Page 1

ONE

MAYA

M aya's fingers nimbly secured the motion-activated camera to the pine tree.

Despite the fading afternoon light, her movements were precise and efficient.

The golden-hour sun filtered through the dense canopy of trees surrounding the Cascade Mountains, casting dappled shadows across her freckled face.

She stepped back to examine her handiwork, tucking her copper-red hair behind her ear.

"Well, that's the sixth one this week," she muttered to herself, making a notation in her weathered field journal. "If these wolves don't start giving up their secrets, I'll need to reconsider my entire research career."

The breeze rustled the pines around her, carrying the earthy scent of loam and decay.

Maya inhaled deeply, feeling that familiar, inexplicable connection to these woods that had drawn her here weeks ago.

Something about this particular pack had captured her attention in ways she couldn't articulate to her academic peers.

She flipped through her journal, scanning her meticulous notes and detailed sketches. The evidence was mounting, page after page documenting behaviors that defied conventional wolf research.

"Complex sentinel rotations," she read aloud, tracing her finger along a diagram. "Coordinated hunting patterns with deliberate diversionary tactics. Strategic territory marking that changes based on human activity."

Maya closed the journal with a snap. Her research was veering into territory that would make her colleagues raise skeptical eyebrows. She'd already faced enough academic derision when proposing her communication theory.

"Dr. Collins, wolves don't have language," she mimicked her department chair's dismissive tone. The memory made her jaw clench. "They operate on instinct, not cognition."

She checked the camera angle one final time, ensuring it covered the clearing where she'd observed multiple pack gatherings. The setting sun glinted off the lens, reminding her that darkness would soon fall.

"Well, Professor Hammond, explain how a 'mere instinct' told the alpha to station sentries in a perfect hexagonal pattern around their meeting site.

" Maya adjusted her heavy leather backpack filled with equipment.

"Or how they've developed at least seventeen distinct vocalizations that consistently correlate with specific pack behaviors. "

A twig snapped somewhere in the underbrush behind her. Maya froze, her senses immediately heightening. This deep in the forest, encounters with wildlife were expected, but caution remained prudent. She slowly turned, scanning the darkening woods.

Nothing.

She exhaled. "And now I'm jumping at shadows. Perfect."

The data she'd collected over the past weeks scrolled through her mind as she gathered her equipment.

These wolves exhibited collaborative problem-solving beyond anything documented in scientific literature.

They communicated across distances with a nuance that suggested complex information transfer, not just simple warnings or location signals.

Maya crouched to examine fresh paw prints in the soft earth. "Look at the deliberate placement," she whispered, pulling out her phone to snap a quick photo. "They're not just walking—they're following a pattern."

Her scientific mind battled with observations that seemed impossible.

These weren't just smart wolves. These were wolves that demonstrated something approaching human reasoning.

Their pack hierarchy showed flexibility based on situation rather than rigid dominance.

Even more baffling, they seemed aware of her observation, occasionally leaving what appeared to be intentional signs—like the perfectly preserved deer leg positioned directly in front of her previous camera.

The shadows lengthened around her as she packed up. That sense of being watched prickled along her spine again—more intense than usual. Maya glanced over her shoulder, her green eyes narrowing as they scanned the tree line.

"I know you're out there," she called, surprising herself with the boldness. "And sooner or later, I'll figure you out."

Maya trudged back to her van as darkness swallowed the forest. Fatigue pulled at her limbs after another twelve-hour day stalking the movements of her wolf pack.

The silvery glow of the waxing moon lit her path, casting long shadows between the pines.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being followed—had felt it for days now—but chalked it up to the natural unease of being alone in the wilderness.

Her modified Sprinter van appeared through the trees, a sanctuary of steel and comfort amid the primeval landscape.

Maya had transformed the interior into a functional living space with a fold-out desk, compact kitchen, and the crown jewel—her mobile research station.

The university grant hadn't covered these modifications.

Those had come from her modest inheritance. Money well spent, in her opinion.

"Home sweet temporary home," she muttered, unlocking the door and flicking on the solar-powered lights.

The familiar scent of coffee grounds and dried pine needles greeted her. She tossed her backpack onto the narrow bed and grabbed a protein bar. Dinner of champions. Her ritual after field work never varied. Download footage, analyze data, document observations, and sleep. Repeat tomorrow.

Maya settled into her ergonomic chair and plugged the memory cards into her laptop. She stretched her neck while waiting for the files to load, rubbing at the knot forming between her shoulders.

"Come on, come on," she urged the progress bar on the screen. "Show me something extraordinary."

The first thirty minutes of the camera footage—from the camera positioned near the rocky outcropping where she'd documented unusual pack gatherings— revealed nothing unusual.

Deer passing, raccoons investigating her scent markers, and a juvenile wolf touching its nose curiously to the camera.

Standard wildlife behavior. But then, when the thirty-first minute marker clicked by, what she saw on the screen made her sit upright instantly.

"Holy shit."

Maya's fingers froze over the keyboard. The footage showed a clearing bathed in moonlight two nights ago, during the full moon.

A man walked into frame, tall and powerfully built.

He moved with predatory grace, his shoulders broad beneath a dark shirt.

He stopped, seeming to scent the air, before turning slightly toward the camera, completely unaware of its presence before him.

"Who the hell are you?" she whispered, leaning in closer to the screen.

The stranger's face was partially shadowed, but she could make out a strong jawline shadowed with stubble and the glint of unusually bright eyes. Then something impossible happened.

The man's features contorted. His back arched in what appeared to be some kind of transformation pose. His hands curled into claws as dark black hair began sprouting along his forearms. His face elongated impossibly, and his teeth visibly sharpened even in the grainy night footage.

And then—nothing. The screen went black.

"No, no, no!" Maya slapped the side of her laptop. "You have got to be kidding me!"

She rewound and replayed the footage three times. Each viewing confirmed what she'd seen—a man beginning to transform into something else. Something with fur and fangs.

"I can't believe my damn battery died!" She pushed away from the desk, pacing the narrow confines of her van. "Go figure. The one time I capture something truly extraordinary, and the equipment fails on me."

Maya's heart hammered in her chest. The rational part of her brain searched for explanations—costume, camera malfunction, elaborate hoax—while another part, a primitive instinct she rarely acknowledged, recognized the truth immediately.

"Werewolves," she breathed, the word hanging in the air between scientific impossibility and undeniable evidence. "Actual werewolves."

She returned to the screen, freezing the frame on the man's face at the moment his transformation began. Something about those eyes, silver-blue and piercing even through digital pixels, stirred a response in her that wasn't entirely professional curiosity.

"This changes everything." Maya grabbed her journal, scribbling furiously. "If there are people who can transform into wolves... that would explain the advanced pack behaviors, the intelligence beyond normal lupine capacity, and the strategic territory marking."

Her excitement built with each connection her mind made. "I need more footage. I need to find him."

She glanced at the frozen image again, studying the man's features with new intensity. Broad shoulders, powerful build, that intriguing scar running from his temple to his jaw.

"Who are you?" she wondered aloud, her finger tracing his outline on the screen. "And what will you do when you discover I've seen what you really are?"

Maya's hands shook with excitement as she soon marked the coordinates on her topographical map, the red X stark against the green contour lines. She double-checked the position against her GPS data, matching it to the timestamp on the camera footage.

"You're not getting away that easily, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Turns-Into-A-Wolf." Her finger traced the path she'd take tomorrow, through the dense forest to the clearing where she'd caught him on camera.

She packed methodically for tomorrow's expedition—extra memory cards, fresh batteries, her best telephoto lens, and even the night-vision monocular she rarely used. Each item went into its proper place in her field kit backpack with the precision of a surgeon preparing instruments.

"If werewolves exist, then everything I know about evolutionary biology needs serious revision." Maya tapped her pen against her journal where she'd sketched the man's face from memory. Those eyes haunted her—impossibly bright, primal yet intelligent.

She crawled into her narrow bed after setting her alarm for pre-dawn. The small space felt suddenly vulnerable, mere aluminum and insulation separating her from whatever prowled the forest. Maya pulled her sleeping bag up to her chin and stared at the roof of the van.

"What if he knows I saw him?" The question hung in the darkness. "What if he comes looking for me?"

Sleep eventually claimed her, dragging her into vivid dreams that blurred the line between terror and desire.

She stood in a moonlit clearing, mist curling around her ankles. Dark shapes emerged from the tree line—wolves with eyes that gleamed with human awareness. They circled her, drawing closer with each pass.

"Stay back," she called out, but her voice sounded small in the vast dreamscape.

The wolves snarled, showing teeth that seemed to elongate as she watched. Their bodies contorted, shifting between wolf and human forms in a fluid, impossible motion that her scientific mind both rejected and was fascinated by.

One wolf broke from the circle—larger than the others, with striking midnight black fur. It approached her with deliberate steps, its eyes the same piercing silver-blue from the camera footage.

Maya stood her ground even as her heart jackhammered against her ribs. "I'm not afraid of you," she lied.

The wolf stopped mere inches from her. Then it changed—fur receding, limbs elongating, spine straightening—until the man from the footage stood before her. His height towered over her, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight, casting her in his shadow.

"You should be afraid," he said, his voice deep and rich with power. He reached out, cupping her face with a hand that could easily crush her bones but instead touched her with unexpected gentleness. "You don't know what you've just done."

"I know enough," dream-Maya responded with a boldness her waking self might have lacked.

His face drew closer, those luminous eyes studying her with predatory intensity. "What makes you think I'll let you leave with that knowledge?"

"What makes you think I want to leave?"

The dream shifted. They were running together through the forest, his hand gripping hers as they darted between trees. Behind them came snarls and howls—the pack in pursuit.

"They won't accept you," he panted. "They'll tear you apart."

"Why are you helping me?" Maya asked as they splashed through a creek.

He didn't answer. He just kept pulling her deeper into the forest.

They reached another clearing where he pulled her against his chest, one arm around her waist, the other tilting her chin up. His eyes glowed brighter now, his breath hot against her lips.

"I shouldn't want you," he growled, the sound more wolf than man.

"But you do." Maya's dream-self pressed closer, feeling the solid warmth of him.

His mouth claimed hers just as the howls grew deafening. Maya jolted awake, gasping, her body flushed and her heart racing. The dark interior of her van slowly came into focus as reality reasserted itself.

"That was..." She touched her lips, the dream kiss feeling impossibly real. "That was certainly not part of my intended research grant proposal."