though nothing at all had happened. It was a gorgeous morning. The sun was shining and the sky was blue,

promising a beautiful day of melting snow and hard going. At least Lindsay wouldn’t be so cold.

They packed up and Dane offered Lindsay his hand as they made their way downhill. That almost

made everything better right then, when Lindsay took Dane’s hand and Dane gave him that sharp, jagged

smile that showed in his dark eyes. They walked out to a clearing and sat on fallen logs in the sun to eat

their breakfast. They caught sight of a wandering doe, a few birds and a skinny, irritable squirrel.

Lindsay picked at the fortified chocolate pudding he was supposed to be eating and nibbled a cookie,

watching Dane from under his lashes. Dane’s attention was on the far verge of the clearing, where the doe

had disappeared. Maybe Dane could still see it. Dane knew so much, saw so much, it was hardly worth

trying to hide anything from him. Lindsay took a drink of water and steeled himself to say something, to

clear the air.

“Dane, I…” He trailed off as Dane’s predatory stare shifted to him. It should have been frightening,

but embarrassingly it brought another surge of desire. “About this morning, I…” Maybe he’d just die now

and not have to see Ezqel or finish this sentence. Please.

Dane rumbled, shaking his head. The wind used that as an excuse to make his hair swirl in all

directions. To Lindsay’s relief and shame and confusion, Dane was smiling, almost laughing.

“You’re young,” he said, and the two words were so full of affection that even Lindsay couldn’t miss

it. And he could see that, as far as Dane was concerned, that was the end of the matter.

For a moment, Lindsay had a glimpse of himself as Dane must see him: funny, awkward, skinny,

young. Dane’s little bunny. Lindsay remembered watching wolves on television, the indifferent alpha male

dozing while a puppy gnawed and wrestled his tail. Lindsay was young. That was all. Dane’s world was

full of allowances for the likes of Lindsay.

Lindsay realized that he’d been making himself miserable over nothing. Dane hadn’t been treating

him any differently. He was the one who’d pulled away from the comfort Dane offered. And now, Dane

was offering forgiveness for even that. The easy acceptance, the promise of almost infinite forgiveness, was unfamiliar and comforting at once.

Dane returned to tracking whatever hidden things were moving in the distance. Lindsay turned his

attention to his food. Suddenly, he was hungry. He polished everything off with more appetite than he’d

had in days.

“We’re not too far off.” Dane squinted up at the sky and looked about as though the trees made sense

to him. “We’ll be able to make the next shelter before nightfall without any trouble.” He stood and

shouldered his pack. He was carrying most of their gear, with Lindsay left to manage the necessities he

would need if they were separated.

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“Does this one have indoor plumbing?” Lindsay asked, laughing. “Or maybe a working heater?” He

was in better spirits now, full-bellied and forgiven. He got up and followed Dane, settling his pack on his back.

Dane snorted at him and held out his hand to help Lindsay across an icy patch as the ground sloped

downward. The wind blew in his face, pulling back his hair and making him look almost human except for

the fangs that showed when he smiled.

“Come on. We need to make good time. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can have your

plumbing and heating.” Ahead of them, the way Dane had chosen to go sloped sharply down into a

shadowed gorge thick with trees.

“Bribery will get you everywhere,” Lindsay said, still laughing.

Seconds later, Dane’s head jerked up and, without warning, he threw Lindsay away from him hard

enough that Lindsay tumbled down the hill. Something large and dark hit Dane with a dull crunch, taking

him down the slope too. They crashed through brush and trees and muck, and the air was full of snarling.

A tree stopped Lindsay near the bottom and he scrambled to his feet, aching all over, just in time to

see Dane go past him, quickly followed by a dark blur Lindsay could only assume was one of the people

Cyrus had said would be searching for them. Not the girl. The dog. Jonas.

There was nowhere for Lindsay to run, except toward them, so he did.

Dane hit the base of a tree with a sickening crack and Jonas rolled off of him, his momentum carrying

him farther. Landing on his feet, Jonas laughed and bared his bloody teeth at Lindsay. “Wait your turn.”

Dane was struggling to get up. The front of his sweater was turning dark with blood from a gaping

wound in his neck. “Run,” he growled at Lindsay. He shed his pack as Jonas lunged for him and his fist

caught Jonas in the jaw with a splintering sound.

Jonas’s long claws rammed into Dane’s chest, coming out Dane’s back as his weight carried them

both down. Dane got both arms around Jonas, his own claws tearing through Jonas’s clothing over the

kidneys. Jonas howled, sinking the claws of his free hand into Dane’s left side as though he were digging

for Dane’s heart. Dane made no effort to get away. He dug in deeper, snarling, “Run.” The sound of Jonas’s bones shattering was sickening.

Run? Where? Lindsay wanted to scream at Dane. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t leave Dane. At least

with Dane, he stood a chance of survival out here. His magic might be broken, but it worked a little. He

thrust all his magic in one direction, at Jonas, and he had only one thing on his mind: Stop.

Jonas stopped. Lindsay almost lost his grip on his magic, he was so startled. Jonas was keening in

agony, head flung back, then Dane’s teeth tore Jonas’s throat open and the noise stopped. Dane flung Jonas

away from him like a doll and Jonas fell to earth, thrashing and clawing at his skull, coloring the snow red with the blood spewing from his neck.

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Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

Lindsay’s sight was blurring, but he gripped his broken magic tighter, feeling it cut him in return, and

used it to pour agony into Jonas’s powerful form. Dane wasn’t done either. He dropped to all fours and

moved so fast, a blur, ready to finish the fight.

Lindsay felt a surge of joy and hate so strong it made him stand straight and tall. The pain he felt was

nothing and, suddenly, he understood Dane better than ever. He wanted to kill. Jonas was down, weak and

broken, and then Dane was on him.

Jonas unfolded like a switchblade and caught Dane in midair, even as Dane twisted to avoid him,

sinking his claws into Dane’s torso. Dane made a sick, low noise like all the air had gone out of him as

Jonas lifted him overhead and threw him toward Lindsay, trailing black blood and flesh. Dane landed face-

down in the snow at Lindsay’s feet and Lindsay’s magic shuddered in his grasp.

Dane tried to get to his knees, but he wasn’t getting up. Lindsay couldn’t help him—all his attention

was still on killing Jonas. All Lindsay could spare Dane was a glance and a cry: “Dane! ”

Dane managed to drag himself toward Lindsay before his arms couldn’t hold him up any longer. His

hands gathered up fistfuls of snow and dirt as though he was going to pull himself up again, but then he

sighed and was still at Lindsay’s feet.

Jonas should have been incapacitated, should have been dead, even, but he still lurched toward

Lindsay, eyes wild, head at a strange angle. Terrified, Lindsay backed away even though Dane was limp at