Opening the Cage (3 page)

A pit.

The smell made him whine, and he thought he might change back to his human form, just to dull everything. That and opening doors would be much easier. He shifted, wincing away from the body before heading down. The scents down here were strange and he could pick them up even as a human. They were fascinating. New.

He had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the gloom before he saw the cages. Two giant cages, far enough apart that no one could touch from inside.

What the hell?

He headed over, fingers on the bars. There were white hairs everywhere, pure white, silky soft. His nose itched, almost like he was going to sneeze. It wasn’t bad, though, it was just intense.

A whine tried to push out of him, surprising him.

He shook it off, exploring the rest of the room. Thank God he’d shifted to his human body. His wolf senses would have been completely overwhelmed.

The room was stark, bare, awful, drenched in sorrow.

Who’d been in there? Caged, unable to move more than eight feet, unable to see the moon. It made his chest hurt, just thinking about it.

The cages were old, too, rusted in the back. One was mostly bare, but the other had ancient toys in the back, gnawed on. He rattled one, testing its strength. The damn thing held firm, solid as a rock. The one with the toys had belonged to a female, the other a male. That cage had been chewed and battered at, the lock bent and twisted. Good for him.

They’d been dragged out, that much was clear. Someone had fought.

The claw marks on the dirt floor weren’t from pups, though; they were from full-sized wolves. That was more surprising than anything else. If the two actually existed, then they were adults, and damn, they might be helpful if he found them.

He grabbed one of the toys, sniffed it, the scent echoing in him. He’d find them. He would. Someone needed to teach them the joy of running with the moon. Canyon took the toy with him, leaving the sad space behind. He’d need it to distinguish the scent once he got away from the smell of blood and burned wood.

He buried the body of Granite’s Jewel and the other female, the one he didn't know, keening softly. Sweet girl. Poor baby. She’d fought so hard. Tried to be brave. He could tell.

He checked the other houses, found burned papers, lots of trashed closets, but no other people.

No vehicles had been left behind —either—trashed or otherwise. How the fuck had they survived with no trucks? No snowmobiles. No nothing. How isolated had these people been? It hadn't always been like this, not when he and Granite had trained together. That meant Markus and the rest would be easy to track, though. If they’d left in a vehicle, the signature would be a quick find.

He growled low and let his wolf come again, that toy he had flooding him with scent. Yes, there. There were tracks, as well. One heavily laden truck. This would be easier than finding a white rabbit when the snow melted.

Nose to the ground, he started to move. Whatever they were, wherever they were, he’d find them.

Chapter Three

No one had fed them in the three days since the Alpha had driven them away. Riana could hear Wend, rustling and whining in the other cage. She didn’t lift her head to look. If she looked, she’d be tempted by the bowl of fetid water, and it was almost empty.

Almost.

They had both heard the rutting; the bad one and the new girl had barely stopped. Maybe they hoped to create a new pack.

Something rattled her cage, and her eyes popped open. A man stood in front of her. She yelped, scrabbled back, and he whined softly, panted.

Stared at her.

Wend.

His legs shook like he was a newborn, and his hands tremored like an earthquake, but it was her Wend, human and right there, trying to work the latch on her cage door.

She whined softly, trying to make herself stand. Out. Out. Please.

This was not home.

She didn’t know where that was anymore, but this wasn’t it. She was just so hungry. So tired. She managed to get to all fours, though, and drink the last of her water.

Wend opened her cage and she slipped out, whining softly, shaking, scared. She didn’t go out of the cage. Neither of them ever got out of their cages anymore except to exercise occasionally.

Suddenly Wend was there, beside her, whole and fuzzy, muzzle by hers, almost touching her.
Run
.

She heard him. In her head.

We have to run. Now. The Alpha is gone.

Yes, but the Alpha would kill them when he found them.

Wend’s head tossed.
Better dead than caged. Please
.

She sniffed the ground, then stepped forward. She could run. She could. If Wend could change for her, she could go. With him.

The ground was cold under her pads, and she was terrified, knowing the Alpha would scent them. Wend didn’t let her stop, rest; he nipped at her heels, at her flanks.
Go. Go.

She could feel him behind her, pushing her on, his strength surprising, desperate. He wanted them as far away as possible, wanted her to be safe.

They hit a creek, the water moving fast and she stopped, staring at Wend as he splashed into the creek, barking. No. No, that was water.

Wend turned back on himself, staring in return. He barked, bouncing a little.
Safe water
.

Safe?
She whined, but then she heard something behind her, and she headed into the bitter cold creek. Her legs tried to seize, but her fear was stronger than her pain, so she stumbled forward, called by Wend’s sounds.

Wend came to her, teeth closing on her ruff, pulling her through the water. He whined encouragement the whole way.

They didn’t cross; they followed the creek until she was so cold she couldn’t see anymore. Only then did Wend pull her to shore, scrambling up a big bank to pull her up, too. When she flopped down, sides heaving, he nosed at her, barking softly.

She whined for him.
Just go. So tired. Just go and let me sleep
.

Wend barked once, the sound sharp, and bit her. He bit her.

She stumbled to her feet, bared her teeth, hurt and shocked and scared.

Wend nudged her.
Run
.

Riana growled, but started moving, running along, not wanting more biting. They were going to fall over dead, eventually, but he kept her going.

Finally her body simply stopped. She tried to take another step and the world went black.

When she could see again she lay on her side, and Wend was licking her muzzle. He wasn’t leaving her. He was staying right there until she got up.

Up.

I’m scared.
She didn’t want to do this. This was big. The world was big.

Up.

He tugged gently at her ear. His whole body shook with fatigue, but Wend was still trying to save her.

She got to her feet, her body rattling. Up.

Before she could even make it all the way to her four paws, though, Wend whipped around to face the water, a low growl coming out of him. Her hackles rose, but she couldn’t make her legs work.

She growled, too, not even sure why she was doing it.

A sharp bark answered her, and it wasn’t Wend. It wasn’t anyone she knew.

Wend snarled, defending her, but she could see how his legs were trembling.

The new wolf circled, coming up where she could see, and he wasn’t one of the ones who had taken them. He was huge but sleek, dark black and brown fur thick with good nutrition. He was beautiful.

She whimpered softly, backing away, paws sliding on the creek bank.

Wend kept growling, warning the big male to back off, but he just kept coming. The big one started vocalizing, calling to them in tiny yelps, trying to soothe.

Riana’s eyes rolled, panic flooding her. She was outside. She was tired. Cold. Hurting.

Frightened.

Wend came to her, propping her up with his wet body, the touch jolting her with sudden energy. Oh…Wend was touching her. It had never even occurred to her before now.

She leaned hard, eyes crossing as she stood there. Touching him. All that time in those cages, just that far apart. Now they were together.

She was so wrapped up in it that she missed the other wolf coming close, his muzzle touching hers.

Lightning hit her, or at least that what it felt like, and her whole world went a bright, blinding white. Wend slammed against her side, his whines sounding far away and so confused.

Mates!

The word tore from her, coming from somewhere deep inside her.

Wend tried to growl, his teeth baring, but he couldn’t even manage it, really. It came out more of a whine. The big wolf just chuffed, nudging at her, at Wend, turning them away from the bank of the creek.

The big wolf was warm, sure, strong, and she was so tired and cold. He led them up, Wend staying right beside her, holding her up. She felt his ribs heaving as he shivered.

Somewhere deep inside she was beginning to think it was all over. That everything had changed too much. She’d never had to worry about change. Everything had been the cage.

Now there was sound and touch and smell and this big wolf that made her soul howl. What was she supposed to do with all of it?

* * * *

Canyon had to get these two out of the open, somewhere safe. They were pale white beacons to any kind of predator, and they could barely walk.

He’d found the Pair.

He couldn’t even spare more than a few seconds to think about the electric shock he’d felt when they all touched. He’d put that away for later.

Skinny and wild—the female looked panicked. The male, though, that one was going to protect her to the death. Canyon appreciated that. He just needed the poor guy to know he was there to help. They needed a bivouac for the rest of the day. They’d move better at night.

Hell, they’d move better with some food and a fucking nap. Poor babies. He barked at the male, trying to get him to understand. They had to get someplace where he could shift and cover them.

The male looked at him, vocalizing softly, following, dragging the female along.

That was it.
Yes. Good boy.

She was near out of her mind, eyes rolling, feet stumbling along. When she stumbled and almost fell for the third time, Canyon dropped back and put his shoulder to hers, keeping her up with the help of the other male.

That electric zing hit him again, and they all moved faster, pushing through the underbrush. Canyon pushed them, knowing it was a little cruel, but he had no idea how much of a head start they might have. When he finally found a den it was early afternoon, and even he needed a rest.

The male stared at him, the female simply collapsing, unable to move another inch. Canyon went to her, sniffing her breath, making sure she would make it through the night. She would do if he could get her something to eat.

The smaller male came to her, keening softly, tongue sliding on her muzzle, her ear.

Canyon got it. It was hard not to just stay there and protect her. Still, they were hidden by a couple of big rocks and a good smattering of underbrush. It was time to hunt.

A squirrel rustled close by and the male’s ears twitched. That was good. That was very good. Canyon hadn’t been sure the hunting instinct would be there at all. His tongue lolled with approval before he sprang out of their den to catch the little guy.

The male watched him, refusing to leave her side, eyes glowing in the dimming light. Canyon was back in seconds, dropping the squirrel in front of the tiny female, knowing her male would help her if she didn’t have the strength to tear into it.

The male chirruped and called, cajoled and threatened her into one bite, two, before her muzzle went back to the ground. That was going to be a problem. They couldn’t afford for her to give up. Canyon pushed right up, snapping up a bit and chewing it hard before nuzzling her mouth open and pushing it in. That would make it easier.

Slowly, between the two of them, they fed her, the lean male learning quickly, eyes sharp and smart.

Canyon gave that narrow snout a lick of approval, letting the male know he’d done well and that Canyon approved. Then he turned and went to hunt up something else to eat. The two might not be able to stomach much more, as skinny as they were, but Canyon needed more food.

When he returned, the male was human and bent before the female, creek water brought over in a bowed piece of bark, trickling it into her mouth.

Pale as snow, with icy blue eyes and white blond hair, the man looked stunning, Canyon thought. This wasn’t the time for admiration, though. He dropped the two squirrels he’d caught on the ground, trying hard to let his human form come.

The man backed away, whining softly, fear harsh on the air.