Legend of the White Wolf

"We may have to shapeshift," David warned, "as much as I don't want to."



Elizabeth stayed close to David, not saying a word.



"I thought you liked being a wolf," Owen shot over his shoulder as they made their way through the deep snow to the barn. "Maybe a couple of the snowmobiles are still in residence, and some of our gear is in there."



"Being a wolf is fine. I love the freedom, the hunt, the attuned senses we have now. But trying to communicate to Cameron is another thing. And then what do we do about getting some clothes in case we decide to shift back? Even though we're getting better at this, we still don't have the shifting completely under control. I can imagine us in the middle of nowhere, stark naked."



"Yeah, well, that's true enough." Although Owen hated that it was, that they still hadn't gotten the shifting under complete control.



"If you can control it, I agree we'll need to shift," Elizabeth said, "but there may be some spare clothes in the barn in the event either of you can't."



Trevor had warned them it might take months to get the hang of shapeshifting, sometimes years, depending on the personality of a newly turned lupus garou.



Owen jerked open the outer building door and hurried inside, briefly noting the empty place where a couple of snowmobiles had sat. "Damn." He started rummaging through a box, but it appeared to contain just tents. And a credit card. He lifted it up and smiled. "Trevor Hodges's. Might come in handy, if we can use it where no one knows him."



"He's probably lived here for eons, and everyone would know him. But sure, take it just in case. It might come in handy."



"Everyone knows him," Elizabeth said, digging through another box.



David dove into another one. "Sleeping bags in here. Yours and mine, too, Owen. But no sign of any winter clothes."



"Well, hell. Let's get out of here before someone sounds the alarm."



That's when they heard angry shouting from the main lodge.



"Too late for that," David grumbled.



David grabbed Elizabeth's hand and they bolted out of the barn with Owen and ran straight for the cover of the nearest woods.



Chapter 16



THE WOLFISH GRIN ON HILSON'S FACE TOLD FAITH HE MEANT business as he jerked off his jacket. Only she was afraid he intended to turn her when she'd already been turned! She didn't relish getting bitten again. But then she heard two snowmobiles headed in her direction. Cameron! But someone else, too, and she didn't think it could be anyone who would help them. Kintail's men, or…



Something crashed some distance behind her and curses carried through the woods like a long-distance echo. Thank God, not Cameron's voice. Hilson glanced in that direction, his expression turning from wolfish intent to red-faced anger. "Adams," he growled under his breath.



The police officer?



Then another crashing sound and more curses. Some from the same man, some from another.



"Hell, and Whitson."



She didn't know what to think if the men following them were the police officers. All she knew was if she waited for Cameron, and Hilson changed before she could leave, he'd bite her. Even if she tried to outrun him, he'd be able to keep up as slowly as she had to maneuver between trees on the snowmobile. And in his wolf form, she figured he'd have the advantage.



Then she swore she saw a red wolf's amber eyes peering between spruces, watching her, watching Hilson. Leidolf? If it was him, would he come to her rescue if she needed him to?



Hilson was stripped down to his shirt and pants and boots. She made the decision right or wrong, turned her machine, and headed in the direction of the lake— unfortunately, farther from her destination.



Hilson swore at her and she was sure he was ripping off the buttons on his shirt as he tried to finish undressing quickly, although she couldn't hear it over the roar of her machine and didn't dare look back. When she'd gone some distance, the vehicles behind her stopped suddenly, but then shifted in her direction. Cameron to the rescue. She and he could stop whoever was following them next. But in the meantime, she pulled her snowmobile into the woods off the trail and waited for Cameron, hoping Hilson would run off in another direction, afraid of what could happen if he messed with Cameron.



Except for the approaching snowmobiles, the woods were quiet and still and deeply shaded. They smelled of evergreen and a chilled wetness. She glanced back at the white woods, the sudden urge of wanting to blend in with them overwhelming her, as if a wolf guardian angel was nudging her in the right direction. Before she could control what she was doing, she began yanking off her own clothes. The cold tightened her skin as she tossed her sweater and shirt. Chill bumps raised up on her arms. She jerked off her boots and then her pants. Cold, freezing cold. Standing beside her snowmobile, completely naked, she knew then the wolf bite had made her go insane.



When she thought she'd die from exposure, her body began to warm. A heat, like what she imagined a hot flash to feel like, invaded every inch of her body. That's when Cameron came into view on his snowmobile. Just before her body twisted painlessly, effortlessly, like giving a good stretch to knotted up muscles. Then she dropped down on four paws and stared at her black claws against the white snow in disbelief. Her legs were skinny and long and covered with white fur. This was just too damned unreal.



"Faith," Cameron yelled, right before Hilson lunged as a wolf, or at least that's who she assumed it was, and knocked Cameron off his snowmobile.



Her heart nearly quit beating. But before she could come to his rescue, a man driving a snowmobile behind him shouted, "Cameron! Damn it!" He jerked his machine to a stop, drew a gun from beneath his parka, and fired at the wolf, hitting him four times, before the wolf bolted into the woods.



Faith stood stock still as the man turned his attention to her, afraid the man would shoot her next, although she wanted to make sure Cameron was all right. The man held his gun aimed at her, but didn't fire. Faith didn't move, just whimpered at Cameron, wanting reassurance he was all right.



He stirred from his prone position, face first in the snow. He raised his head, groaned, and saw her. "Faith," he whispered, and she noted the deep regret in his voice.



Yeah, well he'd done this to her, but it was her own damn fault, too.



Cameron turned to the other man. "Don't shoot the wolf, Gavin. She's all right."



Gavin? The partner Cameron had left back in Seattle? She hoped Hilson would survive his partner's bullets, but she was glad Gavin was here to help Cameron locate their other partners.



"Why are Arctic wolves out here?" Gavin asked, his voice full of disbelief as he holstered his gun, then climbed off his snowmobile. "You all right?"



"Yeah." Cameron shook his head, dislodging some of the snow from his hat and ski mask and glanced back at Faith.



She wanted to approach him, lick his cheek, and nudge him to see that he truly was all right. He appeared a little dazed. Certainly, if he'd been perfectly all right, he would be on his feet already.



"How do you know this one's okay, when the other attacked you?" Gavin asked, helping Cameron to stand.



Cameron leaned into Gavin, and she knew then Cameron had been hurt.



"Faith," Cameron said, reaching his gloved hand out to her, his attention focused on her eyes, his concern for her evident.



Appreciating his gesture, she still didn't move. Gavin could have killed Hilson, and she didn't relish getting shot also. Just one wrong move and the cowboy would pull his gun. Guaranteed.



"Faith," Cameron said again, and he tried to move toward her, but he seemed to be in pain. His face was hidden by the mask and goggles, but he was leaning so hard against Gavin, she assumed he must have hurt his leg or hip or something.



She inched toward him, ready to bolt if Gavin reached for his gun. She probably couldn't outrun the first bullet, but maybe subsequent ones she could. Hilson seemed to have been too focused on taking Cameron down to notice Gavin had hit him right away. She wouldn't have that problem.



She smelled a hint of wolf nearby, carried to her on the breeze. A hint of… red wolf. Leidolf. Was he just curious what would happen? Or was he watching out for her in case she needed him? She liked to think he was there for her, if need be. Although he seemed kind of mysterious, willing to help, but then again, not wanting to get mixed up in Cameron and her affairs.



"Are you sure…" Gavin said, his hand reaching under his parka.



"Don't shoot her," Cameron ordered, his voice angry. "She's mine."



Gavin chuckled a little under his breath. "You haven't had a dog since old Dusty died. But at least she was a Lab. An Arctic wolf?" He shook his head. "I'm sure there's a story behind all this. Can you make it, Cameron? Can you ride?" He glanced back at the clothes lying behind the snowmobile and frowned. "Was Faith driving this snowmobile? Hell, what happened to her?"



Cameron just shook his head. "She's okay. She'll be fine. We need to get to Millinocket," he said, his gaze focused on Faith's. "That's where Faith will go."



But how could she go there dressed in her wolf coat? And what if she decided to change back all of a sudden out here in the middle of nowhere without a stitch of clothes. She'd freeze to death. Not to mention embarrassing herself to death. And if anyone saw her shift, she'd put the whole werewolf world in jeopardy—which she still had a hard time believing existed beyond Kintail's pack, and now maybe Leidolf's.



"You have to follow us, Faith," Cameron said, pleading with her.



"You named the wolf after the woman you're running around with?" Gavin asked, his voice incredulous. "Does she know?"



"Grab the clothes and bags off the snowmobile. We'll have to return for the machine later." While Gavin did as Cameron asked, Cameron crouched, groaning with the effort and reached out his hand to Faith.



She couldn't reconcile the emotions swamping her. She was a wolf now, and no matter how she looked at it, this was just plain bad news. Usually, she felt pretty well in control of her life. Not now. Now she was a danger to others of her kind and a danger to herself. And there was nothing she could do about it. She didn't move toward Cameron, as much as his eyes pleaded with her to draw closer. She didn't want to be petted like a damned dog. She didn't want him to hug her and try to reassure her everything would be all right, because it wouldn't be. Leidolf might have been right in saying they were what they were now. But having been born a lupus garou, he can't have known how it would feel to someone like Cameron or her.