All right. I'm not settling for road-kill tonight. I'm going to have real proper fresh meat.

He'd had to resort to that again the prior night, after even less success than he had during his first night completely on his own. It worked, and his body didn't object, but his pride did. He was a wolf, he shouldn't have to eat what was already dead!

Determinedly, he prowled the woods, as stealthily as he could.

Everything had to drink, right? He oriented on the lake, stayed near the shore where he could, except where there were houses to avoid.

Aha! A raccoon, fishing around in the shallow water, and as yet unaware of his presence.

He circled so he was downwind, and dropped to his belly, inching his way closer. That was a respectably large animal, if he could kill it he'd have an excellent meal. If he could only be careful enough, remember every detail he'd learned in all his failed attempts for two nights...

Closer, and closer, and... pounce at it, grabbing for its neck.

It squealed and moved; his teeth tore deeply down its side without killing it. As it ran for the nearest tree, he jumped at it again, the taste of blood overriding any logic and putting pure instinct in control. This time he seized it by the back, shook it violently until he heard bone snap and felt it go limp.

He dropped it, panting—that was heavy. Triumph surged as he nudged the now-dead raccoon with his nose. He'd killed it! All alone, he'd hunted and killed and could now enjoy the rewards.

Intensely pleased with himself, he flipped it over, pinned it with one foot so he could rip its underside open and give himself access to the hot innards.

Quite some time later, very full and satisfied, he had a drink and gave the remains a last sniffing-over. Not much left, but it had been the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten.

He sought out a place that would be sunny later, on another glacial rock, and stretched out on his side contentedly. Now he knew he could do it, surely he could do it again when he needed to.

He felt no hunger when he woke the next night, thanks to the heavy meal he'd had.

That meant he could explore without that nagging at him.

Where was he? Still in Janicot Township, he thought, or at least near it. Some distance from Haven and home, though.

Maybe he should head back that way? There must be other wolves around, he'd caught traces here and there, and it would be both dangerous and discourteous to intrude into the territory of another pack. He could turn back towards Haven, that would be better.

It felt marvellous to be out and running. He used the roads, slipping away and out of sight from headlights and people when necessary, but that happened rarely. The moon above was waning yet still bright enough to call to him, to add to the thrill of the exercise.

There, he was getting close to Haven. He circled around the village proper, let his homing instincts lead him to a high stone wall by the lake.

This was home. If he stayed near here, all would be well. That was all he had to remember. There was plenty of room to hunt.

He sniffed around the gate, picked up the alpha male's scent, and that of the alpha bitch and others. Automatically, he marked the ground by the corner, letting anyone else who came along know he'd been there, and spun away.

* * *

Lazily, he stretched in the afternoon sun, enjoying the feel of it on his bare skin. It had taken him a few nights, but he'd mastered shifting back and forth between both forms, to take advantage of each. His wolf body might be better adapted for living this way, including in that it didn't need to be fed every day if he ate well enough, but his human body could do things like climb trees for eggs—or get the feathers off a bird so he didn't have to taste the vile things. He was becoming quite adept at shapechanging, in fact.

It would be time again soon to go hunting, so he turned his thoughts towards planning that. What trick could he devise for tonight?

He rolled over on his stomach to let the sun warm his back, grateful for the other stones acting as a windbreak. It was so wonderful here. He couldn't remember ever being so completely content. There was nothing to hurt him, no one telling him he was bad and would never be any use to anyone, no confusion or mysteries. Everything was finally fair, he ate if he was clever and quick enough to catch something, and around that he could play or explore, learning about all the new things.

Then why did he sometimes feel just a little lonely? This would be even more wonderful if there were someone to share it with... wouldn't it?

He tried to dismiss that, to concentrate on planning tonight's hunt, but it persisted with increasing strength. Wasn't there more to life than simply running around the woods wild, avoiding everyone? Maybe, a life where he was some use to someone, and a life where he had a pack to run with, instead of all by himself?

He wrestled with the problem without arriving at a solution, long past shifting back to fur as the air began to grow chill, on into the twilight he'd always loved and now only felt more at home in. He visited the nearby stream for a drink, and went prowling for his meal.

Not so very far away, a wolf howled, and a moment later in ragged order three others replied. He listened, and a few minutes later heard them repeat it, this time all closer together. He recognized them, though he wasn't sure how.

He could go join them, stay with them...

No! That was crazy! He could survive on his own, he didn't need anyone else! He didn't have to give anyone a chance to hurt him, ever again!

Except that the blissful happiness of the first days had faded, and he knew there was still something missing.

Uncertainly, he turned in the direction of the last set of howls. Maybe he could have company, just for tonight, they must know a lot more than he did and maybe they could teach him. He didn't have to stay, he could always come back, the woods and wind and moon would always be ready to accept him without question.

He got near where he thought they must be, but couldn't find them. Shakily, he sat back and coiled his tail around his feet, and concentrated hard on throwing back his head and howling. It wasn't as musical as theirs, but it carried.

Immediate response, it didn't take long at all for four large furry bodies to come racing through the forest to him. They greeted him joyfully, everyone trying to welcome him at once, alpha wolf and alpha bitch and the other two, telling him so much all in one confused tangle that he couldn't understand anything except their excitement and delight.

The alpha bitch finally began to snap at the others, driving them off far enough that he had room to breathe, while she shielded him with her own pale-furred body. Affectionately, she licked his ear—the one that had been savaged by a groundhog some time before.

Hunt? she asked, quite clearly, though the human part of his mind couldn't figure out how. He thought it was in large part body language that his instincts translated for him.

Hunt, he agreed. Hungry.

Teach, promised the other male wolf, not the alpha one. Hunt.

The alpha wolf, large and dark brown, paced back and forth a few times, thinking. He must have reached a decision, because he spun around and loped away. The rest followed.

The older wolves showed him how to hunt sleeping ducks, brown ones with bright iridescent heads, as a team: they found a trio of them sleeping under a tree near a pond, and the alpha male nudged him into following the other male and alpha bitch around between them and the water. The alpha male and the chestnut bitch stalked them, and while the alpha male seized one, the chestnut bitch missed and the third took off as well—directly towards the three waiting wolves. He snatched at one in vain, but the other two caught the escaping birds. The five of them shared the three ducks amicably, the alphas claiming less of the best bits than they could have. All four of the older wolves, in fact, let the young black one eat what he realized belatedly was more than his share.

He liked having the company, being able to smell the other wolves all around him, even more than the food.

Bellies full, they got down to the serious business of fun.

The alpha bitch dropped into play-position: chest low, ears forward, tail waving. He obligingly pounced at her, and she darted away, inviting him to chase her. The chestnut bitch jumped out of nowhere to attack him and send both of them into a sparring match of playful growls and snaps. The alpha wolf pursued the chestnut bitch in and out around the trees, until the black wolf crouched behind one and leaped out at him, startling him; the alpha wolf knocked him down and pinned him, not hard with his greater mass, and licked mischievously at face and ears and throat while his captive squirmed halfheartedly.

In someone's deserted pasture, the alpha bitch shifted to human, picked up a stick to throw as far as she could, and the others raced after it. After a time, the alpha wolf traded with her, so she could have a chance at the game too. The black wolf was smaller than all save the alpha bitch, much the same size. That gave him a little more manoeuvrability, enough so that a reasonable number of times he was the one who snatched up the stick and ran back with it before anyone could take it from him.

It felt like too soon when the other wolves said farewells and scattered home, yet he had to admit he was exhausted. The alpha wolf waited for him, and together they loped back to a grey stone wall, and in a gate, and up to a porch that looked over a fountain.

There they curled up together, sharing warmth, and slept.