Aimee Easterling's Blog, page 11

Looking for werewolves in ancient petroglyphs

I’m only a few chapters into the first draft of my 2019 series, which means the characters, the plot, and even the world are entirely in flux. This is the dreamtime of a novel, when I submerge myself in ideas without requiring any of them to stick.

Here’s what I know:

My heroine is a modern-day archaeologist.
There’s some sort of link between the ancient worlds she studies and the werewolves she doesn’t yet know exist just beyond the edges of her ordinary life.
The art of those ancient worlds might just be the link….

So I’ve been researching French cave paintings, which will likely be the subject of another post. A throwaway line in one of those books, however, sent me off on a tangent. It suggested that prehistoric people painted or etched into rock faces throughout their environment. We just know about the stunning cave paintings because they were created in a protected environment and stood the test of time.

I should have realized that was the case due to my own experience visiting Inscription Rock at the edge of Kelleys Island, Ohio. I was so excited to see a petroglyph up close and personal…then I didn’t even take a single photograph of the engravings. Because, in just a century and a third, lines that had clearly represented people and animals had faded into an impossible to decipher mess.

My recent visit to Leo Petroglyph in the southern part of the state was slightly more inspiring, but still left a lot to the imagination. Lack of wave action and the presence of a shelter erected in a more timely manner (plus modern painting within the lines) made it possible to decipher birds, a snake, bear and deer (elk?) tracks, plus a human/animal combo that looked a lot like a prehistoric emoji. But why had the images been drawn and what did they mean to their creators?

I soon discovered that petroglyphs are found nearly worldwide and they may have widely varying purposes. Some were maps, others are considered the forerunners of writing, and some may have been carved by shamans in an altered state of consciousness.

How can we know that the ancient artists weren’t just representing the world they saw around them? Geometric patterns are often included in paintings and drawings from prehistoric times…and the similarities of those shapes from widely disparate continents is startling.

Scientists had a hard time explaining these repeated grids and dots in ancient art until studies of the images modern people see during drug-induced hallucinations came to light. Form constants are shapes that our brains and eyes team up to produce when left to their own devices, a bit like the “snow” on an old-fashioned TV when nothing is being broadcast across the airwaves. Seeing form constants show up in cave paintings and petroglyphs suggested a shamanic/religious purpose of some of these images at least.

Of course, in my werewolf world, there aren’t many drugs but there’s plenty of magic. Suddenly, the wheels are spinning like crazy in my head….

Fox Blood, Chapter 2 Scene 2

If you’re just tuning in, be sure to start at the beginning….

“Kira.” The word emerged from both my and Gunner’s lips in perfect synchrony, but we didn’t have time to gaze meaningfully into each other’s eyes. Instead, I sprinted down the hallway, sword materializing in my hand in a blaze of blue-tinted glory even as Gunner rounded the corner three steps faster and dove into the melee of angry wolves.

Because, despite their alpha’s ultimatum moments earlier, two-thirds of the pack had donned their fur forms and turned their teeth into weapons the second they felt threatened. Those still human were more obedient but no less dangerous—they’d grabbed up cutlery, some of it as long as my forearm.

Meanwhile, the entire room smelled like a forgotten egg factory, the scent even worse here than it had been beside Edward in the hall. How did everyone manage to go against a direct order from their pack leader? Did Gunner forget to imbue his words with alpha compulsion? The questions hovered over me like a foul-smelling storm cloud. But I pushed premonitions aside, hunting for my sister instead.

There she was…then there she wasn’t as she shivered down into the red fur of her fox. Ever since Kira had melded with our mother’s star ball, she’d been unruly and snarky and prone to shifting at the drop of a hat. Which wasn’t helpful in the current situation…but the chain of events also meant that her unusual fur form hadn’t been what set the werewolves off.

So what…?

I waited only long enough to glimpse Tank—Gunner’s trusted second—tackling my sister and enfolding her in a werewolf burrito of protection before I thrust my way deeper into the crowd away from them. Because the growling mob wasn’t facing toward either me or Kira. Instead, they were pushing and shoving, trying to get into the kitchen, or perhaps through that to the dining room beyond.

Mindful of the fact that these were supposedly my pack mates, I used my elbows and knees rather than my weapon to open up a pathway. But it was slow going, teeth snapping and claws scraping as I pressed past. My favorite pair of jeans was going to be spaghetti by the time this was over…but on the plus side, Gunner would never know that Edward had been the one to leave a bruise on my upper arm.

With that heartening thought at the forefront, I thunked a werewolf on the nose with my sword hilt, taking advantage of the resulting pocket of space to press through the narrow doorway separating kitchen from living room. And my grin of triumph promptly faltered as I took in the scene on the other side.

Because there was a fox perched atop the stainless steel refrigerator. Its fur was puffed up like the pelt of a cornered cat while its body pressed back against the wall behind it. No wonder since a werewolf currently swiped toward it with human fingers, attempting to pull the stranger loose from its hiding place.

There were a dozen other werewolves in the room with a similar agenda. But I had interest only in the much smaller canine cowering above their heads. Because even though its fur was pitch black instead of blazing red like mine and my sister’s, I knew the moment our eyes made contact that this wasn’t any mere fox wandered in out of the forest who’d accidentally ended up in my new home.

No, this was a kitsune. A being the like of which I’d never met outside my own family. After all, what right-minded wild animal would willingly walk into a cottage full of wolves?

Want to find out what happens when Mai is faced with introducing a strange kitsune to Gunner’s pack? Keep reading via the retailer of your choice.

Fox Blood, Chapter 2 Scene 1

If you’re just tuning in, be sure to start at the beginning….

“He’s besotted with you.”

The voice curling over my left shoulder sounded pleasant, but it wasn’t. Instead, my instincts screamed “Angry werewolf behind you. Careful!” one second before I swiveled around with a fake smile pasted on my lips.

“Edward. Left your posse behind, did you? Braving the scary kitsune all on your lonesome?”

Because the middle-aged male who’d been Gunner’s principal ally in the battle against Liam was apparently not my greatest supporter. Moments earlier, Edward had stood at the center of the huddle of unhappy shifters shooting angry glances in my direction. So the fact he’d come all the way across the room to engage me likely meant he had an ultimatum to drop on my head.

Meanwhile, the rotten-egg aroma that permeated my cottage was so strong now I could only conclude it emanated from this shifter. It couldn’t have been his signature aroma, however, or someone would have warned me about the foul stench.

“Bad choice of cologne,” I noted even as he grabbed my arm and drew me into the dimly lit hallway with a grasp so bruising I had to fight down a flinch.

“This pack is barely hanging together,” Edward growled as soon as we were out of easy earshot of the rest of the partygoers, not bothering to comment on my snarkiness about his scent. “Liam was important to us and now he’s gone. Ransom was an asshole, but the transition away from him is still difficult. We don’t need you here making things more complicated. If you love Gunner, you’ll leave him alone.”

I wanted to snipe right back…but, unfortunately, Edward hadn’t said anything I didn’t already believe to be truthful. On the other hand—“Gunner asked me to come here. So I came.”

As I spoke, I stared at the hand clenched around my arm until Edward realized what would happen if his pack leader saw the lines of parallel bruises welling up beneath his fingers. Reddening, he shrank back so rapidly I might as well have swiped at him with my sword.

“Shit,” the male muttered under his breath. “If he smells me on you, he’ll go berserk.”

This, at least, I was prepared for. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out an aerosol can of scent-reducing compound, spraying it liberally across my injured flesh.

“I’m not here to make your life difficult,” I said as I worked, the chemical drifting up my nose in the process so I had to pause and stifle a sneeze before I could go on. But then I returned to the most important business—clarifying my place within the Atwood pack. “I’m here to support Gunner,” I continued. “And if you care about the clan, you’ll let me get on with my task.”

Which was all very true even though the words sat between us like a lump of brussel sprouts on the plate of a picky toddler. If Edward wanted the Atwood clan to hang together, he’d make nice and pretend he didn’t have a bone to pick with the pack leader’s mate.

I could tell from his scent—no longer quite so harsh and astringent—that Edward had gotten the message. Unfortunately, werewolves have a hard time dropping a juicy bone. “What happened four months ago…”

“Was the fault of an Atwood werewolf,” I interjected, not wanting to remember the awful battle of wolf against wolf fueled by the kitsune magic of my dead mother. “I would never do anything to damage this pack.”

The vigor of belief added volume to what was meant to be a private conversation, and this time I really did wince as my words rang a little too loudly in the echoing hall. Shit. I’d intended to say my piece to Edward then let him propagate it through the pack at the speed of werewolf gossip. I hadn’t intended to create a scene.

Ignoring the shifter beside me, I swiveled just as I’d done while walking up the path with Kira. Unfortunately, this time I wasn’t lucky enough to find our surroundings devoid of life. Instead, a tall, broad-shouldered werewolf towered in the open doorway between hallway and living room, silhouetted against the light behind his back.

“Something the matter?” Gunner demanded, taking in our proximity, our stiff-legged anger, the strange floral overlay of the de-scenting compound.

“Of course not,” I lied. “Edward was just giving me the recipe for his famous lasagna.”

Grimacing in what was clearly meant to be a smile, the male in question played along. “The secret,” he offered, “is in the sauce.”

“Hmm,” Gunner started, far from satisfied. Only he had no time to debrief us further, because the living room behind him erupted into howls, growls, and one long, quavering scream.

Dive straight into the full book on the retailer of your choice or click here to continue reading online for free.

Fox Blood, Chapter 1 Scene 2

If you’re just tuning in, be sure to start at the beginning….

The boxes were on the ground and my sword was clasped in white-knuckled fingers before several sets of hands—at least they were furless—yanked my sister into the death trap. But I was four steps too slow to prevent them from enfolding her into their midst.

Enfolding her…and flipping on the light switch to reveal smiling faces and party banners. Apparently my attempt to move in after sunset hadn’t been as secretive as I’d initially supposed.

“Surprise!” werewolves howled, only some of the voices human. Then a whoosh of displaced air warned me of Gunner’s presence half a second before a large hand tucked itself into the small of my back. He guided me through the doorway, my sword reluctantly dissolving into the magical ether even as I did my best to paste a pleased smile onto my face.

“I take it surprise parties aren’t your favorite,” Gunner huffed into my ear while his free hand massaged tension out of my neck muscles. And even though I was bound and determined to give Gunner every opportunity to rebuild his splintered pack without our relationship derailing his efforts, I still found myself swiveling so his guiding arm turned into half of a hug.

“No, I’m not generally a fan of surprise parties,” I agreed. “But I am glad to see you.” After all, it had been nearly three weeks since we’d spent more than five minutes in close proximity. No wonder his fingers on my bare skin acted like balm. I melted into his arms, forgetting my worries as I tilted my head back in preparation for a kiss.

Only, no kiss was forthcoming. Instead, Gunner released me and pulled a small notebook out of one pocket.

“I’ll be sure to remember that in case it comes up later,” he said. And even though cold air where warm hands used to be explained the sudden rise of goosebumps along my exposed forearms, my shiver was out of proportion to the chilliness of the night.

Blinking slowly to tamp down my frustration, I stood up on tiptoes to peer at Gunner’s notebook. And what he’d written returned the smile to my face. “My place tonight once Kira’s sleeping?”

No wonder he hadn’t wanted to even whisper the words in the midst of the pack where shifter ears were bound to overhear him. My cheeks heated even as my head snapped up to peruse the partygoers. Somehow I was positive every werewolf present had read Gunner’s words right alongside me….

But the crowd looked just like it had previously. Werewolves partying. Werewolves laughing. Werewolves muttering in dark corners about the kitsunes in their midst.

“Maybe,” I answered, trying to decide whether I trusted Atwood shifters enough to leave Kira alone in the cottage after night fell.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Gunner interrupted, raising his voice until it was loud enough to be heard at the far end of the overcrowded living room. “New rule—all disputes must be settled with blades hereafter. Tournament rules, to first blood.” Then, as someone near us complained that he knew nothing about blades, that swords were archaic. “If you need instruction, I recommend asking our new sword master for tips.”

Gunner’s hand settled against the small of my back, subtly pushing me forward. And once every eye was upon me—exactly what I’d hoped to avoid by taking the walk of shame with my sister—the pack leader added: “Don’t forget to pay her. Old Red needs new brakes.”

Then just like that, Gunner left me alone in a room full of werewolves with nowhere to hide and no choice but to follow him deeper in.

Dive straight into the full book on the retailer of your choice or click here to continue reading online for free.

Fox Blood, Chapter 1 Scene 1

Are you ready for a sneak preview of Fox Blood? This final book in the Moon Marked series is now available on all retailers. Or you can try out the beginning below:

“I think this is called the walk of shame,” Kira suggested, her voice cutting through the foggy evening air like a sword through warm butter. I swiveled in unconscious reaction, peering through almost-raindrops hovering around us on every side.

Between the fog and the night, I couldn’t see anything, unfortunately. Which didn’t mean we were alone…just that visibility was painfully low. Unfriendly werewolves could be hovering just out of scent range, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce upon us. Good thing I wasn’t as oblivious as my pampered younger sister to the danger we were currently walking through.

So—“Shh,” I huffed out, hoisting a trio of cardboard containers a little higher in my arms while hoping the suddenly overwhelming aroma of stale beer wasn’t emanating from one of them. Perhaps I should have sprung for new boxes rather than begging for used ones behind the neighborhood liquor store….

“Well, it is, isn’t it?” Kira demanded, turning around to walk backwards down the gravel road leading up to our secluded cottage. “I mean, if we weren’t ashamed, we would’ve taken Gunner up on his offer to rent a moving truck. We would have come when it was daylight out. And we wouldn’t have parked twenty miles away so nobody would hear Old Red squeak her way up the drive.”

“Old Red isn’t so bad,” I rebutted, defending the new-to-me car. I’d never wanted a vehicle until I began living over a hundred miles away from a boyfriend who only visited in the company of needy pack mates. Skype had kept us in contact, but I had needs that weren’t being met via video chat.

Gunner had offered to throw money at the problem, but I wasn’t ready for that level of entanglement just yet. So I’d found a new job, had saved my pennies, and had bought a twenty-year-old, off-brand vehicle the previous week.

Old Red made it feasible to move into a secluded, rural village without feeling like I was trapping myself and Kira next door to a bunch of werewolves. The car gave me an easy out if we needed to flee and allowed me to spend time with Gunner without having to become monetarily indebted to him. Now, however, I was having second thoughts about the cleverness of my ploy.

Because my skin prickled with warning of hidden werewolves in the vicinity. Turning in a tight circle, I barely managed to keep Kira’s box of stage-magic paraphernalia from teetering off the top of the stack while I peered around the barrier. I knew they were out there. This was Atwood clan central after all. Even at the crack of dawn, there should have been patrollers out guarding the boundaries and early risers jogging down tree-lined paths.

Instead, the territory appeared empty even though it smelled far too strongly of wolf…plus impatient little sister. “And we didn’t park twenty miles away,” I continued, trying to get Kira off topic before I was forced to tell her what a walk of shame really was. “We parked a quarter of a mile away so Old Red’s brakes wouldn’t wake up the neighbors. It’s the considerate thing to do. You need to learn to be polite now that we’re denning with—”

“Whatever,” Kira cut me off, darting away to dance up cobblestone steps toward our cottage. The first dead leaves of autumn lay on the stones between us, and in daylight I suspected they would have glowed beautifully orange or red.

In the evening fog, however, the discarded plant matter merely appeared gray, slippery, and dangerous…like everything else about this place.

“Kira, wait.” I wasn’t in fox form, so I couldn’t be certain. But I got the distinct impression someone had marked his territory on the bottom step in the form of very lupine-smelling pee. Gunner had promised the pack was ready to welcome us into their midst, but urine wasn’t generally considered a sign of open-armed acceptance. More worrisome, however, was the fact that the liquid had been deposited so recently that it still puddled atop the cobblestones in my path….

“Kira.” This time I snapped out her name as close as I could come to a werewolf compulsion. But, of course, we weren’t wolves and my sister saw no reason to obey me.

Instead, she turned the knob of our new domicile without even glancing backwards. Pushed the door open into darkness…and walked straight through an overwhelming cascade of strangely sulfurous eau de wolf.

Dive straight into the full book on the retailer of your choice or click here to continue reading online for free.

Cuddle up with some romantic fantasy and fantasy romance

The nights are so long at this time of year…which means more time for reading! So I pulled together my favorite books since I last regaled you with recommendations. They start out closer to urban fantasy and get more romantic as you delve deeper into the post. Without further ado — good books!

 

Anne Bishop’s Written in Red is one of those books that make me wonder “how in the world did I skip over reading this for so long?”. In my own defense, the cover is terribly off genre and does the interior no justice. There are werewolves that push all the right buttons while still managing to be different and fresh, a sci-fi first-contact feel, an innocent yet strong heroine, and a vivid, snowy world that could have been one of the characters (and kinda was). Read it.

 

Minimum Wage Magic is my new favorite Rachel Aaron book, with strong shades of Ilona Andrews. I was hooked from page one, loved the slowly doled out backstory and world-building, and am very intrigued by the love interest. Currently FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

 

Warprize by Elizabeth Vaughan is pure fantasy romance with a healer as the heroine and an alpha-male lead who (spoiler!) turns out to be less cave mannish than he initially appears. If you enjoyed Amanda Bouchet’s A Promise of Fire, this book has a very similar feel.

Melissa McShane’s Servant of the Crown was such an unexpected treat! At its heart, the novel is a historicalish fantasy romance in the vein of Court Duel. Add in old books plus a heroine who loves them and I was entirely hooked.

Meljean Brook’s Riveted is full of of steampunk awesomeness that requires no knowledge of what came during previous books in the series. This installment, in particular, was that perfect blend of action and romance, with a wounded but strong hero, a heroine on a mission, and a setting in Iceland that made me feel like I’d really been there. Highly recommended!

K.F. Breene’s Sin & Chocolate slid down my gullet like a smooth gulp of dark, hot chocolate. The heroine raising down-on-their-luck street kids, the intriguing magic, and the tantalizing love interest keep me turning pages way too late. My only issue is that I *needed* book two immediately and it isn’t out yet…. (Currently FREE with Kindle Unlimited!)

I hope that gives you a few new authors to try out to keep you busy during long winter nights!

Kitsune lore

I can’t actually remember what was going through my head a year ago when decided that my next protagonist was going to be a kitsune — a Japanese fox shifter. I think I was perusing lists of traditional shifter types and stumbled across this unfamiliar being with so many fascinating traits.

Despite that gap in my memory, I do know where I did most of my research. Come and Sleep is an easy-to-read and surprisingly far-reaching summary of kitsune folklore, ranging from the silly pranks in some stories to the almost selkie-like tale of a female fox who learned to shift for love of a human man but was unable to maintain the illusion so had to leave her family or die.

Kitsunes are reported to marry on rainy days under sunny skies. They’re boundary creatures, who belong to neither world but visit both. Sometimes they’re vampiric, using sexy times to steal a man’s yang power. Other times, white-furred kitsunes are divine messengers of the rice/wealth goddess who come to earth to punish wild trickster foxes (identifiable by their red fur).

I didn’t end up using all of that lore in my Moon Marked series, but I did incorporate the two-edged sword of kitsune gratitude. If you help a kitsune, they’ll be indebted to you…but if you aren’t grateful for their assistance they might react quite badly indeed.

How about you? Have you read any kitsune-related stories you enjoyed? If so, I hope you’ll use the facebook link to comment below!

Shadow Wolf is now live!

Are you ready for the second book in the Moon Marked trilogy? Early reviewers enjoyed the ride:

Exciting, action packed plot with magic, shifters, and unexpected twists” — Laure Eccleson

“A beautiful story, sisterly love, the characters are practically sitting at your side” — William Vegvari

“Suspenseful mystery with charming shifters and kitsune magic” — LaffingKat

Perhaps you will too? If you’re ready to make the leap, Shadow Wolf is now available on all retailers. Enjoy!

Shadow Wolf, Chapter 2 Scene 2

Did you miss the beginning of the story? If so, please click here to start from chapter 1.

Or, rather, to face the two-legged wolf in human clothing. Gunner raised one eyebrow at the pointy blade just barely indenting the skin beneath his Adam’s apple. Then, ignoring my weapon, he held out a mug of chamomile tea, the sweetness of honey curling off the surface as the leader of the wolf pack I lived amidst greeted me aloud.

“Tough night?”

I shook my head, not so much in denial as in a refusal to rehash my dream landscape verbally. And in response, Gunner’s open face shuttered ever so slightly as if he was more disappointed by my evasion than at being greeted by the sharp tip of a sword.

But just as quickly, Gunner regained his customary smile, jiggling the mug between us so the ceramic clanked against my magically-created weapon. “We should do something fun before Kira’s custody hearing,” the ever-patient werewolf suggested. “Go for a run somewhere wild before we’re due in court. Or…shopping? Does Kira like shopping?”

“My sister loves nothing better than spending other people’s money,” I admitted, allowing my sword to diffuse back into a magical blob that slid along my skin to form a bracelet, a belt, a sheathed knife at my left ankle. In front of me, Gunner didn’t even twitch at this evidence of my kitsune nature. “But we shouldn’t spoil her,” I added. “And, anyway, I’ve got other plans.”

“Plans?”

This time I accepted the mug my companion brandished in my direction, pretending that I needed all of my attention to prevent a spill. Taking a sip, I noted that Gunner had steeped the tea just the way I liked it, not so long it turned bitter but not so short that it was simply sweetened water with a hint of aroma to turn hot liquid into soothing tea water.

The flavor was perfect…but my gut clenched anyway. Because it was time for our inevitable weekly ritual. No one managed to slip away from the pack without extensive explanation, but I couldn’t afford to let any of the werewolves I lived with know where I went on Tuesday afternoons. In lieu of the truth, I always ended up stuttering through an entirely unbelievable explanation, and the wolves around me always smiled grimly and allowed me to lie.

As usual, my body language broadcast my mistruth before I even opened my mouth to speak it. “Girl stuff,” I said stiffly, turning away from the piercing eyes of the far too astute werewolf who was providing food, housing, protection, and now the likelihood of ripping Kira out of the foster system permanently.

Gunner had done everything he could think of to enfold me into his pack…and yet I remained at heart a solitary kitsune.

“It might take a while,” I continued. “So I’ll meet you and Kira at the courthouse. If you don’t mind bringing her there for me….”

“Of course, I’ll take care of Kira,” Gunner agreed quietly. “She’s part of our pack.”

The unspoken addendum—that I lacked that distinction due to actions just like this one—separated us more effectively than my now-absent weapon.

But there was nothing I could do about the sad sag to my companion’s shoulders. Nothing except the impossible—turn myself into a wolf.

So, stepping backwards, I nodded once. “Thank you,” I murmured, eyes downcast in wordless apology, “for the tea.”

Shadow Wolf be on the retailer of your choice next week — stay tuned!

Shadow Wolf, Chapter 2 Scene 1

Did you miss the beginning of the story? If so, please click here to start from chapter 1.

It was half past four in the morning, but I couldn’t close my eyes, let alone return to slumber. Not even after examining now-clean fingers and toes to reassure myself that the strange confrontation had only been a figment of my dreaming mind’s imagination.

Instead, I lay between soft sheets, listening to the silence of Gunner’s mansion. During the day, the halls filled with chatter and laughter. But in the wee hours of night, the place became positively peaceful with everyone sleeping.

Well, everyone except for me.

It wasn’t the first time I’d risen before dawn, unable to accept a wolf pack’s confining safety. So I pushed out of bed, pulled on clothes, and headed downstairs to the empty courtyard. There I drew upon my star ball and dueled against nobody, stretching muscles well toned from previously insomniacal bouts.

Fighting, at least, tired me enough so the questions and worries circling through my mind lowered their volume. Was I doing the right thing choosing momentary safety for Kira while going against every instinct toward self-preservation that our parents had taught? Slash, lunge. Would I come to regret accepting a so-called “job” that involved doing whatever I wanted while being paid more than I’d previously made as a teacher and cage-fighter combined? Riposte, retreat.

There were no more answers this morning than there had been last Tuesday or two weeks ago Wednesday or any other time I’d come out here to fight shadows rather than snuggle up in my bed like a good little wolf. Still, I couldn’t help smiling despite the sweat burning my eyeballs when the inevitable morning bickering rose with the sun, proving that my sister was now wide awake and much perkier than she’d been the day before.

“So you think it’s funny to let me fall into the toilet first thing in the morning?” Kira snarked from the east end of the first floor—the massive kitchen where everyone except me tended to congregate as soon as they got up.

“Come on, pipsqueak. Today’s the big day. Give me a break.”

Looked like my kid sister was back on task as self-appointed toilet monitor. And one of our house mates—Tank this time—had relieved himself in the night without remembering to re-lower that all-important white seat.

Kira grows more wolf-like and less fox-like every day, I noted, not sure how I felt about the matter. Foxes were reserved and elusive. But wolves, I’d found, expressed their affections best in the physical realm.

Sure enough, the crack of a snapping towel evoked a squeak from my sister even as another house mate, Crow this time, stated the obvious: “That’s our bathroom, puppy. You and Mai have your own on the third floor. So if you fell in, it’s your own da…ahem…darn fault.”

Logic, apparently, had no impact upon my sister. “I live in this entire house, not locked in the attic like a crazy auntie. For example, I spend a lot of time in the kitchen cooking. So if you want any of my bacon, you’ll start putting down the toilet seat everywhere.”

“Ooh, burn,” Allen murmured, far too quietly for the neighbors to hear him. My fox senses, on the other hand, caught the comment quite ably…along with a salty sweet scent that had me slowing my morning exercise into a cool down. Perhaps being part of a wolf pack wasn’t so terrible if it came with bacon at the exact moment my stomach started growling….

Except even as I started imagining breakfast, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. My nostrils flared, my muscles tightened. There was something nearing, something watching….

Bacon abruptly forgotten, I whirled in reaction, raising my sword as I turned to face the stalking wolf.

Keep reading the next scene on my blog….