Cassie Lifted Her Nose

Was she searching for a mate? The other wolf he'd smelled? His woodland nymph?

He tore off his clothes, decided Cassie's backpack was as good a place as any to hide his things and shoved them inside. Then he hid the backpack again, all of his senses on higher alert as he surveyed the area, making sure no one was about.

Once assured he was alone, he stretched his arms heavenward, welcoming the warmth in his muscles as if he had just immersed himself in a steamy bath designed to loosen up the tension in every cell.

Then with super lupus Garou speed, he shifted, his muscles and bones reshaping wondrously, effortlessly, so fast he was human, then wolf the next instant.

Adrenaline coursed through his bloodstream as the exhilaration of hunting down the red wolf filled him with urgency.

He dashed off with a twist, heading straight for the wolf in need, hoping he'd find Cassie.

* * *

In the instances where Cassie had observed litters as a wolf biologist, the wolf packs had allowed her to watch the pups, even play with them as they grew older and began to leave the den, usually in her human form.

In the case of the wolf pack she'd lived with after her family died, she'd stayed with the pack in mostly her wolf form because of her youth and having no one else's protection.

This situation was different. The female was warier and had every right to be. She didn't have anyone to protect her litter of pups if Cassie turned out to be bad news.

Unless the males she heard calling were from the she-wolf's pack. Then Cassie would have a whole pack to observe. It didn't make any sense that they wouldn't be near the she-wolf, protecting her and the pups.

A peace offering and a much-needed meal for the she-wolf and her pups might help the mother accept Cassie. Sniffing the wet air, she smelled a rabbit nearby.

Ready to hunt, Cassie turned and loped off, despite having hunted only for the sake of survival when she'd been a teen, too many years ago. How hard could it be?

She was a wolf, and hunting had to be instinctive. Like riding a bicycle was for a human.

Cassie poked her nose around and spied the elusive brown rabbit, half-hidden in the dripping wet brush, his eyes wide. Cassie dodged for it, but with his big back feet, he shoved away from the ground and fled.

Before she could reach him, he dove into a burrow. She poked her nose into the damp hole, her hope to provide a meal for the half-starved wolf and pups her overriding incentive.

The rabbit hopped out of another tunnel entrance to the den a few feet away and into a thicket of blackberries. Cassie thrust her nose into the brambles attempting to reach him, but he disappeared into another rabbit hole in the middle of the thorny shrubs.

No matter how hard Cassie dug with her front paws, trying to reach him, and shoved her snout through the arching, twisting blackberry vines, scratching her nose on the barbed thicket, she could not reach the furball.

Which made her think of Alice in Wonderland and the Mad Hatter and how futile her efforts were. Exasperated with herself, Cassie smelled... water. And when she listened hard... the sound of running water. A creek or river nearby. Fish maybe?

With the rain still lightly falling, she ran in the direction of the water and soon came upon a rushing creek splashing over boulders. A fallen tree limb ambushed the creek's path on one side.

Fifteen Mile Creek, if she recalled the map she had of the area. Dorsal fins surfaced all over the place! Salmon. And lots of them.

Nearer the centre of the creek, the boulders were bigger, the water deeper, swifter, and darker. Entering the creek in her red-wolf form, her eyes glued to the salmon, Cassie watched them swim closer to her, and she began stalking them in the shallows.

Clouds hung low in the sky, and the water was snow-chilled. The raindrops increased in volume and frequency, striking the water with a loud slushing sound, but Cassie's outer guard hairs kept her from getting soaked and prevented her from freezing.

The salmon swam nearer over the water-rounded stones, some drawing close to her legs, immersed in the flowing stream, and bumping her a time or two.

Just a minute or two more, patience being a great wolf virtue, she waited, panting, her jaws readied. Almost smiling. Then spying the biggest, fattest salmon headed in her direction, perfect for a wolf-litter feast, she lunged.

Her paws spread wide, her footing sure even on the slippery moss-covered rocks, she snapped up what must have been about a ten-pounder.

The salmon struggled to get loose. She gripped him tighter, her mouth dripping with water, her outer dense coat of fur wet. She clambered over the rocks and left the stream, shook, and headed back toward the wolf's den, her head held high.

With a loping gait, Cassie raced back to the area where she had discovered the wolf and her pups, the Chinook salmon held tight in her jaws.

When she reached the site where she'd seen the wolf, the female had vanished. Her stomach flip-flopping, Cassie hurried to the location where she thought the pups had been. She dropped the fish and poked around at the blackberry brambles.

Smelling the pups and the meat and milk the mother had fed to them, which meant they were around two weeks or older to be eating meat, but not hearing any sound from them, Cassie lifted her nose.

She tried to get a whiff of the scent of the red wolf or her litter of pups and which direction she'd moved. Cassie headed away from the den, pausing to poke her snout into a hole that a badger had hastily dug. No scent of the wolf or her pups.