Frostbitten

SURVIVOR

NICK HAD TAKEN cell phone shots of the mutts from the house, then some of Tesler before we buried him. He figured the Shifters might demand proof before returning Noah. I was sure pictures from a cell phone weren't what they'd have in mind, but I didn't stop Nick.

The Russian Pack might expect proof, too, and this would be what they wanted. Plus, having pictures showing an entire upstart pack wiped out by us in a few hours might be something to have on hand if there were any questions about the Pack's power after my ascension was announced. So I let Nick take photos, and just warned him to upload them and get them wiped off his camera before we went through airport security.

After I assured them I was tone and Clay set my finger with a makeshift splint, Clay and Nick buried Tesler. While they were doing that, I took his clothing and ID back to the cottage, where Antonio was burning everything in the fireplace. I got about halfway there when a familiar scent wafted past. I turned to see a shape hidden in a thick patch of trees, silently watching me. Our wolf friend.

"Come by to make sure we kept up our end of the deal?" I called as I walked over. "We did. They're all dead except one, and he won't be coming back. Thanks for helping find the others. I appreciate that."

"You're welcome."

The voice startled me. I'd figured he was still in wolf form. As the figure rose, I had to sniff again, making sure it was the same werewolf. If I'd been asked to picture him, I'd have guessed he'd be older, living out a midlife crisis by exploring that other side of himself, as Dennis had been. He was younger than me, though. Late twenties. Dark reddish-brown hair to his shoulders, lean with a narrow face, high cheekbones and piercing green eyes. Native blood, I guessed. And he was dressed. To be honest, that surprised me, too. I didn't expect him naked, but maybe just wearing a fur thrown around him or clothing stolen from a nearby cabin. The clothes were clearly his, though-a leather jacket, jeans T-shirt, Doc Marten boots…

"Not what you expected?" he said.

"No," I lied. "I'm just trying to place the accent." Actually, I didn't need to place it at all-that singsong mishmash of British, Irish and Canadian was unmistakable. " Newfoundland or Labrador?"

That made him smile, if briefly. "Both, now and again," he said. "They both have their charms."

"I'll bet. I've only been out there once, but-"

A low growl cut me short. I glanced over to see a gray wolf peering around a tree. It was the one I'd seen earlier with him. She growled again, lips fluttering over sharp white teeth.

"I'm okay," he said, drawing it out, more reassuring growl than words. "Go on now."

She backed up, but only to sit down, death stare fixed on me.

"She thinks you're checking out a new mate," I said.

"New…?" He stared, then sputtered a laugh. "Exactly how native do you think I've gone? Or maybe you just answered my question."

"I just thought-Well, I mean, if you prefer wolf form…Anyway, I think she considers you her mate."

"That she does, but I've not been encouraging her. She's a very nice girl, but it just wouldn't work out."

"That's a relief." I extended a hand. "Elena Michaels."

"Oh, I know who you are. We aren't as isolated on the Rock as you might think."

"Are there more of you out there? More werewolves?"

He shook my hand. "Morgan Walsh."

"In other words, if you do have family there, you aren't telling me. If they've been living there awhile and the Pack doesn't know it, then they're flying far enough below the radar that we'll keep pretending we don't know. So to change the subject, how long have you been…?" I glanced at the gray wolf.

"Running with the wolves? Well, it was the strangest thing. One day I came out to Alaska on a trip, I went for a run and totally forgot I could Change back. Luckily this wolf pack took pity on the poor dumb Newfie and took him in."

"Uh-huh."

He smiled. "All right, then. What do you think I'm doing out here? No, wait, let me guess. Wounded and scarred by life, I've decided to turn my back on the world and retreat into the forest, embracing my purer, simpler half."

"You don't look particularly scarred to me."

"Oh, I have my share. I'd show you, but I know that mate of yours can't be far behind, and I'd better not be taking off my clothes when he comes by."

"Actually, I'm more worried about her taking offense." I nodded to the wolf, who growled as our eyes met. "So are you going to tell me why you're running with the wolves? Or was that another polite brush-off?"

He leaned back against a tree, hands going into his pockets, looking out at the forest before answering. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to switch? Live as wolf, Change to human only when you need to?"

"Sure."

"I finished college a few years ago. Got a job. Hated it. Quit. I'm young. No ties. Other guys, they'd backpack through Asia, bum around for a while until they got their shit together."

"Instead, you did this. How long have you been out here?"

"Since summer. I figure I'll give it a year."

"And how did you get the wolves to take you in?"

"Food," said a voice behind me.

As Clay stepped into view, Morgan jumped. He quickly recovered, retreating behind an impassive expression, but his eyes stayed wary, watching Clay's approach.

"Food, wasn't it?" Clay repeated.

Morgan found a smile for him, if only a small one. "It was. I'm a good hunter. It took some time, but if you leave enough offerings, they'll overcome their prejudices. And there weren't many prejudices to be overcome before those knuckle-draggers set up camp. And I don't mean the beast-shifters. Yeah, that young one has been throwing his weight around this winter, but we just stay out of his way. Things got a lot worse when they showed up." He pointed at the clothing in my hands. "Before them, the only werewolves the wolves knew were the old guy and his grandson, and neither of them ever caused any problems." He glanced at Clay. "The old man was a friend of yours?"

"A Pack mate, once upon a time."

"Sorry for your loss, then. I didn't know him myself, but he seemed a decent guy. And, before you ask, no, I didn't know they'd gone to kill him. I was off hunting at the time. When I came back, the rest of the pack had found him-you probably saw their tracks at the cabin."

"We did."

"They… " He rubbed his chin. "It upset them. Confused them. It was as if they'd known your friend, even if they never made contact. They mourned for him. Anyway, I wasn't around at the time or-Well, as you can tell, I don't like getting involved. I've learned not to. But I'd have done something. And probably gotten myself killed. I'm a whiz at catching dinner, but I don't do so well with the predators." He glanced at me. "I mentioned the scars?"

"You did, and I appreciate what you did do, bringing the others to us."

"Tracking and hunting, those are my specialties. That means, though, that I usually arrive after the damage is done, like with your friend. But there's a reason I Changed back, and it's not just to say hello. I found something the other day you'll want to take care of before you leave. The beast-shifters buried the two girls that big son-of-a-bitch killed. Only I kept finding traces of a third."

My head jerked up. "There was a third missing girl. You found her body?"

"No, I found her."

"What? She's alive?" I wheeled on Clay. "Travis must have been keeping her locked up. We need to-"

"Whoa, slow down," Morgan said. "He wasn't the one keeping her. The way I figure it, he left her for dead. Someone else found her. She's recovering. But… Well, I think you'd better just come along and have a look. It's… a bit of a situation."

I glanced at Clay. He took Tesler's clothing from me. "You go on. I'll catch up."

THE FIRST HALF of the walk was nearly silent. I could say that Morgan had just been uncharacteristically chatty earlier, after months talking to no one, but I got the impression he was, by nature, the kind of guy who talks a lot to cover the fact that he doesn't say very much.

It was a trait I recognized well. Not so much the chatty part-I've never been the type-but I've always been quick to join a conversation and hold up my end, which usually hides the fact that I'm not giving away anything of myself. Act friendly and sociable, and people won't realize that you're keeping them firmly on the other side of your comfort zone.

I think what quieted Morgan down was Clay sending me off with him alone. Morgan was not only a stranger, but a younger, good-looking mutt. For Clay to casually allow me to go off with him must have seemed suspicious. Maybe he took offense at the suggestion that he didn't pose a threat. But if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say he suspected he was being tested… or set up.

After we'd walked for a while, with no sign of Clay or the others lurking in the trees, he relaxed and maybe understood the simple truth-Clay trusted me, trusted I could take care of myself, and trusted I wasn't the least bit susceptible to cute younger werewolves, which on this trip was proving to be a good thing.

So he finally started to talk again. He'd heard I was Canadian and asked where I was from, tossing in a few barbs about Toronto, which is our version of New York -everyone who doesn't live there has nothing but contempt for everyone who does. When he found out I reported on Canadian affairs, he asked for news of his home province-the, ongoing sad state of the fisheries, the new offshore oil projects.

Wherever we were going, it was a long trudge through difficult landscape. But Morgan didn't have a problem traversing it, a fact he liked to point out every time he had to slow for me.

"Do you hear that?" I asked when a low moan set the hairs on my neck rising.

"Wind."

"No, I've heard wind, and that's not-"

"Trust me, up here, the wind does things you've never heard before. Sometimes I swear I hear voices. Entire conversations. I go to check it out, and there's no one there. I tell myself it's the wind, but… " He shrugged.

"There's something out here, isn't there?"

He hopped a fallen log buried under the snow. "There are a lot of somethings out here. Those beast-shifters are just the beginning. Voices, lights… "

"I've seen the lights. They led me onto a frozen river last night-that wasn't frozen nearly well enough."

"I don't doubt it. I've had them lead me nearly over a cliff, and I've had them light my way back to the wolf pack. Capricious little buggers. I find tracks I don't recognize, scents I can't place, catch glimpses of shadows. Alaska 's the last frontier-for man, beast and spirit alike. Now we'd better pipe down. The cabin's just ahead."

"Are you going to tell me who's responsible?"

A flashed grin. "No, I'll leave that up to your nose. See how long it takes you to figure it out."

As trustworthy as Morgan seemed, I couldn't help feeling those niggling pricks of paranoia. But now it took only one strong sniff to know he was playing me fair.

"Eli," I said.

"Is that his name? The young beast-shifter?"

I nodded. I glanced quickly at Morgan. "The girl. He didn't-"

"Rape her? No. Nothing like that, or I would have interfered. He found her and took care of her. She's not his prisoner, though she's probably not in any shape yet to think about leaving. But I suspect teenage infatuation-and teenage hormones-are at the root of this particular act of altruism."

"Damn." I sighed. "You were right then. This is a situation. I guess the first thing to do is get a look at the girl." I checked the wind. "No sign that Eli's still here."

"I've got your back."

"Thanks."

I moved forward, straining to see a building in the distance, and suddenly there it was right in front of me-a tiny wood log cabin, nestled among the trees.

I pulled back and took a good sniff. Still no sign of Eli. The scent of wood smoke lingered in the air, but none came from the chimney. All the windows were dark. I crept forward, Morgan at my heels. As quietly as I moved, though, he was quieter. I hesitated, then motioned him forward. I hated giving up the front spot, but the quietest tracker should lead.

Morgan took no more than a half-dozen steps before he stopped, swore and strode forward.

"Wait!" I called. "If you spook her-"

"Can't spook her when she's not here."

He wrenched open the cabin door. I peered around him into the dark, dank depths of the cottage. The empty depths.

Morgan swore again. I joined him. "If she escaped and she's out here alone… "

Morgan was already crouched, checking out the trail. He brushed past me and hunkered down outside, moving about until he'd covered the area.

"She's not alone," he said. "Eli relocated her. In the last hour, too. I tried not to get too close, but I wanted to get a look at her, make sure she hadn't been bitten."

My stomach twisted. "Had she?"

"Nah. That guy used his fists, not his teeth, thankfully. But Eli must have found my trail, and knew I was coming around, checking up on her."

Snow crunched in the distance. Morgan wheeled, straightening and stiffening as he lifted his head to catch the breeze.

"Did our situation turn into a problem?" Clay called as he stepped from the thick trees with Antonio, Nick and Reese close behind.

"A small one, I hope," I said.

As I explained, Morgan followed the trail, then came back to say it led into the nearest creek… and disappeared.

"He waded through it. So what I'd suggest… " Morgan began, then looked at the faces of the others, all turned toward me. "Or maybe not… "

"We split into pairs," I said. "If anyone other than me finds him, call for backup. I've talked to him, so I know how to handle it. If you bump into the other Shifters, tell them you're with me and we've done as they asked. Now, for pairings… " I turned to Reese. "How's your tracking?"

He opened his mouth, chin lifting a fraction, clearly ready to say his tracking skills were top-notch. Then he glanced at Nick, and said, "Not bad."

"All right then, you come with me. Nick goes with Antonio. Clay? You and Morgan?"

Clay nodded. Morgan slanted a wary look his way.

"Um, I'd really rather pair up with… " Morgan began, then glanced around at everyone else getting ready to go. "Or, I suppose it doesn't really matter what I want, does it?"

"Sorry," I said. "This works best. You concentrate on tracking; he'll have your back."

And we split up.