Chapter 24: The Silver Run

In April the snow went off the north ridge, and on the first clear night I ran it.

Ewan waited at the foot of the trail in the dark.

He didn't speak, and he didn't touch me.

He knew by now what I wanted.

He leaned on the truck with his arms folded and the stars on his scar.

"Same terms," I said.

"Same terms."

"Door's unlocked."

"I know where the key is," Ewan said, and tapped his shirt pocket.

I laughed, and then I let go.

The change came easily now.

There was no hard pull and no pain, only a long warm roll of my bones and my fur coming up silver.

The whole mountain opened in my nose.

Pine. Thawed earth. A fox somewhere. The woodsmoke from Pinecrest, ten miles down.

I stood on four paws and shook myself, and the stars threw back off my coat.

Beside me the black wolf came out of the dark, huge and quiet.

He leaned his shoulder into mine, once, hard.

Then we ran.

The trail climbed in switchbacks through the lodgepole, and I took it in leaps.

I wasn't tired.

I waited for it, out of habit, at the first rise, and the second.

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