I KNEW THAT RUNNING with the pack was a bad idea, but I was itching to change forms. The days I’d spent in Wolfie’s presence had reminded me that being a wolf didn’t have to mean any danger to those around me. In fact, being a canine could offer a freedom and simplicity that was difficult to achieve in my current two-footed form, with the potential to silence the racing thoughts that flowed frantically through my mind. I felt constipated by humanity.
I wouldn’t run up the mountain, I told myself, just around the yard. Simply rolling on my back in the grass would feel good in fur form, the itch that seemed to perpetually coat my human skin disappearing for a few minutes at least. My wolf had been so ready to take over when Wolfie was present, I knew I’d be able to make the shift, and after
