John just hoped that it worked this time, if only a little, so that Storm wouldn’t be in so much danger of dying in front of him or something.
22
Marcy Jacks
He was pleased to note the way Storm’s brown eye cleared up, and though the long scratch down his side caused by a bullet didn’t close up entirely, it no longer had the infected look and smell that had made John fear for Storm’s life.
Storm actually managed to lift his head and look down at himself without much of an effort.
His eyes were curious. “What did you think it was? Poison?”
John had meant it to be a kind of lighthearted joke, but when Storm didn’t answer, he knew otherwise.
Storm got onto four paws, but there was still some effort involved since that long scratch had gone right down to the muscle of his hind right leg.
John put his hands under the cougar to help steady him.
“I got it,” Storm said, and John released him.
With a little more effort and concentration, Storm closed his eyes and shifted back into a man. Unlike when John had witnessed it the first time, this transformation was slower, more drawn out.
When a shifter changed shape, the amount of time could take anywhere from five seconds to five minutes, depending on several factors. How often the shifter made the change, for one thing.
Whether or not they were wearing clothing, and also health. It took some time for bones to change and realign themselves, as well as new muscles to grow, but Storm had done it ninja style.
The first time John had watched Storm shift, right before the cougar vanished into the snowy forest, he’d been wearing clothing, and it had taken him less than ten seconds to get into his animal form.
He’d practically jumped into the air as a man and then landed on the ground as a cougar.
It hadn’t been quite that fast or as cool, but that was how quickly John thought of it.
Now, with no clothing to hinder him, it took Storm the better part of three minutes to become a man again. John’s best time was twenty-five seconds, if he was in a real hurry.
Hunted and on the Run
23
Storm immediately put his hand over his right eye, the one that was missing. His long hair was loose and dirty around his shoulders.
The sight of the man brought out protective instincts that John didn’t know he had.
“Can you grab my clothes?” Storm pointed to the little pile currently sitting in a mud puddle over by a shrub. It looked like the hunters had gone through his things after they’d captured him.
John wrinkled his nose. No way.
“I brought you an extra set of clothes. They're clean, but I don’t know how well they’ll fit.”
Storm’s one eye widened in surprise, and his mouth dropped.
“You did?”
Okay, clearly they were going to have to get some things straight here.
“I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Actually, never mind, I know it’s what you’re thinking. Otherwise you wouldn’t have run away from me and hid all winter.”
Storm was still staring at him with that shock on his face. “Why else would you chase me?”
The question stunned John so much he nearly took a step back.
“You―you don’t know?”
Storm was finished talking with him apparently. “Can I at least have my eye patch? I doubt you brought a spare one of those.”
John blushed. He hadn’t. He went over to the mess that was formerly Storm’s human clothing and shifted through them, all the while keeping an eye on the man behind him to make sure he didn’t try and run again before he finally found the little black thing.
He had another water bottle with him, and since that water wasn’t filled with magical healing water, he used half the contents to wash the eye patch before he gave it back to Storm.
Storm took it and quickly put it over his eye, but not before John could see the blood and scarring that was there.
“Are you injured?” he asked. “Other than your side, I mean.” John 24
Marcy Jacks
tried not to stare too hard at the long red line that went down Storm’s ribs and leg.
“No, just a little bloody,” Storm said, and then he stared at John.
“I’m Storm, by the way.”
John nodded. “Yeah, I know. Morgan told us all your name after you vanished. You have a last name to go with that?”
Storm shook his head. “Not anymore.”
Weird. “I’m John, John Platt,” he added as an afterthought.
“Well, thank you for chasing away those hunters, John Platt.”
John wished he knew what was going through the man’s head. All he was getting right now was suspicion, and Storm had completely cut his mind off so that John couldn’t communicate with him telepathically.
Werewolves couldn’t all talk to each other in their heads, even in wolf form. That ability was left only to the leading alpha, who could telepathically speak to all the wolves in his pack, if their minds were open to it, or two mated werewolves. John hadn’t known that the same thing applied to werecats, but they seemed to speak to each other with little effort before. The problem was that Storm apparently had no idea what that meant.
“What did you do with Chance?” Storm asked.
“That hunter kid you left with us?”
Storm nodded. “He is likely a bit older than you, but yes, he is the one I was referring to.”
“He’s fine,” John said, ignoring Storm’s comment. “Tried to escape a couple of times, freaked out when he had his first transformation, but otherwise fine. He still won’t really talk to anyone, and that’s fine since most everyone else doesn’t
