, perhaps she could finally afford to fill up her freezer this month and pay off her cred card. Ah, how I live the good life.
Suddenly, a snap reverberated through the air, swiftly followed by a yelp of excruciating pain. Lacey’s chest constricted at the sound as it sliced through her heart. She’d heard that sound before, way back in her distant childhood when out of towners thought they could have a spot of fun hunting the forest creatures with devices no real hunter would use. Locals had shown them the error of their ways.
