his paws. He paused to lap clear cold water before jumping the narrow stream.
Trotting up the trail to the mountains, he picked up scents of other shifters, deer, and a wolverine. Behind him came the light patter of Meggie’s paws and occasionally the sound of Donal in the brush.
If Donal wanted, he could be entirely silent. And deadly, too. There were reasons wolves needed a pack to take on a panther.
When young, Tynan had thought it unfair his littermate was more dangerous. But now, Tynan wouldn’t trade. He loved having packmates for hunting, playing, and simply being together. Felines and bears missed out.
Tynan checked over his shoulder.
Meggie ran behind him, a beautiful, dainty wolf. Rather than common gray fur, her outer coat was a warm brown. Near the skin, the fur was almost black before lightening to milk chocolate at the tips.
Tynan caught a glimpse of Donal, a lean, tawny-gray panther, disappearing into the underbrush for a quick mouse-appetizer. Or to catch one for Meggie in the shifter method of pleasing a female.
With a soft woof, Tynan increased his speed, to get farther from town before they stopped. At one time, an inadvertent sighting would mean simply calling the Cosantir to erase the human’s memory. Now, humans whipped out cell phones faster than a horny man would his dick. These new times called for discretion.
Once away from town, Tynan left the creekside trail and headed up a steeper slope. He kept an ear turned back, evaluating the sounds. Meggie had grown stronger. Her gait was even. Donal was behind her.
Tynan opened his jaws in a smile. It was rare he and Donal found time to enjoy a trail together.
The forest gave way to a pretty meadow with wildflowers blooming pink and white. Snatching up a hefty stick from a fallen tree, Tynan crouched with his butt in the air. Tail waving. I got a stick, want to play?
Stopping, Meggie stared at him as if she had no idea what to do. Then her instincts took over, and with a high yip, she lunged at the stick.
The game was on.
Tynan tore across the meadow, staying barely out of her reach, taunting her with high-paw prancing to show her just who owned the toy.
She was quicker than he’d expected, balancing the weakness of her leg with unexpected bursts of speed. Twice he evaded her, and the third time, she lunged…just as Donal leaped out of the brush. The cat batted the stick out of Tynan’s jaws and skittered away.
Pouncing, Meggie darted off with his stick in her jaws.
Tynan gave chase, and damned if his sneaky littermate wasn’t putting his paw on the female side of the scales. It was difficult to catch Meggie when two hundred pounds of feline kept jumping in the way.
When Tynan managed a successful feint and grabbed his stick back, he noticed her limp.
Time for a break.
He set the stick by a tiny trickling stream, trawsfurred, and dipped up water to scrub his drool-covered face.
Laughing, Meggie did the same, and he was pleased to see she’d grown more comfortable with being naked around males. Mostly.
She frowned. “Why couldn’t the magic that lets us trawsfur let our clothing shift with us?”
Donal shifted to human. He settled on the meadow grass, propping himself up on his elbows. “Probably because our wild hunt ancestors were lusty fae and disinclined to have any barriers to getting it on.”
At her wide-eyed look, Donal grinned, then tipped his head back to savor the last few rays of sunlight.
Unable to resist, Tynan shifted to wolf and pounced on Donal’s stomach, yipping in gratification at the whoofed exhalation.
The sound changed…to a panther’s snarl.
Uh-oh.
Tynan tore across the meadow.
The panther was right on his tail, then knocked him sprawling. Rolling to his paws, Tynan charged the feline, and almost…almost shouldered him over. Up on hind legs, they grappled, fake biting, growling and hissing. Donal’s barely exposed claws were defeated by Tynan’s thick, not-fully-shed undercoat…although a few painful pinpricks got through.
Meggie had jumped to her feet, obviously unsure if they were serious.
Ah, she’d never gotten to play as a teenaged shifter, had she? Tynan broke away and did a speeding zoomie circle around his littermate, voicing taunting, puppylike yips.
Donal chirruped a laugh, sprang, and the fight was joined again.
He had time to see Meggie’s alarm change to a grin.
Shifting, the little wolf danced forward and nipped Donal’s hind end.
Hissing, Donal spun—and Tynan bit his ass. Yeah, this was what he’d been missing—a partner to help fight the feline.