I run, this time in human form, too irritated to enjoy the game or to embrace my wolf. I may not be as fast in this shape, but there is a certain satisfaction to the pounding of my feet, and the air rushing from my mortal lungs.
It's easier to tire myself out, to wear down the edges of my frustration and pique without the boost of supernatural energy I gain from my werewolf body. And I've had more than enough werewolves in my life in the last week for me to ever desire to take my other shape ever again.
He had to put the call out for mates, didn't he? I underestimated my grandfather's intentions. I believed he would only do so locally, that our own pack would be the extent of his reach. When I discovered the truth, it was far too late to stop him from his plan-to call out to every single
