But the eyes were the best. They were almost human. The wolf looked at her as if it knew every thought that passed through her mind. As she met its gaze its expression changed: ears dropped to the sides, eyes narrowed, and head ducked. It whined deep in its throat.
Alex felt her face unfreeze, her body grow boneless in relief. Without any thought at all she made herself like the wolf, crouching lower, ducking her head, echoing his soft whine.
And then a miracle happened. The wolfs tail, a thick plume of ebony fur, swept to the side and back again. Just like a friendly dog. Alex stared at the tail and watched it wag, a lazy drift back and forth among the pine needles.
She laughed. The sound escaped her before she could stop it, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. But the wolf seemed to understand. He crouched, paws extended, rump in the air, and laughed back at her, flashing teeth and tongue.
“You want to play… is that it?” she asked. “Is that why you’ve been following me?”
The wolf barked, a swift yip of agreement. He hopped toward her, muzzle thrust forward, and then retreated when Alex flinched. He sat up again, an expression on his mobile face that looked like a puzzled frown.
Alex sat back and tugged her knees up to her stomach. “Well, Wolf, you want to play, but I don’t know how wolves play. You have sharp teeth, and I don’t.” She studied the animal—his gawky lines and overlarge paws, as if he hadn’t quite grown into his skin and bones. He looked the way she felt sometimes.
“You’re young, aren’t you? I’ll bet you aren’t supposed to be alone.”
The wolf cocked his head. Abruptly he stood, lifted his muzzle to take in some elusive scent, and flashed a glance at Alex that seemed to hold a wealth of meaning.
“Granddad told me you have good families,” she said. “You all stick together. You take care of each other, just the way people do.”
She could have sworn the wolf nodded. It was eerie and wonderful, looking into those eyes. Suddenly, and with all her heart, she wanted to know this wolf—every movement, signal, expression. If she could grow fur and become what he was, even for an instant…
A howl, low and quavering and thinned by distance, sliced cleanly through her imaginings. More wolves—at least two of them. Her wolf stood like a creature in a painting, perfectly poised, black silhouetted against rich forest color. And then he pointed his muzzle toward the sky and returned the call.
Sensations she didn’t recognize washed through Alex from her toes to the roots of her hair. She’d heard that sound before, but never so close or so real. Never with her heart. She closed her eyes and tilted back her head. Just a little push, a little release, and it would come: a cry as full and rich as the wolves’.
Cool wetness touched her cheek; she jerked back just as the wolf retreated, his gaze locked on her face. With a sad little whimper, he backed away and began to melt into the undergrowth.
“Wait!”
Loss overwhelmed Alex, a sense of panic that sent her scrambling after the wolf. Her foot snagged a fallen branch; her fall was cushioned by the padding of leaves, but she lay where she was and sucked air back into her lungs.
A triangular black shadow filled her vision. Amber eyes regarded her from only inches away. A rough wet tongue slapped across her face, filling Alex with a singing joy. She sat up, reaching for the wolf. It stepped back and then went very still as her fingers found the lush fur and slipped between the thick guard hairs to the silkiness beneath.
The wolf was afraid of her, as afraid as she’d been of him. She stroked the wolf once and let her hand fall.
“We’re kind of the same, aren’t we?” she asked. “Maybe you knew that all along.”
The wolf whined and looked over his shoulder. Alex wrapped her arms around herself to keep from touching him again. He was a wild creature, just as he should be. She forced the lump from her throat.