I knew what he'd found. I knew it and I dreaded stepping into that thicket to confirm my suspicions, but Jeremy prodded me on. When I stepped into the woods, the sickly sweet smell of vomit made my gorge rise. Then I looked down at the ground, following the path of the young man's finger. There, in the damp earth, were paw prints.

'Can you believe the size of those things?' the young man said. 'Christ, they're as big as saucers. Just like those kids said. These dogs are huge!'

As I surveyed the thicket, my eyes caught sight of something snagged on a thornbush. A tuft of fur, shining golden even in the shadows. While everyone stared at the paw prints, I slipped over to the bush, stood in front of it, reached behind my back, and slid the fur into my pocket. Then I looked around for more. When I didn't see any, I glanced back at the paw prints, as recognizable as footprints from a familiar pair of shoes. As I stared at them, I felt sick. Then the disappointment turned to something else. Anger.

'I have to go,' I muttered, turning from the thicket.

No one tried to stop me, the humans assuming it was a delayed reaction to the sight of the dead man, and the Pack not wanting to make a scene.

***

'Clayton!' I shouted as the back door slammed behind me.

Clay appeared in the kitchen doorway, wooden spoon in hand. 'That didn't take long. Come in and get the coffee going.'

I didn't move. 'Aren't you going to ask if they found the missing man?'

'That would imply I give a damn.'

'They found him.'

'Good, so I presume they're leaving. All the better. Now come in and-'

'I found this by the body,' I said, pulling the tuft of fur from my pocket.

'Huh. Looks like mine.'

'It is yours. Your prints were there, too.'

Clay leaned against the doorpost. 'My fur and my prints in my forest? Fancy that. I hope you're not implying what I think you're implying, darling, 'cause if you recall, I was with you all last night, which is when Tonio says this guy went missing.'

'You weren't with me this morning when I woke up.'

Clay sputtered, nearly dropping the spoon. 'I was gone five minutes! Five minutes to track and kill a guy? I'm good, but I'm not that good.'

'I have no idea how long you were gone.'

'Yes, you do, because I'm telling you. Come on, you know I didn't do it. Use your head, Elena. If I lost control and killed this guy, I'd have told you about it. I'd have asked for your help getting rid of the body and deciding what to tell Jeremy. I wouldn't have been frolicking in the pond while some dead human is lying in our forest waiting for another group of hunters to trip over him.'

'You didn't expect an immediate search party, so you thought you had more time. You planned to hide the body later, after you got me out of the way.'

'That's bullshit and you know it. I don't hide things from you. I don't lie to you. I don't deceive you. Not ever.'

I stepped forward, lifting my face to his. 'Oh, really? Somehow, I forget the discussion we had before you bit me, when you told me what you were planning to do. Convenient amnesia, I guess.'

'I did not plan that,' Clay said, looming over me. The wooden spoon snapped in two as he clenched his fist. 'We've been through this before. I panicked and-'

'I don't want to hear your excuses.'

'You never do, do you? You'd rather talk about things I didn't do, then toss that in for good measure when the opportunity arises. Why do I bother defending myself? You've made up your mind about everything I do and don't do, and the reasons I do them. Nothing I can ever say will change that.'

He spun on his heel and stalked back to the kitchen. I turned the opposite way, strode into the study, and slammed the door.

***

As I sat in the study, I realized with some surprise that I had no urge to bolt. My fight with Clay hadn't left me with the usual overwhelming impulse to get free of Stonehaven. Yes, last night had been a mistake, but an instructive one. I'd let down my guard, given in to my most subconscious desire to be with Clay again, and what had happened? Within hours he was lying to me. Even while we'd been together in the woods, while I'd been sleeping, he was off indulging the darkest side of his nature. He wouldn't change. I couldn't change him. He was violent, selfish, and completely untrustworthy. If it took one regrettable night to remind me of that, it'd been worth it.

***

About twenty minutes later, the study door opened and Nick peeked around. I'd been curled up in Jeremy's armchair. When Nick opened the door, I unfolded myself and straightened up.

'Can I come in?' he asked.

'I smell food. If you can share, you're more than welcome.'

He slipped into the room and put a plate of pancakes and ham on the footstool. The pancakes were plain, finger food without butter and syrup. I picked up one and gulped it too fast to taste it, not wanting to remember who'd made them and why.

'All done outside?' I asked.

Nick lowered himself onto the sofa and stretched out. 'Pretty much. A couple more cops showed up. Jeremy sent Peter and me in.'

Antonio walked through the door. 'Are they investigating the scene?' he asked, pushing his son's legs off the sofa and sitting down.

Nick shrugged. 'I guess so. They brought cameras and a bag of stuff. Someone from the morgue is on the way to pick up the body.'

'Do you think they'll find anything?' Antonio asked me.

'Hopefully nothing that doesn't link this killing to a wild dog,' I said. 'If it seems clear-cut, they should wrap up the investigation pretty fast and devote their efforts to finding the dogs. No sense wasting time gathering evidence when the presumed killers will never see a courtroom.'

'Just the business end of a shotgun,' Antonio said. 'If they see so much as a flash of fur in the woods, they'll shoot. When we need to run, we're going to have to find someplace far from here and Bear Valley.'

'Damn,' Nick said, shaking his head. 'When we find out who's responsible, they're going to pay for this.'

'Oh, I have a good idea who's responsible,' I said.

I took the tuft of fur from my pocket and tossed it on the footrest. Nick stared at it a moment, confused. Then his eyes widened and he looked at me. I avoided his gaze, not wanting to see the disbelief I knew would be there. Antonio took one look at the fur, then sat back in his seat, and said nothing.

***

An hour or so later, I was alone again in the study, the others having drifted off to find less sedentary pursuits or more amiable companionship. As I sat there, my gaze wandered to the desk across the room. The top was still scattered with the piles of papers and anthropology journals Clay hadn't got around to reading yet. They reminded me of how I'd met Clay, how I'd come to be in this mess in the first place. While I was a student at the University of Toronto, I'd had a peripheral interest in anthropology. In my sophomore year I'd done a term paper on anthropomorphic religions, which was Clay's specialty, and I'd referenced enough of his work to recognize his

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