Born Wolf - 2. Chapter 1.2

Friday nights were pack meet nights. Meets did not always mean hunting, and Degan Canon had got his senior pack members to organize everything for an early spring barbeque. Sure it would be dark, yes they would have to wear blankets when human because it was too cold to go naked, but the whole pack didn’t fit inside any one room in the house. If the pack got any larger they were going to have to remodel or something.

Most werewolves tried to look their best for pack meets, but Kurt was not in that number. He followed his father in, a crate of fizzy soft drinks on one shoulder, a bag containing six racks of pork ribs in the other hand, looking just as shabby as he did every day. His duty done with the carrying, he shed his clothes without half an ounce of self-consciousness and shifted in less than ten seconds. His jaw creaked when he yawned, and only then did he rub himself along his alpha’s leg as the older man stood at the barbeque.

“Well it’s nice to see you too Kurt.” Degan smiled with his lips closed at the young wolf and waved away Dick Smith as he reached for the bag of meat Kurt had set down. “I’m fine Smith. Stop fussing. Your dad thinks I’m an old man.”

The big black wolf grinned, his pink tongue lolling, ears up and happy. If you didn’t know better you could almost trick yourself into thinking it a very large and friendly dog. This was how Degan Canon liked to converse with the most unconventional member of his pack. As a wolf, Kurt was happy, easy to understand, and his reactions predictable if dangerous. He was respectful of his alpha if not of anyone else. As a human Kurt was unmanageable. But it was the wolf on wolf situations that were becoming most troubling. Degan tried not to let his concern show, chatting to his pack son about the food for the meet, so much was required to feed forty-one wolves of varying ages and tastes. The youngest was just four, there were seven kids in all who had not yet reached puberty and would stay human at all times. Degan joked about it, but he was getting older. Kurt seemed larger every week, his wolf shape big and imposing in a way his human form was not. Sooner or later, Kurt was going to become more than a passing worry and Degan was concerned Smith would no longer be able to hold his son in check.

Kurt sniffed his way around the big open yard. The place smelt of his alpha and his pack family and he spent a while rubbing and rolling himself on the grass, using the textures to heighten his senses regardless of how ridiculous he looked. He slipped into the forest to relieve himself rather than mark territory, and came back with his tail high and tongue out at the scent of meat grilling. His wolfish smile snapped closed when he saw the Dean family chatting to his parents. Koby Dean took after his mother, small, wiry, and shy. His father wasn’t high ranking, and kept his head dipped to Dick’s own dominance in the conversation. Kurt growled and snuffed, turning his back on Koby as the boy searched for a place to put down the bowls of potato salad he was holding. The snub did not go unnoticed.

A bark and a growl and Kurt turned to see the rich brown fur of Henry Tanner’s big brother. Philip Tanner was twenty, still living at home and a loyal pack member to his alpha, despite being as yet unsettled and without a mate. Philip had aspirations. His parents were not high ranking, but he wanted to be, and stepping on pack members who annoyed him was his way of showing dominance. Kurt raised his head and flattened his ears against his skull, teeth bared. Philip’s brother was clever enough not to challenge the black wolf. Philip had yet to learn this lesson. Philip snarled and lunged, but Kurt side stepped him and turned quickly, never leaving his back exposed to the other wolf.

They circled each other, and then Philip sprang and ducked to try and close his teeth on Kurt’s throat. Kurt twisted, angled his head and brought his fangs down in a crushing blow on the back of Philip’s neck, pinning the brown wolf to the ground. He had the older Tanner brother whimpering in a matter of moments. Kurt let him go, trod on him for good measure and took off across the garden, yipping, tail held high at the sight of his favourite person.

Jene Camra was Degan’s granddaughter, and she hugged her grandpa and handed over the pork loin she had brought with her before opening her arms for the big black wolf. Jene was easily Kurt’s favourite person in the whole world. Three years his senior, she was the only other pack member who didn’t differentiate between the human and wolf, washed with natural soap all the time and at least tried to understand her pack brother. Her clothing was made of layers of organic cotton and hemp and Kurt burrowed and nuzzled into her as she sank to her knees.

“How’s my favourite little brother?” She spoke more into his fur, but Kurt felt the vibrations and understood the words and wagged his tail. “I see you started without me.” She gestured at his faintly bloody teeth. “Who’d you beat up this time?”

Kurt jerked his tail at Philip Tanner, slinking along the fence line with his tail between his legs. The brown wolf had the good sense to drop his head when he felt the golden eyes on him. Kurt took Jene’s sleeve between his teeth and tugged gently, urging her to come and play.

“I have to help cook first.”

Kurt whined.

“Well I wanna talk too but you could always change back, you know.” Kurt shook his big wedge shaped head from side to side and turned around, sitting down with a huff. “Oh! Don’t be like that.” Jene made a small whimpering noise in her throat to get Kurt’s attention. “At least stay here with me while I cook? Yeah? No more fighting.”

Kurt was content as people began to show up to stay at Jene’s feet, watching human shapes shed for wolves and back again. Somehow he got left minding the cubs, little chubby human hands stroked at his fur and pulled his ears. For some reason, Kurt could forgive the cubs nearly everything. He growled if they went too far, but that was how cubs learnt, and he watched over them while they played, head on his paws.

He was almost fully relaxed, his muscles seeming to turn to liquid when a new scent reached him over the luscious aroma of cooking meat. A scent like the hot desert, spicy and warm, salty and rough. It was a soft smell, orange and gold, and Kurt hated that his first thought was to welcome the owner of the scent with a happy yip and a wagging tail. He hunkered down in his anger, his thick fur bristling. The gorgeous tanned form of Tahryn Spencer dropped down beside him, too close to be really polite. Kurt flattened his ears, his tail lying on the ground, a clear sign to go away. He was shocked when a heavy smooth hand landed on his head and started stroking him. There it was again, the treacherous thud, the heat which spread through him and threatened to overwhelm his instincts. Instincts won and a heartbeat later Kurt had sunk his fangs into the hand.

He snarled at Tahryn as the young man clutched his hand, blood dripping into his shirt sleeve.

“Ow! Jesus Christ!”

“Kurt!” Jene ran to the pair, eyes wide. “What did you do?”

Kurt snarled and snapped his jaws, his eyes never leaving Tahryn’s face. Tahryn was concentrating on his own pain, and on not swearing in front of the kids, and Kurt smirked. The two blond wolves who were Tahryn’s eldest sister’s snapped and snarled at him but knew better than to spring and suddenly Kurt was facing off pretty much every wolf shaped member of his pack, growling and gnashing his fangs.

“ENOUGH!” Degan Canon’s roar, the voice of the alpha was enough to still everyone, wolf and human alike, “Leave them be, I will talk to them.” Degan handed off his apron and barbeque tongs to Smith with a nod. “Here. Now!” He stormed into the house. Kurt kept his head up at he walked, even though other members of the pack, older than him, snarled low. Kurt didn’t trust Tahryn to go behind him, so he followed the bleeding human indoors.

Degan’s study was pretty normal, apart from the dog beds. An oak desk and books shelves ranged around the walls, but with the alpha bristling with fury neither boy took much opportunity to notice their surroundings.

“Change back. Right now!” Kurt had more sense than to argue and changed fluidly to a human, but stayed crouched low.

“He touched me!” His voice was practically a bark and he snarled at Tahryn.

“Come here.” The alpha’s voice was suddenly soft and loving. “Let me see.” He took Tahryn’s hand and rubbed over the already healing bite marks. They would be raised and red for a day or two, but there was no permanent damage. “Well thank god for that. Kurt, you forget how sharp your teeth are.”

Kurt’s chin jerked up. Defiance.

“I didn’t forget anything. He shouldn’t have sprung up on me like that.”

“True, but you have to learn to be more patient.” Degan was using his serious voice, standing off against Kurt, who looked like he might jump up and attack any moment.

“Why?” Kurt stood, not noticing his naked form. “He’s a year older than I am. He should know how to act!”

“I’m fucking dyslexic OK?” Tahryn snapped. “I just don’t see things the way you do.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes and snarled.

“Oh, go and fuck your chew toy.”

“Why you little-!”

“BOYS!” Kurt stopped, snapping to face his alpha. “You will learn to get along or so help me I will knock your skulls together so hard you’ll have to share your remaining brain cells. No more of this fighting.” He turned his back on them, a gesture of trust even Kurt didn’t feel they’d earned, and strode from the room. Within seconds Kurt was back wearing black fur.

“Oh…” Tahryn’s voice followed him as the wolf left. “So it’s not like we can have an actual conversation then?”

*

Tahryn left his new alpha’s study to find the barbeque in full swing. There was no formal meeting, no council. Just forty one werewolves wearing various shapes, gathered in the large garden, lit by tiki torches and lights from the back of the house. There was eating and laughing and playing. Tahryn couldn’t help it, his eyes sought out Kurt, sitting off to one side, munching happily on a chunk of ribs, lying next to a slender pale wolf that was almost white. She ate daintily, but Kurt tore into his food like the canine he was. He looked to see Tahryn and growled. Tahryn looked away quickly, and was mugged by his sisters, now human and apart from little Isla, in various states of undress.

He shook off their concern and went to get food. He was served by a tandem combination of his own father and Dick Smith, Kurt’s dad.

“Are you alright son?” To Tahryn’s surprise, Smith was speaking to him.

“No real damage.”

“Just pride then.” Whelan Spencer was gruff as he selected roasted chicken thighs from the griddle. “You two are going to have to sort this.”

“We will father.”

“Make him back down and roll over, and everyone can be happy.” Whelan continued, seemingly oblivious to Smith’s flash of anger.

“Dad…” Tahryn dipped his head and exposed his neck to Smith, to try and nullify his father’s words.

“Sorry.” Whelan nodded and waved his son away with the tongs. “Go play son.”

Tahryn took his plate and went over to sit with Henry and the other werewolves who were about his age. His middle sister Mehran was the youngest of the little group at fifteen, and Tanner’s brother the eldest at twenty. He could feel Kurt watch him as he set down his plate and began to strip off. He changed fairly smoothly, putting a lot of effort into not showing any pain at the transition, and sat down heavily as a large sandy yellow wolf. He flicked his tail and snapped at Henri when the red-brown wolf tried to steal his chicken. It was a battle he won easily.

When they’d first moved here three weeks ago Tahryn had expected the South Sea pack to be much like his old one. He’d expected tensions to run high, to have to fight for a position amongst the younger werewolves, to work his way up from being the new wolf at the bottom. It had not been so. South Sea was the most balanced and happy pack Tahryn had ever seen. With no more than a little growling Tahryn and his sisters had slotted well into the hierarchy of the younger set. The young unattached werewolves were like a little mini pack all on their own and after refusing to take short shrift from Tanner’s brother, Tahryn had pretty much been the leader of the little group. The only annoying thing was he couldn’t seem to get rid of Koby.

He’d finished eating, he couldn’t snap at the little dun coloured wolf for that as he rubbed himself along Tahryn’s side before flopping down next to him. The body heat and the feeling of closeness were nice. Hell, they were wolves. Social acceptance was what they lived for. Koby pressed his cold nose into Tahryn’s neck and the submissive gesture needled at him, like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard. He got up roughly, which flipped Koby and dislodged his cloying gaze. Tahryn put back his ears and showed his teeth, then turned and stalked off across the yard.

Kurt had obviously not understood him when he had tried to explain in their alpha’s office, but that was not too surprising. Tahryn’s family had never heard of anyone with wolf-related dyslexia, and his father still wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just laziness on his son’s part. Whatever it was though, he missed things. Big gestures, teeth, belly, snarling, they were fine. It was the little things he missed. Tahryn knew there were whole deep and convoluted conversations going on around him if he could only look properly. But he couldn’t. It was easier when he was a wolf, it got harder with more degrees of separation. Being human and talking with a wolf was a bit hit and miss, but being human and looking for those signs a werewolf in human shape gave out, those were worst. It was no wonder Kurt had snapped at his hand. What the other boy had said to him in the study was clear enough though, and it made his head ache.

Oh go and fuck your chew toy.

It was obvious even to him what Kurt had meant. Koby’s overfamiliar attitude and Tahryn’s lack of quickness in shrugging him off had not gone unnoticed. Kurt obviously thought the two of them were being all cute together. The idea made Tahryn shudder. It was cruel of him to think it, because there was nothing wrong with Koby. He would have been exactly Tahryn’s type. Hell, he had been Tahryn’s type back home before he’d first laid eyes on the somehow intoxicating figure of Kurt Smith.

Kurt’s dominance and his aggression should not have been a turn on for Tahryn, but it didn’t mean his brain or, his body, were actually listening to his instincts. Instincts said fight, force submission from this big black wolf, but his heart thudded double time and told him to do anything to appease those big gold brown eyes. Tahryn flopped down where he stood, in a space alone where the fence ended and the woodlands began. He felt his cock harden in his sheath as he thought about Kurt. Even that would have been bearable; except for the fact Kurt obviously hated him.

Tahryn had not a fucking clue what he was going to do about it.

*

Koby settled himself down after Tahryn had walked off, the sandy wolf looking bristly and annoyed. Koby sighed to himself. Tahryn would come around eventually, he had too. He definitely couldn’t spend any more time in staring matches with Kurt Smith. Koby hated the idea of his precious pseudo-alpha getting hurt again by the black wolf. Kurt was downright fucking weird, and everyone knew it. It had been instinct, and nothing more, had put him between the two at school that afternoon. It certainly hadn’t been self-preservation. His chest still hurt from Kurt’s blow. Koby shook his head and walked off to shift back, returning to the group with sodas and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“You look like a lovesick puppy Ko.” Henry joshed him, knuckling his shoulder softly. Koby sighed heavily and leant against his friend’s shoulder. Despite being straight as an arrow, Henry ruffled his hair and didn’t try and shrug him off. That was by far and away the best thing about being a werewolf. You needed physical contact to stay sane. It often didn’t matter where you got it from. It was not something humans understood very well. Sure, the touch of your mate was best, followed only by that of your alpha, but for Koby, resting his skull against his oldest friend was just fine.

“God I want him though.” Koby lamented softly. The sandy wolf had lain down by the fence line and Koby wanted nothing more than to go over to him, press his body against the fur and see those icy blue eyes sparkle.

“You’re his type you know.” It was Tahryn’s oldest sister who piped up, pouring herself a coke from the bottle Koby had brought back. “You being all skinny and adorable looking.”

Koby blushed crimson and hid his face in his blanket.

“Yeah that’s about right.” Mehran assured him, smiling around the lamb shank bone she was holding. “He’ll come around no problems. Just blush more.”

Koby smiled and decided to believe, at least for tonight, their comments were true. In his heart he knew Tahryn Spencer did not like him in the way Koby wanted him to.

*

Kurt stayed long enough at the meet to be respectful, but after eating his fill and establishing that Jene wasn’t coming running with him, he didn’t feel much like hanging around. Despite what he’d eaten, his nose and mouth were still full of the scent of Tahryn, the deep spicy sweetness of him, the metallic tang of his blood. Kurt had needed Jene to steal his food to stop him from growling as the sandy wolf sat down with his friends and that little shit Koby began to play happy families with him.

Koby had bugged Kurt for almost as long as he could remember. As a kid, Kurt hadn’t gotten along well with others. He was too young, his puppy form too weak, to play with the teenage wolves that were just discovering their other selves. But he was too strong and too violent for kids his own age who were still basically human. And Koby had been the worst of those. Koby Dean was born to be submissive, would whimper and whine if Kurt so much as looked at him funny, but would play up and act all lovesick when there were no adults around. Bigger, taller and stronger than the skinny boy who looked at least a year younger than he really was, Kurt had gotten blamed for every scraped knee and tearful sniffle Koby had ever produced.

And when Koby and his wolf side had collided when Koby was sixteen, things had gotten worse. Kurt spent all his time as a wolf, and when Koby offered himself to the black canine, it had been in wolf form. Kurt had stepped into the woods to find Koby waiting for him. The little dun wolf had wasted no time in rolling over for him, his shiny pink cock peeking from his sheath. The way in which he’d begged Kurt had made him snap and snarl, and sent Koby running with his tail between his legs. It had happened a few times in the years since, but not anymore. Now Koby was carrying a torch for Tahryn, and Kurt hated that he was jealous.

He stalked off into the forest by himself, following the well-worn tracks leading to the top of the first ridge. Rolling his shoulders, Kurt set off in a steady loping run, paws thudding on the hard ground. The sky was clear, the stars shone. It was chilly, but not cold enough to make his breath steam in front of him and Kurt delighted in the smooth warmth of well-trained muscles. He could do this forever. Running through the woodlands made him never want to go back. And he couldn’t imagine life as a human. Something as simple as a job was not going to happen for him. He couldn’t function in the human world. Not properly.

His was just over halfway to his favourite spot, and slowing down to a nice gentle clip, when he scented and felt someone else in the forest near him. At first, he thought it was his brain playing tricks, because it wasn’t a new scent, but then he heard a paw scrape against stone and knew he was being followed. There was no convenient clearing so Kurt stayed where he was, and turned to face the rising scent. At least when Tahryn emerged he would know he hadn’t managed to creep up on Kurt.

The big sand-yellow wolf pushed through the trees a few minutes later and panted at Kurt, tongue out. Tahryn could hardly be tired. He had the stamina of his species and the whole sporty-athletic thing going on. The lolling tongue was a gesture of peace. Kurt flicked his tail and narrowed his eyes, but Tahryn’s posture was all play. Ears up, tail waving, he pushed his front legs forwards sticking his rear in the air and yapped. Being angry at Tahryn was overridden by the desire to play and he yipped back and plunged forwards. They snapped at each other, barking and mock snarling, each of them getting loose and pulling away before diving back in. By short bursts of fleeing they soon ended up at the big flat rock by the copse and both wolves collapsed onto the blessedly cool stone.

Kurt didn’t care about Tahryn’s presence as he panted; flicking his tail, heart hammering from their game. Neither had won or lost and it didn’t matter at all. When Tahryn got up and repositioned himself to lie along Kurt’s side, all the big black wolf did was raise his head to rest his chin over the top of the sand coloured wolf’s back. Wolf life was simple. They had played, now they rested. There were no challenges over territory or food. No one did anything stupid or disrespectful. Kurt simply allowed himself to let go of his anger and hatred of the other wolf, at least for now.

He half growled when he felt Tahryn shift underneath him. He had been comfortable using the other young wolf as a pillow, half asleep as he was. The movement settled and Kurt snuffled and licked his muzzle. After a long minute he realized the texture under him had changed. Tahryn’s heartbeat was much louder in his ears and Kurt opened his eyes to find he was resting his head on Tahryn’s chest. The beautiful naked young man had changed forms and rolled over as Kurt half slept.

“Hey there you.” Tahryn reached out for Kurt’s furry head but stopped himself short. “Sorry. I know, I’m thick.”

Kurt frowned. Sure Tahryn wasn’t the brightest kid in the pack, but he was a long way from being dumb. Kurt told him such.

“I think you’re disagreeing with me. It’s hard to tell.”

Kurt cocked his head, one ear swiveled down.

“Why? I told you, wolf related dyslexia. I’m crap with subtle body language.”

Kurt dropped his head back down to the human’s chest as he considered this. Eventually he laid his ears back and harrumphed. It was no wonder the new wolf was rubbish at interpreting signals. Kurt knew all about regular garden variety dyslexia, mostly because his teachers were convinced he fell in the spectrum somewhere. He knew he wasn’t dyslexic, he could read perfectly well, but there was no knowledge useful to him that could be gleaned from books written by humans.

“This is nice.” Tahryn’s voice was like his scent, at least in Kurt’s mind. Somehow dark and spicy and soaked in sunlight. It was distinct and beautiful, like his name, with a hot tang of lust and desire, along with the calm blue river of contentment.

Desire. Kurt’s nostrils flared even as his tail wagged. Desire and lust. The hot red scents made his nose twitch. Tahryn’s hand was in his fur somehow without him noticing, stroking the thick dark silk of his ruff. Desire. Kurt swiveled his head and saw Tahryn’s beautiful impressive member was swollen and thick, pointing up towards where the wolf lay against him. Kurt’s mind froze. Desire for him? But he had no idea what was going on in Tahryn’s mind and now the hand was moving in his fur, over his head as though the battle was done. As though Kurt was nothing but a common house pet and Tahryn had succeeded in dominating him.

Kurt leapt up and back so quickly he lost his footing, slipped on the edge of the rock slab and fell to land heavily with his legs twisted under him. He let out a short high yelp and got up. He fixed Tahryn with an angry yellow stare.

“Hey buddy, are you OK?” Tahryn had gotten up, sat now with his legs dangling over the edge, cock proud and perfect resting against his ripped abdomen. God, it nearly touched his navel. Kurt tore his eyes away and bared his teeth at the man who acted like he owned him.

“Hey whoa, what did I do?”

But Kurt snarled. He had trusted an unknown wolf, how fucking stupid could he have been? Brought the boy to his favourite place and played with him as though they were friends. Now his fur and hackles raised and he let out a blood curdling growl. Things with hot blood and fast heartbeats dived back underground as quickly as they could. He barked, gnashing his teeth, keeping his eyes fixed on the other boy. He would not back down. Kurt advanced, one step, two, and then jumped to the slab and lunged forwards, teeth closing less than inches from the sensitive, delicate areas of Tahryn’s perfect naked form. Icy blue eyes wavered, and Tahryn ran from the copse.

For about half a second, Kurt thought about giving chase, but the scared look in the other boy’s eyes told him he had done enough. Tahryn was scared of him. He had won the fight. His heart began to slow in his chest, no longer hammering away like the drums of war, and as the rage cleared Kurt saw Tahryn’s face again in his mind. The big blond muscle-bound god had been scared of him. Scared. Not respectful or submissive, but out and out petrified of a wolf who half a minute previously had been lying content at his side. If he’d won, why did he feel this fucking rotten? He laid back his ears and snapped at himself, teeth clicking and clashing in the cool air. The boy he wanted was scared of him.

Kurt raised his face to the sky and howled out his despair at the thought Tahryn might well never speak to him again.

*

Jene was far from the only one who pricked up her ears, lying happy and contented with her immediate family and her pack. The barbeque was off. Some people were still eating. Most were lying about chatting, wolves slumped in piles of multi-coloured fur; everyone content and happy. It was a sight that made Jene Camra proud of her grandfather. No one could say he wasn’t a good alpha. A strong leader by example, he kept peace and harmony in his circle. And it was with a head full of those happy thoughts Jene heard the howl.

Her head shot up, facing towards the woods and the hill, her ears swiveled forwards and her nostrils flared. To humans, howls were just pretty noises, or disturbing noises. To a wolf, a howl was a song, a shout, as complex and full of meaning and emotion as music. These howls made Jene want to cry and sob. There were notes of loneliness so cold she had no idea how she could hear it and keep going, never mind sing it and live. The howl affected the whole pack, making happy people sad. Contented wolves became agitated and whined, whimpering in their huddles, pulling away from each other. It was a howl of pain and loss and abject despair.

There was a voice in the howl, the voice of one of her pack brothers. The voice of Kurt. Even Jene, his closest, and possibly his only friend, hadn’t known he could feel so awful. She pointed her white muzzle to the sky and replied and joined with his song, and she was not the only one. Wolf after wolf raised their heads to sing into the night, to strengthen the call and alleviate that loneliness with their love and support, to tell the wolf who cried he was not alone.

Eventually the notes ended and stillness and silence reigned among the wolves of the South Sea pack. Afterwards, no one had much felt like hanging around. It was time for clearing up and putting away, changing shape and gathering clothes and each departing to their houses with hugs and goodbyes. Jene stayed behind to help her grandparents finish putting the grill away, wearing her blanket as a poncho over her nude form for warmth if nothing else. It was she who saw Tahryn arrive in the back garden.

Jene left the pile of dishes and ran out into the night. Tahryn was sweating, visibly shaking as he collapsed on the lawn, his tanned skin scratched and smattered with patches of mud and blood. His golden hair was plastered to his skull, and it was easy to tell from the salt tracks down his face and the red rims of his blue eyes he’d been crying. Jene whipped off her poncho-cum-blanket and wrapped the raw wool around the boy’s shoulders. Thoughtlessly she made soft soothing noises in her throat, the same noises her mother had rocked her to sleep with when she was a pup and hadn’t understood her wolf, or had cried for the pain of the change when it was still a torture to be gone through. Jene was not large, but she covered the body of the newcomer to the pack with her skin, knowing the contact soothed him, and continued to half-purr soft noises to him.

It took a long time but eventually the shaking stopped, and Tahryn’s breathing eased. His heart slowed to a normal rhythm, and Jene let go of him and came to kneel on the ground in front of him, their knees touching. Tahryn sniffed and dragged the back of his hand across his face, smearing tears and spit. It was not beautiful crying. Jene waited. Patience was her best quality, the type of patience that had allowed her to become friends with Kurt and stay friends. The patience which kept her in control of twenty little toddlers at the nursery where she worked.

“Thank you.” Tahryn started to get up but found his limbs shook, so he stayed where he was, “Oh my god, aren’t you cold?”

Jene was not self-sacrificing enough to refuse the poncho back when it was offered and slipped it over her head.

“Come into the house and we’ll get you warm and cleaned up.” She stood and offered her hand to the big blond, and obviously heartbroken, werewolf. “And you can tell me what you and Kurt fought about.”

Tahryn’s head snapped up and he stared at her, slack jawed. It was true what her grandfather had told her, the boy really didn’t know what his own body did, and as he stood Jene could well imagine many a threatened werewolf snapping at him for the powerful way he was looking at her. When his voice came, it was small and full of questions and disbelief.

“How did you know it was him?”

“Oh honey.” Jene had to laugh as she lead him inside. “I’ve known Kurt my entire life. You really think anyone missed his call? The boy is hurting and you are too. Now come on; hot cocoa, shower and home to your family.”