Revolting

Night fell the and the temperatures plummeted to near-freezing. Most of the crew shifted into their wolf forms for warmth, but Hannah crawled up on top of Michael's huge body and used him as a warm, human mattress. She reminded him of a small kitten seeking a warm spot as she sprawled across his torso and used his pectoral muscles as a pillow. It was probably sacrilegious to compare a werewolf to a kitten, but she was so small and cute and cuddly when she wasn't growling or biting. Michael had Caroline gather up all the blankets that weren't being used by the other members of the group, and draped them over their bodies. They snuggled together under the warm cocoon.

The sparks tingled between them, settling into a dull ache in his groin that was becoming an all-too-familiar frustration. Having her soft body rubbing against him constantly, so near, but so far out of reach. She allowed him to cradle her body with his hands. She even permitted him to stroke her hair and rub her back, but he didn't dare go any further. She might have allowed him, but he didn't trust himself to stop. He couldn't cross that line, he couldn't mate with her. Not yet. He couldn't betray the fragile trust that was being built between them. He couldn't do anything that might frighten her back into her wolf. If she went there, she could be lost, permanently.

As much as it tortured him, he treasured her closeness. He let her scent soak into him and envelop him like the sweetest drug. He memorized every square inch of her body, from the curve of her eyebrows, to the scar on her face, down the delicate shape of her small toes. His fingers learned the curve of her spine, the slight swell of her hips, her tiny waist, and the strong, lean muscles of her arms. And any time they were idle, sitting side by side, he carefully worked the brush through her hair, freeing more and more of the red-gold strands. He still had the shampoo in his bag that he had taken from the house in town, but it was too cold for a bath in a river.

He kept talking to her, hoping that she would say something more, hoping to hear his name drop from her sweet lips again, but she remained silent, making only the rare animal grunt or growl as she went about preparing herself to sleep. In the morning, he could no longer avoid it. Their wolf bodies, with the assistance of Hannah's plant medicine, had cleared the toxins from their systems, so they had only a slight, drying rash left on their lower legs. There was no more reason to delay their journey any longer. The camp roused in the chilly, pre-dawn hours, boiled some water for coffee, and hurriedly packed away their supplies to continue the journey.

Michael slipped on his pack. Hannah's leg was healed, and she was now walking without even a trace of a limp. In fact, he admired the way she moved about. She was completely silent, even in her human form, and didn't seem to disturb even a twig or a dry leaf. "Okay," Michael finally said, feeling rather grim, "Lets head out."

Hannah didn't budge. She stood there in the trail, her hands propped her her narrow hips, a stubborn and rebellious look on her little angel-face.

"Come on Hannah, your brother and your friends are this way," he gestured vaguely toward the west.

She didn't move.

With a patient sigh, Michael went back to where she was standing rooted to the ground, and offered her his hand. She stared at it for a moment, and then growled deep in her chest as she grabbed ahold of his pack and began to wrestle it from his shoulders. Michael, puzzled at her behavior, stood like a doll and allowed her to pull the pack off his shoulders. She dropped it to the ground and gave it an offended little kick. Then she jumped up like a monkey, scrambled up his broad back, and took her place, her arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders, her slim knees gripping his flanks just above his hips.

"What do you think you are doing, you little minx?" Michael grumbled in surprise, trying to get a look at her face over his shoulder.

She only grunted, and pointed her little finger westwards.

There was a twitter of laughter from the others, as Boyd scooped up Michael's pack and tied it together with his own.

"Looks like she wants a ride," Sarah said, trying to hide her grin.

"She got used to having you as a pony," Frankie added with a chuckle.

Michael grumbled, but secretly, he loved it. She hardly weighed anything, and he loved having her warm, tingling body clinging to his back. He tucked his hands under her thighs and started out again, relishing in the feel of her soft breath tickling the side of his neck as he started to hike. A late spring frost had coated everything with a thin coating of ice. Their feet left damp imprints in the leaf litter as they walked, mostly single file, through the trees. They skirted around towns and settlements, but as they moved farther away from the lake, human habitations became more scattered and sparser. There were vast tracks of unspoiled forest and big farms with wide, open fields. The more miles they put between themselves and that town, the more secure Michael felt.

He felt sure that those hunters had seen Hannah shift. They had seen her human face before her wolf had ripped into their comrades. It was possible she was already on some "wanted" posters in law enforcement offices. It was also possible that the men had blamed the attack on a beast, an animal, or a monster. Although that wasn't good for the werewolf population in general, it would be safer for Hannah if they were hunting for an animal instead of a small, strawberry blond woman. He wished, for the billionth time, that he had a cellphone with active service so he could scan the news reports. But unfortunately, a stolen cell phone could be traced, and he'd never had enough money in his pocket to buy a burner. His mind was focused on their destination, as he worried over and over all of the possible scenarios that could take place once they got close to the Rebel Moon boundaries. Would they thank him for bringing home their lost sister? Or would they have him bound in silver and tied back up in that crumbling old barn again? How would Hannah react when she laid eyes on her brother? Would everything come back to her at once, or would it be like it had been with him over the last several days? Slow incremental advances? And once she remembered everything, what would she do with Michael?

He was so preoccupied; he didn't take care to cover their tracks or mask their scents. He was blissfully unaware when something or someone began to follow their zig-zagging trail across the country-side.