tree. He scrambled from underneath the carcass and crouched in front of his kill, teeth bared as he faced down the wolf pack.
Five growling wolves skidded to a stop, their hackles raised. Three others circled, betrayed by their scents and the sound of their breathing. The largest wolf inched forward. To a human, the black fur would have made it hard to see in the falling darkness, but the wolf’s heart glowed like a beacon in Andret’s enhanced vision.
Once the alpha decided to attack, the others would as well. Andret launched himself at the alpha, slashing his throat with one sweep of his razor-sharp fingernails, killing him instantly. Blood poured out of the alpha’s neck, staining the soil, sending up the taste of iron.
He licked the wolf’s blood off his hand. It made his vision painfully intense. The world around him became a concert of images and noises almost too vivid to process. The wolves that had been hiding came into view as the ones in front of him backed off, hackles still raised, tails low.
Andret let out a roar. It sent the pack scattering into the trees. Fear-scent particles trailed them like smoke, mixing in the wind with the scent of soil and plants.
He knelt by the dead wolf. All the wolves were larger than the ones in the images he’d been shown as a child. Andret picked up the wolf’s body, testing its weight. It was far heavier than he’d expected. He had no doubt that it was enhanced somehow. More genetic tinkering. Either for a specific reason or to see if it could be done. Which meant that, sooner or later, some human would come back here to check on the experiment. There was probably a satellite in orbit, or an automated probe would fly by at some point. Either way, someone would come. And when they did, he would be ready.
He dragged the wolf’s body to the edge of the clearing. As he gathered kindling and deadwood for a fire, another wolf inched forward, keeping low to the ground to catch the scent of the dead one. The wolf let out a mournful howl. It was answered by the rest of the pack.
Even when the fire was roaring, the wolves did not back off. They patrolled the edge of the clearing, wary, their fear-scent drifting along the breeze.
Andret sliced the stag’s belly open, spilling the viscera but saving the liver. He dragged the carcass to the fire, tore the skin off, and pulled the limbs apart.
Donai could tear into flesh and bone, eat them raw, but he’d never liked the way it made him feel. Even as voraciously hungry as he was, he’d hold on to whatever humanity was left in him. It would slip away from him as he aged. He knew that. But for now, he didn’t have to let go of it.
As he chewed, another wolf—a female with red in her coat—claimed the viscera he’d left behind. A smaller male joined her. Between them, they finished it off.
He threw a bone at them. The female snagged it away and bounded under cover, a happy wag to her tail.
Wolf-eyes glowed in the dark, blinking back at him, first warily, then with curiosity. Their fear-scent faded.
He tossed one of the stag’s leg bones at them. They pounced on it, too, and carried it away.
A gray wolf, obviously pregnant, took the stag’s head and settled down within the firelight, chomping happily, her amber gaze intent, and so much a mirror, the sight of it raised goose bumps on his skin.
“Sister?” he asked.
She tilted her head.
“No, I suppose not.”
She went back to chewing.
“Sorry about your mate.” He was, truly. The donai were killers by design, but the stag and the wolf were his first. The stag was prey. The wolf was not. One predator to another, he felt regret for the wolf. They had enough in common to be kin, so he dug a hole and buried it. It was something sentimental that Calyce would have done.
Andret used the stag’s hide to wrap up the cooked meat and left the remaining bones for the wolves. It made