backed away, too, head lowered, ears flattening, a low growl rising in his throat. Allie glanced at him and silently moved to my side. The sun brightened. Silver light flowed over Matthew's gray fur. I waited for the boy to emerge from the wolf, for someone I could thank with human words. The light receded, but the wolf remained. He pawed the ground and whined.
“He's hurt!” Allie cried, even as I saw the blood on his hind leg. The gash had barely clotted, as if wild dogs had attacked us only moments before. Allie released my hand and darted forward.
“Wait!” I called, but she knelt and put hands to the wound.
The wolf whined again, with fear or with pain, but Allie's hands remained steady. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, but”— she shook her head—“healing first. Questions later.”
Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on the wound. Light flowed from her hands over his leg. The wolf stretched his head around toward Allie, panting a little, his teeth so close—but he didn't hurt her.
I remembered how Matthew had scratched the air, threatening to kill, while Caleb had healed him. Beneath his easy smile, Matthew was as capable of anger as I was. He just controlled it better.
Allie's light faded. Old blood flaked away from an old wound. Allie leaned back on her heels, brown eyes thoughtful. “I didn't know you were a shifter, Matthew.”
The wolf put weight on his leg, gingerly at first, then more steadily. He turned and nudged Allie's hands. She laughed. “You have a wet nose!”
He lifted his head, turning his gaze back to me. We regarded each other in silence. Finally I stepped forward, crouching in front of him. “Thank you,” I whispered, wondering whether the words had any meaning to a wolf.
He nuzzled my chest with his nose. Tallow hissed and leaped from my shoulders. I ignored her and moved my hands to rest on Matthew's back.
“I only ever knew one shifter.” Allie took Tallow in her arms, stroking the trembling cat. “But he was an owl. I think wolves are much nicer.”
I looked into Matthew's eyes. Wild eyes, yet with an edge of fear behind them. “The other shifter you knew— what happened to him?”
“He flew away. Karin was his teacher. She said if only he'd come back, she'd have reminded him about being human. But I don't think Adam wanted reminding. I think he liked to fly too much.” The wall of light behind us made Allie's face seem very pale. We needed to move on, to put space between ourselves and that magic.
Yet I kept staring at Matthew. “Have you forgotten, too?” I asked.
Allie shook her head, hair falling from her braid into her face. “No. Matthew's still there. I could tell when I healed him.”
“Then why can't he change back?”
“I don't know,” Allie said. “Maybe it was that light. My hands are all itchy from it, like they're looking for something to heal. Maybe the light did something to Matthew's magic, too, made it stronger.” She shook her head and shoved her hands into her pockets. “I don't know. This is closer to Karin's magic than mine or Caleb's. Things answer when Karin talks to them. We should bring him back to her….” But Allie glanced at the glowing wall, then at me. We both knew we couldn't go back that way.
Something moved within the bright light. Some shadow—I blinked and it was gone. Perhaps it was only another vision. Perhaps not.
“We have to go on,” I said, standing. Allie nodded. She reached for my hand and squeezed it, hard. Matthew sniffed at the trail as if he'd understood. “I'm sorry,” I told him. Maybe he'd change back on his own. Or maybe Mom would know what to do. She knew about Matthew's magic, after all.
Knew and hadn't told me. I pushed the thought aside. Caleb's disk felt cold against my skin, another question. I ignored them both and started walking. Allie and Tallow followed me. Matthew followed them. We left the faerie light behind, save for a few glowing pebbles in the path. Even those disappeared after a time, but the cold lingered as the sun grew higher. My breath frosted in front of me again. Maybe that wasn't so strange, though. It was autumn, and in autumn the weather changed swiftly.
The path sloped uphill, leading us to the top of the bluff. Near sundown we came to a rusted car—there still were a few left along the roads—and camped there for the night. The seats were gone. The faint scent of car oil lingered in the chilly air, a scent from Before. Sometimes I tried to imagine a world where that smell was stronger than leaf mold and tree sap, but I always failed.
Allie and I spread blankets on the car's floor and strung our tarp over the empty windows. The glass was gone, of course, and the tires were cracked and dry. A short distance off, a fallen house lay half-buried beneath a gooseberry bush. I scavenged the exposed wood and built a fire near the car.
Allie fanned the flames as Tallow curled up in her lap. Matthew paced the borders of our camp. I watched him as I put water on the fire to boil. Every so often he'd stop and sniff the air. I wondered what he smelled.
I found some brown grasses by the old house and I twisted them between my fingers, making twine as I waited for the water to boil. The grasses were truly dead—they didn't moan as I worked them.
When the water bubbled I poured some cornmeal in, along with scraps of goat jerky. Matthew trotted to the fire, sniffed the pot curiously, and turned from it. I offered him a piece of jerky, but he nudged my hand away. His ears perked forward. He lifted his head, then whirled and bounded into the trees.
“Matthew!” Allie stood, dumping Tallow to the ground. I held up a hand, stopping her. In the distance, vines snapped and groaned. I heard a flurry of leaves, then silence. Allie looked at me, her eyes huge, but a few moments later Matthew trotted back to our fire, a rabbit dangling from his teeth. Blood stained the creature's white fur. Tallow took one look and bolted beneath the car.
Matthew dropped the rabbit at my feet, pride clear enough in the way he held his head and tail up high. As a human he'd never been much of a hunter.
Allie giggled nervously. “It's a gift.”
I knew that, and I bowed my head to acknowledge it. “Thank you,” I told the wolf. I took my knife and skinned the kill. Father had taught me how to skin game as soon as I was old enough to hold a knife, guiding my trembling hands with his steady ones, helping me to find the places between skin and muscle, sinew and bone.
I put some meat into the pot and offered Matthew the rest. He stalked a short way off to tear at the carcass. He wuffled happily as he ate, tail thumping the ground, saliva dripping from his teeth. By the firelight his eyes were bright. I thought of the boy Allie had known, the one who liked to fly. What if Matthew liked being a wolf more than being a boy? The snapping of bones between his teeth echoed the crackling and popping of the fire.
I took the pot from the flames and handed Allie a spoon. Much of our cookware was gone with Matthew's pack, so we shared from the pot instead. Allie's eyes kept darting to Matthew.
After dinner she spent a long time crouched by the old car, spoon in hand, urging Tallow to lick it clean, but the cat refused to come out. Matthew moved closer to the fire and slept, his breathing deep and satisfied.
“Which watch do I take?” Allie asked that night.
I started to say she was too young to take any watch, but she just looked at me, and I knew she was right. There was no one left to keep watch but us.
“I'll go first,” I told her. From his place beside the fire Matthew watched us, head between his paws. Would he understand if we asked him to take a turn? There was no way to know.
Allie eyed me suspiciously. “You won't forget to wake me, will you? I'm still your healer, and I say you need sleep, too. I can help, no matter what Dad and Caleb say. You can trust me, you know.”
“I know.” I tousled her hair, like Mom had mine when I was little. I'd keep watch through the darkest part of the night, then wake her when the moon was high.
Allie finally coaxed Tallow out and took the cat inside the car with her. She handed a blanket out to me. I smiled a little, pulling the blanket around my shoulders as I climbed onto the car's hood to watch.
After a time Matthew climbed up beside me. He sighed, a sound as much human as wolf, and laid his head on my knee. I rested my hand behind his ears, and together we watched the moon rise, its light making the earth and car and trees all glow as if by magic.
By dawn frost coated the ground and made the dirt crunch beneath our feet. The trees were sleepy and slow, their branches barely moving in spite of the morning breeze. As we set out the path sloped downhill, leaving the
