earth-brown summer coat, but it had dodged her first lunge easily, and continued to keep distance between them no matter how hard she tried. Finally it disappeared into the underbrush with a flick of its tail.
You probably taste stupid too.
Two days ago she’d caught a mouse, but that had been luck. She’d blundered on it by accident and had a paw on it almost before she’d realized what it was. If she had been on two legs, the thought of mousemeat would have been icky . As a wolf, however, the musty-smelling little ball of fur had tasted just fine. It had eased the hunger a little but not for long. Her mother could hunt—she’d often brought home a deer, and deer were sooooo yummy—but Anya hadn’t learned how yet; she wasn’t big enough. She wished and wished her mother was here with her. The men had hurt her, taken her somewhere ... but where? She’d told Anya to run; she hadn’t told her what to do next.
Anya wished she could Change back, but she didn’t dare. She missed her bed with its pink fuzzy pillows. She could spread the blankets on it (almost straight) so she wouldn’t be cold, and she knew how to make cereal with milk so she wouldn’t be hungry. But she couldn’t go home and besides, she didn’t know where home was anymore. She didn’t know where here was either. The forest had always been so beautiful with its sounds and smells, but now there was way too much of it.
Hungry, tired, and more lonely than she had ever been, even lonelier than when her best friend Sasha had moved away, she flopped down and rested her chin on her paws. She was almost asleep when her sensitive nostrils caught a faint scent from somewhere downwind. It wasn’t wolf... and it wasn’t human. It was like her . Hope dragged her to her feet and she trotted south on a narrow game trail that flanked the wide river.
Kenzie studied the satellite map, then eyed her grid lines. She’d had to set them up all over again after a young grizzly blundered through them in the night. He probably hadn’t even noticed he was dragging several hundred feet of string festooned with fluorescent tape and dozens of wire stakes. She’d followed the broad trail for nearly a mile until she found the huge tangle wrapped around some wild rosebushes.
The string hadn’t been salvageable, but she’d cut the stakes from the snarled mess before tossing it in her campfire pit. Luckily she had another roll. It had been one of the first things she’d learned about fieldwork, that somebody or something was likely to take out at least some of the gridlines on every dig. Her very first site had been trampled—and crapped on—by a trio of camels. At least the grizzly hadn’t left anything nasty behind.
A flicker of movement at the far edge of the clearing caught her eye. Every sense alert, she waited. Tried to catch a scent but whatever had moved was downwind of her. She sighed and hoped it wasn’t that damn bear again. If it was, she might have to Change and chase it off.
Nothing showed itself, but throughout the day Kenzie’s eyes strayed often to the thick forest growth beyond the dig site. Intuition told her she was being watched. The movement in the brush told her that, whatever it was, it sure wasn’t big enough to be the bear. And when daylight finally faded, making it too dark to work efficiently—long after 10 P.M. this far north—she sensed she was being followed all the way back to her camp. Still, her wolfen instincts didn’t raise any alarm. Some creature was probably just curious. A mountain lion had tracked her once, puzzingr once,led by her Changeling scent, yet Kenzie hadn’t been afraid. No animal in its right mind would attack her, not even the grizzly. The only creatures she had to be wary of were human beings.
Strings of tiny solar lights were glowing prettily around the perimeter of her camp when she arrived. She got her Coleman stove going, boiled water, and added it to a pouch of instant stew. It smelled, well,
You probably taste stupid too.
Two days ago she’d caught a mouse, but that had been luck. She’d blundered on it by accident and had a paw on it almost before she’d realized what it was. If she had been on two legs, the thought of mousemeat would have been icky . As a wolf, however, the musty-smelling little ball of fur had tasted just fine. It had eased the hunger a little but not for long. Her mother could hunt—she’d often brought home a deer, and deer were sooooo yummy—but Anya hadn’t learned how yet; she wasn’t big enough. She wished and wished her mother was here with her. The men had hurt her, taken her somewhere ... but where? She’d told Anya to run; she hadn’t told her what to do next.
Anya wished she could Change back, but she didn’t dare. She missed her bed with its pink fuzzy pillows. She could spread the blankets on it (almost straight) so she wouldn’t be cold, and she knew how to make cereal with milk so she wouldn’t be hungry. But she couldn’t go home and besides, she didn’t know where home was anymore. She didn’t know where here was either. The forest had always been so beautiful with its sounds and smells, but now there was way too much of it.
Hungry, tired, and more lonely than she had ever been, even lonelier than when her best friend Sasha had moved away, she flopped down and rested her chin on her paws. She was almost asleep when her sensitive nostrils caught a faint scent from somewhere downwind. It wasn’t wolf... and it wasn’t human. It was like her . Hope dragged her to her feet and she trotted south on a narrow game trail that flanked the wide river.
Kenzie studied the satellite map, then eyed her grid lines. She’d had to set them up all over again after a young grizzly blundered through them in the night. He probably hadn’t even noticed he was dragging several hundred feet of string festooned with fluorescent tape and dozens of wire stakes. She’d followed the broad trail for nearly a mile until she found the huge tangle wrapped around some wild rosebushes.
The string hadn’t been salvageable, but she’d cut the stakes from the snarled mess before tossing it in her campfire pit. Luckily she had another roll. It had been one of the first things she’d learned about fieldwork, that somebody or something was likely to take out at least some of the gridlines on every dig. Her very first site had been trampled—and crapped on—by a trio of camels. At least the grizzly hadn’t left anything nasty behind.
A flicker of movement at the far edge of the clearing caught her eye. Every sense alert, she waited. Tried to catch a scent but whatever had moved was downwind of her. She sighed and hoped it wasn’t that damn bear again. If it was, she might have to Change and chase it off.
Nothing showed itself, but throughout the day Kenzie’s eyes strayed often to the thick forest growth beyond the dig site. Intuition told her she was being watched. The movement in the brush told her that, whatever it was, it sure wasn’t big enough to be the bear. And when daylight finally faded, making it too dark to work efficiently—long after 10 P.M. this far north—she sensed she was being followed all the way back to her camp. Still, her wolfen instincts didn’t raise any alarm. Some creature was probably just curious. A mountain lion had tracked her once, puzzingr once,led by her Changeling scent, yet Kenzie hadn’t been afraid. No animal in its right mind would attack her, not even the grizzly. The only creatures she had to be wary of were human beings.
Strings of tiny solar lights were glowing prettily around the perimeter of her camp when she arrived. She got her Coleman stove going, boiled water, and added it to a pouch of instant stew. It smelled, well,
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