Newkirk barreled through the woods, hurtling logs and diving through brush. He couldn't explain what this was to him, how the ground 'spoke' through every paw, how the world smelled of spring flowers and growing grass. He couldn't tell his friends how the moon made his heart race faster when it was full nor how scents almost seemed to have form when he was a wolf. He didn't have the words to explain that, now, he literally felt each season, that rain had a scent and flavor and storms made fur raise. Have to admit, being a werewolf has some advantages!
He ignored the minor pull of cuts and bruises. When he splashed into the creek, he finally paused and tilted his head. For long moments he waited, ears flicking back and forth. A shadow moved in the distance and he slipped forward, placing each paw carefully as he moved.
Stefan, in his wolf form, lifted his head just as a black wolf barreled into him. The two rolled together, teeth slashing and claws raking. Newkirk channeled his previous rage into biting, sinking his fangs deep into the larger wolf. The brown wolf thrashed and tossed Newkirk off like a bucking horse. With a snarl, he raced for Newkirk and Newkirk darted aside. Teeth clicked and growls echoed in the cool air. Stefan bit deep into Newkirk's side and Newkirk yelped, slewing his head around to tear a furrow down Stefan's exposed shoulder. They sprang apart, circled each other. Newkirk feinted but Stefan didn't fall for it and Newkirk barely avoided a sharp bite to his rump. Each growled, noises that once chilled primitive humanity to the bone.
Yet humanity was now the threat. Stefan's ears swiveled and Newkirk jerked at the sound of boots crunching. Newkirk bolted off, Stefan behind him. Newkirk twisted, ran parallel to the camp fence until he dove through the wire. Unseen, he padded behind the barracks until he nosed open Hogan's shutters and hopped through the window. Newkirk grabbed a robe and shifted. Muscles ached and he felt blood running down his side. Yet he tingled with life and adrenaline. If I had my tail, it'd be wagging!
LeBeau's eyes widened as he emerged from Hogan's quarters. "Newkirk?"
"Fine, mate." Newkirk hurried down into the tunnel, Carter and LeBeau following.
"I'll get Wilson," Carter said as Newkirk dropped the robe.
"Never mind," Newkirk said, pulling on underwear and pants.
"Who bit you now?" LeBeau asked.
"One of the visitors," Newkirk said. "Hey, Kinch."
"You're tackling the guests? God, Newkirk, you look like hell."
"Just need a quick bandage." Newkirk slapped a piece of gauze on his side.
"Hold still," Carter ordered, taping the gauze. "LeBeau, don't watch."
"It is my blood that bothers me, not others," LeBeau scoffed although his face was slightly green. Newkirk snorted and pulled on a shirt as Carter finished.
"You better hope the Colonel doesn't find out," Kinch said.
"He told me to check on the others," Newkirk said.
"I'm sure that didn't mean fighting them," Kinch said, scowling.
Newkirk grinned. "It's fine, mate. Thanks, Carter." He stretched and poured a cup of coffee. He added sugar and LeBeau rolled his eyes.
"We will need more sugar soon."
Newkirk sipped his coffee and then turned. "Hello, Colonel."
Hogan walked up, smelling faintly of perfume. Newkirk also caught the scent of Elsa and refrained from rolling his eyes. Least he didn't shag her. That smell would make me vomit. Snogging is bad enough. Thought you had better taste, gov. "What's going on?" Hogan asked. "Newkirk, you have blood on your face."
"It happens."
Hogan nodded, pouring coffee. "Bridge set to blow?"
"You bet!" Carter's eyes lit up.
Hogan glanced at Newkirk. "Tell me, did you just get into another fight?" he asked casually. Newkirk immediately widened his eyes.
"I was checking on the others, gov, like you said, then checked outside the wire. Not my fault I ran into someone else."
"Damn it, Newkirk, they're here to help!"
"How's that?"
"The werewolf leader is Grigori. He came because of you, to help you. He thought you might be lonely."
"Lonely? I ruddy live with over 500 men."
"You're the only werewolf," Hogan said. He sipped his coffee.
"They faked the car wreck?" LeBeau asked.
"No, their car is actually stuck. But Grigori still came to help Newkirk."
"Russian?" Kinch asked. Hogan nodded.
"Elsa is his daughter, Stefan and Heinrich are pack members."
"Pack?" LeBeau repeated. "He uses animal terms?"
"They accept they have an animal side." Hogan took a large gulp of coffee. "I don't understand it completely but he explained some."
"Like what?" Carter leaned forward eagerly.
"That werewolves don't tell other people what they are. Werewolves are created by a virus. And that Hans and his pack are a group of werewolf spies. A spy ring."
"You're kidding," Kinch groaned.
"That's bad," Carter said glumly.
"Considering what they can do, it's bad." Hogan stared at his coffee.
"You think they can do a lot of harm?" LeBeau asked. "Why? I understand they can track and bite..."
"They can scent," Newkirk said. "If someone plays with explosives, they could smell it. If one of us is questioned, they can tell when we lie. They hear well and if at an explosion sight, they could track back to camp. It's a nightmare." He set down his empty mug.
"They can?" LeBeau said.
"If the track is fresh, yes."
"Colonel, what do we do?" Carter asked.
"And how?" Kinch chimed in.
"Wait a minute, easy," Hogan ordered. He looked at Newkirk. "What did you just say?"
"They can track?" Newkirk said.
"No, you said 'they can tell when we lie.'"
"Yes," Newkirk slowly said.
"Are you saying you can tell when somebody lies?"
Newkirk drew back as everyone stared at him. "It's not surefire, gov, but yes. It's hard to explain but scents change when they lie and they act different."
"I don't believe it," Carter said.
"It's-like a picture turning blue," Newkirk said, obviously struggling. "Look, um, OK, like when Olson talks about that bird Holly. He hasn't been with her and even though he says he has, his scent alters, he sweats a bit, he twitches. He's spinning a tale. I can tell that."
"But it's not foolproof?" Kinch asked.
"No. It's hard to explain. It's smell and how they look and move..." Newkirk rubbed his temple. "It just is."
"You know, for being a werewolf, you can't explain much," Carter grumbled.
"I can't put it into words." Newkirk shrugged. "It's like tasting colors, drinking the wind."
Hogan paced, arms crossed. "It can help us as well," he said. "Newkirk, we meet with the Underground next week. You and me."
Newkirk nodded. "And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow you behave yourself." Hogan's voice held steel.
Newkirk dropped his eyes and nodded.