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If they didn’t escape, they were going to die.
Smitty and Matt were in the same cage, metal bars hemming them in on all sides and silver lining keeping them from really getting any rest. It’d start to burn them if they weren’t careful. Still, despite that, Smitty threw himself against the bars as much as he could, because he was young and stupid and didn’t care if his snowy-white fur got a bit bloody.
The hunters cared more than he did. After all, they were planning on selling them, like dogs, to the highest bidder. A snow-colored wolf was a lot more valuable than a reddish-brown one, for some reason. Still, they had shoved Matt and Smitty in the same cage to try and sell Matt, too.
Not that they were going to be able to do that.
Smitty would rather die first.
Matt laid next to him, panting unevenly and tongue lolling from his mouth. His right foreleg was bleeding sluggishly from the trap that had caught him. The two of them had just been on a run, late at night. Their parents thought they were out camping. By the time they realized something was wrong, Matt and Smitty could be dead, sold off, or who-knew-where.
Beside him, Matt whined.
Turning to him, Smitty nosed Matt’s ear. There was a flick, then Matt’s eyes cracked open. They looked the same as they did when he was a human, somewhere between blue and green and hazel. Smitty’s own eyes did the same thing (looking human. It was how the hunters knew that they were werewolves, and also why they didn’t turn back—because then the hunters would know their faces. It’d be easier to track them).
Smitty rammed the front of the cage.
The door rattled.
Matt’s ears perked up. Pausing, Smitty glanced down at him. Then, he squinted at the lock, trying to figure out what it was…there! The lock was beginning to come loose. If he were outside, he could just use his mouth. But maybe…
Smitty shoved his face into the cage door and tried to push his tongue through the cage bars. It burnt a bit, he could feel the copper building in his mouth. Still, it didn’t give.
Again, he glanced at Matt. They both looked at one another for a moment. Slowly, shakily, Matt dragged himself to his paws. He nodded at the door. Smitty backed up. The cage was small enough for them to back up and then run forward. With where it was, on a table…
Smitty met Matt’s gaze. There was a nod.
They both sprang for the cage door.
Their cage tipped over, crashing against the ground with a clatter of metal. But then it fell on its side, and the cage door clattered open. The both of them scrambled to their paws and raced out of the cage. They were still stuck in some kind of tent—
Something whimpered nearby.
Head whipping around, Smitty scanned the darkness. He had known there were other cages around him. He hadn’t thought that they were filled.
There were six different cages around them, all around the same size. Eyes glittered in the dark, flashes of yellow-turquoise eye shine from different werewolves. The closest one was long-legged, and he would have thought this one was a completely normal wolf. Still, just like with Matt, the eyes gave them away—sharp eyes that weren’t quite blue and weren’t quite green. A smaller, younger wolf that had to be an actual kid was crouched nearby, staring at Smitty with wide black eyes, ears pinned back.
Smitty glanced at Matt, then down at his paw.
Matt tested his paw, then nodded to him. I can stand, he was telling him.
Rushing to the nearest cage, which had a small, dark brown wolf with pale eyes pressed to the back wall, Smitty grabbed onto the cage lock with his teeth and ripped it open. He was at the next cage in a moment. He could hear Matt unlocking the cages, struggling a bit more but trying nonetheless, behind him. Still, Smitty kept at it, letting the long-limbed wolf free before going to the next cage. This one had that tiny wolf in it—they still had baby fat on them, looking more like a wolf pup than an adolescent the way Smitty and Matt did.
When he ripped it open, the pup was out like a shot. They stumbled, and Smitty grabbed them by the scruff and hauled them up on instinct.
For a brief moment, they all stood there, looking at one another. The tent walls around them were brown tarps. Ears pricking, Smitty glanced over his shoulder. He could hear people approaching.
He glanced at the other end of the tent. Darting over, he tugged at the tarp with his teeth until it ripped slightly. Fur brushed his shoulder—mottled gray and brown, the wolf he’d seen first. They were helping him rip the tarp open.
They got the tarp pulled away. The wolf shoved themself through the gap, then poked their head back in. The look on their face, the message they were trying to give, was clear. Come on!
Smitty stepped back, letting Matt and the pup go next. He turned to the other wolves, taking them in for the first time—the small one with the dark brown fur brushed by him, leaving the other three there. One was about his size, the other two were a bit smaller—probably younger than him. The one his size had black-brown fur and dark brown eyes. They were standing between the smaller wolves and the door. When neither of the littler ones moved, the black-brown one pinned their ears back, growled, and shoved one of them in the hip with their head.
The one they shoved—also with a bit of puppy fat on them, with dark brown fur and brown eyes—bit back a yelp and then moved. The other one—mousy brown fur, amber eyes—moved a moment later, ears pinned back and tail between their legs. The other followed a moment later, and Smitty glanced back. The black-brown wolf growled again, teeth bared.
Smitty ducked through the tarp, looking back to see he was followed.
All of the others had stayed there, waiting for him. He expected Matt. The others, not so much.
The black-brown wolf behind him chuffed softly, nudging all of them towards the far chain-link fence. They weren’t wrong. Smitty stuck by Matt, sure, nosing him along, but they ran through the tall grass. It brushed against their fur. Above their heads, the stars were blotted out by the hunters’ bright camp lights. Still, they were escaping. They would be able to get away—
Smitty stayed behind as they all tackled the chain-link fence, climbing over it. Thank everything, there wasn’t any barbed wire across the top or on the other side. Watching them, Smitty panted, glanced behind himself. Matt turned to watch, standing at the edge of the woods. Guess that climbing class is going to come in handy! Smitty stepped back, charged the fence, and started climbing. The chain-link bit into his paw pads, sensitive as they were from the silver.
When he landed in the dirt on the other side, the other wolves were still there.
He didn’t know how long they ran for, just that they did. The further they were from the hunters when they turned back, the safer they’d be. If the hunters saw their faces…they’d be in danger, their families would be in danger. These were people who heard “werewolf” and thought “rabid animal”, not “person with a mild moon-related lycanthropy problem”.
Still, as they went, Smitty expected the other wolves to break off. They didn’t. When the three youngest members began to lag behind, the long-limbed wolf with the blue-green eyes and the black-brown one would go back and grab them, spur them on. Even Matt with his limp. When he fell too far behind, one of them would help Smitty drag him along.
Eventually, they came to a stop at the edge of a road.
The road wound its way along the edge of a hill. Beneath them was Smitty’s hometown. Canada, he thought with a sigh of relief. We’re still in Canada.
He glanced at Matt, who lingered beside him, panting. They shared a look.
Smitty crossed the road first, rolling his shoulder as he shifted back. It wasn’t comfortable—his bones were moving around and his ears changed where they were on his head. It was just something that he and the others had grown to live with. Presumably. Still, when he turned to the others, he found them all staring at him.
“My parents know.” He started. “We could at least house you for a few days. Get you back home after that?”
Matt padded over to him, pausing at his side. His tail wagged once. Then, he sat down at Smitty’s side, turning to the others.
The one with the blue-green eyes stepped forward first, shoulders rolling as he changed, too. Crossing his arms, he looked at Smitty hesitantly, then stuck out a hand. “John.”
“Smitty,” Smiling, Smitty took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”
John gave him a crooked half-smile.
Fifteen Years Later…
The thing about Smitty and his friends was that they were liars—about a lot of things.
For starters, where they lived. They claimed that they lived in a variety of places—Matt and Smitty in Canada, John in Washington, and pretty much everyone else in Texas. To be fair, they were from those places originally. They just didn’t live there currently. Well, except John.
Washington didn’t allow wolf hunting, and they had a good amount of space to live on—courtesy of pooling their money together and finding some land many, many miles from where John spoofed his location. All of them spoofed their locations, really. Just in case. It was easy now. They were also lying about the whole werewolf thing. They were still human. Just…wolfy, too.
Anyways, Smitty was streaming. They had claimed John was visiting him and Matt was over, just to give reason for why the pair were walking in and giving him food while not streaming themselves. He was streaming with everyone else. Thank goodness for their sharp hearing, too, because they could say something in one room without their audiences hearing.
John had just walked in with a plate of crackers, small cuts of cheese, and tiny slices of ham. When he’d taken it with a smile, Smitty caught the message in the corner of his eye. So did John. “Sunflower underscore angel—ooh, nice name—wants to know how we met.” John read off. Arching a brow, he turned to Smitty. “Well? How did we meet, Smitty?”
Laughing, Smitty turned back to the game and shoved a slice of ham in his mouth. “Just online. You know how it is. We’re all chronic gamers.”
John laughed warmly as he left.