Connor and the Wolves - 25. The Trouble with Werewolves

Soren bolted at the sound of a chime. All around him, werewolves surged forward, jostling for position as they leapt from the starting line. Beside the cinnamon wolf, a red wolf edged ahead, and Soren put on a burst of speed, trying to keep ahead of him.
Alice’s words rose in his mind, and the mage slowed slightly, letting the other wolves pull ahead. If he pushed too hard now, he’d tire out far too early. And Soren wanted to do well. Kurt expected him to do well, and despite the sting of her rejection, Soren still wanted to make her proud.
Rushing through a narrow gate and out into the car park, Soren found himself at the head of a smaller pack, working to keep the leaders in sight. He couldn’t see the red wolf he’d been racing — maybe the wolf had tired out already. He doubted that though. Alice had mentioned that wolf was one of the best runners in the city. There was no way he’d be defeated that easily.
He settled into his normal patrol pace, opening the slightest gap between himself and the rest of the wolves. The stale scent of deer urged him onward — a doe just out of her heat. There was a hint of a buck within the scent, possibly put on the trail to keep actual deer away?
Either way, it marked the path he needed to take clearly. Soren tore through the fields outside the school, always keeping the leaders in sight.
Wolves began dropping. Past the first 500 metres, Soren found himself almost alone, with only the red wolf and his running partner by his side. He took a quick glance around — Alice wanted him to stick with Itumak, the newer werewolf, but the tiger-striped wolf was nowhere in sight.
Soren slowed, letting the other wolves catch up to him. Searching for Itumak, he dropped to a near walk. Wolf after wolf passed him, bolstered by his seeming fatigue. Seconds turned into a minute, and Soren glanced ahead, trying to ignore the crushing voice telling him to forget Itumak. He could win this race for Kurt; he could show Kurt that he was worthy of being her mate.
But no, Kurt didn’t want him as a mate. She knew he was a good runner, and she still said no. Maybe it was because of Altanchono — it would be agony for Soren to parade in front of him with his sister. Or maybe it was something else. Either way, Kurt had made her decision.
Finally Itumak appeared, walking at the tail of the race. Letting out a low woof, Soren nudged the wolf into a slow jog. At this rate, it would take them nearly twenty minutes to finish the race. Itumak kept bouncing high with each step, his feet alternating steps awkwardly.
“I’m new to being a werewolf.”
Soren groaned inwardly at the memory of the first day of school. He hadn’t even noticed Itumak struggling during practice — probably because Miles had Soren working on the track while Alice led the cross country team elsewhere. The poor wolf could barely walk, let alone run a race.
They should go back. They weren’t even a kilometre from the start. Going forward would take longer, and Soren wasn’t sure Itumak would make it. The middle of a race was a horrible place to learn how to run — especially since the human runners would be tearing through here in less than ten minutes.
Soren nudged the werewolf again, trying to turn him around. Itumak toppled over, snarling as he fought to regain his feet. Backing off quickly, Soren waited for the wolf to get up before turning toward the starting line. Itumak glared at him, a low growl in his voice.
An exasperated huff escaped Soren. Turning back around, he started jogging again, keeping a slow pace so Itumak could keep up with him. This was going to be an excruciating run, but at least his only other race was at the end of the day.

“Hey Soren.” Miles approached the cinnamon wolf as Soren led Itumak over the finish line. Itumak fell away, almost stumbling as he trotted toward Alice beside the track. “Is everything okay?”
Soren grunted, trudging toward a bowl of water. He nodded, aware of Miles following him.
“Ah, you were playing emotional support,” Miles deduced. “I’ll have a chat with Alice. It’s… well, it’s a waste of your abilities, to be honest.”
Another grunt. Lapping at the ice cold water, Soren fought the urge to dunk his head. Swimming in a communal water dish was probably not appropriate.
A chime rang, and he turned to watch a group of wolves take off down the track. Batons rested in their maws, offset with plenty of space for their partners to latch on to. The first relay race was underway.
Stepping away from the bowl, Soren settled in to watch the race. His relay would be at the end of the day, but there was still much he could learn by watching other wolves run.
Like the fact that Elias Academy’s wolves were utterly outclassed.
Numbers climbed the scoreboard at the far end of the football pitch. Quarian Academy, the pack school hosting them, sat comfortably at the top, bolstered by a strong show from their bipedal runners. Below them, the other pack schools held strong with their wolves… all except Elias Academy, who sat just above Timber Creek High, the north Astaran bipedal school. Even that lead was hotly contested, as the two schools battled it out with their bipedal runners.
Soren watched Kurt explode from the starting line as the chime rang. His breath caught as she surged ahead — did she actually have a chance of winning? A second passed, and a surge of wolves flooded around her, relegating Kurt to the back of the pack. Undeterred, the brindle wolf pushed on, fighting with a black wolf for second to last place.
Rounding the second turn, she fought to reach the wolf’s midsection, gaining two inches, losing one. Their paws pounded down the rubber track, an inaudible beat from across the field. Across the field, Soren’s heart thundered with their steps as Kurt fought to place in the race.
By the third turn, Kurt was at the black wolf’s shoulder. They pushed even harder, neither one willing to concede. Coming down the final straight, both wolves hunkered down. The crowd cheered around the track — more for the wolves in first and second place. But Soren figured it would make no difference to Kurt. Cheers were cheers.
Kurt edged further up the black wolf. They traded the lead, running head to head as the finish line loomed. Soren swore he could hear growls as black and brindle bodies blurred past him.
He barked, adding his voice to a fading chorus. Back and forth the wolves battled, until-
“Sixth place, Silverstone High’s Joren Athil. Seventh place, Elias Academy’s Kurt Chono. Eighth place, Timber Creek High’s Alex Serin.”
She’d done it. Soren nearly collapsed as a rush of relief coursed through him. Kurt limped off the track before she did collapse, and Soren bolted toward her, alarm blossoming.
Miles was there when Soren reached the fallen wolf, rubbing Kurt’s hips to alleviate the burning muscles. Soren heard him talking to the wolf quietly, encouraging her to take deep breaths, to work on getting up so she could walk the exertion off.
“You’re scratching the 800-” Kurt protested weakly, crawling back to her feet. “No, you’re exhausted,” Miles scolded. “Think about what you just ran, then multiply that by two. Can you honestly tell me you can manage that?” Kurt grunted. “I might even pull you off the 4x4-” Growl. “-if it’s this difficult for you to run 400 metres. We can see if sprints will work better.”
Both Soren and Kurt shook their heads, and Miles sighed.
“Okay, fine. You’ll run the 4x4, but this week, we’re going to see how you do on sprints. Now go get some water.”
Soren nudged Kurt toward the water bowls. The brindle wolf grumbled at him, leaning away, and Soren let her cross the field on her own.
He kept an eye on Kurt as she gulped down some water. A dark-haired human approached her, and a moment’s discussion stretched — was the man sizing Kurt up?
Leaning toward the wolf… staring at her body…. A low growl rose in Soren’s throat as he watched. Kurt didn’t want to be with him, and he wasn’t going to hurt her by pursuing her. But the way her tail was wagging — nekos only did that when they were angry, right? Soren whirled toward the locker room. The human wouldn’t know Kurt was a neko — Soren had to stop this!

Yanking his shirt over his head, Soren dodged the door to the locker room. He winced as it clipped his shoulder, but pushed on. Following the sound of the crowd, he made his way back to the track, scanning for Kurt.
The brindle wolf was laying near the stands, watching a group of wolves lining up for another run. The human was still staring at her – from a distance now, but Soren wasn't going to be comforted by that.
He could feel eyes on him as he crossed the field. A hand touched his shoulder as Miles caught up to him.
"Is everything okay?" the elf questioned. "Wolves usually stay shifted until their last race."
"Yeah." Soren grunted as the wolves took off, sprinting for all they were worth down a 100-metre stretch. Yet again, Oliver, Elias Academy's sprinter in the race, lagged well behind the other wolves. "I just saw someone I wanted to talk to."
It was honest enough. One less lie for Soren to remember.
"Okay, but change back as soon as possible," Miles said, letting the mage go. "I wouldn't want you to miss your race."
Soren scowled as the human got into line for the next run. Three minutes between races was not enough time to hold a conversation; he'd have to wait until after the sprint.
What was he even going to say? He didn't want the man going after Kurt like some kind of prize to be won. But it wasn't like Soren could claim Kurt.
The chime rang again, and the bipedal runners took off. Soren’s eyes widened as his target tore ahead of the pack, opening at least a metre of space between himself and the second place runner. Ten seconds later, the race was over.
Soren growled as the human jogged over to a bench. Did he think he was so good he could have anyone he wanted? Kurt wouldn’t play that game — she was too smart for that. It didn’t change anything. Soren stalked toward the human. He needed to set the man straight.