 
### Bared

### By: Allyssia Nordell

### Smashwords Edition

### This book is intended to be the first in a series, please continue to look for future titles by Allyssia Nordell

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### Copyright 2018 Allyssia Nordell. All rights reserved

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### Cover art by: Vila Design

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

### This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

### Table of Contents

Chapter I - The Beginning

Chapter II - The Second

Chapter III - The Third

Chapter IV - The Fourth

Chapter V - The Fifth

Chapter VI - The Sixth

Chapter VII - The Seventh

Chapter VIII - The Eighth

Chapter IX - The Ninth

Chapter X - The Tenth

Chapter XI - The Eleventh

Chapter XII - The Twelfth

Chapter XIII - The Thirteenth

Chapter XIV - The Fourteenth

Chapter XV - The Fifteenth

Chapter XVI - The Sixteenth

Chapter XVII - The Seventeenth

About the Author

### Prologue

17 years ago;

Teeth snapped at ankles. Claws flashed in the light of the full moon. Bright eyes gleamed in the darkness. Blood-stained fur rushed by, attacking another opponent. A low growl came from somewhere, but it was lost in the noise of the battle. The animals were relentlessly fighting. A guttural growl morphed into a loud series of barks, growing louder and faster until it was a full-blown howl that cut through the night like a knife, silencing the fighting. All of the animals involved in the fight separated to two sides of the clearing, snarling and snapping at each other. Lean bodies littered the ground in piles.

The howl had come from a dog. Its fur was slick and wet, plastered to its sides. Its bright green eyes were fierce. Its gleaming white teeth were bared in a snarl. White fur glittered like sunlit snow on its pelt. Its belly was swollen to twice its normal size, filled with unborn pups. The female walked in the wide berth given to her by the two sides. One wolf stepped forward to growl at her. Her head snapped around quicker than sight, ripping the challenger's ear clean off. Blood poured from the wound, staining his oak brown fur. The wolf scrambled backwards in fear, tripping over his own paws.

The she-dog growled to all assembled, "This is what you want for your legacy? Is this what you'll teach our young, to fight each other? Would you kill the pack that fed and cared for them their entire lives? No, that will not be our legacy. Our legacy is freedom and dignity. To be fierce, loyal, and strong. If we fight each other now, that legacy will be reduced to ashes. Our legacy would be that of power and blood; rage and fear."

"We are proud wolves, loyal to our pack. We live for our home. If one little conflict will ruin all we stand for, then so be it. I will fight to protect what is right. I will fight for my pack, but I will not fight against it. You all have asked me to choose a side. Here's my answer."

She planted her feet firmly into the ground flooded with blood of dead and wounded wolves. Two wolves, one from each side, stepped forward. The one who previously led the pack before was black as night. He stood as tall as a stallion, his small ears always stood erect. his tail was bristling, and his black lips were peeling slowly back as he walked forward. He came to stand by the white dog. The other wolf, a red male, was smaller than the black one, with long, thin ears and a white-tipped tail. His thin body may be tiny compared to the black's, but he was much faster and a better fighter than the black.

The red male bowed his head in politeness to the female as he came to her side. She neither bowed her head to either of them nor backed down from her stance. The black growled at the red. The female snapped, "Stop it, both of you. This is neutral ground. You both have asked me to join your sides. This is my answer: I will not join either of you. Neither of you are right in your ways or reasons. The pack chose their sides, I will not. I ask you both to step down from your positions as an act of peace. I will assume the role of Alpha in your places. There will be no more carnage, no more blood spilled, no more war. Neither of you rightfully claimed the position, so I am here to take it from you if necessary."

Green eyes bore into two sets of angry amber; neither male blinked, afraid to show submission to the forest-eyed female. Amber eyes watched from the now-joined pack. Excitement, fear, and hope danced in those eyes. Black, gray, red, and brown faces smiled. The pack wanted no more spilled blood. It wanted peace and prosperity. The nodding of the red brought the white's attention back. He bowed before the white, a playful smile upon his lips. He said, "I resign my position to you, Alpha. May you live your life to the fullest of moons." He stepped back, melting into the pack. His amber eyes gleamed along with others. Everyone watched the black for his response.

His amber eyes were cold and dark. His voice scraped like knives across the air. "I will not resign. I am not a coward, nor a fool. You want the power for yourself. I will be the one to tell you that you cannot have it. I will take it by force if I must. Say goodbye to our unborn pups who will never see the light of day!" The black leaped at the white, fangs bared, claws out, eager to kill if necessary.

Even with a swollen belly the white nimbly dodged his attack. Her claws raked across the ribs of the black as he went past her. He whirled when he reached the ground, blood pouring from five long red slashes across his right side. He growled and launched himself at her again. She ducked, twisted her neck and bit into the soft flesh of his stomach. A loud yelp and whine followed as she slammed him to the ground with enough force to break his back. The former Alpha lay there, bleeding from his wounds. The white stood above him, her mouth red. She told him in a deadly calm voice, "The pups aren't yours." With that, she ripped his throat clean from his body, taking his head with it, killing him instantly. She dropped the head on the ground, and turned to her pack.

Yips, barks, and howls erupted from the assembly of hundreds. She howled along with them, the death of her former mate forgotten. Her life spread before her, as long as the moon shall reign. The pups inside her wriggled. The pack rejoiced after a battle fought, and a battle won. The prophecy was unfolding. The Lost Pack would survive.

### I

Now;

" _Draw, aim, keep arm straight, breathe, and focus;"_ the little voice told me while the background noise of talking and clanking fades as I try desperately to block it out. I keep my eye on my aiming point. I release the green arrow. It clinks against the others that are buried in the yellow circle. I know that it's a perfect fifty. I put my bow on the rack. David, my coach, says nothing. He just nods to me, and blows three sharp whistles. His camo clothes, camo cap, camo pants, and silver whistle made him look like a big hunter ready to go shoot a deer at any second. The silver-haired man next to him who's talking to Katelyn Gamer is Duke.

I ignore the taunting behind me. Max Sello, the blonde-haired boy who is usually top in his division, glares at me with hate and envy in his gray eyes. I keep a calm, blank look on my face. No need to smirk, or smile with pleasure, not that I ever did. I retrieve my arrows and walk back to the shooting line.

David is gone. He's probably in the bow room on the other side of the cafeteria, which served as our archery range after school. Katelyn walks up to me. Her two friends, Lizzie and Gordon Franchez, are in a triangle formation behind her. Katelyn's perfect auburn hair reaches her waist. It gleams with hairspray and gel. Perfect makeup features frame evil, dark blue eyes. Lizzie and Gordon are twins. Lizzie's blonde and stupid, taking after her mother. Gordon's dark-haired and cunning, with the sharpest tongue of the three. Machine tanned skin wears decorative gold and silver jewelry on all six arms, which glitters in the harsh fluorescent light. I hated these three. I call them the Tripod.

Katelyn says, her perfect voice cold, "I guess that you got another fifty. Too bad that you can't do that at a simple tournament." Lizzie laughs brightly. Gordon sneers, "Sucks that you never had a chance with Max. I bet that he would love to go out with you. If he, you know, wanted to go out with a freak of nature." The Tripod glanced over at Max. He's muscular and tall, with powerful arms and a wide chest. He's eighteen and widely popular.

Before I can retort, I feel a presence behind me. I turn to find my brother, Austin. Lizzie gasps as she looks at him. His brown hair, brown eyes, and muscular body look perfectly fit for his tanned skin. I feel eyes on my back. Everyone in my grade thinks that he's my boyfriend, just because he's always around me. It isn't my fault that we share most classes.

I glare at him. He barely looks at me. I feel him think, "Just don't go wolf again. I hate trying to contain you, Alexis." I guess that I should explain what that means.

I'll tell you straight: I'm a wolf. Or I have wolf DNA. Anyways, whenever I get angry, frustrated, or annoyed, my wolf comes out. My face turns into that of a wolf. My eyes glow gold, my teeth sharpen into fangs, my hair turns into white wolf fur. My nails elongate into claws. My senses go into overdrive. At least that's what happens nowadays when I'm not trying. When I was younger, it was just the eyes. Then the teeth, then the nails, then the senses, then the hair. Basically, everything you see in the movies is true; we exist. That's why I don't have any friends.

I call going into wolf mode "baring." What my brother means is that when I bare, it's hard to get me back to normal. That's why he usually hangs around me, to make sure I don't bare, and get myself killed. Or worse, for some loudmouth like Katelyn telling everybody what I am. And that's provided I don't go wolf and rip the girl's throat out.

Austin glares at me as well. It's a warning glare. I roll my eyes. I go get my bow, since shooting seems to calm me down. I continue shooting until my arm feels like a lead weight. Katelyn sneers at me every time I come back to the waiting line. My irritation grows. Finally, I take my bow, put it in its case, and leave. Austin is right on my heels. As soon as we step into the parking lot outside the school, and I put my bow case in his truck, Austin says, "You need to learn control. I could literally sense that you were about to go crazy."

I whirl on him and snap, "I need to learn control? You're the one who needs it! You can't just barge into my archery practice, and expect me to be calm. I'm never calm! Which is my way of control. And you can't sense anything! You're not like me. You can't sense emotions. You're Not Wolf!"

Austin snaps as well. He yells, "And I never want to be! I would never want to be a freak who kills and likes it! I don't want to run wild, killing innocent creatures without mercy! I don't want to be called a killer, an animal, a lousy mutt! I never wanted you. You're not my sister."

Austin pauses, then realizes what he had just said. He says, his voice full of remorse, "I'm sorry. I never meant-." My anger was high before, but now it's too much to contain. I scream with rage, and fling myself at him.

My powers run wild. I can't tell if I'm wolf or human. I see only flashes of what happens next. Red. A scream. Pain in my ear. Five bloody marks. A throat. A sharp pain in my ribs. The bitter smell of blood. Cracking bone. A yell. A kick. A voice. A loud bang. Plastic. Rope. My jaws clamped so tight my teeth touched my gums. Hardness on my legs. My body. Yells. Screams. Leather. Blackness. The hum of an engine. A voice, calling me back from my whirlwind episode.

I raise my head, and look around. I'm lying in the bed of a beat-up black Ford F-150. The tin beneath me is hard and pokes my sides. I look at the driver through the back windshield. It's a boy, that much I can make out. The boy notices me looking at him. "Your senses will return in a few minutes. Wolves aren't used to pepper spray." I shake my head to clear it. My eyes sting. I can make out a white muzzle. In front of me, I look down and see large white paws connected to white legs. I shift my ears. I can hear every little sound.

The driver laughs. "You've been in full wolf form before, haven't you?" I shake my head again to clear my eyes a bit more, but nod to answer his question. I don't know why I'm answering this boy's questions. He laughs again. "I was the first to see you. You had changed into your wolf, and leaped at your brother. You clawed his chest up pretty good. He had a pistol in his hand and he was able to get a shot off at you. You're lucky, it just barely nicked your ear. That only seemed to make you angrier. I ran to get help. When me, the principal, and a few teachers were out in the parking lot again, you had already shredded his arm, broke his other one, and was biting at his throat. Mr. Peasley kicked you in the ribs. You jumped on him, biting his wrist. I had brought zip ties and rope. I tackled you, and tied you up. Now we're here."

This boy had a strange way of talking, like he would get into trouble if he said too much. He doesn't seem afraid at all, even though I can easily break my bonds and kill him right there. But the strange thing is, I don't want to. I'm still plenty angry enough to kill without noticing, but this boy is... different, I guess you could say. I sense he's different from others, but my senses are still mixed up.

He drives for a while in silence. He rolls his window down as soon as we leave the city limits of the tiny town of Sarcoxie. I sniff the breeze outside. It smells like cow manure and fields of grass and grain. The boy obviously doesn't care if I jump out of the bed or not. He's staring straight ahead, occasionally tapping the side of his truck with his fingers.

The pepper spray has almost completely cleared from my eyes when the boy stops the truck in the middle of the road. Trees flank either side of the road, practically hiding us from view with low-hanging branches over the desolate road.

The boy gets out of the truck, and walks over to the back. He has a black pocket knife in his right hand, which he uses to cut the rope and zip ties binding my legs. He hesitates at my mouth. I can smell the fear emitting from him; it smells like rotten eggs. Then, the egg-smell fades, replaced by a smell I've never encountered before: a smell like burnt, sweet-smelling wood. I perceive the word _resolve_ just before he cuts the bonds holding my jaws shut.

I leap from the truck, and whirl around to face him. He smiles, and gestures toward the forest. He says, "I know your house is in there. Go home to your father and mother. Go home to your pack." Without another word, he gets into his truck, and drives off. The dust from his tires stings my eyes, which haven't yet recovered fully from the pepper spray. I curse. I didn't get a very good look at the boy's face before he drove off.

With nothing else to do, I run off into the woods. _"The boy is right; my home does lie in these woods, how did he know that I thought to myself."_

### II

I run for about five minutes, my wolf straining after the fight. My ribs and ear hurt. I come to a huge clearing in the oak and spruce trees. The clearing is taken up by a large house.

Its wood paneling reflects the sunlight. The real forty-foot oak trees that define the corners of the house are the only shaded places. The front of the house extends a bit, leading onto a large porch. Steps like little hills lead up onto it. The house is mainly hidden by the leaves and branches of the oaks, and the door blends into the wall so well that you would miss it if you weren't looking for it.

I circle the house towards its back. In the back is a huge garden, with a fountain and every kind of flowering plant imaginable. It's ringed by a low wood fence. The barb wire between the posts is no match for my wolf. I easily leap the fence, then stick to the winding cobblestone path else Whitney would get angry if I trampled her sweet petunias.

My nose tells me that she's home. I growl. That stupid moron. I enter the house through the back door's doggie door. I know, it sounds stupid and cliché, but that's what my family is like. They thought that I was getting too "carried away" with my powers when I was doing my homework when I was six so their remedy was a huge doggie door leading to the back yard and woods, so that I could run around and cool off. A scream told me a second time that the bimbo was home.

A high, strangled voice says, "W-w-wolf! A w-w-wolf's i-in the kit-kitchen! He-help!" I look up at the woman perched on the counter, swinging a spatula at me. She has on a short pink skirt, a white blouse, and long blond hair in a braid. Her wide blue eyes are full of fear. The rotten-egg smell overflows my nostrils. I snort to get the smell out of my nasal cavities.

Whitney Whitescream _"yeah, I laughed too"_ , being the moron she is, doesn't realize that I'm the wolf standing before her, looking at her like she's the dumbest person on the planet (which she is. Trust me). I have entered the house as a wolf many times before, which just adds to the point that I'm an easily angered person. But Whitney, though being near me for over seventeen years, never got used to it. I give her a second you're-the-stupidest-person-in-the-world look, and head into the living room.

Even at the end of winter, the fireplace is blazing. I settle down in front of it, too tired to head up three levels to my room. The comfy couch beckons me, but my dad had made the rule that I wasn't allowed on the couch in my wolf form. Which is kind of funny, because I do most of my homework lying down on the couch anyway.

The spacious living room is decorated with two coffee tables: one in front of the couch, the other beside a brown leather recliner in the corner. I lay on the end of a brown rug, ironically designed with wolves. A lamp, also designed with dancing wolves, sits on the mantle. Only one picture of me is present on the mantle: two torn pictures put together to form one. On the left is a white growling wolf face with a large emerald eye, and on the right, is a girl's face rimmed by long red hair that has another large green eye. The girl's tan face is formed into a scowl that rivals the wolf's.

No one knows that I'm part of this normal, perfect family. No one except for my family. If I could even call them that.

A slamming door interrupts my train of thought. I hear loud footsteps. I smell a smell like burnt flesh. I have encountered this smell many times in my life. Someone's angry. And I'm about to get the full force of it.

Even before he walks into the room, he's shouting. His usually tan face is flame red, his eyes wild, his black hair messy, and his chest heaving. He yells, "I cannot believe you did that! To your own brother! You're lucky that it was just a broken arm! Or else you would be dead right at this moment! Yeah, you would. You wouldn't even have a head after I was done with you!" Kit keeps on ranting, but I stop listening.

Whitney comes in, and puts her manicured hand on the man's shoulder. She whispers, "Calm down, sweetie. Let the little beast get calm, then you can yell at it without fear of it ripping your throat out." I roll my eyes at her poor excuse at an insult.

I guess I should explain my dad. His name is Kristian "Kit" Shin. He's not my biological dad, or dad by any means except adoption. He works for the court in Carthage. He usually comes home worn out and dead tired, which is how I like him, so that way he won't yell at me about who I tried to kill that day. Whitney is much the same, though she didn't work. She's tired by the end of the day because she keeps trying to make me girly.

Kit quiets down, shoots me a glare, then follows Whitney into the kitchen to help her with dinner. I really hope they never have a kid. Austin, Kits son, is bad enough. I hear a car leave the drive. Whitney's humming tunelessly. I close my eyes, and fall asleep.

When I awake, it's to hear car tires squealing in the drive. I smell two smells: one, a fresh cow dung smell, and the other is body odor. Irritation and pain. I smile a wolf smile. I know which belongs to which. Another slamming door, then Whitney's voice calling us to dinner. My stomach growls.

I get up and stretch. My legs are stiff from lying down. I pad into the dining room. It's small, with a plain rectangular oak table and four chairs. Three of those chairs are taken. Whitney sits on the far wall. To her right is Kit, and to her left is Austin. Austin is grimacing with pain. His right arm is in a cast, and his shirt is off, revealing white bandages on his chest. He's breathing heavily.

I make a move towards my seat, but Kit says, "No." Like I'm some bad dog trying to get onto the table to eat. Oh wait, I roll my eyes. I sit down on the floor, concentrate, and will myself to become human. I open my eyes, look at my hands, then get up and sit down at the table. Like always, my clothes rise from my skin as my fur sinks in. I make a grab for the chicken, but Kit reaches over and grabs my wrist. I look at him.

He simply says, "Explain. Now."

I pull my wrist from his firm grasp. I say shortly, "He made me angry. I attacked. There." I grab a chicken leg before Kit can stop me, and take a bite out of it.

Kit glares, and says, "I want you to say sorry to your brother. Now." I swallow, then take another bite. All the chicken on the leg is gone.

I smile. "No. It was his fault. Now, he has to deal with it." Austin's left arm comes towards me, and I catch it an inch from my face. I turn to face him. He's grimacing in pain and his eyes are wide in fear. I bare, just a little. He yelps as my long claws dig into his arm. "Never," I say quietly, "do that again." I release him. He swings his hurt arm towards his chest protectively.

Kit growls at me, "This is my house, Alexandria. You obey my every order without complaint. That's the deal." I simply stare at him. I say slowly, as if he was a two-year-old trying to pronounce 'mum'," My name is not Alexandria. It is Alexis. I have never been called Alexandria, nor would I like to. It is not on my birth certificate, so I will not be called by it. So, if you wish to live through the night, you better hold your tongue." I can practically see steam and fire coming out of Kit's nostrils.

Austin breaks the ice-cold silence. "Will you please pass the chicken legs, Alexis?" I whip around to face him. I say, sarcasm dripping venom from every syllable, "I don't know. Is it acceptable for a freak, a killer, or your moronic baby sister to pass you a simple bucket of chicken that you can easily get yourself?" Whitney sighs dramatically, "Alexis, please-." I don't hear the rest. I push away from the table, get up, and race up the stairs faster than a gailing wind.

Three floors up, I collapse onto my bed. It's a fancy four-poster, though I never draw the curtains closed. My room is spacious, with room for an entire wall of books, a simple oak desk with a laptop and printer, a white door leading into a bathroom, a closet, a dresser, and a mini fridge, with enough room to turn into my wolf and gallop around without bumping into anything. The gray walls stare at me, blank. Only a few hand-drawn pictures cover the walls, all of which hang above my head board. One is a black-and-white picture done in pencil showing a fierce battle between wolves. Another is of my two friends, Jonathan Firer and Quincey Michal, shooting bows at deer. Another, this one the most painful, is of a woman. She has long red hair down to her waist, just like me. Fierce green eyes. Thin and muscular, like a runner. Around her neck hangs a simple pendant that can't be made out in the picture. It's incredibly detailed. The woman looks alive. She's in the woods. Yellow eyes stare at her from the shadows of the trees. I drew this picture when I was one.

I look away from the picture, towards my window. I moan as my stomach still growls with hunger. The sound it makes rivals that of a wolf's. A wolf's howl resounds throughout the room. I laugh, and dig one hand into my pocket, and pull out my iPhone. The picture on the screen shows a gray wolf. I smile. A stupid joke by Jonathan. I click his icon, and up comes a single text: Meeting now, B there quick.

I groan. I get up from bed, and walk over to my window. It overlooks the left side of the house, which is thick with trees. I open it, and a biting breeze slashes at my skin. I smile, climb onto the windowsill, and jump. I free fall about thirty feet, and land running. I run into the thick woods, branches lashing at my bare arms. My jeans are pulled by bushes. My long hair is tangled with twigs and leaves. I want to turn into my wolf.

I run east for twenty minutes at full sprint. I'm not even breathing hard when I reach my friends' and my hideout: a large cave set inside a small hill. The entrance is hidden by low boughs of oaks surrounding a small and narrow hole at eye level off the ground. I grab a branch, and hoist myself up into the hole. The rough, even on my scarred hands. I crawl through the hole, down the steep sloping tunnel, and come out into a large cave.

It's huge, about seventy-five feet around. Five tunnels lead off into blackness around the room. It's as high as a church steeple, with rock columns holding up the ceiling. Stalactites hang from the ceiling and stalagmites rise like teeth from the ground. A single table made of stone slabs we found when we discovered the cave stands in the middle of the room, with four chairs around it. Three of those chairs are taken.

The echoing voices in the cave cease as I come in. I fold my arms, and lean against a stalagmite. I gaze at the newcomer, who sits in the third chair that is usually mine. He is tall, with broad shoulders and long legs. His electric blue eyes glow under waves of dark black hair. He's gazing at me too, sizing me up. Jonathan breaks the silence from behind the new boy.

"Took you long enough, Alexis. Daddy yelling at you again?" His pale mouth breaks into a grin. Jonathan is very pale, almost white, skinny as a rail, short, but has a brain that rivals a NASA engineer. His blond hair is cut short again. The mop on top of his head never stops growing, which makes his mom angry. Quincey chuckles from Jonathan's left.

The exact opposite of Jonathan, Quincey is dark-skinned, broad and strong, with dark brown hair hanging past his ears. He's also smart, but mainly in forensics and scientific stuff, like biology and anthropology. Very annoying. I continue to stare at the new boy. He continues to hold my gaze. Something about him seems... familiar. Somehow.

Jonathan clears his throat. The new boy looks behind at him over his shoulder. A small scar, red, like it's recent, travels down his neck. I look up at Jonathan. Jonathan says, "Thank you. Now that I have everyone's full attention, I would like to discuss why I called this meeting. I called this meeting because I think I've found the person who can fill the fourth chair at the table." Silence greets these words.

Jonathan continues. "This here is Ben, Benjamin Sea. He would like to join our group. Quincey here has already voted for it, but we decided to let you have a vote." I let out a loud snort. "I'll take that as a yes. Ben, you're in the group, lucky you!" Ben laughs. My quick eyes catch the extra-sharp points of his canines. The same extra-long and sharp points as my canines. The kind that appear when I bare.

Quincey cheers, and Jonathan laughs. Ben laughs again. The cave echoes with laughter; I don't join in. Ben notices, and says, "Why aren't you happy? Jonathan and Quincey told me that you've been searching for years for a fourth person." I snarl, "I wonder what else they said to you about me from behind my back?" I whip around, and stalk off into the nearest tunnel entrance. I hear scuffling feet, and a low whisper saying, "Leave her. She has a temper. Better to leave her alone for a while." I hear a creaking chair. By the sound of it, it was Ben who had gotten up to come after me. How noble, I think ruefully. I walk through the entrance to the tunnel. I walk for a few more feet, then drop to the hard stone floor, my head between my knees, pitch black all around me. I don't know why I'm so angry all of a sudden.

I concentrate, and an image slowly comes into my mind's eye: a blurry face. The face of the boy who took me to the woods after I attacked Austin. The only clear thing of the face are the eyes: electric blue, glowing under a haze of black. I can now make out wolf eyes. The image sharpens into that of Ben. The images match.

Ben was the one who stopped me from killing my brother.

### III

I climb back through my window around midnight. I hadn't left the cave until everyone else had cleared out. Amazingly, Ben was the last to leave. He muttered to himself, "I need to check in on her. Dad said to. My job... My duty. Pack rules over all else... " Then he left, still muttering. My memory was foggy after that. That boy just gets weirder and weirder.

I collapse onto my bed an hour later. I didn't take off my clothes and jump into a tank top and shorts like I usually do. I wonder aloud to the crescent moon, "What's the connection between this boy and me?" I bury my face in my pillow. The only thing I notice before I fall asleep is a dark shadow on my open windowsill. A human shadow, clearly staring at me as I fall into the world of dreams.

The next morning, I awake to the sound of Austin getting ready in the room across from mine. I growl. I hate how loud he is in the mornings. I take a quick shower, throw on a white T-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees and calves, and rush downstairs for breakfast. I get the silent treatment from both Kit and Whitney as I make toast, and get it another earful from Austin while I put grape jelly on it. I leave around seven-fifty. As usual, I turn into my wolf. I only have to think of my brother's comment yesterday, and poof.

I run all the way to school, keeping to the trees. The few people who do notice me run across the road in front of the trailer park wave, because I usually show up there every day. A few people call out, "How's your morning, White?" That's what they call me. I ignore them. Usually. This time, because I was in the mood, I bark to a few of them. The little terrier outside one house growls at me as I pass, and I pause. I bare my teeth at him, and he cowers back to his wooden post.

I hide behind the side of the school, where a few trees flank the side door to the gym. I turn back into human form, and step around the corner. I almost collide with someone, who seems to be coming around the corner the opposite way. I stumble backwards, and hit the hard ground. I growl, "Thanks for watching, you idiot!" I look up, and none other than Ben stands there. He wears a bewildered expression on his face, and stretches out his hand to help me up. I ignore it, and get up by myself. I wipe the dirt from the bottom of my shirt and jeans, but traces of it remain. I shrug, and continue walking.

I hear footsteps coming behind me, and breath next to my ear. I snap, "What?" Ben doesn't flinch. He mutters, "Why were you behind the corner?" I say sarcastically, "OH, I don't know. I just wanted to hide from everyone and everything for the rest of my life!"

Ben looks wondrous, and mutters, "I wouldn't doubt that. Not with who you are, what you are." He picks up the pace, and moves past me into the double brown doors leading into the entrance hall.

Some of the tiny sixth graders flinch as I walk past. Others stare. Heck, even the teachers and older students flinch and stare as I pass by. I turn into the cafeteria, and all conversation stops as I walk past to the very back table. Whispers and mutterings appear in my wake, but I ignore them. I sit down, and open my book. I have barely read a paragraph before two thumps on either side of me signal that Jonathan and Quincey are here.

I turn to my left, where Quincey sits. I ask him, "What's everyone muttering about now?" Quincey looks around, and lowers his voice. "Everybody's saying that you were the one that attacked Austin." He raises his hand before I can protest. "Everyone's coming up with stupid theories of how you did it. No human can leave marks like claws on a man's chest, or survive a gunshot with no bleeding. Or, might I add, break his arm with little force." I stay silent.

The bell rings. I put up my book, sling my bag over my shoulder, and walk away. Jonathan and Quincey don't try to keep up. They know that I'm thinking, and when I'm thinking, it's better to stay away from me. I dodge between the wall and students. A voice shouts something, and everyone splits apart to the left and right. A small sixth grade girl, with long blond hair and a pink backpack, is pulled towards the wall by a high schooler to avoid someone coming down the hall.

I see brown hair, a large white cast, and bandages poking out from the bottom of a featureless tank top. I suppress a moan. Austin shouts, "Where's Alexis?" Katelyn's voice floats up from the right of Austin. "Come out, come out, wherever you are, little doggie!" I fight my anger, and try to wriggle between the wall and a large twelfth grader. The twelfth grader grabs my hair as I wriggle past, and throws me into the center of the hall.

I slam my jaw against the hard marble tile floor. I get to my knees, and feel a foot in my ribs. I fall back down, coughing. Another kick turns me onto my side. I feel someone grab my hair, and pull me to my knees. A hard punch in the jaw sends stars into my eyes. I pull away, and fall to my knees once more. Blood swells in my mouth, even after I spit globs of it out.

I look up into the tan face of Austin. I see his fist coming in slow motion. I grab his wrist, and twist with all my might. His entire body flips, and he lands with a thud on his back. I hear a crack. I see a shadow flit through the crowd. A human shadow with electric blue eyes.

Austin groans, and I see a foot come towards me. Stars explode before my eyes again, and my head pounds a new rhythm. I see a shadow leap at Austin, and, either it's my imagination or something I ate, but the shadow solidifies into Ben. Ben crashes into Austin, sending him toppling again.

I leap to my feet, and turn to face Katelyn. I duck her punch, and grab her by the hair. I hiss in her ear, "Now what are you going to do?" Katelyn tries to punch me, and I twist her arm behind her back. She yelps. I see that Ben has Austin in a similar hold. I hiss to both of them across the hall, "don't try that again. Because next time....." I twist Katelyn's arm further. She yelps again.

I release her, and she scrambles away. Ben releases Austin likewise. Austin hisses, "You won't hide your secret for long, mutt." I walk over to him., and stare him straight in the eyes. I'm so full of irritation and fury, it's easy to bare. I growl, "try me." I only let my eyes and teeth change. Austin flinches. Terror fills his eyes, and the rotten egg smell thickens throughout the hall. I shove him away, and return to normal. I see Ben's expression before he can hide it. He saw me bare. A little voice in my head whispers, "but he already knows I'm wolf".

I gaze around at the crowd. Everyone's eyes are full of pure fear. I look down, seeing what they're all looking at. I realize that I had dripped blood on the floor. It forms the bloody outline of a growling wolf. Its eyes are fixed on Ben. I blink, and the outline fades as the blood spreads. I look at Ben. He's avoiding my gaze, instead looking at the crowd for teachers.

I walk towards the classrooms at the end of the hall. People part to allow me a path. No one meets my hard-emerald gaze. No footsteps sound behind me. I walk into the silent science classroom. I remember seeing all of the teachers in the school at the fight. The class slowly but surely fills, everyone avoiding my gaze, or just acting as if I'm not there. Quincey sits down behind me, and Ben fills the usually-empty seat to my right. Nobody talks of the fight in that class, nor for the rest of the day.

"Why would Austin just attack like that? Out of the fricken' blue, in front of the entire school, only to make it worse!" Quincey paces up and down the cave. The usually quiet boy is raging like a madman. Jonathan is wincing in his seat. He keeps rubbing his forehead. Quincey is also rubbing his forehead as he paces. Ben is absent.

As Quincey paces around the cave for the fourth time, a dark shape comes through the entrance. Ben comes out, holding a newspaper in his hand. He slams it on the table with enough force to turn Quincey's head. The front-page shines with a color image of a pool of blood. The headline reads:

Monster fight between siblings at Sarcoxie High School

I hiss, and throw it at Quincey, who has stopped pacing. Ben drops into his seat, which is my former seat, and rests his elbows on the table. Quincey hisses too, and throws the paper at Jonathan. Jonathan, in turn, hisses and throws it back on the table.

Ben moans. I glance at him from my place up against a stalagmite. His face is white with pain, and his bright eyes are squeezed shut. I look over at Jonathan and Quincey, but they refuse to look back at me. I ask, "What's wrong, guys?"

Ben moans again. Jonathan coughs. Quincey just shakes his head. I walk over to them. I unfold my arms, and wait for a response. Ben finally speaks, "We just don't feel good." Jonathan coughs, and Quincey chokes. I scowl. "Why is that?" It's Jonathan who answers. "We don't know, Lex." For some odd reason, I get the urge to look at Jonathan's fingers, since he's closest.

He squawks like a bird when I grab his hand. I don't know if it's because I don't like touching other people or because he's in pain. I look at his fingertips, and see faint red. I grab Quincey's hand as well, and see the same red fingertips. I drop their hands, and grab Ben's. Ben jerks, and tries to pull his hand away. I yank it away from him, and look at his fingers. No red covers them. I see a wisp of a black something on his inner wrist between the palm and long shirt sleeve, but he pulls his arm back before I can really get a good look at it.

I whip around to the other two. I snap, "Why, in the hell, do you two have blood on your hands?" I can tell its blood because of the faint copper smell my wolf nose is picking up. Jonathan looks afraid. Quincey flinches as if I burnt him. I keep my rage in check. Jonathan cracks first after about five minutes of tense silence.

"We, kind of, I don't know how to say this. We, kind of, dipped our fingers, in the blood on the floor. Your blood. And we, um, we drank it. We just felt the urge to. We have no clue why." Quincey groans, and coughs, "You weren't supposed to tell her, you idiot!" Jonathan groans too, and puts his forehead on the edge of the table.

Ben gets up from the table, and moves toward the entrance. I've barely moved before he's gone. "Stay here!" I snap at the other two, and then follow Ben. He's at the bottom of the tree when I get out of the entrance tunnel. I take a chance, and leap from the crack in the hill towards him. Branches and leaves whip my arms and face, but I ignore the stings they leave behind.

I catch Ben in the back. He topples with the force of my leap. I feel his muscles flex, and leap away from him before he can roll over and crush me under him. He leaps to his feet immediately, and turns to face me. He growls, and for a split second, I see his eyes flash gold and his teeth sharpen into fangs. But it's gone the next moment as he realizes it's me, leaving his face so fast that I might've imagined it. Might've.

He goes for a casual voice. "Hey, Alexis. What're you up to?" I see past his false voice, and smell the rotten egg smell of fear. Another smell, this one of blooming flowers, penetrates the air. I perceive it as concern. Ben is worried that I'd found out something.

I shrug, and, my voice dripping with poisonous sarcasm, say, "Oh, nothing. Just idly wondering why, in the name of God, you leave right smack dab after you hear that your two friends drank a bit of my blood." Ben looks shocked, then his face hardens. The flower and egg smells evaporate, replaced with a strong burnt flesh smell. Ben steps close to me, until we're nose-to-nose.

He hisses, long and low, "I left because they drank your blood. Now, they'll turn out like you. And they haven't lived with it their entire lives. They don't know how it feels to lose control and possibly kill someone before they get back in control. You know how it feels. You have lived with it. They haven't. You spilled your own blood."

With the end of his speech complete, Ben turns around, and leaves, running into the dark trees. I look up, and see that the sky above is dark. I also see a shiny crescent moon peeking from behind the leaves. I walk back to the cave. The other two are still there, but sit still and silent as I come in. I wave my hand at them, and they leave, glad expressions on their faces as they crawl through the entrance. I sit down at the table, and recall the last two days.

Ben, out of nowhere, appears beside us, offering friendship. That is on the same day he took me away from the fight with Austin. He was talking with me being when I was in wolf form, and he wasn't afraid at all. Nowhere close to afraid. Then, I see a shadow on my windowsill. A human shadow, with the same physique as Ben. Not to mention the bright blue eyes. Next, as I fight Austin hand-to-hand, I see the same shadow solidify into Ben as he flings himself at Austin, who had slammed his huge foot into the back of my skull. Then, last but not least, was his strange knowledge of my power. I would know if Quince or Jon told him. But, alas, neither did.

The drinking-of-the-blood terrifies me. I can imagine, all too clearly, two wolves, one gray and one brown, staring at me in horror. One set of eyes, the gray's, would shimmer with worry and fear. The other's, the brown's eyes, would shimmer with anger and. Between them, bigger than both, would be a black wolf. Electric blue eyes, bright as lightning. Nothing would show in these eyes of clearest blue. Nothing, not even love...

I shake myself awake. The cave is dark and silent. Not a single living thing stirs. Then, I hear a pebble skip across the floor. I jump to my feet, and tackle what I think to be a human-like shape near the entrance. I grab hold of what feels like shoulders, and latch on for dear life.

The human shadow rolls over, and I'm crushed beneath it. I yelp, and a fist connects with my eye. I claw what I think to be the neck. A grunt meets my efforts. I feel a warm liquid on my hands. A punch in the jaw sends stars into my vision. While I'm blinded, my enemy wriggles out of my grasp, and leaves through the hole in the wall.

I pant, trying to recover my breath. I smell, even without my wolf nose, the scent of blood. I stand, frozen, in the place where my enemy attacked me. My brain goes on autopilot. I walk over to my bag, and pull out the vial that I always kept with me. I stoop, and smell my way to the shallow pool of blood. I dip the vial in the blood, and cork it. I slip it back into its pocket in my bag, and hoist the bag onto my shoulder. I creep out of the cave into the silence of night. I pray the shadow doesn't return to my windowsill tonight.

### IV

The next few days are filled with cold shoulders and short glances. The cold shoulders are from my family, while the short glances are from the teachers and students. The only happy moments are with my friends. Ben makes me laugh, while Jon and Quincey make up stories about why Austin attacked me. They range from him just being jealous to being taken over by aliens.

I become more comfortable with Ben being in the group, but a nagging suspicion in the back of my mind whispers that he was the one who attacked me in the cave. I keep the suspicion at bay, but it keeps cropping up when I least expect it.

I don't know what I was looking for in Ben's life, but I only noticed that I was acting weird when Jonathan asks me if I'm okay in P.E. I dodge a dodgeball, then throw mine at one kid with crazy precision. It smacks her in the nose, and coach calls her out. She glares at me, just as most people do during dodgeball. I can go against the entire high school solo and still win.

I shout, "What?" I roll, come up kneeling, catch a bright yellow ball, then throw it at McKenna before she can grab another to aim at me. From right next to me Jonathan shouts, "What's wrong with you lately? You look like you've seen a ghost". I elbow him in the ribs, then spread out on the floor Call of Duty style. A bright blue ball flies over my head, and a purple one comes close.

From somewhere to my right, Quincey yells in defiance, then rushes the opposing team. He gets hit with so many dodgeballs, I'm sure he will have bruises for days. The coach calls him out. He slouches on the bleachers at the end of a long line of outs on my team. He glances at me mournfully. I nod to him, then roll left to avoid another ball.

Jonathan mutters from a few feet to my right, "You look at Ben like he's a ghost every time you see him. He may not know you as well as I do, but he'll catch on soon enough, Alexis. Mark my words." He leans right to avoid a ball to the eye, then throws his at Cammie. It sails past her ear, and she yelps and jumps to the left, staring at Jonathan in horror.

I mutter, "You wouldn't believe me. It's impossible." Jon laughs quietly. He murmurs, "You are impossible, Lex. Normal humans don't turn into wolves." His last words are proven when a dark red sphere of foam sails straight for his face. He doesn't have time to duck or lean away. The ball slams into his nose before he could do anything.

Then, miraculously, the pale boy holds up the dodgeball that he caught at fifty miles an hour. I stare, dumbstruck, as Jonathan holds up his prize. A smile stretches across his face, and the one who threw the ball, star-pitcher Adrian, stares at him in even more disbelief than Cammie. The scene that I had just witnessed replays in my mind. My quick eyes catch a blur of movement beside Jonathan, then he's holding the ball.

Another thing occurs to me: Jonathan has never gotten hit the entire game. That's not natural. He's usually targeted first and out quickly because of his small size and weak aim. He gets hit ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time. So how, in the name of God, has the usually unathletic boy catch a ball zooming at his face three times faster than he can run, and not get hit the entire game?

Then, I see something that turns my blood to ice. Under Jonathan's thick-rimmed blue glasses shine golden eyes. His brown eyes are gone, replaced by golden disks. I look up at the bleachers of outs. Quincey's face is waxy and pale, his eyes wide. Near the end of the opposing team's line, Ben's face is the same. They see what I see:

Jonathan is starting to bare.

None of us speak to Jon about this incident for the rest of the day. It's a sort of unspoken message: don't speak of Jonathan baring. We let him have his fun, but we all know it won't last. I want to talk to Ben about it; for some reason, I know that he has the answer.

The rest of the school day passes by slowly, and by the time I get home after archery practice, I'm so tired I don't want to call a meeting. But, even though my stomach is growling at me and I'm bone-dead-tired, I still take out my phone and text the group. Ben's icon is a black wolf, also as a joke, I think, because of mine and the other's icons, but I wonder.

A knock on the door rouses me from my thoughts. I call, "Come in, Whitney." I try to keep the irritation out of my voice. Whitney pokes her blond head in, looks around warily, then walks in, closing my white door behind her. She looks nervous, even though I bet she's thinking of how she would decorate my plain room if it were hers.

She mutters, "Nice room," then tiptoes lightly to the end of my bed. She sits down as if she were sitting on a landmine. I say, "I won't hurt you, Whitney. I'm not in the mood right now. I was just waiting on a reply text from my friends. And a boy named Ben," I add warily. Whitney's head swivels around to stare at me so quick I heard her neck crack.

"A boy named Ben? Describe him for me." She sounds desperate, as if this were life and death. I stammer, "Tall. Tan. Black hair. Blue eyes. Weird. Mysterious. And I think he's stalking me." Whitney cuts out after "blue eyes." She squeals with delight, then grabs my hands and bounces up and down like a little girl.

"Do you think he's handsome? Oh, you do! I can see it in your face!" Whitney squeals with delight again, almost bursting my sensitive eardrums.

I say," It's not like that, Whitney. Now let go of me, or I'll bite you!" Fear purges the room as I say that, and Whitney recoils in shock. She stammers, "I-I-I was just tr-trying to help you. With-with boys and all that."

I snarl, "I don't need your help. I have friends that are boys that I listen to all the time. I think I could figure out a boy if I wanted to. Just not this one, who I don't like and do not think is handsome." Whitney's eyes widen, and she murmurs, "I never said anything about liking him."

Stupid, stupid, I scold myself. Maybe Whitney isn't as dense as she seems. Nevertheless, I get up from my bed, and stalk over to my window. I open it, and scent the breeze. A faintly familiar smell litters the warm draft. I look out to the edge of the woods. A huge shadow moves, and I catch the glint of blue eyes before the creature bounds into the forest.

I sample scent the breeze again, then jump from my window. I call up to Whitney, who's hanging out my window precariously, "Can you get my phone? It's on my bed." Whitney nods dumbly, then disappears for a second. Then next moment, a black rectangle sails from my window, and I catch it football-style. I'm in the woods and in my wolf fur before Whitney can appear again.

I follow the scent I had smelled earlier. It twists around trees and dives under brambles. I'm starting to think that I had imagined it when I lose the scent, but then I see a dark flicker in my peripheral. I leap with immediate instinct, and feel a solid body below me when I land. I hear a feral growl, then feel tense muscles beneath my paws. I leap off as soon as the creature rolls over.

I growl at the animal, and it growls back. Male, I decide. Large, with a dog body rippling with muscle, and large paws. Sharp claws like talons gleam in the pale moonlight drifting through the trees. Blue eyes glow like sapphires in the fading light in the west. The wolf's black fur is thick like armor. I growl again and leap.

The black wolf is ready for me. He sidesteps, then slashes at my ribs as I fly past. I whirl out of the way, then lunge onto his back again. I bite down on his spine, and he yelps. He twists so violently I fly off his back and slam into a tree. I look up through blurry eyes to see the huge wolf staggering away. I huff in outrage, then leap up to my feet.

I charge him, toppling his body like building blocks. I claw his neck, and feel warm blood seep onto my paw. I bite his ear and yank back, tearing it a little. He growls low, then feints to my ear with razor teeth. I pull back from him to avoid the strike, so I don't see the huge claws coming at me. Warm blood and sharp pain lance across my ribs, and I stagger. I fall to the dark earth under the oaks and pines, staring up at those blue sapphire eyes.

The huge dog growls at me, and either it's the pain or my own imagination, but I swear I hear words beneath the growl. The black wolf says, "You put up a good fight. It was a challenge to beat you, I'll admit. And I train with the toughest pack in the Western Hemisphere. You did good, Lex." Then, he turns around and lopes off, his ribs dripping a little blood as he walks.

I don't know how much time passes until I get up. My head is clearing, and the sharp pain in my ribs from earlier has dulled to a low throb. As soon as I stand up, though, fresh blood spurts from the wound. I yelp as another jab of pain hits me. I fight past it and lope southwest, towards the cave.

I turn back into human form as I reach the tree guarding the entrance. I climb up through the twisting branches to the hole in the hill. I groan as I squeeze through the narrow opening. I hear voices in the cave ahead, and I pause to try and discern who is already here.

"What happened, Ben? Did a wild wolf attack you or something?" Jonathan, his voice webbed with worry and anger. Quincey's voice pipes up, "That's not what happened, is it?" I hear a groan from inside the cave, then the body odor smell penetrates my nose. I smell blood on it too. Fresh blood.

Ben's voice says, "I don't remember, guys. Honestly." I smell the lie in his scent. I shake my head to rid my nose of the pungent smell of chemicals. Jonathan scoffs, "Yeah, sure, man. I can hear the lie in your voice. Now, tell the truth." Blooming flowers, rotten eggs, burnt wood, and cow dung mix in with the pain smell now. Worry, fear, resolve, and irritation are all easy to pick up on.

Ben sighs, and says, "A wolf did attack me, but it was my fault, I baited her. I wounded her. She was on the self-defense." "She?" Quincey asks. Ben sighs again, and says, "Yeah. Uh, I kind of baited Lex to, um, attack me. I wanted to see how well she could fight." I decide I had heard enough.

I step into the light of the lamp placed on the table. No one sees me until I say, "And how well did I fight, Ben?" Three heads snap my way, and three sets of eyes go directly to my ribs, where I hold my hand to staunch the flow of blood.

Ben staggers upright from his chair, and faces me. I can see a mirror image of claw marks pouring blood out his left side as on my right. Claws had also raked one side of his neck, but the cuts are shallow. His right ear is torn a little, but it wasn't bleeding. But the worst thing are his eyes: blotchy, rimmed in red, and glowing gold. No amount of blue remains.

Ben growls, "How are you, Alexis? Well, I see. For someone who had a fight against the second strongest wolf in the Western Hemisphere." I don't understand Ben's anger, or the fear and worry smells radiating off him. I snap, "Obviously I fared well. Guess you're the third strongest now. Who's the first? Maybe I could challenge him." Ben murmurs so softly that my sharp ears can barely hear it, "You can't. He will kill you."

Jon and Quince are our saviors then, because I'm ready to leap at Ben and tear him apart. Quincey steps between us, and says, "Calm down. No baring, please." A shock runs through me as I realize that he means both of us, not just me. In my instant anger at Ben, I haven't realized that he was baring. I calm myself down, then look at Ben. His blue eyes are back, but lightning shocks of gold are still remnant.

I smell the rotten egg smell penetrate the cave even more, coming from everyone, and know it's directed at me. I'm the most dangerous thing in that room. Jonathan makes a placating gesture, then sits down warily. I sit down as well, in the seat to the left of Ben, so I can grab him if he tries to run.

Quincey is trying to calm Ben down, but I can sense that at the slightest joust he would bare and maybe kill us all. Jonathan looks at me with fear in his eyes. He knows that when my anger takes hold, it's hard for me to calm down. His sister can answer to that.

After a tense ten minutes, everyone seems calm enough to speak. Jonathan leans back in his chair with a sigh, then says, "Well, that was a shit-fest." Everyone laughs at his use of language, which he's only comfortable using around us. Quincey, being the most serious of the group, turns to Ben and asks, "Why did you want to know how well Lex could fight? And what's happening to us?" Ben sighs and runs a hand through his messy hair. I can see little blood flakes in it.

He answers after a moment, "I just wanted to know. She's like me, and I wanted to test her strength. And there's nothing going on with you." I can hear the tremble in his words. Chemical smells leak out in waves from him. Jonathan growls at that, and my mind flashes back to his golden eyes on the basketball court.

Quincey sighs and says, "I know that there's something going on with us. You can turn into a wolf, Jonathan bared during dodgeball, and I apparently have super sight." I almost laugh at that last part. Quincey has worse sight than Jonathan, and the two share Jonathan's glasses because Quincey can't afford his own.

Ben leans forward and says, "Look, guys, nothing's going on with you. It'll pass." He doesn't believe his own words. My mind's eye flashes back to something I drew when I was small: four wolves standing on an outcrop of rock. The two in the middle shone like night and day. The gray on the far left had large ears, and the brown on the far right had large eyes. The dark and light ones in the middle were standing tall, with the white having a more delicate build than the other three. My mind flashes back to the present, and I'm surprised to see the exact picture in my mind on a sheet of paper before me.

I glance at everyone else around the table. They're staring in amazement at the picture. I look down, and notice a pencil beside my hand. Jonathan mutters, "Saw your hand twitching. Thought they might be useful." I nod, still looking at the picture. I look back up, and see Ben's eyes watching me.

Jonathan reaches towards the paper, and I let him. My mind is still trying to catch up. Jon asks in amazement, "Is it just me, or does this look like us?" Quincey squints at the picture, and nods in amazed agreement. I take the picture back, and notice that there are slightly darker rings of brown and gray around the outer wolves' eyes, sort of like glasses. I hand Ben the picture, and he nods too.

I sigh, "Something is going on with us. I mean, you guys have been around me for forever, and neither of you have ever bared. Ben suddenly shows up and bad stuff starts to happen. And I'm fricken' drawing mythical wolves that look like us. "And you," I look at Ben hard, "are the only one with answers. Start talking!" Ben sighs again, and shifts around to make himself more comfortable. The smell of fresh blood leaks from his wound, and I remember that I'm bleeding, too.

"Before we start, I think one of us should run home and get some first aid supplies," Quincey says. I notice that his eyes are on Ben's side, where red is seeping through his gray T-shirt. I stand up to leave, then almost fall to the floor as more blood spurts from my own wound, and drips down my pant leg. I sit back down again immediately, my head feeling like air. Jonathan stands up after I sit back down, and leaves without a word. I hazily remember that his dad's a nurse, and so he knew some things about first aid.

Just as I'm about to pass out from blood loss, Jonathan returns. He's carrying a white box with the familiar red medical cross printed on its face. Quincey unrolls some cotton balls, and comes over to me. I turn away, and nod to Ben. He's more hurt than I am at that moment. Quincey nods in understanding, and walks over to the black-haired boy. I turn away as Jon pulls off Ben's shirt. I can still hear and envision the extra blood pouring out from the exertion, though.

I hear a gasp of pain, and the smell of alcohol penetrates the air. It's getting stuffy in the cave. I feel light-headed from it all. Courageously, (or stupidly, take your pick) I get up from my chair and stumble to the entrance. I climb out onto the tree, and lower myself down to the ground. Needless to say a few drops of new blood are splattered onto the old gray bark.

I sigh as I smell the fresh scents of the woods around me and it slightly re-energizes me. I circle the hill, and climb to the top. As I sit in the long autumn grasses at the crest, the almost-full waxing gibbous moon pokes out from behind the thin clouds. I lay on my back to study the stars, glimmering in the distance of space. I pass the time by naming the constellations I see and know. Pegasus, Hercules, Orion, Scorpio, Virgo, and Pisces. I am quite content with looking at the black and silver sky all night, but I'm shaken out of my reverie by a scuffle of shoes in the grass.

I sit up as Ben crests the hillside, holding the white box. I glare at him, and at his bandages on his neck and ribs. I'm still angry at him for the fight, and for lying to me. Ben sneezes as he sees me, and confusion clouds his eyes. He says, "I may not have the sense of smell you do, but you radiate anger like the sun." "Good to know," I snarl, "and go away. I don't need your help to bandage my small wound."

I know it's a horrible jest, but I'm still pissed at him. Ben, unfortunately, doesn't leave. He just sits the box next to me and retreats a few feet. I glare at him as I get what I need from the small kit. First, I lift my white shirt a little, and grind my teeth to keep from groaning as more dark blood trickles out. Next, I get some cotton balls to staunch the flow of blood. I groan out loud from the pressure, but it's so soft I know Ben couldn't have heard it. Once I'm satisfied that I have stifled the blood somewhat, I grab a damp washcloth from its baggie and press it gently to my side. I carefully, slowly, clean the wound, using even strokes of the cloth. Then, I apply what little antibiotic there is left in the kit. Finally, the white bandages are put on, which I wrap around my stomach, to hold them in place.

I look over at Ben. His eyes are still wide. His nostrils are flaring. I glare at him, and I send every bit of anger I feel towards him. He sneezes, flailing backwards, and rolls down the hill. I chuckle, but then the pain in my ribs tells me to stop. I crawl to the edge of the hill, and look down at Ben. He's rubbing his nose, and his blue glare full of fury is enough to start me chuckling again. I don't realize that I, too, had fallen and rolled down the hill until Ben grabs my shoulder.

He's still glaring, but his glare holds humor in between the cracks of golden fury. An orange, citrus smell leaks into my nostrils, which I know is happiness. Hmm, burnt flesh and oranges. Not a good combo. I giggle at that, and my side erupts in throbbing pain again. Ben laughs, sharp and clear. "What are you laughing about?" I say between giggles, "You smell like oranges and burnt flesh. You stink." Ben cracks a wide smile. Then, he starts laughing. He falls over onto the grass from kneeling beside me.

It's sometime after our giggles subside that I realize where we were. Out in the middle of the woods. Alone. With no one but Jon and Quince in a fifty-mile radius. My mind, being as crazy as it is, jumps to random stuff. Why did Ben come out here to "treat my wound"? Why is he still here? Did Jon and Quince know?

My brain is starting to pound from all the laughing when I smell Jonathan and Quincey in the breeze. They round the hill, and stop dead when they see me and Ben, lying in the tall grass, with leaves and twigs in our hair and our faces red. The orange scent intensifies. I growl at them, warning the two boys. Then, Jon's gray eyes flash gold, and I'm so startled I fall backwards on Ben. Ben huffs and shoves me off, and when he sits up and sees Jonathan, he, too, falls backwards.

I gape at Jon like a fish. Quincey's eyes are shining gold too. He's giggling as well. I am friends with a bunch of lunatics, I think. Quincey walks closer, and pulls a tiny twig out of my hair. It's barely bigger than my pinkie. He holds it up to the moonlight, and the silver rays turned the brown bark a ghostly white.

Quincey murmurs, "Is this how you see the world all the time, Lex? If it is, then I envy you." He turns the twig this way and that, staring at it in wonder. I look at the twig, and bare just a little. The sharp edges of the bark stick out at me in high definition. The ghost look covers a deep gash on one side, which is rotting to a horrible purplish-black. I return to normal, and look back at Quincey. He's still staring at the twig, but I can also see his ears flicking and his nostrils flaring. He's also holding his bare in check, unlike Jonathan.

Jon is running around, looking everywhere. His ears, somehow, have elongated, just a bit. They're standing erect on the sides of his head, flicking this way and that. And, amazingly, Jon isn't making a single sound as he rushes through piles of autumn leaves and the burnt orange-red grass. You could've heard a feather drop to the ground in the silence he's enveloped in.

Ben looks at me in wonderment. Suddenly, I smell something so different from the orange citrus flooding my nose that I sniff heavily to catch it again. Rotten eggs. Someone is afraid of something. I look at Ben again, and see the tiny trace of that fear in his eyes. I hiss, low enough so the others can't hear, "What is it? What's wrong?" Ben hisses back, "Nothing. Nothing. It's just that, well, I never expected them to hold on this long."

I glance at the other two, at their glowing eyes, and back at Ben. I make the decision to get up, but only Ben notices; Jon and Quince are still using their new powers. Jon's ears do flick towards us as we round the hill, but then he apparently catches another sound. I walk to the base of the guarding oak, and lean my back against it. I glare at Ben, trying to find words I can use to yell at him.

I settle with calm. I say, "I want to know how my friends got to be like me. I need to know how so that way I can fix it before it gets worse." Ben's taken aback by my calm words, like he had expected me to shout at him. "And don't lie," I say, "I can smell your lies." Worry leaks from him, then anger, finally resolve. The sudden shifts of scents are almost enough to knock me down.

Ben shifts his feet, then looks up at me. His irises flash gold, and I growl at him. No powers for this. I'm just using my resources threaded into the double helixes of my DNA. Ben apparently smells or senses my resolve or anger because his eyes fade back to blue. I suddenly recount the shadow on my windowsill, with its electric blue eyes.

Ben opens his mouth, but then Jonathan rounds the corner. He smiles at me goofily, knowing that he had stopped Ben. I glare at him, and I sense my eyes flash yellow. Jon smiles a little bigger. Quincey also rounds the hill, and his eyes are back to normal. So are Jonathan's. I am so frustrated with Ben holding out on me that I want to tear all three of them apart.

Jonathan glances at Ben, then looks back at me. He says, "You can't change this, Lex. It's in our DNA now. And you know we can't change DNA." This is a reference to our little experiment with my blood when we were little, when Kit punished me for being bad and I couldn't defend myself. I wanted to make myself stronger. It didn't do that, but it made my hair blue and silver, which was funny.

Quincey steps forward, and places a hand on my shoulder. He stares straight into my emerald eyes, so that way all I see are his brown ones. The brown-haired boy murmurs to me, "You can't change any of this. We're facing life like you now. We're now wolves like you. You'll have to coach us on this. You and Ben." The sudden realism hit me, that they had known that Ben was a wolf. I sense that they had known for a while. My anger spikes, but it's quickly crushed by the wave of defeat I suddenly feel. I can't coach them. I've never coached anyone in anything.

Hiding my doubts from my eyes, I nod to show Quince that I understand. He nods back, then let's go of me. I hadn't realized how hard he had been holding the thin bones of my shoulders. I flex, surprised by his new strength. Then, another scent, this one unfamiliar, tickles my nostrils. I inhale, and catch it again. It's musky, like pines and maples; there are mainly oaks and dogwoods around here. I flick my hand at the three boys, causing them to silence.

Then, three sets of golden eyes glare into the woods, alert for any sound. I reach deep into my double helix, and imagine unzipping it. My power floods through me, but it feels different. My ears, eyes, and strength seem to be a little depleted, like they're weaker. But my nose is fine. I sniff again, and catch the musky scent again, this time stronger.

"There!" Quincey's shout rings in my ears, but I still hear the rustle of leaves as whatever it was runs off. I growl, "Idiot! You scared it off! After it!" I pelt into the woods, the three boys on my tail.

### V

I track the pine scent. I run over rocks and under branches with ease, even though the moonlight is blocked by the dense canopy. My night-vision isn't the best, but my nose tells me where to go. When we get to a river, though, I can't smell any pine. I had lost the trail.

"Damn it! I had it! Stupid fricken' river!" I shout. The other three come up to stand beside me. Quincey looks ashamed, but he still scans the other bank for tracks. Jon's ears are perked, but he shakes his head when I look at him. Ben growls, then turns into the forest. I know it when he turns into a wolf because I catch the scent of pine on his fur. A rustle of leaves, and then he's gone too.

Quince hangs his head, then turns to go. I say, "It's alright Quincey. Just next time, whisper. We all have super ears now, so you don't have to shout. We'll get you two used to your powers." Quincey doesn't answer, but keeps walking into the woods. Jon shakes his head, his blonde curls bouncing a little. He starts to walk off as well, but turns back to me at the tree line.

He says, "You're finally accepting Ben now, aren't you?"

I snarl, "No. I still don't trust him. You heard him. He attacked me." Jonathan smiles a little, then says in a calm voice like water, "but you said, 'WE would get you two used to your powers', you didn't say I. Face it, Lex, he's part of our group now." With that, Jonathan turns into the oaks, and disappears into the shadows.

I sit on the banks of the river, pondering this. I know that I'm still bleeding, but I feel no pain. My nose is still smelling two traces of scent. Both are pine, but different. One is Ben's, with an undertone of male sweat. The other has traces of maple and violet: female. I stand up, still pondering this, and turn to go back home.

I can't tell what's wrong with Whitney. As soon as I come in through the back door, holding my side which had opened some time ago, her eyes immediately go to the red splotches appearing above and below my hand. But she doesn't freak out or scream as expected. She just tells me, "Sit on the couch. Don't move," in a voice as strong as steel. I've never heard her sound like that. She baffles me more than normal with this new behavior. I reluctantly sit down as directed.

A few minutes later, Whitney comes in from the kitchen, carrying a red towel and string. "Uncover," she says, in a steel voice. I lift my t-shirt, now stained with the dark red of my wound. I yelp, then Whitney's hand is across my mouth. "Don't make a sound, Alexis. Kit wouldn't like to be woken up. Now, this will hurt, but please don't bite."

The stench of alcohol flares along with my pain. I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming out. I only realize that I had bit clean through when I taste blood in my mouth. With the string and a needle, the blonde-headed woman stitches my wound shut, all the while avoiding eye contact.

She sits back on her heels, and looks over her work. Then, I realize what Whitney is wearing. Tennis shoes, old jeans, and a rumpled t-shirt. Her usually straight blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail with a simple rubber band. She looks ready to take a hike in the woods.

I ask her, "What's with the get-up? You look ready to fight a wolf." I almost smile at the irony. Whitney's eyes are blazing balls of blue fire when she finally meets mine. "Don't give me that, Alexis. I was ready to go fight a wolf, to protect you. I just had to find you first. But you seemed to take off in all different directions; I lost track. Then, I found blood in a clearing, along with white and black fur. Who's the black wolf?"

I'm really trying to follow along with what she is saying. But all I understand is the last part. "I got attacked by a wild wolf. It was a hard fight." Whitney's eyes flash, and she snarls, "Don't lie to me! Tell the truth, Alexis!"

Her ferocity shocks me into saying, "Ben, Ben attacked me to see how strong I was." Whitney's eyes flash again, but with pain rather than anger this time.

"What is it?" I ask her. Whitney sighs, and says, "Another time, Lex. I'll tell you another time." With that, Whitney gets up from her crouched position and moves toward the kitchen. Some strange grief stiffens her muscles when she gets there and the scent of roses raids my nose. Somehow, I know that Whitney is crying.

I get up from the couch, moving slowly to avoid pain, and make my way to the kitchen. Whitney is leaning against the counter, her hands over her face, crying silently. I walk up and hug her. Whitney hugs me back, but more fiercely than I expected. "You will not leave me. You will never die on me. I order you to never die on me, Alexis. I can't lose you like I lost him." Whitney blubbers into my ear. To soothe her, even though I have no clue what she's saying, I say, "I won't, Whitney. I never would." Whitney nods, and continues to cry upon my shoulder.

That night, as I fall asleep, I dream of a great battle. Ferocious wolves attack one another, but two stand out to me. One is as black as night, with eyes as bright as the lightning streaking through the clouds overhead. The other is as red as the rowans surrounding the clearing, with eyes that shine with crazed golden light. Blood stains both, and wounds are bleeding like rivers.

There was no alpha wolf, no one to stop the fighting. Black and gray fight red and brown wolves. The pale white moon, silent as ever, watches the battle from her heavenly perch, not stopping the bloodbath. Thunder booms, and the black wolf falls beneath the red's onslaught. With a howl of triumph, the red's teeth meet the black's throat. Thunder booms once more, and I awake in a cold sweat to someone shaking my shoulder.

"What did you see?" Whitney's blurry face comes into focus above me. I realize that it's blurry because tears are in my eyes. I wipe them away, and blink up at Whitney. Her blonde hair is darker in the night, seeming to glint red and black in places. I stutter, "nothing, it was just a bad dream."

A lightning bolt outside lights up Whitney's face, and I realize that her hair is actually red and black. I'm about to ask her about it, but her hand on my mouth stops me. Whitney is looking at my bay window. I turn my head slowly to see what she's staring at.

A black shadow crouches in my window, its form only outlined by the flashes of lightning behind it. The only thing seeming to be solid about it are the hard eyes the color of sapphires. The figure gazes at us with an intensity I can't name. I can tell it's curious, but of what, I don't know.

Each time the lightning flashes behind it, the figure's outline shifts. It looks human, then doglike, then catlike, then birdlike. After about the sixth time the lightning flashes, the figure disappears. Then, I realize that the room had been completely silent ever since Whitney saw the figure. Even the thunder didn't boom.

I look at Whitney's horrified face. Her blue eyes are wide, and her hair is still dark. I take her hand off my mouth, and ask softly, "Whitney. Why is your hair not blonde?" Whitney's eyes go to me, and in them I see something I have never seen before: love. The ocean smell that invades my nose right then would've knocked me down if I hadn't been lying in bed. Instead of answering me, Whitney motions towards the door, silently asking me to follow her.

I get out of bed, and follow the woman down the creaky stairs. I'm sure the noise would wake Austin or Kit, but no noise follows us outside. In the pouring rain, the woods surrounding us looks frightening, which isn't a word I use lightly. The gnarled winter trees that aren't evergreens seem to reach out toward me, ready to pull me into their embrace.

I turn to Whitney, but she's no longer there. I look around, trying to spot her. Then, I see a ghostly flicker of white near one of the oaks at the corner of my house. I inhale through my nose, smelling the air for any scent. The pouring wall of water around the house blocks all scents from me. I hesitate for a second, but when the ghostly flicker appears again, I follow it.

Gray droplets of water pound the earth to mush beneath my feet. The rain blocks my vision, turning my world to stripes of gray. The only color I see is the sudden black forms of bushes or branches, or the white flicker, leading me to wherever it's going.

I trample through those woods for what feels like hours, but was probably only about ten minutes. Suddenly, I feel rather than see the trees on either side of me drop away. I perk my ears and stretch out my arms to their full length. I sense that the clearing is roughly a hundred yards in diameter and has a dip in the middle. I shuffle forward, alert to any other sounds in the rain.

I jerk back when I feel something touch my bare foot. It's warm, unlike the freezing rain that the sky is shedding. I crouch down, and feel forward blindly until I feel it again. Water. There's some kind of lake or river right in front of me.

"Yes." The soft voice comes from right beside me, but I don't jerk away. I feel a strange calmness when I touch the water. Whitney's voice continues, "This place is special to your kind. To the wolves that roam these woods. This place, when seen in daylight, is the most beautiful thing you will ever see. I will teach you what gifts your parents brought to your blood. I will teach you here." I don't respond. I feel something stirring in the air. Something not quite right.

I growl, then lift my hand from the surface of the water. I turn to where Whitney crouches on my left. Whitney's hair glows silver, but there is no moon to light it. Her features look hard, but her eyes look soft and warm. Her green eyes. I'm about to say something, to ask her something, but Whitney turns to me then, and the pain and heartache in her eyes stops me. "I'm sorry, Alexis. I'm so sorry for this." Before I can utter a word, I feel a hand across my mouth then liquid that tastes like honey slide down my throat. Then, everything goes black. My thoughts last no more.

### VI

My alarm clock wakes me the next morning. I moan, but sit up and rub my eyes. I realize that I had slept in my contacts. Not something I normally do. My alarm is ringing in my ears, so I shut it off. Its pathetic little moan as it silences sounds like a moan of death. With that happy thought in my head, I climb out from beneath my gray blankets. Once my bare feet hit the floor, a shiver runs through my entire body.

look towards my bay window, and the shiver runs through me again, this time edged in little spikes of fear. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Just my simple white wood bay window with gray curtains framing it. I watch the brittle oak leaves through the pane, imagining something dark crouching there. When I blink, the figure I had imagined is gone.

I have a creeping suspicion that something isn't right. I just can't put my finger on what it is. It's like there's a huge black hole in my memories, and if I reached too far in, I'd get swallowed by something I didn't know, or didn't want to remember. I shake my head and look at my alarm clock. It's seven-o'-five on Saturday morning.

Still trying to figure out what's wrong, I walk down the stairs. The shiver runs through me again as I hit a creaky step, but I ignore it. From the kitchen, I detect the smell of bacon and eggs, my favorite breakfast. For some reason, Whitney always makes it on Saturdays. I immediately start salivating.

I walk into the kitchen, and sit at the bar. Watching Whitney flip the bacon, I have a fuzzy image of something in my head. No, not an image, a video.

I was a little girl, barely five. I watched as blonde Whitney flipped bacon. I asked her why she always made bacon on Saturdays. She smiled at me, and right then I caught the glint of her moss green eyes. She said simply, "Your father loved bacon." I laughed, and asked her how she knew my father. She smiled sadly at me, and said softly, "You, my little wolf, have your father's courage. I knew him before he died. I also saw your mother give you up for adoption. That's why I picked you." She kissed the top of my head, then piled half the bacon on my plate. I dug in hungrily, already forgetting what she had said.

I raise my head from the counter. I must've fallen unconscious as the memory passed through me. I look at Whitney, her pale hand holding a plate for the bacon. I open my mouth to ask her something, but she says, "Your memory is strong, Lex. I should have fed you more." Turning towards me, the plate of bacon in her left hand, she hands me a glass of water with her right. "Drink it all. It'll help you wake up."

But before I can put the water to my lips, Whitney put her hand over the rim. "Take away all memories of parents." I open my mouth to ask her what that meant, but she tilts the glass up, and I'm engulfed in blackness once more.

I raise my head from the counter. My eyesight is blurry, and my brain feels like it had been frozen then microwaved. I search for the reason behind this, but my memory is as dark as an abyss. I hear humming, and look up at Whitney. For some reason, I imagine her with black hair, but I can't come up with a reason why. Eventually, I give up and start eating the bacon that sits before me.

I'm hungrier than I thought. I finish the entire plate of bacon, plus toast, eggs, and a bowl of cereal. Whitney just smiles at me and keeps handing me bacon. She jokes that if I don't stop, Kit and Austin would be angry to not have any bacon. I laugh, but continue to eat until Kit comes down from upstairs.

I get up from my barstool as Kit rounds the corner. I'm sitting in his stool, and I'm too confused with the black holes in my mind to fight with him. Whitney watches me cross into the living room.

I drop onto the couch like my body is suddenly made of rock. My head is mainly filled with blackness, but the edges of it are gray. Imagine a squid squirting ink at you then the ink clearing little by little. Only this is agonizingly slow. A headache is building behind my eyes, and it feels like the pressure is changing from the size of a golf ball to a soft ball.

Then, after a few moments, I hear a faint howl. It's a call for help, coming from the woods. I shoot to my feet, and hurtle out the back door before Whitney or Kit can question me. I follow the howl in my mind, tracing its path towards its source. I almost get whacked by a few branches in my way, I'm concentrating so hard.

When I come to a clearing, the howl is as loud as a waterfall between my ears. Then, it cuts off abruptly, as if something had startled it. I glance around the huge clearing, and see a lake in the middle. Continued scanning leads me to the source of the howl.

A huge black wolf, the size of a young horse, stands at the end of a dock that hangs over the lake. In the lake, I see two other wolves, but their colors are distorted due to the rippling waves. But, somehow, I know that these wolves are Quincey and Jon, and Ben had called me to help rescue them.

I quickly summon my rage, and I'm in my wolf form before I can blink. I bound towards the dock, and meet Ben at the end of it. Then, I get dizzy. A sense of Deja' vu washes over me, but I fight it, trying to keep my mind on the task before me.

Ben's ears are laid against his skull, and his paws can't stop twitching. His blue eyes are round, and as fearful as a rabbit caught by a fox. He's making whining noises, which I understand as pleas for help. I nod, and look out into the water, at the long, dark shapes that are my friends, my pack.

Without thought or hesitation, I jump from the dock. A good ten to fifteen feet. I land with a splash in the water, and cold water saturates my muzzle. I snort hard to clear my airway. My long legs pump in a frantically fast rhythmic motion, and I'm tempted to pant, to breathe through my mouth, but some instinct inside me tells me not to.

In a couple of minutes, I reach the two dark shapes in the middle of the blue lake. Now that I'm up close, I can see the desperatism in their eyes. With a bark to get their attention, I paddle behind them, and angle my body to try to herd them toward shore. As I gaze into the brown's large eyes, I see fear and panic take hold of him. The brown starts thrashing in the water, almost taking the gray down with him under the waves.

With a growl of frustration, I lean in towards the brown, and sharply nip his ear. The brown howls, and turns towards me. With some power, or force of will or something, I somehow speak into the brown's mind.

"Listen! Swim towards shore. Ben will be there to get you out. I'm a friend. Now, swim!"

The brown, eager to listen to my booming voice, turns towards the south shore, where Ben is already waiting. I turn towards the gray, but he's already swimming frantically towards the light peach sand. I too turn to go to the shore where my friends are, but something catches my eye. At the edge of the clearing, a woman stands inside the shade of the oaks, watching us. Even from this distance, I can see her red and black hair flowing down her back like a river. The woman nods, then disappears into the woods.

Shaking her image out of my mind, along with the feeling that I knew her, I swim towards shore. Two rumpled heaps of fur, one brown and one gray, lay upon the wet sand, panting heavily. Ben is lying beside the brown, licking behind his ears to warm the shivering wolf. I lay down next to the gray, pressing my side against his thick pelt.

As I begin to lick the gray's mane of big beads of water, the gray turns to look at me. His gray eyes are like pools, with the darker shades of gray near the edge and the light tones near the round pupil. His eyes are rimmed by a light gray, with the color darkening as it goes down his muzzle and chest. The gray flicks his long tail onto my back; a gesture in the language of wolves meaning "thank-you". I nod, then begin licking his mane again.

It's a while before the gray is warm and mostly dry. I look over at Ben, and he looks at me. I stand, and walk around so that I'm between the two wolves, but a little in front of them. I don't know why, but this position feels right to me.

My ears are high, and my white tail is curled around my hind paws. Ben's eyes flash with anger, but then something like understanding floods them. But the waves still leave flecks of hard blue anger. I look at the three wolves before me. I open my mouth to speak, and out comes a bark.

Anyone around us wouldn't have known what we said, but the barks, whines, ear flicks, and tail twitches are as clear as glass to us. Quincey, the brown wolf, fills me in on what happened before I had arrived.

Apparently, Ben was out for a run, Quincey and Jon who were only a few miles away from the woods, decided to follow him. In the middle of their run, Quincey said he felt a rush of heat run through his body, along with almost uncontrollable urges. Urges to hunt, to eat, to sing at the moon with the pack. Quince told me that after the urges, his change in form then followed.

Jonathan, the gray, takes over the story from there. He described the change in form as quick, but long at the same time. "I could feel every muscle stretching and contracting, and my bones grew shorter with each passing moment," the lanky wolf said. Soon, the changes had finished, and their senses went into a heightened mode. Jon said that sudden headaches ailed them, causing the two new wolves to drop to the ground in pain.

After the headaches had subsided, they both continued the pursuit of Ben, testing their new acute senses along the way. At this point, I'm annoyed with Ben. A trained wolf that has had his powers for years must have sensed the sudden change in the smell and the atmosphere that wolves are so keen to. When I accuse him of this, Ben looks startled, then says hotly, "The wind wasn't in my favor. And I'm not as familiar with these woods as you. And, I don't have your gifts." We drop the subject, but an unsettling feeling resides in my stomach afterwards. Jon and Quince continue.

Allegedly, while tracking the black wolf through the foliage, they had caught the scent of water. They were thirsty after their change, so they decided to go take a drink. Following the smell, they ended up in this clearing. Quincey said that it looked weird; the water was too clear, and didn't reflect the surrounding trees.

I look over at the water when he says this. The perfectly smooth pane of water did, in fact, not reflect the towering oaks and maples around the clearing. I look back at Jonathan, and only then do I realize that he has dark rings of gray around his eyes, like glasses. I look over at Quincey, and see that he has them too, only in a very dark brown. Quincey's eyes are also bigger than the rest of ours, and they're constantly moving. Jon's extra-long ears are erect, and I know that they're listening for any possible sound. His ears are also rimmed with black and white in a sort of crisscross pattern.

I listen to the rest of the story. Jon had really wanted a drink, but at Quincey's insistence had not yet taken a drink from the clear lake. Instead, to cool off in their thick fur coats they had decided to swim instead. They had kept their mouths shut, having a sense that there was something just not right about the water. But, not being used to their new forms yet, they had started to flounder around. Then Ben called out to me, and that is what I heard to rouse me from my delirious state back at the house.

I nod as the story comes to a close. It makes sense to me. I glance at Ben, concentrating on the sapphire embers that still fleck his eyes, and for no reason my anger sparks to life.

I want to express my disgust that he was unable to sense the two in trouble. Suddenly, Jon is between us, filling my vision with gray fur. Jon's tail is across my snout, silencing me unless I want to taste his fur. Jon is talking to Ben, saying in language of wolves that he will have to go through him and Quincey before he ever lays a claw on me. Quincey growls at this, but it's a warning to Ben, not Jon.

Ben huffs at this, and I hear the crunching of dry and cracked leaves as Ben backs down. Jon turns to look at me, and his gray eyes hold triumph in large sparks of silver. I growl a playful warning at him, and bump him from behind to get his bushy tail off my snout. Jon's ears flick happily, but he still moves.

I take a step towards Ben's large shadow. Ben huffs at me, another warning, but I don't listen. A strange urge is building inside of me, an urge unlike any other. I take another step forward, and slowly crouch down in front of the huge black shadow of a wolf that's my friend, my packmate. Without knowing exactly what I'm doing, I lean my head forward to touch the tip of Ben's snout. His electric blue eyes stare straight into mine, and I feel an odd surge inside of me, then everything I see is consumed by the electric blue of Ben's eyes.

### VII

My dreams are becoming more frequent and clear; a shining field of green, turned gold by the rising sun. The light blue of early morning chases the dark blues and purples to the western horizon where they fade, giving their nightly throne to their lighter brothers. Lounging on a rock, waiting for the sun's warmth to reach my paws, I stare down into the valley below me.

Three wolves are playing in the long grass. One, a tawny red like his grandfather, tackles a silver-white one. The silver-white's growl of effort to push her brother off her can be heard even from my perch. The third wolf is a gray, with black rimming his tail and hindquarters where the sun's rays have yet to reach. The red yips at me from below, inviting me to come down and play.

I shake my head at him, and lay my head back down to gaze at the northern horizon ahead of me. "You'll have to play sometime. Or else they'll get restless." I look to my left, and see a beautiful wolf with different colors mixed into her fur, so she looks like a rainbow in the dawn light. I huff, "No. I can't. You know that." The wolf just yips with quiet laughter, then moves down the slope leading to the valley.

"Morning, Alpha," say two sleepy voices from behind me, where a cave leads into the hill that we call our home. I growl at the two wolves coming beside me on my left, "You two should've been up earlier. Now, the prey will run after they've had their share of the sun." The gray laughs, and the brown mutters, "You get grumpier every day. I hope your pups are worth it." Before I can snap at them again, the two wolves, almost like brothers, leap down the slope, and into the hunting-woods.

Another voice behind me sounds, a little while after the gray and brown had left. "You shouldn't be so hard on them. They have their reasons for staying up late," a black male says. His electric eyes glitter in the morning sun, and I feel a tiny, almost friendly, kick in my stomach. I growl unhappily, "Yes. Staying up until midnight to visit 'secret' girlfriends is always a good reason to miss morning hunting. I'll keep that in mind. Why don't they just admit that they have girlfriends and ask me for permission to let them join the pack?"

The black laughs, and lays down next to me. He licks my ears, and mutters, "Because you'd be hard on them." Before I can retort, though, the vision fades into static. I lose the connection.

VIII

I pull back from Ben. He's still staring at me, but the sapphire sparks of anger that were in his eyes before have faded. I feel a push at my mind, and for some crazy reason I let down the iron walls that I usually put around my mind to let it in.

That was different. I know what you are, Alexis. You're a seer. A rare breed. A dead breed. But you...There's no other way. You can see the future. A future where we are a pack.

I blink at Ben. I don't understand for a second. Then, I realize what my vision that I shared with him means. The four of us will become a pack. There will be others like us but, something is still nagging at my brain. Another vision I had when I was young. A vision of death. Of war. Of blood leaking out of my friends' throats, and a black Alpha with amber eyes standing proud, blood covering his fangs.

I shake the image out of my head. Still feeling Ben's presence in my mind, I slam my mental walls down again. Ben flinches back, wincing as if he feels real pain. I look at Jon and Quincey. They both look to be made of stone. Finally, Quincey seems to come out of it, as he blinks first.

Quince shakes his head as if to clear it. Jon does the same. Then, Quincey looks at the sky, and gives a yelp of surprise. He looks back down at me. He says, "Got to go now. Mom will kill me if I'm not home soon! How do you change back?" Jon looks at the sky as well. He, too, yelps in surprise, and looks down at me with wide eyes.

Ben explains while I look at the lake, thinking. I'm a seer. I have read many books that involve seers. But there are different kinds of seers; at least in the books I have read. Not all can see the future. But, I have a feeling that I can see more than the future. I can also see the past, and sometimes the present. Jon and Quince look at me, waiting for me to release them. I wave my tail at them, telling them to go, and they race away.

Ben sits down beside me, and stares at the lake with me. Neither of us say anything. I sigh, then get up. My muscles have fallen asleep. I shake out my legs, then ask, "Want to go for a run, Ben?" Ben's eyes widen, and shock ripples through his pelt. I glare at him. Ben mutters, "Nothing. Just, where I'm from, running with another wolf is considered a post-mating ritual."

I feel stupid now. I just brush my tail over his shoulder, a sign of parting, and walk into the forest. Without knowing where I'm going, I burst into a run.

All of my thoughts dissolve like the morning mist being hit by the sun. My run is as fast as a bullet, my legs a blur, my breath like wind. I feel my pelt ripple like water, but I don't look at it. I leap over fallen branches and around mounds of earth with ease, the strangely warm winter air rushing by my ears. Suddenly, I come to a clearing. I skid to a stop as soon as I see two uknown wolves in the clearing, talking in low tones.

My pelt ripples again, and this time I look at it. Or, at least, where it's supposed to be. My white pelt, once so bright among the dying green and brown of the forest, is nowhere to be seen. I gasp, and I can actually see a slight disturbance in the air. I look closer, breathing deeply as I watch. If I concentrate, I can see the little hairs of my pelt. Hairs that when together look as if they're part of the forest. My pelt is the color of the forest. I'm invisible.

I prick my ears toward the two wolves. They're arguing. One, a buff male with black fur and amber eyes, snarls, "She needs to go. Remind him." The other wolf, a small, wiry female with black fur, huffs, "He won't talk to me. I've tried every day." "Try harder!" The large wolf's fearsome growl ripples through the clearing like crashing waves.

The female doesn't flinch, which I give her points for. But her tail does flick between her hind legs, a sign of obedience. The female turns, and lopes into the woods. The male huffs, then turns around towards me. His face is marred by claw marks, and his right eye, previously concealed to me by his angle, is almost closed shut by a scar running from his ear down his face, all the way to the end of his lower jaw.

He stares at me, or at least he seems to. Somehow, I know that he can't see me. His large nose flares, inhaling the scent on the breeze. I curse myself when I feel my fur rustle. The wind is blowing from behind me; my scent is being carried towards the fearsome male. He growls in a low voice like thunder, "Is that you, John? Hidden from my sight using your power of flame? Answer your Alpha!" I don't answer. I turn around, and run.

I can't sleep. It's a few days after the incident at the lake, and I can't fall asleep. I can't force myself into the world of shadows like I normally could. I just can't. And that's annoying me. I roll off my bed, and slip into the hallway outside my door. If I can't sleep, then I might as well eat.

The stairs creak under my bare feet as I descend. The cold wood floor sends shock waves through my body. I walk towards the kitchen, where I know I would find some leftover kielbasa in the fridge. I open the door, and squint my eyes against the too-bright yellow-tinged light pouring out of it.

I move a few containers of cheese and hotdogs aside, and finally I am able to see the container of kielbasa at the back. I pull out the plastic container, and tear off the red lid. Without caring to put the barbequed meat on a plate, I shove the container in the microwave, and set the timer for a minute. The beep coming from the little white machine sounds like gunfire to my ears.

A buzzing on my side makes me turn. Nothing peers out of the inky black of the shadows that cover the house on a new moon night. The buzz sounds again, and this time I recognize it: my phone in my pocket. I pull it out, and peer at it as the microwave beeps at me from behind. The screen lights up once, showing that I have a text. Wanting to wait until after I eat, I put my phone back in my pocket, and take the warm kielbasa from the microwave.

After grabbing a fork, I take my midnight snack upstairs to my room. Once I'm comfortable on my bed, with the kielbasa container in my lap, I take out my phone. The screensaver that I see is brand new: three wolves, all different colors, looking at me with bright eyes. Jon and Quincey are in the middle of a play-fight that I had interrupted, and Ben is looking at me from the top of the hill above our cave. I smile at the screen, then click the message.

'Unknown', my screen flashes. Huh. Weird. I touch the message, and it opens. "I know what u r Alexis, and before the new moon sets in the west, u will know y u don't deserve John. Liekos."

My brain is immediately filled with questions: Why the weird name at the bottom? Why Jon? And why did this person spell his name wrong?

I close the message, then send a text to the group, telling them what it said. In less than two minutes, three replies tell me that they'd be there in ten minutes. I smile to myself. My friends are weird, but they're also loyal. If someone, somehow, had found out our secret, then we would find them.

About five minutes later, Jonathan appears as a black shadow on my windowsill. I open the window for him, and he hops through. "Man, Lex. You seriously gotta get some color in this room. It looks like a gray coffin." Jon jumps onto my bed to avoid my slap. Two minutes later, Ben's electric eyes glow at me from the tree branch. I wave at him, and he climbs through my window.

"Huh. Nice room," he says, looking at my bare walls. "See. Ben likes it." Jon snorts at my comment, and jumps to my bay window to avoid another slap. Ben smiles lightly, then sits down on the corner of my bed. His eyes are bright in the faint light of the moon coming through my open window, and I catch myself thinking that his eyes-and face-looked handsome in the moonlight.

Feeling embarrassed, I look out the window for Quincey so Ben can't see the blush rising in my cheeks. I glance back at him, and see that he's looking at me too, a faint smile on his lips. I look back out the window, and see a brown-silver-black shape hurtle from the woods. The shape leaps into the tree, about twelve feet up, and clambers up the branches like a squirrel. I laugh as Quincey's wolf leaps through my window.

"Dang, dude. Where'd you learn to climb like Spider-Man?" Jon is laughing, and Quincey is laying on my bed now, wagging his tail; Ben is scratching behind the brown wolf's round ears. I laugh, "Off, Quince. No wolves on my bed. I still have to sleep tonight." Quincey's tail droops, then, in a flash of brown, is laying on his stomach in a rumple of blankets, in human form. "Smart-alec," I mutter. Quince smiles.

I sit down in my chair at my computer, and turn the rolling chair around to face my three friends. All three suddenly become serious, and I'm slightly surprised by the sudden change. "'K," I start, and all three lean forward. "We have a dilemma. Someone, somewhere, has somehow found out about us. Maybe. I sent you all the text, and you can see that the name is obviously fake. Does anyone know what it means?"

Jon raises his hand, and I roll my eyes. "This isn't school, Jon. You don't have to raise your hand." Jon nods, and lowers his hand. "I searched online before I got here. There's a lot of things having to do with it, but then I saw something that triggered my memory. Remember when we read the Heroes of Olympus series? The one by Rick Riordan?" Nods all around. "Well, the werewolf king, Lycaon, was the first werewolf. Also, the name sounds Latin. Do you know the Latin name for wolf?"

An uneasy feeling runs through me. "Lupus. Canis Lupus," Ben says. Jon nods. "So, what you're saying is that this person definitely knows that we're wolves." Quincey's face is pale as he says it. "And another thing. Liekos literally means wolf in Greek. So, mainly, this person Liekos is definitely saying that, he or she, knows we're wolves," Jon says into the quiet.

The rotten egg smell, which I have smelled since the moment Jon came, intensifies. I almost sneeze because of it. I say calmly, "That's not true. The text only said 'I know what you are'. So, this person only knows that I'm a wolf." I obviously don't help, as the boys' faces reflect the fear that I smell. Well, almost all of the faces. Ben's is nice and calm, but I sense the wild thoughts running through his mind. Something about the mission, blood, and explaining something.

" _Get out!"_ The sudden scream in my mind sends me tumbling. I grasp my head, feeling as if it's about to explode. My ears are ringing, and my senses are all scrambled. I look up through blurry eyes, and see Ben on the floor, panting. As I blink the blurriness out of my vision, Ben gets up onto his feet. His eyes are flames of sapphire anger, and they're directed at me.

"Stay out of people's minds, Alexis. You don't wish to know what you'll find there," Ben growls, then jumps out of my window. Before Jon or Quince can say or do anything, I jump out my window and bound after him.

### IX

"Ben! Wait!" I call into the forest. Ben is just a black shadow, a flicker in my vision. He doesn't stop. I pant after him. I try reaching towards him with my mind, but there's a strong metal wall around his thoughts, reinforced with hot flames of anger. I get burned just trying to touch his wall.

Abruptly, the shadow I had been following stops. I almost run into the solid object of Ben's back. A hand grabs my arm, and drags me towards a huge oak tree. I almost scream and bite him, but the hand is gone as fast as it had appeared.

Two bright pricks of light flash in front of me. Blue irises, with lightning bolts of gold striking through them. I open my mouth to ask Ben something, but his harsh voice stops me. "You really want to know why I'm here, Alexis? Why I suddenly appeared in your life from nowhere? Stopped you from killing your brother?" "Austin isn't my brother! And he never will be," I yell. The golden lightning flares brighter, and more severe.

Ben's voice sounds like knives in my ears. "Austin is your brother. More than you know." Before he can continue, I strike him. His eyes flash wide with pain, and they flare with anger once he realizes what I have done: a sharp strike to the jaw with my fist, which would've broken anyone else's jaw, but not a wolf's. Not Ben's.

Hands close around my throat, and my body slams into the tree. Ben's eyes are almost all gold now. The only remaining bits of blue are thin rings around the pupil. I envision the rings of blue, and force my way through his mental walls, keeping the vision in my mind's eye. His walls burn me, and the sharp spikes of pain and anger caused by red lightning that flicker around his walls now strike me, filling me with emotion, but I forge on.

I reach the wall. With the last of my strength, I punch the wall with all I have. My fist crumples the steel, and, with one more punch, I break through. Ben's thoughts engulf me like a wave, dragging me into their depths.

I have to tell her now, or she'll die. But I can't. I won't. He'll be angry. He'll hurt me. Bombs. Plan B. Explaining why I helped Jon and Quince. My friends. But she's my friend too. I'm killing her. She's choking. She'll die. Her vision, our vision, won't come true without her. Pups, a pack, safety, a life without the Black Alpha. But it won't exist if I kill her now, in the woods. Is she watching? Can she sense my pack-link? Can she hear me?!

The thoughts bombard me from all sides like a bombardment of knives. I can't think, I can't respond to Ben. Some sense in my mind tells me that he has stopped choking me, but I'm close to death. I have to wake up; I have to get out. But how? How can I possibly get out of the thoughts that pull at my mind like clawing hands, trying to take me down with them?

A sudden sense of peace enters me. A sense that everything is fine, that everything would be okay if I died. My friends would be better off without me, as would the world...

Anger shocks me awake. I had almost fallen asleep. Sleep means death, and I can't die. Frantically, I start to swim through Ben's thoughts. All the thoughts that I have left behind drag at me with death-minded fingers, but I don't give up. I swim through Ben's mind like the ocean, overcoming waves of emotions and thoughts that would trap me in their embrace like quicksand.

I reach the hole I had made when I entered Ben's mind, and, without hesitation, I jump through. Straight into blackness.

### X

I gasp, and my eyes shoot open. My throat feels like sandpaper as I breathe, and a strange sound is coming from my right. My head is pounding, and bile rises in my throat. I turn onto my side, then roll onto my knees. The acid rises, and I open my mouth to scream at the pain in my head. The bile shoots out instead, and my head pounds harder.

I'm aware of a presence beside me, holding my red hair back from my face. My head feels like a bomb has gone off inside it. The bile keeps coming. Finally, thankfully, the bile stops rising. My head is a warzone. A hand touches my forehead, feeling for heat. The hand is cool. I don't complain.

"Lex. Lexi. Alexis!" I'm shaken awake by the voices. They sound panicked. I look up, and see someone's blurry face. Instinct takes over my body, and my foot connects with a jaw before I know what's happened.

"OW!" The voice is high-pitched, and the smell of pain assaults my nose. I vault to my feet, and swing my leg out blindly, allowing my nose to tell me where the figures are as I can't quit see yet. Three crashes sound around me, along with three muffled yelps of pain and shock. I leap upon one of the blurry figures, the biggest, and wrestle with it.

As my vision clears, I see lightning eyes of gold, and almost yelp when a fist comes at me. I kick upward, into my assailant's stomach, and scramble out from under the body as it becomes dead weight. I roll to my feet, and take out a pocket knife from my pocket. I flip it, and spin up and around, the silver blade touching the figure's neck.

My vision is clear by now, and in the shadows cast by the trees, I catch the glint of blue eyes, along with two pairs of gold to my left and right. I breathe deeply, and my sudden instincts fade into clarity of what I have done.

Without taking the knife off Ben's neck, I grab Quincey's shoulder. He flinches, his gold eyes flashing on and off. I pull him towards me, and look at his jaw in his eyes' light. A dark welt is forming where I had struck him, and his bottom teeth are slightly crooked. I smile wryly, and say, "Sorry for kicking you. You might want to tell your mom you got clipped by a truck or something."

Quincey smiles at me, and his gold eyes fade. Jonathan, from my right, laughs. Ben smiles thinly, and asks nicely, "Great. You're back. Can you please put down the knife?"

I whip around to face him. I push the blade deeper towards his jugular. He gulps, making the knife bounce, and takes a step back; I keep pace with him. "What'd I do to make you angry?" Ben's voice is practically a whimper. I snarl, "What did you do? Hmm, let me think. How about tried to kill me, came here for no reason, and tried to fricken' murder my entire pack!"

Jon and Quincey both gasp. Guess Ben didn't tell them that part. Oh, well. I take a step closer, until Ben and I are nose-to-nose. His eyes are wide, and no trace of gold can be found. But Ben's eyes don't hold fear. They hold iron, retaliation, anger, sadness, and defiance. Everything I'm feeling. Except betrayal.

Ben has betrayed us. He has betrayed me. Now, he's trying to play it cool, like he hadn't tried to choke the life out of me. Like he hadn't tried to end my life, in one swift move. One that wouldn't haunt his dreams at night.

I realize, too late, that Ben's thoughts and memories are melding with my own. I can read his mind, and he can read mine. But there is one part of his mind that I have yet to explore: his very personal feelings. Ben flinches, but I hold his throat in an iron grasp. What I haven't realized, until that moment, that I have pinned Ben against a tree, with my hand and knife to his throat.

The distraction is my mistake. Ben takes this moment to attack me. His mind pushes further into mine, and his hands shove at my stomach, forcing both mind and body back away from him. I growl, mentally and physically, and attack him back.

A fierce kick to the chest sends him reeling in the real world, but in the mind world he holds steady. His thoughts don't waver from his task: defend himself, and possibly kill me along the way. His hands grab my neck, and slam me to the earth. I recoil like a snake in the mental world, and strike at him. My viper bite is full of hate, and my bite is targeted at his happiness. His joy fades, replaced by anger.

His hands punch my ribs, my stomach, and then my chest. I curl into a ball, and strike my feet twice into his own stomach and chest, forcing him off me. Without knowing what I'm doing, I think about the woods around me, and know that I have faded into the background, have turned invisible, by some inner instinct.

Ben's nose flares, and he strikes again, just catching my hip. I stumble to the ground, and Ben is back on top of me, punching me in the face this time. I think of whiteness, and send the brilliant ball of light that I have mentally formed into Ben's own brain. Ben yells in pain in both worlds, and stumbles away from me, grasping at his temples. I attack like a tiger, striking his mind and body with blows of hate and betrayal; all the emotions I'm feeling at that very moment.

I notice suddenly that I'm crying. My vision is blurry through the tears, because I think I see a black halo around Ben, and a red halo around myself. The realization hits me. We aren't fighting as humans: we are fighting as aura wolves. The most difficult wolf form to obtain. Ben's eyes widen, and I remember that our minds are connected.

I collapse to the earth as sudden fatigue overtakes me, and my mind shuts off. All connections to the outside world break. But two thoughts drift through my mind, as whispery and faint as ghosts: You know what aura wolves are. What they mean.

We are destined mates.

### XI

Pain splits my head the next morning. I can't move for what feels like forever. Finally, I drag myself out of bed. Before my feet even hit the floor, though, I crumple. My legs are shaking like I had just ran a marathon all day long, I have never felt so utterly exhausted.

Grabbing the edge of my bed for support, and after several trials, I hoist myself to my feet. I put one hand to my head, and the other on my nightstand. The cool wood beneath my fingers help soothe my head a little.

Groping the wall for a light switch, I fumble with something that feels like paper. I grab the paper, and continue feeling along the wall for the switch. I find it, and immediately shut my eyes because of the bright light that suddenly comes on. I open my eyes a crack, and let my retinas get used to the light for a bit.

Once my eyes are completely open and I can see, I look at the paper in my hand. It's a color drawing; a sketch of a tall tree. A strange symbol is etched into the bark of the trunk. A downward facing triangle, with a little line extension at the left corner.

I stare at the symbol for a while, but can't figure out what it is. I look at the exposed roots lapping over each other like waves, and see glowing eyes among the twisted bark. Blue eyes, two pairs of them, glow from opposite sides. Amber eyes, on the right side, glow with anger, right beside the blues. Brown, gray, and green eyes shine from the left, near the other pair of blue. The brown's shows fear, and the gray's shows apprehension. The blue's shine with anger and hate. The green's, though, shine with wisdom and love, with a bit of anger.

I look up from the detailed picture when I hear my phone buzz. I pick up the phone from the bed, and look at the screen. It shows a black wolf with blue eyes: Ben's contact photo. I click the message Ben sent me.

"Hey. U up? U ok?"

I'm tempted to send back that I hate him and to stop texting me, but something inside of me says not to. I think of my pounding head, and the weakness in my body. After I have had time to contemplate how to respond, I send back a reply.

"Yeah. I'm ok. U?"

After a minute, I get a reply.

"U little liar. Your head's pounding just like mine. Mind if I come over and talk?"

I laugh at the first part, because Ben knows me too well. I take a minute to decide on the second part. Did I want a killer in my house? Would he try to kill again? But, then I think of the halos around us last night. The black and red halos. Halos that are so rare, and so incredibly hard to ignore...

I hear a knock on my bedroom door a little while later, and realize that I had drifted into a semi-unconscious state. I unfold my legs from beneath me, and stand to walk to the door. My legs wobble, but I stay upright by some miracle. I open the door when a second knock comes, and find myself staring into blue eyes.

Whitney smiles, and says, "Hey, Lex. Your friend's here. A boy named Ben? He says he needs to talk. Can he come in?" Without waiting for my answer, Whitney gestures behind her, and Ben appears as if from nowhere. He steps around me and into my room, his hand just barely touching my hip where he left bruises the night before.

Whitney smiles at him, but her eyes are made of steel. A kind of angry fire burns in her blue irises, something like hate. I smell anger on her, mixed with the worried smell of blooming flowers. A tangy smell also joins the previous ones when she looks at me again, somewhat like salt.

But before I can determine what the smell is, Whitney smiles at me and leaves. I close the door, and turn around to face Ben. He's sitting by my bay window, staring at me. His face is bruised a little, near his jaw, and his throat has scratches on it. Except for that, Ben's face is the same as ever. Perfectly cool and calm, with his mind blocked from my power.

I growl at him, "Why come here, Ben? After you tried to kill me, you knew you wouldn't be welcome here." Ben's face doesn't shift, but his scent does. It spikes with anger, then fades into resolve.

"I came here to help. There's someone out there, Lex, who knows our secret. We can't let them win. If they divulge that the four of us are wolves, we'll be taken away and experimented on. Maybe killed."

I laugh harshly. "And you think that you'll be welcome in my pack? After you tried to kill me? Are you stupid or just crazy?" Ben has me pinned against the wall so fast I barely see a flicker of movement. "You know that what happened last night was more than it appeared, Alexis. We summoned aura wolves. Aura wolves, Alexis! Do you know what that means?" Ben's breath is hot against my cheek. I growl, and shove him away.

"Do you?" Ben almost yells.

"Yes, Ben! I know what aura wolves are! I've drawn them, and I've seen them. And I know this: You. Aren't. Mine." I snarl the last three words in his face. Ben growls, long and low. "We are. Our souls don't lie." I shriek, "But they kill, don't they? You, Benjamin, are a killer. I've seen your thoughts and your memories. I know what you've done, and what you've set out to do. You won't kill me like your father wants!"

Ben's eyes widen, and he stumbles back. I snarl, "Yes, Ben. I've seen that far into your memories. I know that your father, the Black Alpha, has set you on a quest to kill me. But you won't kill me. I won't let you." Ben's eyes narrow, and he says quietly, "You won't let me? More like I can't. I literally can't kill you. I-I." Ben stammers. I glare at him.

Ben takes a deep breath. The scratches on his neck expand and contract as his throat moves. Involuntarily, I sit down next to him on my bed, and take his scraped jaw in my hand. He doesn't protest when I turn his head to the side to examine the scratches. There are four long ones, stretching from the back of his neck to the front. They're an angry red, unlike the lighter ones near his ear and shirt collar. I reach a hand forward to touch one of the long scars, but Ben flinches back. I notice a quick, small flash of black around him as he pulls away. His eyes, momentarily, turn as black as night, then go back to normal.

Ben's eyes reflect a quick flash of red, a flash as quick as a lightning strike. I gasp, and look Ben in the eyes. His eyes show fear, but also something else. The tangy, salty scent comes to my nose once more. It stays longer this time, but is gone just a moment before I can decide what it is.

I mutter, "It happened again, didn't it? The aura wolf thing?" Ben nods, then does something surprising. He takes my chin, and brings my face towards his. He kisses me, lightly, on the cheek, then gets up. Before I can say anything, he fades into shadow right before my eyes. He melts into blackness, and I can no longer see him. Only his eyes, as bright as sapphires are solid, and they blink at me from my windowsill, then they too, disappear.

I sigh as I bask in the warm evening sun setting on the horizon. Jon and Quince are running around below me, playing tag in their wolf forms. Ben hasn't shown up to our hideout despite testing him over an hour ago. I have a feeling it's because of our conversation.

"Got you!" A playful yip sounds below me. I laugh, and roll onto my stomach, and peer over the edge of the hill. Jon, who has just tagged Quincey, is dancing around like he has fire ants in his pelt. Quincey is huffing, but still tackles Jon when he comes too close. I laugh again, and call down to the wrestling duo, "Hey! Have you guys seen Ben today?"

Both wolves shout "NO", then proceed to wrestle more. They're getting sticks and leaves in their pelts, so much so that they almost blend into the ground below them. I giggle at the two wolves, and watch them play for a while. Thoughts of Ben plague my mind, even when I try to push them away.

I feel a presence beside me. Without looking, I mutter, "Finally decided to show up, huh? Took you long enough." The scent of oranges reaches my nose, along with the pine and sweat smell of Ben. I look to my right, and see Ben lying beside me, watching Jon and Quincey play.

Instead of answering me, he says, "They're getting stronger. They'll be fine hunters. With Quincey's eyes, he can see a flicker of breath from a hidden rabbit. And Jon's ears can hear the slightest flutter of feathers. And your nose can track any animal from here to Canada." Ben smiles at me, and I'm caught off guard, thinking that he should be acting differently. Like he had when we had our conversation earlier that day.

Testing the waters, I say, "So. You don't want to talk to me about what happened this morning?" Ben looks confused, then says, "Yeah. About that. Nothing happened. Nothing major. Right?" I think a kiss is pretty major, even if it was on the cheek. Thinking of something, I ask, Ben. "What's my last name?"

Ben looks startled, then perplexed. "What kind of random question is that, Lex?"

"Answer me," I said, "What's my last name?" Ben looks frightened now, and says hesitantly, "Shin? Alexis Shin?" Surprise rolls through me, then anger. I grab Ben's throat, and pin him to the earth. Ben yelps, and struggles under my grasp of steel.

Two wolf scents wash over me, along with surprise and confusion. The combined scents of coke and bananas almost overwhelms me, but I keep Ben pinned. I growl, "No, Ben. I never told you my last name. I don't have one. Now, who are you, and why are you pretending to be my friend?"

The person pretending to be Ben laughs, which surprises me. The person says, "By the rise of the moon tonight, Alexis. Your pack won't live through the fire of the song. See you later, Daughter of Fire and Fox." With that, the person dissolves, turning into shadow. I'm left gripping a pile of dirt instead of a throat.

A rustle of branches and a growl behind me makes me turn. Jon and Quince are on top of a shape, but I can't see any defining features of it. "Off," I snap. Jonathan and Quincey pull off the figure, but keep their teeth bared in warning. The figure sits up, and I recognize Ben's face. I see the worry and surprise in his eyes, and I touch his mind, just to make sure.

Ben's mental walls flash up immediately, but I have touched enough of his mind to know he's the real Ben. Without realizing what I'm doing, I tackle Ben, and we roll down the hill. Ben's arms are locked around my waist tightly, but I don't care. When we stop at the base of an oak, I bury my head in his shoulder, and start murmuring, "They've found us, Ben. There's another like you. They've found us."

I can feel Ben tense when I say that there's another like him, but he doesn't stop my constant murmuring to him. But, strangely, Ben doesn't retract his arms from my waist, either. He's holding me close to him, close enough to hurt me before Jon and Quince arrive. He could break my neck in two seconds if he wanted, to complete his mission, but that doesn't scare me, either. The only thing that scares me right now is the knowledge that there's another person like Ben, another wolf. A wolf that can dissolve into shadows, can listen to any and every conversation we have ever had, and never be seen. There's another spy, another killer, out there.

And they're after me.

"So," Ben says, his voice echoing in the silent cave, "there's another shadow wolf out there. Probably a killer." Ben explains, a shadow wolf, is a wolf like himself: they can dissolve into shadows, pass through objects, and can only be detected by wolves. Very rare. Only one in about three generations is ever born. I can't tell if it's the truth or if that's just what he wants us to believe.

"Yeah. Perfect killer. Lurking in the shadows, and watching their victims sleep. Nothing can go wrong with that," I mutter. Jon looks at me quizzically, but Ben sighs and says, "That wasn't supposed to happen, Lex. I already told you that." "Which one, first or second? The second seems likely to happen. Probably by choice, not order," I growl.

As if we still had even a shred of privacy left anywhere, we head back to the cave. Ben huffs, then looks at Quincey. He's tapping away at his computer, which somehow gets Internet in the middle of nowhere, even inside a hill. He's searching for a picture of the weird triangle in the middle of my drawing. "Anything?" Ben asks, and his voice holds a note of impatience.

Quincey simply shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. Jon is examining the picture I drew, his eyebrows knit together. I mutter, "Ben. This'll take some time. We need to talk." My tone holds no argument, and I climb out of the hole, onto the tree. Ben follows. We leap to the ground, and I lead the way into the woods.

When I believe that we're out of Jon's hearing range, I turn to Ben. He's looking at a leaf on the ground, avoiding eye contact with me. I say, "Ben. We can't avoid this conversation forever." Ben huffs, "Why not? It's in the past. I'm not gonna kill you." "Right," I mutter, "because you can't, and for some reason you won't tell me why that is."

Ben looks up at me just then, and something in his eyes catches me off guard. Sorrow holds his blue eyes in a firm grasp. His voice is heavy as he says, "Some things I can't tell you, Alexis. Mainly because I don't know what they are myself." The tangy, salty scent reaches my nose again, and this time I can identify it before it disappears. Love. Ben is feeling love for me.

Ben's arms are wrapped around me before I can say anything. I realize that I'm crying, but I can't figure out why. Then, the answer comes to me, as if from a bolt of lightning. The three pups in my vision, they're mine and Ben's. The aura signs we both saw are true, we would become a family in that future.

Unless the pack is destroyed by the song.

I pull away from Ben's warmth. Some strange tug in my gut warns me to stay away from him. Some melody, a weird, lilting tune, is playing in my head as the sensation in my gut grows. I look up at Ben, and his eyes are moist. He murmurs, "Alexis. Stop humming. It will only bring danger." I say, "I'm not humming." Ben looks at me as if I were crazy, and maybe I am.

Ben says, "Lex. The song you were humming, um...Did the shadow wolf say anything about a song?" I step back, startled by his sudden question. I nod hesitantly. Ben sighs, and leans against a nearby pine. "What did the shadow say about a song?" Ben asks wearily; I detect fear on him, but I don't know from what.

I answer slowly, "The shadow said, 'Your pack won't live through the fire of the song'. What does that mean, Ben?" Ben's eyes grow heavy, and he sighs again, this time sinking to the ground. I sit down beside him, and listen to him as he tells me a poem:

Emeralds burn bright in the heat of the light.

Shadows dance upon the walls.

Storms are coming,

And the oaks will fall,

All under the fire of the song.

A heart of steel and eyes of gold.

Shine under the heat of the moon.

When lightning strikes the tallest spire,

The nameless shall know themselves,

And the voiceless shall speak again.

All under the fire of the song.

Emerald, tiger's eye, moonstone, and azurite shall band.

To defeat the alpha that rules the land.

The Daughter of Fire and Fox,

Shall rule under the Moon of Knox.

All under the fire of the song

"Wow," I breathe as Ben finishes. As he told me the poem, something in my heart started to sing along, as if I knew the poem already, but hadn't realized it. Ben looks at my face for a long time, then takes my hand. I look at his face, into his electric eyes. But instead of eyes, I see gems. Two bright, blue gems with dark green and gold swirls. I blink, and the gems are gone. Somehow, I know that the gems I saw were azurite.

Ben looks at me, then leans forward. The kiss on my cheek is light, but I can sense something behind it. I see another flash of black around Ben, and know a red flash appears around me. Ben leans back, and looks me in the eyes. Even without touching his mind, I know that Ben is thinking the same as I: we've summoned aura wolves three times, even when we're not fighting. That's a sure sign we're destined mates. Even if we don't want to be.

But something inside of me, deep inside my heart, says that I want to be.

### XII

Back inside the cave, Quincey has found nothing. Neither has Jon. I huff, and sit down in my chair. I take the picture from Jon, and examine it again. The triangle seems to be burnt into the tree, while the little addition seems to have been clawed into the bark later. "Daedalus," I mutter.

"The ancient Greek dude that made the Labyrinth and tried to escape it with wax wings? What about him?" Jon asks. "The triangle seems to have been there longer than the extra line. The triangle, in the Greek alphabet, is the delta: the symbol of Daedalus, the great inventor." I answer. Ben sits down beside me, and looks at the picture over my shoulder. My spine tingles with electricity as he leans closer to me, I try my best to ignore it.

"It could be a clue," I say, "I mean, I drew this the night I got the text. Maybe my subconscious told me to draw it." "Or, maybe, you had a vision. Again," Ben says, his breath ruffling the hair next to my ear. "Shut up", I think. Then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out. On the screen shines a text message from an unknown number.

"Hello, Alexis. Havin' fun? Finally decoded what the triangle on the tree is?"

I gasp, and another text appears, from the same number.

"I'm not as stupid as you might think, Lex. Guess something gets to go boom. Sunset, wolf. That's your time. Solve the riddle."

Quincey is tapping on his computer again, his fingers a blur. "Damn it!" He yells a few seconds later. Quincey groans, and puts his head on the computer desk. Jon looks shocked, and takes my phone carefully in his hands, like it's a bomb.

I force my thoughts back into order; the texts have scrambled them up. I say, "Ok. Calm down, guys. We can figure this out. It's just like 39 Clues." Quincey looks up at me, and says, "39 Clues had bombs, explosions, guns, poison, and death. If this is 39 Clues, I'll take the million bucks." He puts his head back on the table.

I look at the picture once more. This person, this Liekos, is taking a lot of stuff from Greek mythology. Maybe this symbol is from Greek mythology as well. I grab Quincey's laptop, and search for Greek symbols. What I find makes me groan. "The triangle means wolf in Greek." I tell the others, and everyone groans as one.

But the Daedalus idea still sticks in my mind. I think about it a bit longer, but no more useful information comes to mind. I look over at Ben, he's deep in thought. Over what, I don't know. Suddenly, an image appears in my head.

An old man, with golden-white wings on his back, leaping out of a tall window into the open air. His arms flap rhythmically, keeping him aloft. A distant shape on the horizon, something that looks like a bird, plunges into the sea. The man screams in pain and grief, and arrows sail from the direction of the window. They almost hit the man's wings, but none make contact. The man screams again, and the image fades.

I blink, and look around at everyone else. It seems that only a moment has passed while I was lost in thought, but Ben's eyes are on me. They hold a question. I shrug, and Ben seems to accept my answer; he goes back to thinking. The sudden vision has rattled me, but it isn't because it was sudden and quick. It's because I had become the man, and had felt his grief as if it were my own.

Frustrated, I get up from my chair, and walk down one of the tunnels. After walking for several minutes in silence, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn, expecting to see Ben, but instead see Quincey. "Quincey," I ask, "What's wrong?"

Quincey shrugs, and murmurs, "You and Ben are acting strange. A few days ago you hated him. Now..." Quincey doesn't finish. The smell of worry with tinges of fear leak from him in small rivers.

"Ben's okay, now. He won't try to kill me," I say, trying to placate Quincey's worries. His eyes flash gold, and I flinch at the sudden light. But it's because of what I see in his eyes; anger. Quincey Michael is angry. With Ben. For trying to kill me.

"He had no right to try to even touch you. No matter what his father says," Quincey hisses. I put my hands-on Quincey's chest, and feel his heartbeat: it's racing, the anger in him raising his heart rate to deadly speeds. I catch the flicker of a shadow in my peripheral vision, and the flash of blue eyes. I say loudly, "Whoever you are, shadow, you can't hurt my friends. I won't allow it." I force my way into Quincey's mind, and find it perfectly blank.

No thoughts drag at me like waves, like in Ben's mind. No emotions radiate from his conscious. On an impulse, I imagine his racing heartbeat beneath my fingers, and imagine it slowing. Not knowing what I'm doing, I imagine the liquid fire of anger running through his veins to slow, to cool. I force comforting and calm thoughts into Quincey's mind. Then, abruptly, I'm yanked from his mind.

Anger surges through me as I come back into the real world. My mental walls go up, and I strike out with both physical and mental blows. A scream of pain brings me back to myself. All of the anger drains out of me as I drop to the floor, and kneel next to Jon, who had unknowingly pulled me from my task. His nose is bleeding, probably broken. I look up as the shadow flickers again, but this time it solidifies. Somewhat.

The half-solid shadow in front of me hisses, "You failed to solve the riddle, Alexis. Your friends have suffered from your incompetence. The next riddle will come when the ruins shine at first light." The shadow disappears, and I can do nothing about it. I look back down at Jon, and quickly rip a piece of my old shirt off. I hold it to Jon's nose, and he seems to get the idea.

"Ben!" I scream up the passageway. Ben materializes behind me, as if he were waiting there all along. I shake the thought from my mind, and gesture to Ben to grab Quincey, who fell to the floor after I was jolted out of his mind. Ben nods, and grabs Quince by the shoulders, dragging him back up the tunnel. I tug Jon to his feet, and put his arm around my shoulders; we stagger up the tunnel, gasping for breath.

In the main cavern, once we all have caught our breath, I tell Ben what had happened. I even mention the notion I had when he had appeared behind me; Ben doesn't seem surprised by it. Quincey, finally, gets up from the floor, and staggers into a seat. I barely touch his mind, and breathe a sigh of relief when I feel thoughts circling through his head.

I collapse into my chair, and lean my head over the back. Ben's face appears above me, and I resist the urge to whip my head up, just to smash him in the jaw. I'm still angry at him for not telling me about his mission. Ben leans closer to me until I can feel his breath on my ear.

"This shadow knows where we hide, Alexis. It isn't safe here anymore. We need to move." I murmur back to him, "Where? Where else in these woods is a place exactly like this? The shadow can follow us wherever we go and we'd never know. What good is it to move if that can happen?"

Ben huffs, then whispers, "You're right. But the shadow is most powerful at night, dusk, and dawn. But it needs shadows to form. We have to find a new place during the day." I laugh softly, "Good luck with that. We all work on Saturday, and Jon and Quince's parents always go to church on Sundays. And our next break isn't for four more weeks. When do you want us to search for a new place?"

Ben thinks for a moment, then sighs. "You're right, again. Why are you always right?" I giggle, and the orange scent of happiness and the ocean smell of love tickles my nose. I inhale the scents (and managed not to sneeze, amazingly) and let them fill me. Ben looks down at me, a little smile on his face.

If it wasn't for Jon, I don't know if we would've kissed or not. Jon, at that moment, rises from his chair, and leaves. The rustling sound of him climbing down the tree ruins the moment. Some part of me, the girly part, still wants to kiss Ben, but my logical part whispers that it would be a dangerous game of trust I would be playing into it if I do.

Without looking at Ben, I get up, and walk to the entrance. I hear Ben move, but I don't turn to verify. An urge is growing inside of me at that point, an urge that I can't, won't, let consume me. An urge more destructive than a bullet, yet more delicate than a feather. A wild urge that I know, if I let it consume me, would mean the end.

I sit by the lake, on the dock that hangs over the water. My legs are pulled up to my chest, with my head resting on my knees. I don't know what pulls me to the lake, but something like an anchor tied to a rope holds me there, motionless. I stare at the pale water, the water that had wiped my memories not once but twice. The water calls to me, with a lament of wind, freedom, and hope for a brighter future.

A deadly lament.

A rustle in the woods turns my face from the calm waters. A shadow walks towards me. A human shadow. But instead of blue eyes, I catch the glint of green. This isn't a shadow wolf, but a normal person clothed in black.

The person kneels next to me, and stares into the water below the dock. I study what little I can see of their face. Pale skin, green eyes, and a long strand of black hair across their forehead. The person looks at me straight in the eye, and I almost fall off the dock. Bright, brilliant green irises stare at me with a wisdom I can't fathom; this person has my full attention.

In a low, female voice, the person whispers, "This is my true form, Alexis. I've been hiding from you for years. Almost all your life, in fact. I've kept my eye on you, made sure that you didn't turn vicious at any moment. Do you know who I am, Lex?" The person's voice is familiar, as are their eyes.

I feel a surge of anger. I snap, "Tell me who you are, shadow. What have you done?" The person merely laughs, "I'm no shadow wolf, Alexis. I'm a fox wolf. A wolf that can change their features. I've seen you, here, at this very lake, numerous times. In your dreams and in reality, whether you were aware of it or not."

"What's that got to do with anything?" I almost scream. This woman is annoying me. The woman pulls off her hood, and lets her hair fall free. In the moonlight, the red hair looks like copper. The woman grabs my hands, and pulls me towards her. I'm staring into eyes as green as the forest behind them. I see something in those irises, something like pain mixed with love.

The woman whispers, "Alexis. You know who I am. I'm the one who always held you after Kit was being mean and punished you. I laughed when you turned your hair blue and silver. I was the one that gave you up. The one who never had enough courage to tell you who I was. Alexis, I'm your mother."

I know some people, when they hear that their long-lost parent has returned and has claimed them and all that other BS, cry or punch them or hug them until they can't breathe. I don't do any of that. All I do is stare at her. At the woman who has raised me. But her face, her eyes, her voice, aren't the same as I have always heard them, seen them. Instead, I see a young woman with pale blue eyes, blond hair tied in a braid, and a slight Southern accent. Not this woman.

Whitney smiles. She doesn't know the impact this revelation has on me. I stare at her green eyes, eyes that are supposed to be blue. At her black and red hair, which is supposed to be blond. At her face, which is supposed to be small, with high cheekbones and a pretty smile. Not this face. Not my face.

Without a word, I leap to my feet, and run down the dock. Into the woods. Then, I realize something. I can't feel the sharp pain of branches and twigs scraping my arms and face. No tiny pricks of blood run down my arms. I'm not really at the lake. I'm dreaming again.

### XIII

The next morning, when I awake in my bed, I have laid here for some time, to digest what I learned in the night. Even in a dream, my gut tells me that Whitney had been telling the truth. Whitney is my mother. In the waking world, though, I finally feel some emotion about that statement. I feel curiosity about why she never told me. But, surprisingly, I feel no anger towards Whitney.

The strange thoughts twist around in my mind like a whirlwind. Finally, I get up. I open my door just a little, and smell bagels coming from downstairs. My stomach growls at the thought of food, and I listen. I'm down the stairs so fast I practically fly.

I stop at the sight of Whitney, standing at the bar. She's pulling blueberry bagels out of the toaster, and buttering them. Her hair, like normal, is pulled back into a long braid down her back, not a hair out of place. She turns as I come into the kitchen, and smiles at me. Confusion roils in my stomach, seeing her smile at me like my mother, all those years, and never telling me that she actually is my mother.

I open my mouth to ask her about it, but a bagel stops me. Whitney, amazingly, has tossed a bagel my way. Surprised, I stop mid stutter and eagerly down the warm bread, letting the warm butter seep into my mouth. Whitney laughs at the look on my face, and I smile against my will. After I have swallowed, I ask Whitney, "Whitney? Um, can I ask you a question?"

Whitney's face turns so fast from laughing to serious, I almost choke. It reminds me of Jon and Quince. As Whitney turns to face me fully, I catch sight of Austin sitting at the bar, previously hidden behind Whitney. Austin glares at me, and continues to eat his half-finished bagel.

I softly murmur, "Um. Somewhere private, please?" Whitney's eyes grow cold, as if she knows what I'm thinking, then she walks into the living room. I know that she's going to the other side, far away from Austin, so he can't hear.

I follow her. Whitney is sitting on the floor by the fireplace, staring into the wood, as if trying to summon flames. I sit beside her, and stare at the wood as well. I'm thinking about how to phrase my question.

Whitney looks at me, and I see, for just a second, green eyes. I decide to be outright. "I had a dream last night. You were in it. You told me...You told me that you were my mother." Whitney's eyes widen at the last statement, but her face grows hard as well. Whitney murmurs, "Come with me, Alexis. I know a place where we can discuss this in private."

Confused by her statement, I get up as Whitney stands. I follow the blonde outside, into the back garden. But Whitney doesn't stop to smell the roses. No, she goes through the gate and into the woods, something I've never seen her do. I run after her, but quickly lose sight of her bright hair in the dark shadows under the trees.

Suddenly, a white blur races between two towering oaks, right in front of me. Wolf scent washes over me, a smell that's like oaks and violets. Growling, I give chase to the white blur, baring to become a wolf, to match the white wolf's speed. I run and run, chasing the blur through the woods, around trees and over brambles. Then, suddenly, I stop, almost tumbling over my own paws. The trees widen and fall away to either side of me, and in the middle of the clearing is the lake.

The lament that I had heard in my dream begins playing in my head. I realize something, then: the lament has the same tune to it as Ben's poem. The lament, the poem that is sung by the water, lures me, tells me to venture closer. I fight the song, and it fades into background noise in my head.

I look around the clearing, and my gaze settles on a sleek form. White fur, long and elegant, with a red sliver running down her spine. Her eyes, as bright as the sun, reflect my face. Long ears stand erect, and watchful eyes notice my every move.

I growl at the strange wolf, "Who are you? Why did you bring me here?" A thought occurs to me, one that in the back of my mind that I feel I already know the answer to, "Are you Whitney?" The wolf nods. I yip in delight, for some reason, and tackle the other wolf. Whitney yips, too, and we begin to wrestle. Whitney nips my ear playfully, and I shove her to the ground in mock fight.

Finally, when we're both worn out, I nuzzle Whitney's chin. The she-wolf huffs at me, then nuzzles my muzzle. I feel my body relax beside my mother's, and a sense of happiness fills my chest. I smell oranges and ocean scents coming from the older wolf, and nudge her in her side. Whitney yips, then playfully nudges me back.

I still have questions for her, though. I look up at Whitney, into her white face, a mirror image of mine, and ask, "What kind of wolf are you, Whitney?" Whitney smiles, her sharp canines flashing. "I'm what you call a fox wolf. In human form, I can change my features into anything you can imagine. In wolf form, I can change my color into that of any wolf." "Hmm," I say, thinking.

Then, just to make sure, I ask Whitney, "Are you my mother?" Whitney's face falls for a moment, but then goes back up into a smile. "I am, Lexi. I always have been." I smile, and nuzzle Whitney's white jaw again. Happiness floods from me, but then a horrific and sudden thought shoots through my many questions like a lightning bolt.

I ask Whitney quietly, "Why did you run away? From the Black Alpha?" Whitney's face flashes with anger at the name, and her eyes turn stormy. "I ran away, Lex, because of you. You see, me and your father, well, we weren't supposed to be mates. But we wanted to be. And, a little while after we mated, and I found out I was pregnant with you, the Black Alpha found out. He killed my mate, and threatened to kill me too."

"But he couldn't," I said softly. "He loved you, didn't he? He loved you too much to kill you." Ben's words echo in my head, about how he couldn't kill me, for some mysterious reason. Whitney nods. In my peripheral, I catch a flicker of black. I look to my right, and there's Ben, in his wolf form, staring at me. I nod, and get up. I don't really want to leave my new-found mother, but school beckoned. Great.

My day goes horribly. The thing that sets off my horrid day is Quincey and Jon telling me what happened during the night. And, when I hear the news, I literally punch Jon.

Jon says that, in the middle of the night, a bomb went off. In the town square. In our famous gazebo. Any cars that were parked near the white structure were burned or destroyed. The greenery around the gazebo, with the beautiful dogwood trees and blooming Hawthorne flowers, were all burned to ash; nothing would ever grow there again. The buildings around the square have to get new windows and doors, as the doors are black with soot and the windows are destroyed. Everyone is in a state of panic, and for good reason. The gazebo had stood there for millennia.

But the thing that hurts me the most, is that Quincey had been there right after the bomb went off, and found a package sitting in the place where the gazebo used to stand. The package isn't damaged by any means. It's a perfect white shoebox, about a foot long, with little gray Nike symbols painted on the sides.

There was a threatening handwritten message on top _: "I told you, Alexis. I told you that there would be consequences. That there would be a boom. Inside this box there is a riddle. The riddle leads to the next bomb. If you can figure out the riddle before your 72 hours are up, then there will be no bomb. I will give you a number to text, when you have your answer."_

Right on cue, as I finish reading the last line, my phone buzzes. The number is unknown, as I expected. Inside the message is a phone number, but I resist calling it. It would probably fast-forward the bomb.

Quincey's face is pale, which is rare. It may not seem so, considering all that's happened the past few weeks, but Quince is usually pretty calm and cool. Unless his nerves of steel are rattled. Like now. Even Ben looks a little shocked. Fear, worry, and surprise all mix around me, and let me tell you, the smell is potent enough to knock out an elephant.

Seeing that my friends are about to be the slaves of fear, I snap my fingers in their ears. Their hyperactive hearing makes the snaps sound like gunshots, especially Jon's. Three pairs of eyes flash towards me, with their fear and worry fading away.

"Alright," I say with false confidence, "We can do this. It's just a simple riddle. We're good at solving riddles." Complete lie. We're probably the smartest people in that school, but common sense usually escapes us. As you can probably tell.

Jon glares at me. I have a theory that Jon's hearing is so acute, he can hear the lies in people's voices. Or their pounding heart. One of the two.

Ben's voice snaps me away from my thoughts. "We need to hide the box. Until we can examine it at the cave." Just then, the principal's voice rings out over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen. Please leave the school grounds. School is canceled today as to recent, ah, events. Thank you. This problem will be resolved immediately." His gravelly voice clicks off, and the entire cafeteria is silent for a moment.

Then, an uproar loud enough to rival the atomic bomb begins. People start yelling, little kids scream for their older siblings, others scramble for the doors. The noise is enough to deafen me, but one thing is out of place: a little circle in the middle of the roaring students, a circle of calm. A young girl looks at me from that calmness, her green eyes flashing with challenge. I have a feeling of fear, fear that this tiny girl is the one behind the bomb. Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, the girl is gone, but her pale face is burned into my memory.

I look at my friends, my pack, and send a message, though I don't know how. It's like there are ropes connecting all of us, invisible to the eye, that I send the message down the lines. Leave. Now. Need new hideout anyways. The shadow is not powerful during day.

Three nods, and then we all get up, and make a move towards the doors. Then, a girl materializes in front of us. Her short black hair, bright blue eyes, and tan skin are almost the same as Ben's. But there is fear on this girl's face. She says, stuttering, "You-you're leave-leaving, B-Ben? Wh-why?" Ben smiles warmly, and I feel a strange bolt of jealousy.

Then, I recognize the girl. Her name is Emma Soun, from our grade. She's very smart, but a little nerdy at times. Her eyes turn from Ben to us. Fear turns to disgust, then admiration as she turns back to Ben. I catch a strong waft of ocean coming from the tall girl. This girl is in love with Ben.

I try hard to control my giggles as Ben says, "Yeah, Emma. My friends and I are leaving." Emma's eyes trek through us once more, lingering on me. Recognition flashes in her eyes, and something else, too. Something like love darkened by fear. It creeps me out.

Emma says, in a voice without stutters this time, "Oh. I see. Going to find something? Maybe to catch the fickle person that bombed us?" Her voice, which was as soft as silk one moment, then hard as steel the next, takes us all by surprise. Then, she fades into the crowd again.

Trying to hide my confusion, I proceed to leave. But, another person stops us. Of course, it just has to be Chase.

Chase, with his bright blue eyes, hair as golden-brown as apple cider, and charming smile, could've had any girl on the planet as his girlfriend. But, he just had to take an interest in me, the weirdest and most deadly girl in school. My life is never simple.

Chase smiles warmly at me, and his eyes roam over my friends behind me. As his eyes reach Ben, surprise and a strange anger turns his eyes dark. "So," Chase says, his deep voice like honey, "Where's the crew going?" Ben steps forward, his eyes dark. I sense that he hates Chase for some reason, then I catch the scent. The scent of anger, love, and fear.

I hold my arm out slightly, about an inch, to block Ben's way. He notices the movement, and stays back. Jon's ears perk up, and Quincey's eyes are like lasers trained on my arm. I send a message to the pack, through the same invisible ropes as before: _"Don't talk. Need to leave. Let me handle it."_ Their thoughts turn to confusion, then a similar message is sent back down the three ropes towards me: _"Alright, Alpha."_

I breathe deeply, and smile at Chase disarmingly. He takes the bait, and smiles back, his eyes never leaving my face. I say smoothly, "Sorry, Chase. I can't stay. My friends and I are going exploring. Thought I saw a new creek we could go fishing in this summer. Bye! Gotta go!"

I slip past him, still smiling. My friends follow, but my ears detect the slight pause in Ben's step as he passes Chase. Chase tenses slightly, then relaxes as Ben glides past. I see in Chase's eyes that he hasn't realized that we've slipped past him, until I'm out of his sight. His eyes sharpen, and his face tenses as he realizes his mistake. But we're already too far gone.

Back at the hideout, we take stock of everything that we left in the cave. Water, food, gummy snacks. We take all that we can carry, and stuff it into our bags. Then, we leave, me leading the way.

In the silence of the forest, as our footsteps are as quiet as a leaf, I grow uneasy. Something Ben said a few days ago lingers in my mind. I voice my question to the others.

"We don't know, Lex. It just, felt right, I guess," Quincey answers. Jon pipes up, "Yeah. Frankly, I didn't even believe that you were the Alpha until I said it. It just feels right that you're our Alpha. After all, you boss us around all the time anyways." Jon dodges my play-punch, but not my kick to his leg. He crumbles, laughing.

I look at Ben, who's been quiet since the confrontation with Chase. He didn't even talk to me as we drove to my house, where we bared, and raced into the woods side-by-side. I silently ask him with my eyes what he's being quiet about. He shakes his head a centimeter, and his eyes convey that he doesn't want to talk about it.

I notice Jon and Quince watching us. I ask Ben aloud, "What do you think, Ben?" Ben shakes his head, as if to clear it, and said, "I don't know, Alexis. In my pack, all of the wolves instinctively know who the Alpha is. The Alpha is the strongest, the fastest, and the smartest. At least, in my pack he is." I catch the smell of cinnamon rolls coming off him, which my brain processes as guilt. Ben is guilty of talking about his pack in front of us.

I mean, we haven't really talked about this before, when we found out that Ben was also a wolf. We just assumed that he had come from a pack, that he had been around other wolves like us. It's kind of hard to bring that up in regular conversation. "Hey, Ben! Tell me about the pack that you left to kill me," just doesn't sound right.

But, with me and the boys calling us a pack, Ben's guilty. He feels like he betrays us when he brings up his own pack. It reminds him of his past. Of his bloody past...

I catch Ben's sapphire glare. I realize that I'm delving into his thoughts again. I quickly pull myself out before I get too deep. Ben's glare lessens, his sapphire eyes turning lighter, but the golden sparks and sapphire lightning still lingering in his eyes reflects his anger at me for losing control, for reading his mind.

"So," I say, as if nothing had happened, "In Ben's pack, the Alpha's the strongest. But in this pack, the Alpha is me. A girl. A girl with red hair that can be seen a mile away. Got it." No one laughs, but at least I tried. Ben's eyes are back to normal now as he says, "It kind of makes sense, though. In my pack, white wolves are honored as gods, sort of. When a white wolf comes, it's said to bring peace and prosperity. Good stuff."

"Just like the song," I say, then I remember that Jon and Quince hadn't been there when Ben sang it to me. They have no clue what we're talking about. Ben looks at me, and I start to sing.

Emeralds burn bright in the heat of the light,

Shadows dance upon the walls.

Storms are coming,

And the oaks will fall,

All under the fire of the song.

A heart of steel and eyes of gold,

Shine under the heat of the moon.

When lightning strikes the tallest spire,

The nameless shall know themselves,

And the voiceless shall speak again soon.

All under the fire of the song.

Emerald, tiger's eye, moonstone, and azurite shall band,

To defeat the alpha that rules the land.

The daughter of fire and fox,

Shall rule under the Moon of Knox.

All under the fire of the song

I notice, at about the second line, a slight halo is glowing around me. As I sing on, the halo grew, surging and pulsing, changing colors, as if the light has a heartbeat. When I get to the line about the jewels, the halo changed into those colors. A green as bright as an emerald, a brown lightened up by bands of amber and gold, a gray with slight hues of blue and silver, a blue shocked through with bolts of white and gold.

At the third-to-last line, in my halo, I see an image: a fox wreathed in flames, standing on a tall spire of rock overlooking a small valley or clearing in the woods. Above the fox hangs a full moon, but instead of white or silver, the moon is a light blue and green, with shifting waves of amber and silver. Around the fox's feet dance little flames of green, which spread outward to encompass the clearing, creating a dome of green fire.

As the song ends, and the last echo of my voice fades into silence, I blink. I realize that we have come to a clearing. A strangely yet, familiar clearing. I look up to my left and see a rock spire, like the one in The Lion King, jutting out of the earth. Tendrils of earth wrap around the base, as if the ground wants to swallow the spire back up. A slight ramp leads up to the spire. My feet turn into paws before I have time to think about it, and they carry me up the ramp, onto the spire.

I stand at the peak of the spire, looking towards the east, my eyes trained on the horizon. I feel my pack around me, all in wolf form, but I don't stir. Ben steps up to my left, Quincey on my right, and Jon stands on Ben's other side. We stand like this, eyes all trained on the eastern horizon, for a few minutes.

A sudden realization dawns on me then. I had drawn this moment, back at the cave: the four wolves standing together, staring into the east with different colored eyes. I feel something flick my side, and look over at Ben. His black tail is resting on my ribs, and his lightning blue eyes shine like the sun high above. His eyes hold messages, meanings, feelings, so many that I can't sort through them without delving into his mind to find out. Then, I realize, that's what Ben wants me to do: travel into his mind, to read his thoughts.

Concentrating, I imagine the three ropes connecting the pack together. I narrow my focus onto one line, a sapphire line glinting gold and white. Ben's rope. I travel down the rope until I reach his mental wall. A small hole breaks apart a section of wall, and I know that this is my way in. I hesitate. I remember all too well the night that Ben had tried to kill me, the first time I swam in his thoughts. But my curiosity gets the better of me. I venture closer.

I go through the small opening, and feel it close behind me; no way back out through there. My second realization is that, instead of the panicky, swimming feeling I experienced before, Ben's mind is organized, with no random thoughts popping up everywhere like annoying pieces of kelp. Then, I see a blackness in the center of Ben's curved dome of a mind. I walk towards it.

My third realization is that the blackness isn't solid. It shifts, pulsates, grows larger and taller the longer I stare. A voice behind me says, "That, Alexis, is the reason I wanted to bring you here." I turn, and see a huge black wolf. Scars lace its ribs, and one of its ears is torn. Bright eyes stare at me, full of wonder and love.

I look down at myself. I'm in my wolf form, but something is off. Little tongues of silver flame flicker in and out of my vision, like fireflies. I look back up at Ben. He nods, and says, "The tongues of fire show what you are. At least, partway. The fire itself signifies that you're a fire wolf, a wolf capable of manipulating light and fire. The silver shows that you're a seer, and a powerful one. And, if you look at your tail..."

I flick my tail around. I notice the tip is a light silver that almost blends into my fur color. I look back up. Ben smiles a wolf smile, all of his teeth showing as his lips peel back into a grin. "The silver tip, as you're a white wolf, signifies that you're a fox wolf. Or, at least, half fox, since the silver is dim." I open my mouth to say something, but I can't force any words out.

Ben sidles closer to me. The fur on his face tickles my nose, but I refuse to sneeze. He murmurs, "My power, Alexis, is the column behind you. Each time I use my power, the column grows and expands. If the column fills this entire dome, I'll become part of it. I'll cease to exist. I'll be no more."

"Why are you telling me this, Ben? Why here?" I whimper, which is not like me. I don't know what's causing it, but a feeling of fear is beginning to erupt in my stomach, making me feel ill. Ben murmurs,

"I'm showing and telling you this so that you'll understand. You'll understand why I have to kill you. Why I left my pack to seek you out. Why the column gives you fear and hate. I want you to understand."

I whimper again. Ben licks my muzzle, and I blink at him. In wolf language, licking another's muzzle is equivalent to kissing. Ben's eyes flash gold, and he pulls back. I feel a tugging in my gut, and my conscience whispers in my mind, "This isn't right. You know it isn't." But my heart argues, "I don't care! Leave me be!" But all my brain registers is Ben's face, golden eyes as bright as the sun against a field of black fur.

The tugging sensation grows intensely, and, before I know it, I'm back in the real world. The sun has set on the western horizon, turning the sky a bloody red. Stars start to show their faces in the east. In the valley below, the amber grasses wave in a slight breeze, and the rock below my feet seeps warmth into my sore bones.

I look around for the pack. To my left, where he had been before, is Ben, his head resting on his paws. I see two black forms rising and falling in the shadows of a cave behind me. I sniff the air, and note that the two black shapes are Jon and Quince. The wind blowing across the rocks blows my fur up, spiking it. Ben stirs beside me, then lifts his head.

He looks at me, and his eyes are pure gold, which reflects the setting sun back at me. He opens his mouth, but closes it as a gray shape tackles him. I sense someone coming from behind me, and I roll to the right at the last moment. The brown wolf that had tried to land on me almost falls off the spire before I catch him.

I pull Quincey back up onto firm land. He stumbles, then leaps onto my back, pinning me to the rock. He growls at me, an angry growl that says, "Don't move or I'll bite." Ben is in a similar hold, with gray Jon on his chest.

I growl at them, "What's the meaning of this, you two? What's wrong?" Calm, collected Quincey, who I always look to find a positive answer, growls, "Talk again and I'll sink my teeth so far into your throat-" Jon yips, "Quincey! We aren't going to hurt them. Much." Jon's claws scrape across Ben's snout, leaving no marks, but making even Ben flinch as the claws pass over his eyes.

I growl at this, and leap onto my feet in one quick motion, kicking Quincey as he tumbles off my back. I turn to face the brown wolf, my teeth bared, my eyes flashing. "Why are you attacking us, Quincey?" The dark wolf growls, "Because. We thought you two had died. Your hearts weren't beating. You weren't breathing. We tried everything to revive you! But nothing worked."

My heart almost stops, again, by Quincey's account, at the smells I smell now. Large sums of anger, worry, sadness, and grief. Jon and Quince thought that they had lost us when I went into Ben's mind.

Heart singing, I leap onto Quincey's back, and playfully wrestle him to the ground. I lick his snout, I'm so happy. Quincey blinks at me, then shoves me off with his forelegs. Ben understands, but his reaction is less outward-happy. He brushes Jon's side with his tail, and nods to Quincey.

I'm so giddy, I almost don't notice the wolf in the clearing below. It's a female, by the looks of it, with wheat colored fur, large ears, and white paws. It almost looks like a dingo. When I see it, I freeze, and motion with my ears. Everyone falls silent, all of us staring at the stranger.

The wolf looks up at us, and I see moss-green eyes. I sample scent the breeze, but it isn't in my favor. I look into the wolf's green eyes, and feel that I know her. I bark, "Come up, stranger. Let us know why you are here." The wolf hesitates, then starts to ascend the ramp leading up to the rock spire.

Ben stands on my left as the stranger ascends. Jon is on Ben's left, a little in front. Quincey is on my right, and a little in front. Jon and Quince will tackle the wolf if it makes any move resembling threat or harm.

Once the wolf stands in front of me, it bows, its legs splayed in front of it. I incline my head, which means "speak."

The wolf looks around her, assessing the wolves that surround me. Her eyes meet mine, and I feel the knowing surge again. She bows her head once more, and announces, "I am Whitney Whitescream. I am pleased to meet you, Jonathan Firer and Quincey Michael. You have protected my daughter for many years. I thank you."

Jon and Quince flinch, and take a hesitant step back from the wolf. I see her fur color change from wheat to silver, from silver to black, from black to brown, brown to red, then red to white. Flickers of red still rim her eyes, accenting the greenness of them. A tail of red slithers down her tail like a serpent, and all four of her feet are black. She smiles at me, and says, "This is my true form, Alexis. A white wolf with fox in her blood, and disguise at her paws. This is normally the form that all fox wolves have, with the colors on the different parts differing between black, white, and red."

I look at Ben, to see him glaring at Whitney, his eyes lightning shocked with gold and sapphire. I brush my tail against his, silently asking what's wrong. Ben flicks his tail away, and continues to glare at my mother. I look at Whitney, and see the knowing in her eyes; she knows that the black wolf is Ben, and that I'm trying to get answers from him.

I incline my head. Jon and Quincey fall back, a little behind me. I ask Whitney, "Why are you here?" Whitney smiles, and yips, "I wish to be part of your pack, Alexis. I have been without one for eighteen years, and a lone wolf is in more danger than a pack-wolf."

I sit down, and turn my head away from Whitney. The white wolf steps back, her color changing into the dingo-tan once more. I nod to my packmates, and they circle around me. Jon whispers as soon as the circle is closed, "We have to let her in."

Quincey nods. "Then, we'd have all the wolf forms at our disposal. Fox, fire, and shadow. Not to mention seer. And besides," Quincey shrugs, "she could have information about the bomber. Or the shadow wolf that impersonated Ben." I nod, but Ben chooses that moment to voice his opinion.

"We shouldn't let her in, she betrayed her old pack, broke its rules and regulations. If she does that to us, then she'll be dangerous. Or, at least, even more so. She'll have more information about more wolves; information that can be distributed to other packs for the right price." I growl, "So you believe that we should turn my mother away because of her past? Should we exclude you from the pack because of your past?"

I hit a nerve. I see it in Ben's flashing eyes, in his posture as he stands taller. But I sense it more than I feel it. A kind of bond is growing between us: I can feel a kind of thin rope intertwining us. Ben looks me in the eye, must have seen the fiery determination there, and lowers his head in defeat. I nod, then stroll out of the circle to tell Whitney.

When I tell her, Whitney just nods. She never takes her eyes off Ben as she whispers, "You need to control that mate of yours, Lex. He's more dangerous than he lets on." I growl, "He's not my mate. Never will be. He tried to kill me!" Whitney looks at me in the eyes this time. Her green eyes show despair, grief, and anger. "It's always the ones we don't expect that became our mates." I growl, "If you just joined the pack to counsel me, then leave. You can counsel at another time. But, now, we have a bomber to find. We've already wasted a day."

Until that moment, I didn't realize that we still haven't looked at the riddle the bomber sent us. I ask Quincey to go retrieve it, and he runs off into the dark cave. Everyone else shifts into human form, including Whitney. Quincey comes back with the backpack in his hand, which he's unzipping as he walks out.

Quincey's eyes spark with fear when he reaches us. He mutedly holds out a slip of notebook paper, which has tiny scribbles on it. I sense that he's too shocked to speak. I grab the paper, and squint to see the scribbly, sprawling, tiny writing.

Beware, wolves of the elementals. Winter day, moonless night, sprawling oak, and early sea. All shall fall under the fire of the song. The song of the White. The song of the New Moon. On the back of this paper is a clue to the next bomb. Figure it out, and come to my stricken lighthouse.

I turn the paper over, my heart pounding in my chest. In the same writing, the person wrote a kind of poem.

Where the bald raperes roost,

And the dead never die.

All beside

The gray riverside

The poem makes no sense. Whitney, who I temporarily forgot was there, asks the question we're all thinking, "What's a rapere?" I shake my head as everyone looks at me. Ben huffs, and starts walking away, only to turn around and walk back. He paces like that for about fifteen minutes while the rest of us try to discern the meaning of the poem.

At the fifteen-minute mark, Ben comes back. I look at him and he says, "I've been thinking." Jon snorts, "Of course you have." Quincey glares at him, and Jon closes his mouth. "I've been thinking," Ben continues, "This bomber could be Liekos. And the symbol on the tree in Alexis's drawing was a Greek symbol. Liekos is Greek."

"So?" Whitney's voice drips with sarcasm, and I lightly growl at her. She rolls her eyes like a teenager, but listens as Ben goes on. "All the things we know about who this person is, is all in Greek. So, raperes could be Greek." Jon and Quincey pull up Greek to English on their phones, and type in raperes. Retention comes up. "Retention is the continued possession or use of something," Quincey says, after looking up the word.

I growl, "That isn't right. Rapere must mean something else." The boys look at me in confusion. But I can't explain. A feeling deep inside of me says that retention isn't it. I look up into the sky, and catch sight of a lone bird. Black body, thin wings, bright head. A turkey vulture.

Something in my brain dings, but I dismiss it. Turkey vultures, or cathartes aura, are stupid rotten-food eaters. They're all over the woods. If the riddle is about them, then it narrows it down to about fifty-mile radius. I shake my head in annoyance, and tell the pack, "We'll figure it out tomorrow. School's canceled, so we'll meet back here in the morning." Everyone nods, shifts, and runs off down the slope, turning towards the bloodied horizon of the west. I sigh, and follow them, my thoughts whirling all through the run.

But I keep circling back to one thought:

How many of my pack will die before we catch this bomber?

### XIV

I lay in my bed, shrouded by moonlight. The wind whispers to me through my open window, the sharp coldness of it keeps me awake.

Everyone else is asleep. Even Whitney, after giving me a glare when I asked her to be nice to Ben. She muttered, "The Black Alpha's son deserves no niceness from me. His father ruined my life, as he will yours," as she walked into the room she shared with Kit down the hall from mine.

I sense someone watching me. I look at my window, and there crouches a human silhouette, electric eyes aglow. I murmur, "Ben. Stop hiding. Just come talk instead of watching me sleep. I'm awake and it's eerie when you stare at me." I sense Ben smile, and then he solidifies into flesh. It looks as if the light darkens around him for a second, hiding him from view, and then it turns back to normal, and flesh-and-blood Ben is standing before me.

He smiles as he leans against one of my bed posts. I sit up, and we stare at each other in silence. But it's comfortable, until Ben breaks it. "Your mom doesn't like me, does she? Because of who my father is?" I shake my head, and Ben sighs. He walks over to me, and sits down on the side of the bed that I'm not occupying.

I pull my knees to my chest. I rest my head on my knees, and look at Ben, waiting for him to continue. But he catches me off guard when he says, "My mother, Avalyn, is a wolf that looks like a dingo. The wolf Whitney was disguising herself as. It was a message. She was saying that my mother is evil, just as my father and I am."

I reach over to cover Ben's hand. Without looking at him, I say, "You aren't evil. Your past is the past. You can't change it as much as you can change the fact that me and you are destined mates. But your past doesn't matter now. You haven't killed me yet, and you are one of my pack members. Either your father can deal with that, or fight me for it."

After a few silent moments, the impact of what I said hits me like a wall. What I have basically done is to claim Ben as one of my own pack members, and I have threatened the Black Alpha, saying that if he tried to take Ben, I would fight him.

I'm looking at Ben, so I'm surprised when I feel his hand on my cheek, turning my head towards him. My eyes lock on his, and we're silent for a few seconds. Ben murmurs, "We can't do this, Alexis. Your mom hates me, and my dad wants you dead." I smile. "But doesn't every love story have that problem?" Ben chuckles, and leans closer to me. His eyes are flecked with gold, and I sense that his wolf is twining with his human, giving him the courage he doesn't have by himself to do this.

"This is a love story, Lex? That's what you think?" His voice is soft, almost caring. I sense that his wolf is saying these words, forcing the words Ben thinks into his mouth to say.

I smile again, and say, "I have absolutely no clue. What, with bombers and threats of death flying at me, how can a love story bloom?"

"You have a way with words, Alpha. You'd be a talented story writer." Ben's hand is still on my cheek, and I can feel its heat sinking into my bones. I look at Ben's eyes again; still flecked with gold. I feel irritation, and anger, at myself. "Ben. Submerge your wolf. Tell me these things when you are you, without force or influence."

Ben blinks a few times, then pulls away from me. His eyes are back to bright blue, with no gold in them. His face looks crestfallen, as if he had done something wrong. As Ben's hand leaves my cheek, I feel the sparks that were there, but that I hadn't realized were. I open my mouth to apologize, then close it.

I can see slight tears in Ben's eyes. I know from experience that using your wolf side for things that isn't anger is hard to do, and hard to control. Ben's using his wolf to say the things he thought about me is one of the most difficult things you can do.

Wordless, I reach both my arms to Ben, and hug him. Now, don't get me wrong, I hate hugging, but just seeing Ben's face almost torn to bits because of his stupidity makes me sad and angry at the same time. Ben wraps his arms around me, and hugs me back.

We stay like that, hugging each other, for what seems like an eternity. Neither of us speak, each afraid to break the silence. I bury my head in the space between Ben's neck and shoulder, trying to keep my unexpected tears in. Ben's chin rests on my shoulder, his arms wrapped around my slim waist.

I feel something on my cheek, then. Something soft, almost like a leaf that's resting there. I turn my head to see what it is, and my eyes connect with Ben's as our lips touch.

Neither of us move, either because we're afraid of moving, afraid of breaking contact, or because we don't want to break contact. The wind blows outside again, twirling the moonbeams and white silk curtains around my bed. One curtain brushes against my and Ben's cheeks, and that finally causes us to break.

Ben is blushing, red cheeks glowing against the tan of his skin. I know I am too, but I refuse to look away from my packmate, my friend, the person who is assigned to kill me. The person, I know now, that is going to be by my side for forever.

Ben clears his throat, and says, "Sorry. I should go." He stands up, and I feel the invisible rope that connects us weaken, if by just a little. I grab Ben's hand before he can get out of my reach. "Stay," I say, pulling his hand closer to me. To my excitement, Ben sits back down. He pulls me into a surprising hug, then pushes me back.

I smile, and say, "Stay, Ben." He smiles at me, and whispers, "You feel the bond, too." I nod, and Ben lays down on my bed, pulling me closer to him. The rope between us strengthens, becoming bigger and stronger. I smile as I fall asleep in Ben's arms. No dreams bother me through the night.

At the rock spire the next morning, I'm about to kill my pack.

Jon and Quince are quarreling over the wording of the poem. Whitney is arguing with them about the writing style. Ben is doing nothing, just sitting there watching. And me, well, I'm in the middle of all this, trying to stop the senseless bickering.

"Enough! All of you!" I finally growl. I'm in my wolf form, as everyone else is. I have a slight cut on my ear, thanks to Whitney. Everyone stops what they're doing and cower, tails tucked between their legs and heads bowed. I feel some strange power run through me, something like fire tinged with silver.

The pack whimpers their apologies, then go quiet as I growl, "Human form. Now. Any fighting, and you're going home with bruises." Thankfully, everyone changes into their human forms. I change last, making sure that no one tries anything.

"Now," I say, my voice steady, "What has everyone come up with?" "Raperes is obviously in another language. I spent all night Skyping Quince, asking him to help me narrow down the language." "And?" I ask, staring at the two boys.

They both look at each other, then look down. "Rapere is Latin. It-it means rape," Quincey hesitantly says. I look up into the sky, again seeing the lone turkey vulture flying high. The bell dings again. A memory surfaces from my childhood, a line from a book I had read.

"Rapere," I say slowly, "It's from a Latin word. But, rapere can also mean raptor in English. So, the actual line is 'where the bald raptors roost'." I look around at everyone, a smile on my face. They look at me, incredulous, until it sinks in. Loud whoops ring out across the forest, their sources smiling with joy.

Whitney kills the mood, saying, "We still have to figure out the rest of the poem." Everyone sobers up, each of them looking at me, knowing that I memorized the piece of paper by heart.

I recite, "'Where the bald raperes roost/and the dead never die/all beside/ the gray riverside'." Ben huffs. "Back at square one," Quincey sighs. "All's not lost. Yet. We still have plenty of time." Jon doesn't sound too sure, but I give him points for trying. "Dead never die," I murmur. I've heard that phrase before, somewhere where I can't remember.

I close my eyes, trying to remember. An image comes to my mind, of a huge tree during a storm. Lightning crackles to life, striking the tree, burning through its beating heart. The tree stands its ground, ever proud, even as its green blood spills onto the earth. A dark shape circles the tree, even as lightning crackles around the bleak, black shape.

The dark shape looks toward me, and bright eyes glow in the lightning's fiery embrace. Another flash of blue-white, and the glowing eyes are gone. Another image comes to me, of a gray field shimmering in predawn light. A single man stands in the field, his back to me. I reach out a hand to touch his shoulder, but he turns before I can. I gasp at his face: gray, withering, bony, with eyes that glow red and orange. He whispers hoarsely, "The dead never die. The dead never die. The gray river shot through with opal. The dead never die. The raptors' roost in the trees that sprout from the decayed. The dead never die. Find the ghosts, Alexis, Alexandra. The ghosts can show you the way. The dead, never, ever, die."

The man fades into smoke, and my vision ends.

I blink, my eyes opening. The sun is high in the sky, past its peak. I'm startled; the sun was near the middle of the eastern sky when I closed my eyes. I look around at everyone, and notice that I'm lying down. Ben helps me to my feet, and I have to rely on him for support; my legs are wobbly and feel numb.

Then, the questions come. A flood of them, all bouncing around in my head and ears. "Where were you? What happened? What'd you see? Are you okay? Are you hurt? What's going on?" Finally, I get tired of it. "Quiet!" I shout, my shout morphing into a growl at the end. A flash of golden light appears around me, but fades just as fast.

Everyone is silenced. They can't seem to talk, even as they open their mouths to speak. Slowly, fear runs its way through my veins. "Speak," I try. Another flash of golden light, this time very, very faint. Ben gasps, almost doubling over. Jon and Quince outright fall, wheezing, to the ground. Whitney keeps her feet, but her face is white with fear.

"Sorry," I mutter, but no one is listening to me. "How'd you do that, Lex?" Ben's voice sounds fragile, weak. I realize that my command, spoken in a burst of anger, had somehow stopped airflow to my friends' lungs. Another burst of fear runs through me, drowning my pity and sorrow of what I had done. I shake my head, not knowing what the hell has happened.

Then, I catch a flicker in the corner of my eye. A black shape is in the clearing below me. Without thought, I change, and leap clear off the rock spire, landing on the shape's back. A growl ripples from my throat, and a bark sounds from the shape's, which I now know is a wolf.

We wrestle, each trading blows powerful enough to break concrete. But our huge wolf bodies and thick fur helps protect us from the worst of bites, scratches, and kicks. Finally, though, I wear out my opponent, pinning it to the ground by the throat.

Everyone else runs up behind me, forming a semicircle. Ben growls at the wolf below me, then recognition flashes in his eyes. "Why are you here?" he asks. The black wolf tries to speak, but my paw on its throat stops it. I growl at the wolf, "Try anything, and your life will end in the blink of an eye." I slowly get off my opponent, and the strange wolf sits up.

Now that I have a clear view of the black wolf's face, I'm astonished. Around the wolf's lightning eyes swirl lines of white, similar to Whitney's face, but more intricate. The wolf's paws are fiery red, and a trail like fresh snow runs down the black wolf's spine, curling around its tail like a serpent. This wolf is eerily similar to Whitney.

The wolf shakes its head, then gazes at each of us in turn. When its gaze lands on me, I'm astonished again. Right around the pupil, in a perfect starburst, are emerald green lines that branch out and fade into sky blue. Its eyes seem to gaze into me, like I'm gazing into it.

Ben breaks the moment, like usual. "Why are you here?" His powerful wolf stands beside me, almost a head taller than me. His eyes are flashing between blue and gold, almost so fast they're a blur. I brush my tail along his ribs, trying to calm him.

The strange wolf sits, and looks straight at me as it says, "I'm here for her. Your father, disappointed in you, has sent me to finish the job that you barely started." The female voice coming from the wolf sounds familiar. Then, I pinpoint it.

"Emma?" I ask. The black wolf snorts. "No duh, Alexandra. Took you long enough." Before my mind can catch up, I'm on top of Emma, my paw on her throat, my teeth bared, nose inches from hers. Silver energy erupts around us, engulfing Emma and me in power.

"My. Name. Is. Not. Alexandra!" I growl. The silver energy flashes, changing from silver to gold and back again. A spectral wolf, silver with large golden eyes, appears above me. Emma's eyes widen, and fear surrounds her; her scent betrays her emotions.

The light, including the spectral wolf, fades slowly. My growl is morphing, changing as my anger flows out of me. I feel my eyes glowing, see their light reflect in Emma's glassy gaze. One glows with strong fire, as gold as the sun, while the other glows with evil, cold silver steel. My growl, with its hidden words, was rumbling across the earth, shaking the tectonic plates.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I understand the words my growl is hiding. It's a spell, an ancient chant that banishes evil and mind control from one's soul and mind. As I growl out the last words, Emma's eyes close, their brilliance fading slowly as sleep overtakes her.

Once the silver power is completely gone, I stumble off the sleeping black wolf. Terror and exhaustion sweep through me, and I collapse.

The last thought drifting through my mind before darkness takes me is that Emma looks too much like Whitney, and her eyes are the same shade of emerald as mine.

### XV

Another dream comes to me as I sleep. Why, though? Why always when I need to be awake do the most horrible dreams come?

I stand in a clearing, much like my own, the one with the rock spire. Only instead of a spire, there's a cave, dug deep into the earth. Two wolves, both a dark brown, stand on either side of the cave entrance, guarding it. Then, a huge wolf comes out, carrying a small pup.

The big wolf is as dark as midnight, with scars crisscrossing his hide and face. His amber eyes glow with ferocity, and the small black pup in his mouth doesn't even try to shake loose, afraid of the larger male.

The huge wolf sets the smaller on the ground, then sits down. His amber eyes are merciless as he stared into his son's electric blue ones. "You, Ben, are despicable. You cause fights without reason, and lose because of false skills. I must train you, or you'll die before the next moon." The little pup wags his tail excitedly, then sits down to watch his father.

Fast forward in time. The blue-eyed wolf is dueling with the large amber-eyed wolf. The blue-eyed is bigger, stronger, older. His nails a bite on the amber's foreleg, then dances back as the amber swirls around to nip his hind leg. They duel, both drawing blood, as a crowd gathers. Wolves of all shapes, colors, and sizes, with so many different eyes, circle around the dueling father and son.

Once Ben is pinned to the earth, his father raises his head proudly. The large Alpha's black head arches, then drives down into what would be a killing bite. A red blur plows into the large wolf's side, knocking the black wolf off his son.

The Alpha turns towards the red wolf, his teeth bared. The red wolf stands proudly, his tail up and head held high. His blue eyes glow with inner fire, and his red and white pelt shifts with waves of copper and gold. "That's enough fighting for today, Alpha", the red wolf says. "The pup needs rest. You have worked him too hard." The red wolf looks the Alpha in the eye as he speaks, a very brave move on his part.

"Are you challenging my authority, John? I am your Alpha, and I outrank you." The black wolf's voice is low, menacing. His legs are crouched, ready to spring. The red, John, cocks his head to the side. "No, Alpha. I am simply challenging your right to battle our young to death. Ben is tired, and his wounds need time to heal. Besides, your mate is full with young. It would be better for her if you were there to give her confidence instead of wounding her son."

"Do not speak to me of mates, or young. You are still unmated, and un-fathered. As far as I know, you shouldn't even be Beta with such lineage." John just looks at the black Alpha, confusion on his face. Then, a white wolf with black feet comes into view at the edge of the crowd, nudging Ben back to his feet, and letting the slightly larger wolf lean on her shoulder. I notice with a shudder that the white wolf's belly is bulging slightly.

The black wolf growls, "Whitney. So nice of you to join us." The white wolf looks at her Alpha, fear and anger in her green eyes. She keeps moving, though, away from the standoff, taking Ben with her. "I know what you have done, Whitney. I should kill you both for it," the Alpha wolf murmurs. Whitney and John both go rigid, turning to stare at the large wolf.

The black Alpha laughs, a harsh sound like dying cats. "I know your secret, my friends. You think you could hide from me forever? Well, as punishment, I shall take the one who caused it!" The black wolf leaps at the red wolf. The red suddenly disappears. The black Alpha lands on nothing, frustratingly turning around, looking for his prey.

The red, reappearing, leaps onto the black's back, knocking the large wolf down. "Run, Whitney! Now!" John yells, getting shaken off by the Alpha. Whitney, staring in fright, is shocked back into her senses, and she bolts, her fur shimmering as she enters the forest. I watch the black wolf pin John, then the devastating bite to his closest friend's throat, the bite that ends his life.

The last scene is one I'm quite familiar with, though slightly altered now that I know the wolves' names. I stand on a cliff in the night, a battle raging below me. Wolves of all colors battle, drawing blood, dying with earth-shaking yelps and growls. In the center of all the chaos, a huge black wolf, battle-scarred and bleeding, shakes off white Whitney, and bats Quincey to the side.

I look to the left, at two blotches of darkness moving towards the black wolf. Suddenly, Ben and Emma leap out of the darkness, landing on the bleeding wolf's shoulders. Jon attacks the large Alpha's hind legs, slashing and biting, but is dealt with a fierce kick to the eye.

Anger surges through me. This Alpha has no right to hurt my pack. With a howl towards the new moon that lights up the black sky, I leap from the rock spire, straight into battle.

Wolves part before me, the only pure white wolf ever born. Battles stop, every eye on me. I growl, "Off. Now," to my packmates, and they scramble off the battle-scarred wolf. Except for one. "Ben!" I command in my Alpha voice. Ben's ears lay back, but his wolf is compelled to obey my order. He leaps off his father, but stays close to him, in case he tries to hurt me.

The bigger male shakes his fur, and glares at everyone around him; he doesn't seem to notice me. His amber eyes full of bloodlust and anger, he growls, "Fight, cowards! This is the only way we can rule!" I growl back, "Alpha voices don't work if you speak from lies." The Black Alpha finally notices me, stalking towards him with my head held high.

"The White Alpha, I presume? Precious Alexis, the one who bewitched my son into not killing her. I will enjoy your death." But the Black Alpha pauses, apparently realizing that I'm not shaken by his words.

I hold my head higher, and look around at everyone in the clearing. My voice carries across the silence like water. "I am Alexis, daughter of Whitney the White, and John the Red." At that, many wolves wince, and look at black-footed Whitney. My mother's green eyes shine with hope and courage, though, as she looks at me. I carry on.

"I am the White Alpha of Oak Pack. I am the Emerald. I am the daughter of Fire and Fox." Ripples of shock and surprise surge through the wolves, and they all back another step away from me. A young wolf, no older than three, starts singing the song. The Song of the New Moon. I feel the song seep into my bones, giving me courage and strength. The Black Alpha, on the other hand, seems to be withering.

With a howl, I finish the words. "To defeat the alpha that rules the land. Daughter of Fire and Fox. Shall rule under the Moon of Knox. All under the fire of the song." With joyous howls and yips, wolves dance around me, suddenly filled with joy. The battle is forgotten by most, but not all. Amber eyes glare at me from a black face.

The Black Alpha's growl shakes the world. "You will not rule! I am king! I am Alpha!" The huge wolf leaps at me, then my dream fades.

"Alexis! Alexis! Wake up, you idiot!"

The voice jolts me back into reality. I sit up so fast my forehead smacks Ben's nose. He scrambles back with a yell, grabbing at his nose. "God, Lex!" Without thinking, I snap, "You called me an idiot, you stalker! I think you deserve more than a hurt nose for that!"

Ben blinks, stunned. Jon and Quincey blink too, but they're trying not to laugh. I look to my right, and see Emma standing there in human form, Whitney beside her. I stare at the two, my brain noting similarities while my mouth is trying to work out what to say to my mother.

Whitney looks at Emma, then at me. She opens her mouth, but before she can say anything I ask, ¨She's like you, isn't she? Hereditary, I suppose?" Whitney closes her mouth, and nods. Emma looks from Whitney to me, confusion on her face. "What?" Emma's voice is raspy, dry like she washed it with sand.

Jon and Quince understand a moment before Ben. The boys look at each other, then at me, then back to each other. Ben stares, open mouthed, at Emma, as if he can't see the similarities in our stances, in the way we hold our heads, in the way our eyes seem to cut through an opponent.

"Congratulations, Emma. You have a sister."

Emma looks at me as if I'm mad. Then she looks at Whitney, and it dawns on her; I see it in her eyes. Eyes that are the same color as John's in my vision.

When the truth comes to her mind, my sister collapses to the ground, her head between her knees. She starts shaking with silent tears as Whitney kneels down to hug her daughter. I scramble away, trying to put distance between myself and those two.

Ben crouches next to me, and without thinking I enter his mind. He jumps at first, then recognizes me. I'm grateful, because I can't suffer through his fire and lightning any more after my ordeal. Ben tries to keep his questions from pounding me, but it doesn't work. His thoughts, worries, emotions, memories, and fears hound me. Without meaning to, I open my own mind to Ben, showing him all that he's showing me.

In the real world, I'm crying. Ben is hugging me, but he doesn't speak. Jon and Quince are somewhere in the woods, looking for something so that way the crying girls and their consolers are left alone.

Whitney is holding a shivering Emma, speaking to her softly. My ears catch the words, but they hardly make sense. Then, I realize that Whitney is speaking in Earth Tongue, the language of all creatures that walk on soil. But the words aren't like the words in the spell I cast. Those words sounded more ancient, powerful. Like magic.

I return to my mind, a safer place than reality. Ben has stopped sharing, so I cut off in the middle of a memory of when Kit had hurt me when I was five. Ben voice echoes in his head as he says, "What are you, Alexis? No wolf in known writing or memory can summon a specter, an apparition."

"No wolf can also control others," I reply coldly. Ben looks confused, so I say, "Emma was being controlled. By your father. I could feel his grasp break just before I fell unconscious."

Ben takes time to digest that. Then, "Why hasn't he taken control of you, then? I mean, you're obviously the Alpha, seeing as how you Alpha spoke. You're a seer, and a fire wolf. He probably knows that you're John and Whitney's child." I hold up my hand to stop Ben, which in the real world is me actually touching Ben's chest.

"He can't because he hasn't met me." As I say the words, I know somehow that they're true. "I used to like Emma. She once thought that we were destined mates," Ben says abruptly. I look at him sharply, but I don't even get my mouth open before he rushes on.

"We were out hunting one day. Just the two of us. The other pack members laughed at us, saying that we better not get caught by my mother. Avalyn is a very strong wolf, but she holds the belief that if one of her pups is dating someone, then that person needs to come talk to her.

"So, Emma and I set off. We didn't find anything. Though, when we came to the edge of our territory, we sensed another wolf around. I almost stepped across the boundary, but Emma warned me not to. The wolf scent got stronger, and we crouched in the shadows. Our black fur helped; Emma didn't have her markings, by the way.

"A flash of light, and there you were. As white as fresh snow, you stood staring at us. You had just appeared from nowhere. I could tell you knew exactly where we were, but you didn't investigate. A voice called for you, and you vanished once again. But, before you did, a red light flashed around you. A black light had flashed around me. I don't think Emma remembers that, though."

Ben takes a breath, but says no more. I remember that day. Jon, Quince, and I had been playing hide-and-seek when we were twelve. I had run as far as I dared, but stopped because a silvery boundary was in front of me. Two sets of glowing blue eyes watched me from the shadows beyond the silvery wall. Quince's voice had caused me to vanish, but I remember seeing a flash of black from one of the wolves.

As the memory fades from my mind, I have to laugh. Only recently have I discovered the name for my kind of wolf, but I have had the ability all along. That's why I'm a master at hide-and-seek and an awesome ninja. That's why the fireplace always blazes brighter when I'm in the room during winter. That's why my eyes seem to burn with inner fire when I'm angry.

A touch in the real world shocks me from my memory. Ben's lips are against mine, and without thinking I kiss him back. His hand finds my jaw, and my arms loop around his neck. But before anything else can happen, we're ripped apart by a large wolf.

"Emma!" I can't tell which of us is louder, or angrier: me or Ben. Emma glares at me, and I glare right back. Her eyes, so much like our father's, glow with rage and humiliation. "Don't ever do that again." Emma's voice cracks, and I sense the raw emotions in her eyes as clearly as I can detect them in her scent.

Angry and stubborn, I cross my arms and cock a hip. "Or what?" My growl sounded like a challenge, which is kind of appropriate. "You could never defeat me, Emma. Like it or not, I am the strongest wolf in this clearing." I try to ignore the feeling of all eyes on me, but I can feel the itching flames flickering in my hair, running across my skin. I know my emerald eyes glow with angry fire.

Emma seems to consider, then she leaps, but not at me. She leaps at Ben, who shifts just before she lands on him. He's bigger than her, and faster. But his claws aren't as sharp, or his anger as hot. "Why her, Ben? Why her over me?!" Emma growl-screams as she leaps at Ben again. Ben dodges once more, but refuses to hurt my sister.

Jon and Quince run over to me, eyes never leaving the battle. What did you do to her, Lex? I flinch at Jon's voice in my head, then Quincey says, Yeah. She's going nuts. I stare at the battle, at the red-black-white wolf that's fighting my friend. Ben isn't quick enough, and takes a claw to the ear. He yelps, turns, and brings his forepaws down hard on Emma's back.

Emma lay, defeated and exhausted, in her once-friend's shadow. Her blue and green eyes glimmering, she turns her head to look at me. I see fear there, but also hope and love. I walk over to my sister, and look her right in the eye. Not knowing what I'm doing, I push past the mental walls in my brain, and shoot towards Emma's mind. I wrap her mind in my grasp, and speak to her without spoken words. The message is in Earth Tongue, but the words I say rebound around in my own mind. I forgive the acts of your past. Be free, and join me in love and companionship.

Emma's mind-self, which resembles her wolf, nods towards me. I nod back, and exit her mind.

Without pausing, I go straight to Whitney's mind. I battle past her walls of acid rain and pounding waterfalls, and finally I get to her mind. It's neat and orderly, like her room is. In the middle, instead of a black column of shadow, stands a strange assortment of beauty products, fox dolls, and random mannequins. I look at Whitney, who resembles her wolf self, then look back at the strange pile. Whitney laughs, and says, "Not all fox wolves have this assortment. We can change like the tide, you know." I nod, then speak the same lines in Earth Tongue as I had to Emma. A dreamy look appears on my mother's face, and she nods. I nod back, and exit her mind.

Without thinking, I enter Jon and Quince's minds at the same time. The two are practically brothers, after all, so I can coexist in each. Their minds are wild, but have no symbols of power in the center. Jon's mind is mainly composed of what to eat for dinner, and Quincey's mind is on Emma. I say the same words as I had to Emma and Whitney, then leave after they nod.

Finally, I enter Ben's mind. His is welcoming to me, even though the column of shadow is slightly bigger, about the size of a table. Ben greets me near the column, and I brush my face fur against his. His blue eyes are sparkling, full of mischievous light. Without preamble, I tell him the words, and something strange happens. Ben's face alights with rage, then dissipates into hope and loneliness. With a flash of red light, the column of swirling black shrinks, turning to the size of a penny in a matter of seconds.

Ben's eyes widen, and a burden seems to lift from his shoulders. He stands straighter, ruffling his fur as if pelted by a breeze. He nods to me, and I simply nod back. A small voice in my mind whispers that it's the power of a White Alpha, the power of the Moon of Knox. I shush the voice, then leave Ben's mind.

Everyone is staring at me, but something clicks in my mind right then. The voice, it had sounded like the old man in my vision. The old man standing in a gray field, talking about death. A slow smile creeps up onto my face as I put the puzzle pieces together, and I sense everyone shuffle backwards.

I look around, and say something that sends chills through the group. "Who wants to dig up some graves?"

### XVI

As soon as I text the number on my phone, I hear an earth-shattering boom coming from the direction of the school. Jon, Quincey, Emma, and Whitney crouch, their luminous eyes glowing with fear. Ben growls, but I stay silent. As the only one in human form, my ears aren't as sharp, but my mind is clear of animal instincts.

A text from the same unknown number appears on my phone screen. I open the text, and almost throw up.

Such a pity, young wolves. A pity, that is, that you didn't solve it in time. I had such high hopes for you, yet you almost seem to wish for everything to burn. But, if you want everything to touch the ground in the form of ashes, I'll be all too glad to help. Another riddle awaits you on the tomb of John.

Choking back tears, I bare, and raced to the Js. There are too many John's. I look at Whitney, but she shakes her head. Wolves normally don't have last names, unless they're disguising themselves as humans. I sense a black shape running, and send Emma after it with a simple growling command. She's the fastest, and her shadow powers can help her melt through anything that the others would have to navigate around.

Anger surges through me, and I let it. _"So close, so damn close."_ I don't notice the light appearing around me, or my pack's fear. Anger just surges through me, wave over silver-tinged wave. Then, I notice something: a silver trail, almost like blood, leading away from the graveyard.

The homing signal in my body tingles, and I start following the silver trail. My pack falls into step behind me, Ben just a step ahead of everyone else. Then, excitement runs through my veins, and I start running.

I don't realize how far I've run until we stop where the silver trail ends. My legs are burning, my lungs feel like I'm breathing sand, and my heart is beating as fast as the drums in Hawaiian dances. Whitney gasps when we stop, and I look back at my mother. Her wide eyes, full of green fear, stare right past me.

I look back to the center of a clearing, which we've mysteriously come to. In the middle is a proud tree standing tall under the moonlight. Its great black roots stretch in all directions, covering the clearing floor. A strange sense of deja vu sweeps over me as my emerald eyes trace the edges of the towering master of life.

My sharp eyes catch the glint of something on one of the roots: a strange mar, carved by sharp claws. The message is clear and horrible.

I stand back as Quincey reads the riddle, as he has the best night vision.

"Emeralds burn bright in the heat of the light, shadows dance upon the walls.

Storms are coming, and the oaks will fall. All under-what?"

I shake my head, and hear Ben growl. "The Song of New Moon," Whitney whispers in horror. Strangely, I feel calm. Looking around, I see nothing. But then I look up, and see a human figure in the tree.

A voice comes from my chest, and though it sounds like me, I know it isn't. "All under the fire of the song. A heart of steel and eyes of gold, shine under the heat of the moon. When lightning strikes the tallest spire, the Nameless shall know themselves, and the Voiceless shall speak again soon. All under the fire of the song. Emerald, tiger's eye, moonstone, and azurite shall band, to defeat the alpha that rules the land. Daughter of fire and fox, shall rule under the Moon of Knox. All under the fire of the song. Isn't that right, Kit?"

A laugh sounds from the branches, then the human figure leaps nimbly to the ground. "You were always born with the gift of knowledge, Alexandria. Who knew that it would take so long to find me out?"

Whitney growls, and takes a step forward, but I don't stop her."Your brother promised me and Alexis security. But only if I mated to you, and he kept my second child. Why blow up our town? Why hurt my daughter?" Kit only smiles at Whitney, and I finally see that it's the smile of a man who knows everything, and one who has killed to get only a sliver of knowledge.

"My brother only promised your protection if you bore me a child. A strong heir to the Alpha-hood, since obviously his sons are honor-less." Kit glares at Ben, and I see realization dawn in my friend's eyes as he realizes what the man who raised me is going to say next.

"Pity that Jason had to die. He was a better pup than you. But, of course, the strongest wolves never die. Would you like to meet your brother, Benjamin?" Kit laughs as two more figures that I didn't notice before jump into the clearing. On Kit's left stands Austin, his evil eyes glowing with golden light. And, on his right, stands someone I never thought would see the wolves, let alone know about them.

"Chase?" Emma's strained voice comes from the back of the group, and I feel guilty for not realizing my sister had arrived earlier. "Gave you a chase, didn't I, Soun?" Chase laughs at his own joke, then grows serious when Kit growls.

Kit's eyes look back towards us, and in their golden brilliance I see his past. He had loved Whitney, just as his brother had. But, once Whitney fled and John was dead, Kit offered to chase them; them being Whitney and I. I hear a growl, but don't back out of Kit's mind. No, I rip through it, tearing apart his sanity.

A howl answers my destruction. Pain flares across my chest, and I feel myself being bowled over; I still don't back down. Tearing, ripping, shredding. No memories, no recollection, no identity remains. Kit's final howl of dismay and horror fills the quiet night. When I shred his last memory, the memory of him and a black wolf laying in the warmth beside their mother, I know that Kit is no more.

I open my eyes, and behold a horrific scene. Austin, in human form, is pinned to a small tangle of roots by Whitney and Quincey. Chase, a black-gray wolf, is pinned to the tree trunk by Emma and Ben. And, in the middle of the clearing, stands a beautiful wolf.

As gold as a wedding ring, it stands with massive eyes looking at me blankly. Eyes the color of an autumn leaf are ringed in summer blue. Massive paws, as gray as storm clouds, step lightly on the old tree roots below them. Hind legs, with spiral designs of silver, have visible muscle rippling beneath them.

The wolf looks at me, and the utter blankness in its eyes breaks my heart. Reaching out tentatively, I touch the massive wolf's mind. It's white, with nothing in it. Not knowing what I'm doing, I walk forward towards the larger animal. It bows its head to touch mine, and I breathe in the scent of pine.

A silver aura appears around me, a silver wolf. But it isn't the angry wolf that battled Emma. No, it's a kind wolf, small and lean like a runner. Its eyes are the color of sunrise, mixtures of reds, golds, oranges, and pinks. I start humming, and a strange fire starts flowing through my muscles.

I can't decipher the words hidden within the humming, but I know that I'm creating something. The golden wolf's autumn eyes start to gain life, but I don't stop there. I continue to hum, continue to weave my spell. I create a new identity and new memories. When my song ends, and I step back, Kit's eyes now glow with new purpose.

Drowsiness sweeps through me, but I fight it. I lock my muscles, the muscles that still sing the words to my song. Facing the wolf's beautiful eyes head on, I ask, "Who are you?"

Autumn eyes blink, then a voice as light as a spring breeze comes from a golden chest. "I am Lila the Autumn Feather. And whom are you, white wolf?" I bow my head in respect, and say, "I am Alexis the White, Alpha of the Oak Pack. Welcome, Lila the Autumn Feather." I hear Whitney's gasp, and turn to look at her.

She shakes her head, saying that she'll tell me later. I nod, then look over at Ben and Emma. They're still looking at Chase, but look over at me when they sense my gaze. I nod to the pair, and they haul Ben's brother upright. I sense Whitney and Quincey do them same to my own brother, but I ignore them.

"Lila," I say, and the golden wolf turns toward me, "Do you recognize this wolf?" Chase growls, but a snarl from both sides silences him. Lila cocks his head, then shakes it. "No, Alpha. I do not. Should I?" I smile secretly, but say, "No, you shouldn't," aloud.

I reach out to my pack members, and feel an electric tingle when Lila's fiery line joins the group. I send the message to go home, and to take the prisoners with us. Howls answer me, and we all turn north, towards the rock spire. Little did we know that amber eyes watch from the shadows. Or that a silent call we can't hear echoes through ranks upon ranks of waiting wolves.

XVII

When we reach the spire, I send Jon and Quincey to take the prisoners to the cave. Strangely, they don't complain, and instead seem to leap upon their assignment with glee.

Shaking my head at the two wolves, I turn towards Emma and Ben. "Hunt," I say. "Bring enough meat for all. Even the prisoners." I see Ben's eyes darken at the last word, but a tail flick from me sends him after his childhood friend.

Lila stands beside me, and I marvel at the large wolf's quiet poise and calmness. Whitney walks up to me, and says, "Lila. I believe I've heard your name before." Lila simply inclines his head, then faces me. "I'll go to my den, Alpha. If there is room for me?" I smile a small wolf smile, and say, "Go, Lila. There is always room for new-bloods in my pack." I don't know where the term comes from, but Lila nods and walks off.

Green eyes give me a searching look, and I stare right back. "You've heard of him, haven't you, Mother?" Whitney blinks, then nods as she lays beside me. My mind goes back to the day by the lake, when I first found out about my true parentage.

Whitney sighs now, bringing me back to the present. "Yes, I have," she begins. "In the Pine Pack, the pack where Ben and I are from, we sang songs when the moon rose. This was before the Black Alpha took reign, and banned all singing of the old ways."

Whitney takes a breath, then continues. "There was a song my mother had sung one night. It was about a great seer. Now, this was in the time of the Lost Pack, the eldest and strongest pack ever known. This seer's name was Lila the Autumn Feather. All seers back then held the title of Feather. Lila was the Delta, you see. A Delta makes sure everyone meets their destined mate. It also helps the healer wolf when females are birthing.

"Lila had a special gift for seeing who was going to be with who. He could see the lines connecting every wolf. But, his power also gave him hate. He was destined to mate with a female from the Dark Pack, the Lost Pack's main enemy.

"Lila couldn't, wouldn't, be mated with this female. So, when she was brought back after a scuffle by the boundary, he voted to kill her. But, this female had a power as well. She was also a seer, and she could see what drove others to murder. She saw that Lila's power had told him something he didn't want to hear, so he dealt with it with fear.

"This female couldn't stand seeing this beautiful wolf in pain. As her trial went on, she saw him give advice to young wolves, sing songs to elders, and help the laboring females. She started to fall in love with him, though little did she know that another was falling in love with her."

Whitney pauses for a breath again, though a new voice speaks from behind me. "It was my own brother. He tried to take her while she was asleep. I heard her screams, and rushed to her aid. My brother had already defiled her, and had fled like the coward he was. The female stared at me with eyes the color of honey and blood, and asked if I would tell anyone. I said no, and laid beside her for the rest of the night, protecting her in case my evil brother came back."

Lila walks around from behind me, and lays beside Whitney. "Her name was Wille the Winter Feather. Her fur was the color of winter snow, with blue hints the color of a summer sky. I used to joke that she stole amber from the dragons to decorate her flank like my hind legs. Ah, she was a good wolf. When my brother's pups came, she wished for me to be their father. By that time, everyone had known about what had happened, yet the Alpha didn't say no. Those pups grew strong and healthy. They earned their titles, sang their songs, and loved their chosen."

I smell something coming off of Lila then: grief, sadness, love, and pain. The combined smell of roses, orchids, ocean, and body odor stiffens my nostrils. I snort, trying to unclog them. Lila looks over at me, and I see him smile. "You can smell my emotions, can't you, Alpha?" I nod, still trying to get the awful combination of scents out of my nasal cavities.

I hear Whitney and Lila chuckle, and sense their bond grow closer. _"Hmm."_ Once Lila stops laughing booming barks, he says, "In the Lot Pack, we called wolves like you Trees." I snort once more, finally getting the scents out, and say, "Great. I always wanted to be a tree."

I hear another laugh, and turn my head to see Jon and Quince walking towards me. The two move in perfect rhythm, as combined to each other as I am to Ben. Lila nods to them, and they nod back.

The pair lay in front of me, leaning on each other. I look at Lila, and see him shake his head slightly. I share a small smile with the old wolf, and look back to my packmates. Suddenly, a scent washes over me, and the hairs along my spine prickle.

As fast as light, I'm up on my feet and turning, ripping my claws through the air. I feel fur beneath me before I truly realize what I'm doing. I snarl, and look down to see Chase's blue eyes. A thunderous growl erupts from my chest, and I claw Chase's face again. The bigger wolf flinches as my needle-sharp claws pass centimeters from his eyes.

"You won't hurt me, Alexis. I'm too much like Ben." Chase's words don't stop me, though, and I bare my teeth and swipe again, catching his snout and chin. "It wasn't all fake, you know. I do like you, and I will win you sooner or later. Whether I have to kill my own brother or not." Anger surges through me, and a red light flashes above my head. Chase's growls echo through the silent clearing. "Your aura wolf already agrees with me." Another swipe, and Chase just barely misses losing an eye.

I growl, and sense my aura wolf rise up around me. The silver wolf, with its mismatched eyes of sun and moon, glares down at the black-gray wolf beneath me. But I don't enter Chase's mind; some instinct inside of me says that if I do, I'll become wreathed in his darkness. Instead, I simply growl, "My aura wolf has the capability to break your mind, or heal it. But, your past can never be fixed. Neither can your attitude. I'll give you a choice. Leave, and never return to harm my pack in any way. Or die by my claws beside your father."

I see the words hit Chase like a truck. He doesn't even have the nerve to laugh, or try to call bluff. He simply says, "I choose to leave, Alexis."

A snarl sounds from the woods, yet I ignore it. "Then go," I say as I climb off the little murderer. Chase stands, shakes his coat, then bolts. I nod, then turn to find my pack staring at me in horror.

Ben and Emma are back with meat. Deer and quail, by the smell of the blood and shapes of the carcasses. The two childhood friends stare at me with naked fear. Whitney and Lila look at each other, then back at me, as if they want to make sure it isn't a dream. Jon and Quince just stare, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open.

"What?" I finally snap, my impatience waning. All the wolves just shake themselves, as if ridding fleas, and say, "Nothing. Nothing," and turn back towards the meal.

I sit down as Emma lays next to Quincey and Ben lays next to me. It's only tradition that the Alpha remains higher than anyone else during meals, yet I'm only doing it to start dinner. "Let us bless and thank these creatures of the earth and sky for their meat. Their bones shall be fed back to the soil in order to create new life for all. Thanks be to fur and feather for this meal." The others echo my last words, then dig in.

I lay down, and accept the fat quail Ben passes to me. As I start to dig in, my ears prick. I look up, then look at Jon. His ears are erect, swiveling so fast they're just a blur. Quincey stops eating and looks around, his large eyes picking out everything. I lift my nose to the breeze, and catch a peculiar scent: pine, with hints of sweat and violet.

My mind reacts before my pack does. "Attack!" I growl as I leap to my feet. I sense wolves pour in from all sides, previously hidden in the oaks and maples ringing the clearing. My pack bristles and leaps to their feet, growls and snarls echoing from all of them. I howl as the first wave crashes into us, and the Oak Pack goes into battle.

I see flashes of color. Tan, gold, black, brown, red, silver; no white shows, though. My mind links to my pack, sending them information and keeping their minds from going wild with battle-lust. Snarls, yips, growls, and yelps echo around the clearing as the wolves fight.

I catch a young wolf, barely a year old, in my claws. She yelps and jumps back, and a realization hits me. The Black Alpha has pups fighting for him. Growling, I throw the small sand-colored wolf over my shoulder, though not very hard. I turn when I hear Jon's yelp of pain, and see a red wolf closing in on my gray friend.

A snarl escapes my throat, and I fling myself onto the red's back, knocking him to the ground before he can tear into my pack member's throat. A few swipes of my claws, and the red backs off.

Suddenly, thunder shakes the earth and echoes through the sky. Every wolf stops fighting, and backs away to reveal a hulking form walking through the ranks.

As black as night, the large male stands two heads taller than any other wolf in the clearing. His amber eyes scan the wolves, and all turn away from his glare. I hear twin growls from behind me, and sense Whitney come up on my right, Ben on my left.

The Black Alpha stops, and regards us with a strange look like pity. I stare straight into his eyes, which seems to unnerve him. Whitney steps up, ignoring my warning growl, and speaks. "Hello again, Black Alpha. It's been what, nineteen years? Nineteen years since you killed your best friend, and banished me from your pack." No emotion shows on Whitney's face, nor in her voice. But I'm still in her mind, and can sense her grief like an oncoming storm.

A deep, growling rumble comes from the Black Alpha's massive chest. "Hello, Whitney. Good to see that you've finally found another home. Avalyn misses you, you know." Whitney barks a laugh, and the wolves skitter back, looking fearfully at their leader. "I highly doubt that, old friend. You've messed with her mind, just as you have with my daughter's."

A snarl erupts from the dark wolf's chest, and he steps forward. "Which daughter would that be, Whitney? Young Alexis, as white as snow? Or dark Emma, who never knew her mother's name?" Once the words leave the Alpha's muzzle, I feel a rush of wind as Emma zooms past me, Whitney following close behind.

Both wolves attack the Alpha of the Pine Pack ferociously, clawing and biting with all their might. But the older wolf just stands there. Then, with two quick thrusts, easily throws the females off. They land near me, and I hear the sickening sound of breaking bones. Growls sound from behind me, and all the wolves of my pack rush the great black wolf.

The Black Alpha simply laughs, then tosses the rushing wolves away with a few casual paw flicks. Only Ben and Lila dodge the first few, then Lila gets caught by a fierce one across the face. Ben goes last, but only after clawing a gouge right above his father's right eye.

A bubbling sensation starts in my belly at seeing my packmates hurt. The sensation reaches my throat when I see golden Lila thrown, then erupts when Ben is tossed aside.

Ignoring the panicked looks of the wolves around me, both of my pack and the other, I stalk forward. The Black Alpha looks at me in amusement, and I see hints of blood on his teeth. I stop a short distance away from the larger wolf, just out of swiping range.

My voice rings across the woods and clearing as I speak. "Black Alpha of the Pine Pack, I, Alexis the White, Alpha of the Oak Pack, challenge you to an Alpha Duel." All the wolves around me skitter back, as if afraid to be near me. A laugh erupts from the Black Alpha's chest, a booming sound like clashing swords.

"And why would I accept your challenge, little pup?" I stand tall, and hold my tail and ears high. "You would accept because I am the wolf of the Moon of Knox." Growls, yips, and snarls echo from the watching wolves, though they are silenced by the Black Alpha's thunderous growl. "I highly doubt that, pup." I cock my head, and stare straight into the amber eyes of my enemy.

"On these terms shall we battle," I say, and every ear in the valley perks up, anxious to hear my demands for a useless and utterly one-sided fight. I don't wait for my opponent to speak, so I talk on.

"We don't use powers, hidden or apparent." I get a glare from the dark wolf, but don't stop. "We fight for the packs. Winner gets both, loser dies." A slight nod from my opponent. "No other wolf shall aid one side." Darkness clouds the Alpha's bright eyes, but he nods.

"Finally," I say, and I take a breath, "we fight until the life drains out of the other. We fight to the death." A wolf smile curls along the black wolf's lips, and my heart stops beating for a second.

"Those are my terms. Do you have any to add, Black Alpha?" Surprisingly, he shakes his head, then leaps at me without warning.

I dodge, and whip my hindquarters as his claws reach for them. I bite his tail, and pull backwards. It does no damage, and doesn't even move the huge wolf. He simply whips around, and tries to send me flying, though I've already let go and disappeared to his other side.

A swipe at his legs, a bite on his neck, a claw to his ears, slashes down his sides. The Black Alpha has blood running in red rivers, making him appear to be a strange looking tiger. Yet I have no scratches, no marks to mar my white fur. My speed is greater than his, my wit sharper, my muscles leaner. My youth is my weapon, and I'm using it to its full advantage.

I pause for a second, drawing him in, when my ears pick up the chatter going on around me. "He's better than she is," one wolf murmurs to the one next to him, and both nod. "She's as red as John, wouldn't you say?" "That's just the blood," a female answers. "The Alpha's going to rip her to shreds, just like her father." That one distracts me, and my opponent catches me off guard.

I'm on the ground before I know what happened. The Black Alpha is on top of me, using his weight to his advantage now. His stinking breath washes over me, smelling like a pungent river full of blood and trash. But a new smell tickles my nostrils: the scent of fear. This huge wolf is scared of me.

A smile breaks open my face, and I laugh. The dark wolf's head rears back in surprise, then he growls. "What's so funny, pup? You're about to die, and you laugh. Why?" I continue yipping with laughter, causing a few other wolves to laugh as well.

"You're scared of me. That's why I'm laughing," I say, then laugh more when the Black Alpha growls. The smell of rotten eggs grows stronger, along with the tingling scent of confusion and happiness. "Why would such a big, bad wolf be scared of little ol'me?" As you said, I'm about to die, so why would you be frightened? Is it because you're afraid of my power, oh great Alpha? The Moon of Knox chooses the best, after all." I knew I had gone too far, but I couldn't stop antagonizing him.

"That's why Avalyn left you, isn't it? She knew that you weren't the great Alpha anymore, so she fled, taking your other pups with her." Sadness and anger mix in with the other three smells, clogging my nostrils, but I continued talking. "After Chase's disappearance, you deteriorated, turning more and more into a monster. You had a wolf tell you of a vision they had, a dream. A white wolf stands atop a cliff, and standing beside her is your son. Two other wolves, one of storm and one of oak, flank them. A song is sung throughout the dream. The Song of the New Moon, I believe."

The Black Alpha's face grows older and older as I spoke. When I closed my mouth, he looked a thousand years old. I gently push my hind legs deep into his belly, and the large male falls off of me. I stand, and face the older Alpha.

Suddenly, my opponent springs forward, lashing at me. I leap back, then lunge forward, clawing his eyes. A howl of pain echoes across the clearing as my claws rake across the black wolf's eyes, blinding him.

I stand tall, and watch the Black Alpha stumble around, swiping blindly, trying to catch me. I slowly step forward, and the Black Alpha's ears perk towards me. "You fought well, Black Alpha of the Pine Pack. But now your reign has ended." The black wolf snarls, "Not until my life flows out of me entirely." Wordlessly, I strike, biting my opponent's throat.

I step back, and watch the scarlet blood pour out of his black body. I open my mouth, and start to sing. Other wolves join me in the howling song. Our voices rise and sweep, lilting and deepening in waves of sound. It isn't the song for the dead, it's the Song of the New Moon. The vision I had seventeen years ago has unfolded. Then I notice one voice doesn't join, and it isn't of our pack.

I turn after the song ends, and find two eyes watching me from the ranks of wolves. Two eyes with fire dancing in them.

As if my thoughts had dragged the wolf forward, the male steps out of the crowd. All talk stops as the red wolf takes one more step forward. I hear Whitney gasp and fall backwards. I look into his eyes, into eyes the color of the summer sky.

"Hello, Alexis. For many years I have dreamed of meeting you." The wolf steps forward once more, almost nose-to-nose with me. I nod, then take a half step back as the larger wolf takes one more step forward. "Do you know who I am, Alexis?" the wolf asks, tilting his head, just like I do.

I nod, but can't speak. Because of one reason. Because of one horrible, impossible reason.

I can't speak because I'm staring right into the eyes of John, my father.

###

Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer.

Thank you so much!

Allyssia Nordell
About the Author

Allyssia; Ally for short; is still a high school student, an aspiring author and accomplished archer. She has a very sophisticated intelligence combined with her youthful imagination that makes her writing complex and unique.

Her interests include Greek mythology and science fiction. This book is based more on science fiction, but has a hint of Greek mythology as well. Her writing style is beyond what you would expect for a 15-year-old. When reading this, as I did, you will find it difficult to believe that this came from such a young, but inspired, writer.

She promises that this is the first book in what she plans to be a small series. I can only look forward to following the _Moon of Knox_ series.
