Ryan wasn’t impressed with the town, that was easy enough to see. Dylan thought he was crazy, though he knew for a fact that the alpha often complained of traffic and long waits and basically every other problem that came with living in a city like Portsmouth.

Abingdon was different. Abingdon had the air of an idyllic lifestyle, as if it was the sort of place where the snow fell clean enough to eat and stayed that way instead of being churned to black froth by passing vehicles. In the summer, all these porches they were passing would be filled to brimming with lawn furniture and friendly folks, sipping lemonade and watched the fireflies. Everything seemed calm here, slower. Even with the death and decay that winter brought, Dylan could still smell the grass and flowers which would blossom in spring as easily as if it was that season already.

This should have been the place where he was living, or at least someplace like it. A friendly town, with actual neighbors who cared if you were unwell or not. He saw quite a few children walking the streets as Ryan drove around in search of the orchard and it was no wonder, because this seemed like the kind of haven where newlyweds would settle down to have a family after leaving behind their former apartment lifestyle.

Looking at all the kids, some of whom smelled of shapeshifter and some who didn’t, he was reminded of Hunter.

When he first gave birth to his son, he imagined eventually moving to a place like this with Arden. Sure, they weren’t in love, but they could tolerate each other and he’d thought that would be enough. They could pool their money together, make the down payment on a nice little house, and do the whole family thing right. After all, if he was going to pretend to be straight, why not go all the way with it?

But it never happened for some reason, even back then when the future seemed tolerable. And when they divorced, Arden had taken Hunter to the tiny little apartment she’d found where all the tenants were single parents. That was where he had been for most of his young life, until recently when Arden moved to an actual house. Dylan suspected she was only able to do this because of some other man who had entered the picture, though he was loath to know any details.

Even so, the house wasn’t great. It was very small and very ugly, in a neighborhood that didn’t exactly scream safety. As a result, Hunter was growing up in environments that just didn’t foster the sort of freedom Dylan would have liked.

Not that there was anything he could do about it.

Dylan glanced down at his phone and sighed as Ryan drove past the same road for the third time in as many minutes. Though he’d called Arden back during their stop in the middle of the drive, she hadn’t answered, nor had she responded to any of his texts since then. While annoying, this wasn’t worrisome. She was very much the sort of woman who would keep all her complaints inside until they burst out all at once.

I’d still like to know how Hunter’s doing.

For all he knew, Arden might have been trying to reach him and was just unable to do so. The one bad thing about this town was that the cell phone reception sucked, which also explained their difficulty with finding the orchard since he couldn’t get any directions to load up.

“It’s near a hill,” Ryan said, not for the first time.

Dylan looked up and glanced around. They were in a damn cute little neighborhood strewn with children’s toys, as if some giant had come along through here casting out bikes and balls instead of breadcrumbs to mark his path. “I don’t see any hill. Or an orchard. How do you hide an orchard?”

“What does an orchard even look like?” Ryan said this very softly and wonderingly, as if it was the question which might just break the universe.

Dylan stared at him, incredulous, and opened his mouth to answer before realizing that he also didn’t know what an orchard looked like. Was it just trees? Rows of them? Or a stand, like a forest? It was something he hadn’t ever thought about before. He’d never visited an orchard, though there were occasionally advertisements in newspapers about some nearby ones where a person could visit to fill up a bag with apples or pears or whatever. Sometimes he thought about going to one, but it was never the right time, or the temperature was just too damn hot to make a bag of apples worth all that trouble.

Those advertisements never showed pictures of the orchard, just of fresh produce.

Ryan was nodding, looking at him with that knowing gaze that made his insides tremble a little. “Right?” he said, as if Dylan had spoken out loud.

They drove around some more, both of them now focused on the task at hand of finding the missing orchard. Too much of this and Dylan would have assumed it meant the orchard with the magical wishing well didn’t exist, but Ryan swore it did, swore that another member of their pack had gone to see it. He wanted to believe in it, with the same longing sort of ache that had threatened to consume him when he discovered Santa Claus wasn’t real, that none of those childhood idols existed. This was a more mature version of the desire to have something make sense in the universe, to believe in a very specific power with a singular purpose.

He wanted to look into that well, to see what fate had in store for him. This wasn’t something he’d consciously decided, as if it was only natural that he should do such a thing, and he hadn’t told Ryan about it, even though he knew the other man intended to do the same. Somewhere in the back of his mind, lingering in the deepest, darkest corner of his heart, he knew that he hoped they would see each other.

He hoped.

And hope was such a dangerous thing, because he knew that wouldn’t be what happened, and yet he wanted it so badly that even his bones hurt.

Maybe if he saw someone else, his feelings would change on the spot, but that was the sort of phenomenon that only happened in fairy tales, where happily ever after was truly the end.

He trembled.

Ryan suddenly shifted in the driver’s seat, sitting up straight. His hands clamped down so hard on the wheel that Dylan could perfectly picture his fingers puncturing straight through the rubber and plastic. “Look,” Ryan breathed. His tone was one of reverence, like a man who’d just had his first religious experience.

Anything Dylan might have been about to say suddenly dried up on his tongue as he looked out in the direction where Ryan was pointing. He understood that odd tone now, the tremor, the utter awe dripping from the other’s voice.

Up ahead there was a break in the neighborhood houses, and a long, gravel-strewn road pulled away from the main streets to wander down a gradual slope as if it was a serpent, full of luxurious curves. They weren’t looking for a hill, Dylan realized. They were on the hill, a very large and shallow one on which most of Abingdon was located, and the orchard was down there, nestled up against the bottom.

The road ended in front of a beautiful blue ranch house, which seemed rather small from this distance as if it was huddling down to keep out of the wind. And behind the house was the real object of Ryan’s fascination.

Hundreds of trees, bared and black and skeletal in their dormancy. The branches were gnarled and ancient, as if the trees had been here even before the ground in which they were planted, but the orchard itself was apparently well-loved. The whole place seemed to be in some sort of stasis, poised on the edge of readiness for the exact moment when spring arrived. Dylan could almost see the hidden potential, could feel the raw strength of those fantastic plants which had weathered so much and come out stronger for it. If he focused hard enough, he might even become a tree, with his arms as the branches, new buds about to burst from his fingertips.

“Whoa,” was all he managed.

“Pretty damn impressive,” Ryan said.

Dylan glanced at him. If Ryan could feel the same things he did, he wasn’t showing it. He would have shared, but he was still a bit put-out by the near accident with the semi-truck, and he didn’t think he could take it if Ryan teased him right now. He knew that everyone tended to view him as a guy with very little in the way of an imagination, and they would normally be right. His interests lay in the way things currently worked, not the way they would work given this or that situation. Right now though, it was like he could see things that he hadn’t even considered possible before.

No, Ryan didn’t seem to be sharing those feelings. The size of the orchard just impressed him.

Figures. Men are always so concerned with how big something is.

“Let’s get going,” Dylan said. He strained against his seatbelt, only distantly aware of what he was doing. “You’re sitting in the middle of the street. Trying to get us in a wreck again.”

Ryan scowled at him and stepped on the gas, bringing them up to where the gravel road began. It almost seemed to pain him to be driving on gravel, to hear the little rocks be torn up by his tires and clatter against the undercarriage.

As they came closer to the ranch house, the hairs on the back of Dylan’s neck stood up. He pulled in a quick breath, surprised by the sudden sensation of being watched. A moment later, he finally saw the man sitting out on the front porch, rocking slowly back and forth with a bottle in one hand. The man had longish brown hair; that was about all Dylan could see of him because the man had a large brown quilt wrapped around his shoulders, obscuring his form.

“Do you know who that is?” he whispered, looking at Ryan.

Ryan didn’t answer for a long moment as he guided his enormous truck onto the driveway next to a few other vehicles. They were now mostly hidden from sight by the van beside them, but that didn’t lessen the feeling like a pinprick of heat on the back of Dylan’s neck.

“I don’t.” Ryan unbuckled his seatbelt and turned the truck off. “But I have to assume that it’s someone who lives here. They should know what we’re talking about. Come on, Dilly.”

Dylan got out of the truck, being careful not to whack the van’s mirror with his door. Ryan took the lead and he fell in a step behind, following the path around from the driveway.

The other man was standing now, waiting for them. He’d cast the quilt aside to reveal a body that was thin but muscular, with tight tendons showing along his wrist where the sleeves of his sweater didn’t quite reach. “Hi,” he said, coming down the porch steps. He offered his hand to Ryan. “I’m Jake Lakeman-Hope. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

While Ryan answered, Dylan studied the gentleman before them. Jake was clearly a wolf, with a lean, dangerous air to him that all predators had. Despite that, his scent was soft and sweet and his blue eyes sparkled with easy friendliness. He was an omega to the core, and one living life to the fullest if the rest of the story his scent told was anything to go by. Or rather, his scents, because he also smelled very strongly of an alpha wolf and a pup.

“We’re here for the well.”

Oh, god. I forgot how tactless you are, Ryan.

Almost at once, the friendliness faded from that welcoming gaze. Jake drew back a step. “Blunt, aren’t you?”

“I have to be,” Ryan replied.

If they were in private, Dylan would have groaned. This was exactly the sort of self-serving behavior that others couldn’t stand when it came to their pack leader. He seemed to have made it his life's mission to be more dramatic than he had to be.

“Be that as it may, you people can’t just keep waltzing in here whenever you’re having relationship troubles. That’s not the point.” Jake touched his forehead as if trying to hold onto his patience, then looked up again. “And you smell like you belong to the same pack as the last guy who came here. His name was Josh. You know him?”

“I’m his pack leader.”

“Of course you are. You sent him here, right? And now you’re here. I can only assume that means you want to look into it, too. Both of you.”

Ryan seemed startled by this, glancing over at Dylan almost as if he’d forgotten that he was there, too. He opened his mouth, probably to deny that Dylan had anything to do with this.

Dylan spoke first. “Yes. We do.” His heart pounded in the small pause which came afterward. If they were denied this, the whole journey would be worth nothing. There would be no answers.

Jake crossed his arms. There was something about this posturing of his that made Dylan think that he didn’t often act standoffish. He wondered if the bottle left on the table on the porch was a necessity born from stress or if it was just part of a daily routine.

“Are you two mates? Coming here to see if you’re compatible for each other? Wanting the well to fix all your problems?”

Ryan stammered for a moment before getting ahold of himself. “We aren’t mates, no.”

“Your scent is all over each other.”

“We’re just friends,” Ryan replied, sounding a little desperate by this point. He was blushing, which wasn’t something Dylan had ever seen before.

Jake shrugged and glanced away. Some of the cold edge had gone from his eyes, and now he only looked wistful. “Sure. I’ve seen other people say the same thing. But have it your way. I’ll take you to the well.”

“Now?” Dylan trembled a little. He couldn’t help it. He felt like a child, about to be led into someplace very frightening to him, like an attic or basement. A place where old secrets could be found but were probably best left undiscovered.

“Why not? Are you ready? Because you’d better be.”

Ryan straightened his back and squared his shoulders, visibly steeling himself to meet this next challenge. “We’re more than ready.”

Smiling with that same wistful expression, Jake shook his head. “No, you aren’t. You just think that. Let me go inside for a moment and tell my mate that I’m going out. He’d probably be worried if he came out and found me gone.”

Probably? Why do you sound so uncertain?

Jake turned and gathered up the quilt, slinging it over one of his muscular arms before heading to the front door. He hadn’t gone more than a few steps however when the door opened and another man poked his head out. He had a head of wild blond hair that looked tousled, like long strands of bleached grass on the edge of a cornfield.

“Jake?” the blond man growled. His growl was the deep, dominant thrum of a powerful alpha wolf. “I heard voices. Who are they?”

“They’re here for the well, Quincy.”

Something about the way Jake said the other man’s name told Dylan a few things. The first thing was that this was Jake’s mate, and that they loved each other very much. No one said a name like that, in such a soft manner, unless they were speaking with love.

The second thing this told him was that the two mates weren’t on good terms at the moment.

Quincy frowned, worried wrinkles forming on his forehead. Though he was a handsome man, with boyish freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and pale hair that near-fluorescent shade so many people paid for at the salon, he also looked like a man under a great deal of stress.

“I’ll get my shoes,” Quincy said. “I’ll take them.”

“No.”

Quincy stared at Jake as if this denial was a personal affront, a holdover from some recent argument. “No?”

“You took the last one. I’m taking them.”

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, searching for an argument, Quincy finally just shrugged and closed the front door again, placing himself out of sight once more.

Jake sighed and went back to the chair where he’d been sitting. He dropped the quilt onto the table, apparently not wanting to take it inside any longer because that might mean having to face the person he was arguing with again. Then, not looking at either Dylan or Ryan, he picked up the bottle he’d been drinking from and drained it of its remaining contents.

The bottle, Dylan noted, didn’t contain alcohol as he’d first thought. The label declared the liquid within to be diet cranberry ginger ale.

“What are you looking at?”

He jumped, not realizing that Jake was watching him, too. The question was spoken mostly without anger, though it did have a bit of an exasperated tinge to it. An apology jumped to his lips, but he refrained from saying it because he knew what it was like to hear the same words repeatedly. They lost their meaning, became mere unwelcome platitudes. Sometimes the frustration was almost enough to make him feel sick, as if things had gotten so far out of control that nothing would ever be the same.

So instead of contributing to whatever was gnawing at the other omega, Dylan switched tactics. “You must be having a pretty bad day if you’ve resorted to soda.”

Jake stared at him, then let out a soft laugh. “Pretty sure it won’t be the soda that kills me, just the artificial sweetener in it. Better than torturing my liver, though. I’m not much of a drinker anyway.” He climbed down the steps, shivering a little as a chill wind struck when the porch no longer sheltered him. “I’ve had better days for sure.”

Something stirred, and Dylan knew in an instant that Ryan was about to butt in with what would either be very sensible advice or some sort of macho declaration. With him, there was no in between. Not wanting to take the risk that he would ruin this budding rapport, Dylan sent him a sharp look when Jake wasn’t looking.

Ryan’s green eyes widened, then narrowed. His nostrils flared in automatic defiance of being told what to do, but he didn’t protest out loud.

Jake headed for the orchard without waiting to be followed. Dylan hurried to catch up with him, easily matching the other man’s step. There was more than enough room between the trunks of the looming trees to do so. “Did you look into the well?” Dylan asked.

For a moment, it seemed as if this was going to be the wrong thing to say but then Jake spoke up. “Quincy did, first. He saw me.”

“Not quite what I asked,” Dylan prodded. He sensed a storm brewing just beneath the surface, charged with electricity. It wasn’t his storm to weather, but he was drawn in all the same, eager to know what the rain looked like so he might prepare himself for the same if it happened in the future. “Did you look?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I saw nothing.” Jake’s shoulders slumped a little. “He doesn’t know I looked. None of them do. It’s better that way. Sometimes not knowing is better. Having options is better than having answers.” He said this with all the world-weary wisdom of a fortune teller.

Those words resonated deeply within Dylan, as if he was a gong which had just been struck. His fingers trembled but he fought to keep his voice steady when he replied, though at the last moment the enormity of the situation made him forget what he was going to say and he had to switch tactics. “Them?”

“Quincy and his parents own the orchard. I married into the family.” Jake jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the ranch house, though the building was now hidden from sight by rows of apple trees. “I moved in with them.”

“You all live together in the same house? And your kid?”

“All five of us. We’re pretty much our own pack. It’s nice most of the time, but sometimes it still feels like we’re just kids having a sleepover.”

He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to live with his own parents and Arden. Wolves were more open with each other about a lot of things, more than other shapeshifters tended to be, but to try and have a relationship under the watchful eye of the people who had seen him in diapers? No way.

“Why don’t you move out?”

“We’re trying. It’s just not always so easy in a small town. And...look. Both of you.” Jake suddenly stopped and twisted back around, making sure Ryan was paying attention.

The alpha had been staring off to the side, apparently fascinated by something, though he turned towards Jake when attention was called to him. A little curious, Dylan looked off in the same direction. Everything seemed to be very much in order, with all the trees in meticulous unbroken rows, slumbering in the cold. Then, he saw that one tree in the third row from the path they were following seemed to have suffered a strange localized accident of some sort. Great chunks of its bark had been torn away near the base of the trunk and there were thick claw marks scoring the surface. These marks didn’t look to be new but were instead sealed over with a tight, thin layer of material.

Weird. Who just attacks a tree? A bear?

Dylan looked back towards Jake, who seemed to be searching for words. Having found them, he started speaking. “I don’t even know your names, and I’m not really sure I want to. I don’t want to get attached to you any more than I already am. I don’t want to have to stay awake at night wondering if this did you any good or not. I’m just saying that...it might not be good, okay?”

Dylan shook his head. He didn’t understand, and he felt as if he didn’t want to understand, as if the hopes he clung to despite knowing he shouldn’t were about to come crashing down around him. If that happened, he didn’t know what he would do.

“Are you saying this well is a bad thing?” Ryan said. His eyes were blazing green, fiery with warning. “And you just let anyone come look at it?”

Jake backed up a little, looking defensive. “You can’t blame me for what you sent one of your wolves here for.”

“I didn’t even really think it was real!”

“That’s not my problem, is it?” Jake tossed his hands up into the air, looking extremely fed up with this entire conversation. “Look, I’m a nice person, okay? Ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you I’m the nicest damn guy they’ve ever met! Sometimes I’m even smart. But I’m not acting nice now, and it’s because I’m tired.” His voice broke and he coughed, trying to disguise it. Dylan hurt for this man he hardly knew.

“Quincy was my friend, and I loved him before he even really knew I existed. God, I can’t believe I’m telling this to complete strangers but it’s important, you know. I love him now, too. But the well made everything happen so fast, and I didn’t even get to be involved in the decision-making. Suddenly, I was in a relationship, and then we were having a baby...things happened fast. You have to be ready for all of it or it catches up to you later. Like it is right now for me and Quincy.”

Dylan blinked. “So, the well showed Quincy you were his mate. And the well showed you nothing? And now you’re having marital problems?”

Jake lifted his shoulders in a hopeless shrug, looking like a wind-up toy that was nearing the end of its cycle. “I wouldn’t call it problems. Just, we knew each other in a different way than we have to know each other now. It’s a learning process. And maybe the well showed me nothing because I’ve already found my mate. There’s no telling. I’m just saying...I don’t think anyone will care if you keep sending people here to look at the well, but you need to prepare them. This isn’t a last resort. It’s not a fix. It’s an option. And not one I would recommend.” A soft smile curved on his lips, erasing some of the strain. “I like to think Quincy would have realized I was right there all along anyway.”

No one said anything for several long moments. Ryan spoke first, as was true to his character. “Thank you for telling us, Jake. Can we still see the well?”

Jake nodded. “It’s behind the orchard. Come on.”

Behind the orchard? There’s an end?

Walking through row after row of nothing but trees, hardly able to see the sky through the tangle of branches overhead all reaching towards the sun, it was very easy to believe that they’d wandered into some sort of endless wonderland. Though the canopy of apple branches rattled from the constant assailment of wind, the three of them were quite warm—at least, not freezing—with all the thick trunks to break up the blowing chill. No one spoke again, all of them lost in their own thoughts.

Dylan had no idea what the others might be thinking. He was having a hard time figuring out his own thoughts. He was much more aware of the sound of breathing, the three pairs of footsteps crunching over dry earth.

Then a darkness appeared through the trees, slowly revealing itself to be a huge stand of conifers. Their needles were covered in a layer of white frost, as was the ground beneath. No amount of sunlight penetrated that thick canopy overhead, lending the forest a sinister atmosphere that was jarring in comparison to the rest of the land they had seen thus far.

Jake stopped along the thin stretch of open field between the orchard and the pines, then turned to face the two wolves following him. He seemed almost to be a different man, with his lips pressed together in a grim line. The shadows cast by the forest behind him caught in the lines of stress on his face. “This is as far as I’m going.”

Dylan stared off into the darkness, trying to catch some sight of something other than trees and darkness; even with his predator eyes, he couldn’t. The forest just stretched on and on until everything blurred together into a dark haze. “Your in-laws own the forest?”

“No one owns the woods,” Jake replied. Dylan noticed that he wouldn’t come more than halfway across the small field, standing in place beside a gnarled clump of dead grass. “And no one owns this field, either. Records are all screwed up. No one can do anything with it.”

Dylan shook his head, trying to understand this. There was the sensation of walking through a wonderland again, except now he had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way and left his dream to enter a nightmare. This was a fairytale gone dark and he didn’t like it. How many places were left in the world where someone hadn’t already claimed ownership in one way or another? Even Antarctica was inhabited now, albeit by scientists and their visitors, but here was a forest somehow even more desolate than a continent covered in ice.

“How big are these woods?”

Jake gave a distant shrug, then scanned the dark pines as though he could make an estimate based off sight alone. “I’m not sure. Quincy could probably tell you. Or maybe not. The Lakeman Orchard has been in his family for a long time, so this whole forest mystery isn’t exactly a new one. There are more important things to worry about. Besides, they own the orchard. They know the orchard. They don’t have to know anything about the rest of the land surrounding it, so why this part?”

I have a feeling he either really doesn’t know the truth, or he’s trying a bit too hard to convince us that he doesn’t.

“In any case, the well is just a straight shot back in the same direction we’ve been going. You’ll find it. And if you can’t, maybe you weren’t meant to.”

Ryan let out an irritable snort. “You’re starting to sound like some old sage, talking in riddles. This isn’t a movie.”

“No,” Jake agreed. “Because movies end. I don’t think the forest ever will.” He shuffled, looking uncomfortable, and it clearly wasn’t because of the cold weather. “I’ll be waiting for you in the orchard. When you’re coming back, give me a call and I’ll walk you back. Just...don’t take too long. I don’t want to have to come looking for you.”

“You won’t. Thank you.” Ryan started off, disappearing into the trees in only a few lengthy strides.

Dylan hesitated, looking at the other omega. He felt a very strong connection with Jake because of the story he had told, one which had struck much too close to home. But, that wasn’t the whole reason he stayed behind. There were some things that alpha wolves had a hard time with. It was just in their nature, just as it was usually in an omega’s nature to be submissive. There was something here that Ryan hadn’t understood, something that maybe only a more sensitive man could.

Jake looked at him and opened his mouth, then closed it again. Now instead of uncomfortable, he looked downright miserable. “I don’t like the well,” he admitted. “And it isn’t just because I didn’t see anything.”

“You think it’s dangerous?”

Jake’s lips twisted a little. Someone who only glanced in his direction might have made the mistake of thinking he was smiling. “I don’t believe in magic. I do believe in things that I don’t understand, that I can’t understand. I think the well is exactly what it is. It’s not good. It’s not bad. But people? That’s different.”

For some reason, Dylan thought of Arden. Then he felt guilty because his ex wasn’t a bad person just because they were incompatible. Whatever disagreements there were between them, he couldn’t go blaming them all on her just because she was a convenient scapegoat. Their situation was all his fault anyway. He was the one who had dragged her into this.

“Whatever you’re thinking about,” Jake whispered, “is exactly the reason you should be careful.”

Does he think I’ll be doing something bad if I don’t see Ryan in the well?

Speaking of Ryan, the alpha seemed to finally have noticed he wasn’t being followed. He stood at the very edge of the forest, hands on his hips, impatience outlined in every muscle. “Dylan!”

Dylan shot Jake an apologetic look but the other omega had already turned away from him, shapeshifting as he went. He dropped down onto soft paws that were white as snow and scampered back to the orchard. White frost glittered in his trail with every step he took. Then, with a flick of his tail, he was gone.

By this point, Dylan’s eagerness to know the truth was almost completely overshadowed by his doubts, but he had never considered himself a quitter. Even when the going got rough and he was left pregnant with his best friend’s kid, he’d only battened down the hatches and did what he thought was best. Whether his choices had been good or not, that wasn’t his call to make.

He hurried over to Ryan, offering up a smile that felt extremely fake. “Sorry.”

Ryan nodded briskly. His expression suddenly went very soft. “Did you make yourself a friend?”

“Unless you have Earl Grey, I’m not coming.”

“That peasant water? No. We’re making our tea with real leaves.”

Ryan laughed softly. The sound was forced, but Dylan appreciated the effort since they were both still getting over the stress from earlier. This round of teasing hadn’t been particularly funny, but he considered it a step in the right direction.

“Let’s go,” Ryan said. “He said straight.”

That might be a problem for me, Dylan thought. He bit back this remark at the last second.

It was even darker beneath the trees than he had expected, like he’d wandered underground at some point without knowing it. When he looked up, he saw only a solid mass of mottled gray-green swathed in shadow, occasionally punctured through by lines of black that were tree branches breaking through the pointed foliage. There was undergrowth, but it was all covered in frost and either dead or dying. Drifts of snow huddled in the hollows of tree trunks, nestled between arched roots. The snow was white and pure, undisturbed by any animals who might have come by.

Dylan puzzled over the snow for a very long time before managing to figure out why it bothered him so much. Aside from occasional gusts of wind that swept through the forest, stirring up clouds of frost and puffs of loose snowflake, nothing had disturbed the snow.

Not all birds went south for the winter and a place such as this without humans at all was certainly a haven for any animal, but he could smell nothing but the cold. Then, his sinuses rejected the dry air and he could smell nothing at all as his nose began to clog. There were no birds twittering in the distance, relaying news from tree to tree. There were no startled, fluttering wings, no matter how many thickets they passed, which meant there were no ground-dwelling birds around either.

He could see no disturbances in the undergrowth, which would have pointed to the footprints of some animal passing by. Nothing moved just out of sight. That wouldn’t have been so unusual if he was looking for mice or squirrels, as these would all be slumbering away in their burrows, but where were the rabbits, the foxes, the deer? They never passed a single nest or burrow, not even vacant ones.

What sort of forest had nothing living in it?

“Do you feel it?”

Dylan nearly jumped out of his skin as Ryan’s loud growl exploded across the undergrowth, echoing against the canopy overhead. He whirled around, goosebumps prickling up and down his arms. The hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up. “Feel what?” he demanded.

“There’s no life here.”

The similarity in their thought processes seemed too good to be true. Only a coincidence, he told himself.

“I don’t see any death either, though,” Dylan ventured. “There’s just nothing.”

Ryan nodded and then stroked his chin before running his hand up through his hair. “It could just be that something about the well keeps everything away. Maybe we can’t sense it because we aren’t fully animals.”

They continued. Dylan was aware of his fear now more than ever, wondering how much of it belonged to him and how much was his wolf warning him to turn back.

Up ahead, light broke through the trees and splashed upon the ground in a pale, uneven circle. There was a clearing covered in a thin layer of crunchy snow, which broke beneath their feet. In the footprints they left behind, the dead remnants of grass could be seen.

However, Dylan couldn’t have given a shit about the grass or the way the pines seemed to part around this area before quickly closing in again. His heart trembled with terror and it was all he could do to keep from turning tail and running away even though the central object itself was underwhelming. The clearing wrapped around the structure as if in supplication, worshipping it.

It was, of course, a wishing well.

Vines surrounded the well, which leaned to one side like it couldn’t even support the weight of its own power. The stones were weathered and ancient, covered with a shining layer of frost. Dylan shivered to even look at them. A wooden roof sprouted from the stones, shading them from the pale wash of light filtering in through the trees. There was no telling when last these stones had felt warmth.

Moss dangled in stringy curtains from the wood, now encased in sheaths of ice.

Time seemed frozen here, warped somehow, as if this winter was eternal and spring was unknown.

Ryan looked at the well, head tilted, the gears in his head visibly turning. “It’s not really much to look at, is it?”

To speak in this place seemed almost taboo but Ryan looked at him, expecting an answer. His eyes were the only green thing remaining here.

“I...don’t know.”

Ryan frowned. “Are you okay?”

He nodded because there was little else for him to do. There was no turning back. “I’m fine. So we just...look inside?”

“I guess so. Separately. I’ll go first.”

Dylan stared at him. “Why do you get to go first?”

“Because I’m your pack leader, and because I said so, dammit!” Ryan stopped and visibly pulled himself back, reining himself in. “Sorry. I’m nervous. I didn’t think we would actually get here.”

“Me neither.”

There were so many more things to say, things that could be put out into the open before either of them had a chance to look inside the well. There had been so many moments like this throughout their friendship, perfect times for a confession, for an admittance of all the things that had been kept secret. This time, like all the other times before, he hesitated too long and the moment was past.

He should have grabbed Ryan by the arm and done something. Kissed him, begged him not to look, declared his love.

He did nothing.

Ryan turned away and looked deep into the well, his hands resting lightly on the top of the stone wall. A trickle of water ran out from beneath his skin, his hot touch melting the ice for only a moment before the sheer cold froze it over again.

How much time passed, Dylan didn’t know. He couldn’t move to check his phone and doubted for some reason that technology would work here anyway. All he could do was watch Ryan’s broad back, muscles outlined against his shirt. Nothing seemed to be happening.

Then, Ryan tensed up. The curves of his muscles suddenly became as hard and sharp as knives, and it was a wonder they didn’t slice right through his shirt. His shoulders stiffened and he leaned further over the well, head dropping as he stared at whatever was within.

As much as he wanted to, Dylan didn’t interfere. He wanted so badly to know what was happening down there, to see what Ryan was seeing, but he still couldn’t move.

Ryan pushed away from the well without any warning, gasping and wide-eyed. His chest heaved and he clutched at his heart as if trying to hold it still himself. In short, he looked like a man on the verge of having a heart attack. He staggered another few steps through the snow, feet dragging, and then went down roughly to his knees with his chin drooping toward his chest. After a moment, he looked up. His eyes were rimmed with white like a terrified animal’s might be. His lips parted, but no words emerged.

Dylan looked at that expression and expected to see fear, but there was only a world-rending shock held within those beautiful green eyes. A wretched sort of hope opened inside him, and he went to the well even though his original intention had been to help his friend. His legs had a mind of their own, guiding him closer and closer until his hips were pressed against stones. His manhood receded from the cold, trying to hide, but he braced himself against the stone wall—his fingers fitting almost perfectly into the shallow melted indentions where Ryan’s had been—and looked.

All he saw was deep, dark water very far down, as if the well was bottomless and he was looking off into space on the other side of the world. His heart wrenched and hope pulsed stronger inside him as he waited and waited for something to appear, counting the seconds and thinking that surely too much time had passed now and he wasn’t going to see anything at all. If he was breathing, he wasn’t aware of it. All the background murmurs of his body, breathing and blinking and swallowing, seemed to have been cut off. He was only a mind, a wretched soul full of wishes this well might never answer.

And then he saw it. A glimmer. An inexplicable glisten on the water, stirred up without movement. The glisten became a blaze as a thousand lights appeared and began to rearrange themselves into a vaguely human form. He saw a suggestion of broad shoulders, becoming clearer all the time, a pale neck which was slowly filling in. An ear there. A messy scattering here, forming slowly into hair. The lights changed colors slowly, shadows forming to show a strong jawline. Skin color came next, a soft shade of peach.

Just before it all would have come together, forming a perfect image that he could identify, a hand clamped around his shoulder.

It was as if he’d been struck like a lightning bolt, shocks arching through his entire body. He whirled around, hardly able to wrench himself away from the sight just as he was about to have his answer, but doing it anyway out of instinct.

Dylan stared uncomprehendingly into the face of a husky blond man. His confused mind thought that it was Ryan for a moment before a glimpse out of the corner of his eye confirmed that it wasn’t. Ryan was no longer on his knees, though his wobbly posture suggested he might end up back there at any moment.

“Who...” he started, just as recognition came. This was the alpha, Quincy, who they had seen for only a minute, talking to Jake from the doorway. Irritation made him bristle, and he went to knock the alpha’s hand away so he could finish what he started, but Quincy only held onto him all the harder. “Let me go,” he snapped. “I was...”

“Not important,” Quincy said.

Now Dylan became aware that Jake was also standing in the clearing, his arms wrapped around his body. Jake shifted around uncomfortably, lingering on the very edge as if he would bolt at any moment.

“But I...”

Dylan quieted as he looked into the alpha’s eyes. Though he’d seen very little of this man, there was no denying the look on his face was one that commanded attention. He didn’t seem afraid, but sad. And pitying.

Quincy spoke slowly, making sure the words were understood. “We just got a call from the police. Your ex-wife knew you would be coming here.”

I don’t understand what that has to do with anything. The well! I couldn’t see! I need to see! I have to know if it was Ryan!

That blurry suggestion of a man had certainly been an alpha but the colors were so faint, the gaps in the image so large, that he couldn’t say with any certainty one way or another who he had seen. He needed another look! Arden could wait, whatever the hell she wanted!

He was tensing, on the verge of wrenching around, when Quincy forced out the next sentence. “Your son is missing.”

And all thoughts of the well were driven from his mind.

What had this man just said?

His son was missing? How did a child go missing? They didn’t simply disappear into thin air or fly off over the horizon whenever they had the inkling! And he had been gone for less than a day. How could something like this happen in only a matter of hours?

“What did you say?”

Maybe he’d heard wrong. That seemed like a damn likely excuse with how preoccupied his mind had been, how loudly his heart was pounding in his ears. Dylan clung to that reasoning with both hands, praying, hoping. And he had thought that hope hurt before this? He was beginning to realize he didn’t know what true pain was.

He couldn’t hear what Quincy said. His own thoughts were too loud for that. However, he could see the words on those thin lips, could feel them reverberating inside him. The entire world seemed to be shattering, splintering in half.

He was only aware that things had changed when a scent reached his nostrils, penetrating even through the cold with its strength. Sweet, powerful musk. Ryan’s favorite cologne. His lucky cologne, he called it, and the declaration was always made with complete seriousness.

Lifting his head, Dylan looked around and found his best friend waiting at his side, one arm slung around his shoulders. The well didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but his son. He drank in the sight of that handsome face, the only bit of familiarity out here in the cold. “Take me home,” he whispered. “I need to go home. My son...Arden needs me.”

“I’ll take you,” Ryan said. He sounded as stunned as he looked, voice raw with grief. And then he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was no longer a mournful friend or a frightened man, but a capable pack leader. Dylan leaned into him, shuddering at the strength of those muscles against his body.

Why could Ryan be so many things to so many different people, when all Dylan managed to be was a disappointment? A pitiful friend, a bad husband, and now a terrible father.

“Let’s go.”