Olivia’s Hunt - Ch 7
Copyright © 2025 Michelle Bolanger
I followed him, sometimes running, sometimes padding along beside him, but always listening. She showed me images of the paths we should take, pointed out smells that needed investigating, and put sounds with images of birds, small animals, all against the background of the soft rushing of a creek a few yards away. Dad and I wound our way down a short path to the creek bed and bent to take a drink.
Even as I lowered my head, She encouraged me to keep eyes on the woods around us, looking for anything out of place. My head jerked up at the same time Dad’s did. Across the creek, barely visible in the shadow of a large oak tree stood a gleaming black wolf. On his chest was a sharply lined talisman mark in white, stark against his ebony fur. A fellow pack member.
Dad’s growl was low and threatening, but my wolf was quiet. Who is he? I asked her, but she didn’t answer, just showed me a row of dry stones that would allow me to cross the creek. Do you want me to go to him? Silence.
“Dad?” I whispered.
His growls subsided, but his hackles were still partly raised. “It’s Mason.”
My gaze whipped back to the other wolf, and we made eye contact. The yellow of his pupils glowed, and he sat. Watching. Waiting. Just like he promised he would.
“I’m going to talk to him.” I didn’t take my eyes off Mason, and started toward the dry stones.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Dad’s tone was no longer angry. “What does She say?”
I hesitated, then glanced over my shoulder. “I think She wants me to go to him.”
His crystal blue eyes flicked to Mason, then back to me. “Be careful.”
“I will.” The way across the creek was a few feet away, and I gauged each step before I took it, jerking back once when my paw slipped into the icy water.
I heard a chuckle. “It’s warmer in the summer.”
Mason’s voice was as deep as I remembered, and I shivered. “You’re still in Montana.” I replied.
“I told you I was staying.” He tilted his dark head, and the strange lightness of his eyes was unnerving as he watched me approach. “St. Martin PD hired me last week.”
Somehow, seeing him in his wolf form was less intimidating. He seemed younger that way, or maybe being in my wolf form made me feel older. Either way, confidence I had never felt before gave me the courage to challenge him. “What do you want, Mason? Why are you hanging around the house?”
He lifted a paw, looking startled. “I don’t want anything, and I’m not hanging around the house. These woods are the only place to run. I just happened to be out the same time as you.” His eyes glanced over my shoulder to where Dad waited. “Family run?”
Unwilling to admit it was my first time, I nodded. “Yes.”
His eyes narrowed, then he rose and dipped his head. “I won’t keep you.”
When he turned to go, I wanted to ask him to come with us, but She stopped me. “I’ll see you in town then?”
He paused and looked back, his yellow eyes bright. “Sure. Have a good night, Olivia. Enjoy your first run.” And then he was gone, his black coat melting into the shadows.
I stared into the darkness wondering how he knew. She chuffed and encouraged me to head back. I met Dad again on the other side of the creek, but he didn’t say a word, just turned and headed for the house. His silvery body slipped between the shadows, using the slivers of bright moonlight to hide his path the way Mason used the shadows. She taught me to use a little of both. Showing me how to pay attention the way the dim light from the moon bathed everything in a slivery glow I could use to my advantage.
As we trekked back, I let Her have more and more control, noticing how She moved, and what caught her attention. By the time the house came in sight I was working with Her, taking cues and avoiding branches and leaves that would rustle under my paws. By working that way, we were nearly silent as we slipped up beside my Dad’s graceful form.
He stopped at the edge of the tree line and met my eyes. “There are tubs of clothes hidden in a few trees and bushes. Look for three scratches near the base of the tree, or a strip of cloth in a bush.” He nodded to a large maple where three deep scratches slashed across one of the roots. “These are stashed in every wooded area anywhere you go. If you are ever out and need to shift, look for these marks. They’re universal.”
I padded a few feet away and noted a fluttering piece of linen at the bottom of a bush. “Should we change before we go back to the house?”
“Always,” he said sternly. “It’s not worth the risk of returning home to surprise an unsuspecting human at the door.” He rounded the tree and drug a large tote out of a hole at it’s base. “Change and come back here.”
I nodded and stuck my head into the bush, searching for the tub. I found it and pulled it out with my teeth, then stood staring at it. I didn’t know how to shift back. What now? My wolf sat, and I felt Her pull back, withdrawing behind me as I had done to Her. Suddenly, rocks were biting into the palms of my hands and my toes were pressed into the dirt, my naked butt stuck in the air.
Heat suffused my cheeks with embarrassment, and I dropped to my knees and scrambled to open the tub. Inside were neatly folded sweat pants and t-shirts. I quickly snagged a set and pulled them on, still mortified, though my wolf was amused. Not funny! We need to get better at that.
Pressing the lid back in place, I shoved the tub back out of sight and rose. Dad was leaning against the tree, staring off into the distance. His head swung toward me as I approached.
“That didn’t take long,” he said, his cheeks darkening. “I, uh, didn’t have anyway to help you with the change back.”
I exhaled and looked down as the heat returned to my face. “Yeah. Mom probably could have made that less awkward.”
He bit his lip and a tiny smile curved his cheek. “It gets better after the first couple times. You’ll figure out how to…” Both of our faces were beet red and he covered his face. “I really wish your mother were here.”
“Oh, Dad.” I rushed to him and he wrapped his arms around me, pressing his cheek to the crown of my head.
'Olivia’s Hunt' is unpublished and unedited. These stories may or may not be complete and may end on a cliffhanger. All works are the sole property of Michelle Bolanger and published through Risen Fiction. Copyright 2025 Michelle Bolanger. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be copied or reproduced without written consent from the author.