Hunter of the Shadows book 2:

Hunter Rising

Chapter 13

Author's notes: Apologies, but some serious historical, geographical and biological liberties have been taken in these next few chapters.

Now…

Click.

"It's been a few days since the last journal entry, and Sam's doing much better," Tobius leans into the lens, huffs long and hard, clouding the glass, then a uses a soft cloth to polish. The ancient werewolf regards his handy work critically.

"The boys will be back any second," he says, clearing his throat, quietly. "They both needed some fresh air and the diner's only fifty feet away. Sam in particular seemed to perk up at the suggestion of a late morning constitutional, and though I'm sure he won't have consumed much at lunch, a little sunshine will do him the world of good."

Tobius sighs. "I stayed behind to make some calls. Sam's sight will likely not return," his haunted gaze locks on the camera. "At least not without help. I know of some healers that may be of assistance," he pinches the bridge of his nose and blinks. "But there are no guarantees. As I said to Dean, to my knowledge this is the first time a non lunar has survived such a grievous injury."

Green eyes flare brightly and the werewolf shifts closer, but his voice is flat and emotionless.

"Put bluntly, Sam should have died that night..."

A quick worried glance at the door has him shaking his head, though the digital watcher can't hear a thing. "We'll continue this discussion another time, perhaps."

A few seconds later, the motel room door opens to reveal Dean leading a stumbling Sammy gently by the arm and laughing softly.

Tobius gets to his feet, a genuine smile on his face. "I see you two have been shopping."

The youngest wolf is clad in a stylish pair of very dark wraparound shades, Ray Bans in fact, and is actually smiling self-consciously. "Yeah, Dean got me these as a surprise gift. Told me he was going to the restroom."

Tobius eyes Dean curiously, but without judgment. "You left him in the diner alone?"

Dean shakes his head. "Nah, they were selling them at the front of the diner amongst all the tourist souvenirs."

If his Sire is wondering how he managed to get hold of designer sunshades in a tin-pot diner, he doesn't say it, though a pointed glance at the cheap, plastic pair balanced on Dean's head suggests he's not fooled. The pair that Sam is wearing suddenly seems very familiar.

Dean mouths "not a word", and hands over a bag heavy with grease. "I got you some lunch."

Following Dean's lead, Tobius stares at the bag with a faint look of disgust on his face.

"If lunch is supposed to consist of Shell's latest oil find..." he mutters, takes the bag in two fingers, keeping it at arm's length and as far away from his nose as possible.

Dean shrugs, grins, and doesn't take offence, just continues to guide his brotherson through the door.

Sam is as uncoordinated as a new born foal, understandably clumsy, and obviously tired out. Each wobbly step he takes into the room is hesitant and short, legs shaky and locked at the knees.

"Here ya go... right here, easy does it," Dean helps Sam to his bed and sits him down. "You ok, buddy?" he whispers softly, hand cupping the back of Sam's head when it bobs uncertainly on his neck.

"Yeah," the kid answers quietly. "Just tired, is all."

"Just tired, huh?" Dean replies, sceptically, and that tone of voice, coupled with the look on his face, is easy to interpret.

Try exhausted.

The fatherbrother begins casually chatting away about how hot the waitress was on a scale of one to ten and speaks with admiration about her cup size, whilst Sam removes his jacket. Dean sounds unconcerned and happy, but the look in his eyes is a dead giveaway. He's busy fixing a batch of fresh coffee, at the same time watching his brotherson worriedly, especially when the youngster yawns and sways sleepily in his place on the bed.

"Hmm." Tobius muses, kindly, and squeezes Sam's shoulder. "Looks like you've over done it, young pup. I hope you had plenty to eat – you need to rebuild your strength."

"He had a chocolate milkshake, a cheese omelette and some of my bacon," says Dean, folding his arms across his chest and looking every inch the proud father. "That's a step up from yesterday."

Tobius seems amused, but not surprised. "You shared your bacon, Dean?"

"Forced it on my plate and wouldn't let me leave the table until I'd eaten is more like it," Sam answers with a soft, but grateful smile.

"You needed the protein," says Dean, matter-of-factly, crouching down and unlacing Sam's boots. "And now you need your sleep even more," he adds when Sam yawns widely again and winces in pain. "Chest still hurting, kiddo?"

Sam shakes his head but the blood draining away from his face reveals the lie. Without another word, just a roll of the eyes, his fatherbrother assists in carefully changing him into his sleep clothes.

Sam turns his head away from the camera and removes the shades, handing them over to his grandfather.

Wrapping an arm around the kid's waist, Dean lifts him up against his chest as though he weighs little more than a feather pillow. Whilst Sam gratefully clings on to Dean's upper arms, Tobius turns down the bed, ready for Dean to deposit the youngster gently under the blankets.

"Sleep well, little wolf," Dean whispers, but Sam is already fast asleep.

"He... uh..." Dean glances at the camera and scratches the back of his head. "Sam doesn't want his eyes caught on film. He's a little self conscious right now."

"Nothing new there then." Tobius pats him on the shoulder. "I've got some things to do, people to speak with, so I'll leave you both in peace for the afternoon." He tips his head to one side and regards his son rather sternly. "And make sure you get some rest!"

Dean tucks the blanket under Sam's chin and climbs on the bed next to him, grabbing the camera. "Soon as I've got this entry in the can, I'll catch some Zs."

Tobius rolls his eyes, mutters "In the can indeed!" and heads for the door.

Dean balances the camera on his stomach just as he gently pulls Sam's head onto his shoulder. Soft curls framing delicately slanted and firmly closed eyes can just be seen by Dean's neck.

"So, there we were, just the two of us, running in the wilderness like a scene straight out of Where the Red Fern Grows..."

Now…

You ok there, Sammy? I risked a brief glance back at him, but carried on kicking my legs against the current. We were crossing the river to the north, more or less running parallel to the road Sire would have taken, but sooner or later we would leave it behind and follow a narrow, little known trail through the mountains.

Yeah, this is great! Sam answered with a big stupid grin of happiness. Kid always did love the water. His ears were almost flattened against the back of his neck, eyes half shut against the spray, and the water churned where his powerful, huge paws pounded it into submission. A small wave smacked him in the face, making him choke and splutter, but still it didn't remove the silly grin. As his father, I'm allowed to admit when he's being all cute and cuddly, and right then he made the Easter Bunny look like Jigsaw.

Hey Dean! I think there's salmon in this river! See? Up ahead!

He was right. Though the temperature continued to plummet the higher we climbed, the cloudy skies had cleared to reveal a deep, high blue, a bright, hot sun, and the promise of a starry sky when it set later that evening. A flash of pink and gold in the distance caught by the sun, and the water sparkling like diamonds, had us moving a little closer.

They're migrating up river. Sammy whispered, as though afraid of disturbing their important journey. Heading back to their native river for somewhere safe to lay their eggs.

Thank you for the nature class, Sir David Attenborough. I joked.

Sam used his muzzle to splash some water at me, but I ducked away laughing.

We watched in awe, our paws gently treading water at a discrete distance. This wasn't something we got to see every day and didn't want to intrude. It's not like we hadn't already fed that morning, after all, so it was decided to leave these hard working creatures to their death-defying race for life. Besides, once the mating season's over I was pretty sure there was a net somewhere with all their names on it.

When we reached the other river bank and clambered out, Sam and I both took a deep breath and shook our bodies from head to tail, wringing as much water from our heavy fur as possible.

C'mon let's twist again, like we did last summer! I sang, gleefully. Sammy you know the words...

Dude, I'm not singing... Sam replied, dipping his head self-consciously.

S'only us here, kiddo. Whose to know?

Uh... the trees? Squirrels? Birds? And that's just to start with...

Pretty sure they won't tell anyone, Sam. Now, c'mon...

I shook again, hard, and bounced all around him in a circle until the kid couldn't stop laughing.

...let's twist again...

Sammy gave in and, with a loud bark, joined me in a song. That meant there were two wolves dancing around on the riverbank like a couple of lunatics, shaking water from our fur and howling loudly at the top of our lungs. Anyone watching would surely have been checking for foam at our mouths.

Of course, the lyrics soon degenerated into another version of the song...

We're pissed again, like we were last summer,

Ohhh we're pissed again, like we were last year...

Which had Sammy almost choking on his own long tongue, he was laughing so hard.

We must have looked ridiculous, but by the time we were dry enough for comfort we'd ploughed our way through the Hippie Hippie Shake, utterly ruined The Locomotion, and defiled, desecrated, and decapitated Dire Strait's Twisting by the Pool.

Or, to put it another way, the only reason Simon Cowell would have us put on American Idol, would be to face a firing squad for murdering some of the classics.

With a loud, contented, but breathless groan, Sam collapsed and rolled onto his back in the grass. I watched fondly as the young wolf wiggled his hind quarters from side to side, paws up and out, his downy soft belly soaking up the sunshine and tail thumping the riverbank. Sam shook his head from side to side, ears twitching back and forth, then stopped and glanced over at me.

Ya know, when this is all over? Promise me something? He asked, softly.

Anything, Sammy, you know that. I trotted over and gently pawed at him.

We take a long, long, longlong, long break away from the world, from the hunt. Just the three of us, like this, sleeping under the stars, or sheltering from the rain under fallen trees… just... simple.

He must have been serious to over use the word long like that. Frankly, I'm not surprised the poor kid wanted to get away from humans and all their messed up shit for a while. We'd all been used and abused in some way over the years, Tobius included, but Sam had suffered the most out of all of us.

But when he looked at me, right then, eyes bright with pain and love, I'd have been happy just to take him away into the wilderness and live as wolves forever, never changing back, and never turning back.

It was a fruitless idea, because we both knew there was actually much about the human world we would miss, but right then I just couldn't think of a single one.

Sounds like a good plan to me, Sam. Somehow I think Sire won't object either, I answered at last. Now c'mon, there's plenty more to see and explore and we might as well make the most of this trip, huh?

Sammy eagerly scrambled up on to his paws and snuffled against my ears. Cool!

That day held many surprises for us.

Sam, ever the curious young wolf, had been sniffing around in the undergrowth, snout caught by a fresh new smell.

Unfortunately, he frightened a family of skunks into doing the unthinkable, nearly wiping out his sense of smell for several hours. The indignant mommy-skunk, protecting her young, had growled and twittered angrily at a surprised Sammy, bent her body into a 'U' shape, and… let it rip.

Sam had spluttered out a mournful howl, dropped to his belly and wrapped his front paws round his nose.

That hurt! he'd whined, pathetically. Dean! I can't feel my snout!

Serves you right for being nosey! I'd laughed, but in a show of solidarity, and protecting my own pup, I bared my teeth, hackles up, and body puffed up to twice its usual size. I made my stand against the angry critter.

To my own detriment, as it turned out.

I instantly regretted my cocky response to Sam's discomfort when the skunk scuttled nearer, within clawing distance just for a second, and let those little anal glands go to work… right in my face!

By the time the fog had cleared and we could think let alone see properly, she'd had it away with her youngsters and disappeared into the brush.

Guess I couldn't blame her, but my God! I think my nasal hairs still carry the scars of that unscheduled meeting to this very day. I know that Sammy can't even look at a Whoopee cushion without wincing.

And that's the reason I lay the blame of what followed firmly at the door of that damn skunk. If I could ever find her, that is.

As I said, our nostrils took quite a pounding and it was going to be some hours before they were back up to par. Perhaps I should have insisted we took the rest of the day off to recover, but we were both eager to meet up with Tobius, in spite of how much we didn't want this particular journey to end.

It was approaching dusk. The forests were thick, lush shadows of darkness against the mountains, with flecks of snow nestled in the canopy. The sky was a mass of starlight, a breathtaking display of planets, constellations, and the faint wisps of white cloud here and there. It was kind of magical, and reminded me of a night, many years before, when Sammy and I had sat on a mountain top above our cabin and family home, and watched the world below. It was that night when I had Hollywood Howled for the first time at Sammy's insistence. A night I will always treasure most among the memories of my boy's early days of wolfhood.

As we drew nearer, silently discussing our evening's hunt for food, I sensed something change around us, but nothing I could put my paw on.

Sam, stop!

He didn't question me, just did as asked and crouched low on his haunches in the long grass, ears just peaking over the top.

A tiny rustle in the forest up ahead, deep inside the tree line, had me fixing and narrowing my eyes on that very spot, and waiting patiently until…

There. Ya see that?

Sam huffed softly in agreement. Yeah. Can't believe we didn't spot the signs. Even without our snouts working at full power, these guys must have been silent as the grave!

There, deep in the shadows came movement, a flash of silver and glowing eyes, before it was gone. Now that our own eyes had adjusted, we could see dull shapes moving through the trees, slinking stealthy as the falling night towards us.

Uh oh. Sam whispered. I think they've caught our scent.

I smirked. Given what transpired earlier with the skunk...

I'd say they've had our scent for a while, Sammy. It's just a question of what they want with us.

Really wish you hadn't said that, dude.

I know. Just take it easy, and follow my lead.

We weren't worried as such. A grey wolf pack, all the way out here? Not exactly a surprise, and even less a shock that they'd cottoned on to us straying through their territory.

Would they fight us? Or just observe and let us pass?

But there was something about this pack, something wonderfully and yet, at the same time, terrifyingly familiar.

They emerged as one from the forest, but there were two that stood out from the rest. The alpha was unmistakable, in all his magnificence. A long slender snout, silver tipped ears, and deep glowing green eyes. He was easily as tall as Tobius, taller than me, and definitely taller than Sam. By his side stood a slightly smaller wolf, eyes narrowed with suspicion, teeth almost bared, hackles raised.

Oh yeah. This guy, probably the same age as me, was obviously the pack beta and bodyguard for the alpha. I recognized the look, the body poised and ready for a battle to the death.

Dean, these guys… Sam gulped a little nervously.

And yeah, he had a right to be nervous. 'Cos these weren't just any wolves.

I know, they're non lunars. Just don't make any sudden moves, ok?

Yeah.

We couldn't take them, wouldn't even be worth the effort of trying. There were too many of them for a start. We'd be torn to pieces in seconds, and judging by some of the older ones, with their graceful moves and unblinking eyes I guessed that time could be halved. The alpha and beta alone would be one hell of a challenge, but the entire pack?

Not a chance.

We were gonna have to engage in what Tobius often referred to as political negotiations, though in his defence it was said with tongue well and truly wedged in cheek.

In the human world I called it bullshit and bluff, though this was gonna need handling with kid gloves. These guys may have been wild non lunars but they weren't stupid.

Just remember Sam, they're part of a pack, which means they aren't strays. They won't attack unless we give them cause.

Sam shifted a little, the grass moving with him. Yeah, somehow I don't find that comforting. I mean, invading their territory kinda is giving them cause! Tobius would have torn them apart by now had the roles been reversed.

And that was true enough.

But I could tell he was in as much awe as me. We'd heard of such things. Tobius had told us once that in the distant past it was considered common place to find entire packs of non-lunar werewolves living in the wilderness, but when I say distant, I mean over a millennia ago.

Most left it all behind to mix with humans with the intention to either breed or, in the case of a true stray, to feed.

Sadly, hunting, superstition and general starvation had made home wolves, as Tobius called them, virtually extinct, with some packs either wiped out completely, or alphas taking the decision to pack up the family china, as it were, and move to the city for a better safer life for their pups.

It was the usual story, the same you can read in any wildlife magazine about foxes driven from the country and feeding out of human garbage cans. Except that non-lunars usually didn't have to sink quite that low.

There certainly weren't many home packs left these days, and the chance to see one up close for real was one that only came along once in a lifetime, even for immortals like us. Home wolves don't trust city non lunars or even the semi- nomadic ones like us, and I can't say I blame them. These are the places that procure the strays, after all, corrupting the honour of their kind, and strays are the reasons behind some of the fairy tales you've probably grown up with – Little Red Riding Hood, The Three Little Pigs? See where this is going? It all brought down trouble on the Home packs, in the form of hunters and mobs bearing flaming torches and brandishing pitchforks.

If Sammy and I hadn't had our snouts turned inside out that day by Mrs 'anger management' Skunk, chances were we'd have picked up on the pack sooner, diverted round and left them in peace. No one would have been disturbed.

Seen from their point of view, it looked like a couple of cocky young wolves had sauntered on through as though they owned the damn place, without any regard or showing any respect for the alpha, and frankly we were lucky to have made it as far as we had without some kind of fierce skirmish.

It was time to make amends.

I stood to my full height then bowed graciously, as Sire had once taught me. I sensed Sammy doing the same and felt a twinge of pride run through me. It's not often I get to show off my son to other non-lunars, unless they're strays, and I couldn't help wondering what this pack would make of Sam's unusual colouring.

Sir, please accept our apologies for this untimely visit. My name is Dean and this is my son, Sammy.

It's Sam! Sam growled faintly in my head.

So not the time, Sam!

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Dean Winchester? Grovelling, of all things?

Damn straight I was! And so would you if you'd seen the size of this pack! There had to be a least twenty of what I could see, and there were more waiting further back in the shadows.

Home packs tended to be vast in number, compared to non lunars like us.

The alpha regarded me for a long drawn out moment, then padded forward.

What do you want from us? He demanded, voice deep, husky and firm in our heads, and there was a strong hint of a Scottish accent about it. Think Billy Connolly but with less swearing.

Nothing, sir, just passage without hindrance through your land. I met his gaze head on.

Why did you not go around? The alpha's eyes glowed fiercely. Surely, even as young as you clearly are, you were aware of committing trespass on this pack?

The beta snarled at me, upper lip curling and teeth glistening with saliva.

Settle down, Cornelius, the alpha snapped without looking round.

Same age he might have been, but Cornelius wasn't nearly so experienced at his role of pack beta. Against protocol, he was trying to goad me into a brawl and, to his further anger, I just ignored him.

Sir, we were unable to pick up your scent due to an encounter with a family of skunks…I'm afraid we upset her…

And that was when the entire pack just seemed to freeze.

The alpha stared at me.

He shifted tentatively closer, snout sniffing furiously, and grimaced. Oh yes, she got you alright.

He turned to face his pack. Here that? Ol'Doris farted in his face.

And with that, he started laughing, head thrown back and howling his mirth at the starry sky. But we were even more perplexed when the rest of the pack joined in.

Dean? What do we do now?

We wait and see.

But they're just laughing at us!

Wouldn't you?

I turned my head slightly and caught Sam's eye. A brief pause was all it took before the two of us snorted loudly. But it took a few minutes of laughing for us to realize that we were now the only ones who still found it amusing.

Our laughter died a gradual death, like in some corny sketch from a TV sitcom.

We were on iffy ground; for the alpha and his pack to laugh at the strangers is allowed, but for the strangers to laugh in the presence of the host alpha? Not the most politically correct move, and one that was likely to see us strung up by our ears from the nearest tree just for the insult.

But then the alpha did something strange.

He came closer and sat down right in front of me, but he was looking at Sam.

Hmm. I thought the rumours would be greatly exaggerated, but it turns out they were bang on the mark, he tilted his head, staring into my eyes. Aye, you're a handsome one, for sure, but your son truly is a remarkable beauty. Never seen such colouring on a non-lunar before.

Sam ducked his head in instant embarrassment, but mumbled thank you, sir.

The alpha seemed to find that amusing. And shy, too. That's a rare thing these days, or so I'm told. Word has it, there's little room for modesty in the modern world.

The wolf snorted lightly.

But I'm forgetting my manners.

He suddenly bowed, respectfully.

It's a pleasure to meet you both. I am Lucas, pack alpha of the Northern Home Non-lunars, last of its kind. Without giving us much of a chance to respond to the sadness in that statement, he went on to ask and how is that old reprobate sire of yours these days? I haven't seen Tobius since the Normandy Landings.

Because it was said with great, genuine fondness, Sammy and I, though surprised once more that day, instantly relaxed.

We were among friends.

Author's Notes:

Many thanks for all you encouraging reviews.

Due to one review that I found particularly troubling and, if I'm honest, a little hurtful, could I point out that if the journal entry sections annoy you, or don't appeal in any way, then please note that they are quite clearly marked in bold and no one is forcing you to read them.

Please feel free to scroll down through them to the main story.

Cheers.

Kind regards,

ST xxx