Page 40 of Wolf Roulette

I looked up into familiar brown eyes. The old fisherwolf.

I moved the saxophone case off the bench.

“Go play, pup. Stay in sight.” The order in the man’s voice was obvious.

Axel wasted no time waddling off into the long grass.

I kept half an ear out. He was the master of disappearing acts… though I somehow expected that he wouldn’t dare disobey this man.

“How are you, young wolf?”

“Shouldn’t you be at the pack meeting?”

He opened his tackle box and selected a hook. “Old wolves sometimes get bored of such things.”

No scent today either. “Why don’t you have a smell?”

“Old wolves get bored of that too.”

Luther power must become stronger over time. Either that or their understanding of their power deepened.

“Always such a busy mind,” he murmured.

Axel launched after a butterfly.

“I’m used to having a lot to think about,” I murmured.

“Indeed. Even now?”

“Always such a busy mind,” I repeated his words.

This directionless feeling made matters worse. Existing like this felt increasingly wrong.

Which was terrifying.

The wolf cast his line. “They’ve decided on Timber.”

“You can hear through the frequency generators?” I raised my voice. “Axel. Closer, please.”

The pup paused on the edge of the stream before trotting back in our direction.

“Your sister is overly fond of violent measures,” the fisherwolf said.

“She harbours a lot of hate.”

“That’s not harbouring. That’s sending her hate out to wage war.”

He didn’t know her.

If the right person could reach Rhona, she could come back from all this. I’d thought that person was me, but I fucked it all up.

“Never let it be said that you aren’t loyal.” The man smiled to himself. “She drugged and humiliated you. What on earth could hold you to such a person?”

Rhona was a version of myself. She represented what I could become if I let grief and anger consume me.

If she could recover, then so could I.

“Old wolves have a lot to say on Sunday mornings.” I picked up the saxophone case.