Roman leaped over a fallen tree at full throttle, crashing through the underbrush on the other side. He lost his footing, made a less than elegant roll and was back to running at full speed within a split-second. From somewhere to his left, he could hear the howling of a wolf. Before now, he would have said it's impossible for a wolf to howl mockingly, but apparently he had been wrong.
He was bare-footed and shirtless, only wearing a pair of black jeans. If somebody had told him a month ago that some day he would be running through the forest half-naked in the middle of the night just for the fun of it, he would have laughed his ass off.
He adjusted his direction slightly, hunting after the sound of the wolf's laughter. He was pretty sure that's what it was.
Peter obviously had the advantage, and when they did this in reverse, he almost always caught him. But Roman would be damned if he didn't catch the werewolf at least once and today was the day. He sped up even more, crashing through the forest at inhuman speed. He grinned, enjoying the rush of the fresh air, the feeling of the leaves under his feet and the joy of hunting.
For the first time in his life, his mind was completely free of worry, of the constant fight against his nature, the endless struggle every minute, every hour, every day. There was just him and the wolf and the wild and the world was endless.
