Hunt
Wind whips down the slope at my back, kicking up my hair. I flick it out of my eyes, running them along the horizon. The Canadian landscape is ripe with Autumn, golds and crimsons and rich splashes of green. Below, the lazy snake of the river, grey under the cloudy sky. But none of the colors are what I’m hunting for. The grey isn’t my brother’s shirt. The reds aren’t his hair, the mirror of mine. The greens are not his eyes, looking back.
I crouch, moving low through the brush under the canopy of trees. My breath is quiet, my mind. Out here, there’s none of the bullshit that’s always waiting for me back at the pack. There’s no schoolwork, piling up. There are no cocky classmates, constantly flexing and testing the sharp edges of their future Alpha, seeing just how quick they can cu
