Closing his eyes, he willed the change. It hurt so terribly that he clenched his teeth, but he endured the agony of shifting through his muscles screamed in protest and every instinct told him that his body was not ready. The wounds he had taken from the grizzly tore and bled anew, resources exhausted by battle and need struggled to give up their last remaining shreds of energy.
It was just enough. He opened his mouth in a soundless cry that became a low growl of effort. His paws did not feel the cold under them, the heavy fur turned the wind away as he shook himself. The world was altered through his wolf’s eyes, but his senses grew painfully sharp in that instant after the change. He could smell Joey—on himself, on the ground where she had lain, within the cave where she waited, trusting, for him to save her.
The thin veneer of humanity remained unbroken even while his instincts raged at him to run, to find the others and bring them back, to do anything rather than wait in helpless impotency. But he settled back onto his haunches and pricked his ears to catch the messages borne on the autumn air. He closed his eyes, lifted his head, and howled.
He howled until it seemed that his soul had been torn out with the desperation of it. He keened his demand and his need at the hard sky until he heard an echo the achingly distant answer of his brethren.
He answered them and heard their acknowledgment. His feet gave out from under him, and he collapsed to lie in the cold, his pants of exhaustion coalesced into white plumes that danced and shredded apart on the wind. In spite of himself, his tail thumped in the snow.
Joey’s scent came to him on a curl of the breeze. With a grunt he heaved himself up. He willed the change once again, he fought with it and pleaded with it.
It would not come. Snarling in frustration, he turned about on himself and smelled his own blood, the slashes that had weakened him beyond returning. He needed time to heal, time to renew his energy and the hot force of life that was the source of his double self. There was no other choice.
He turned back for the cave, recrossing the tracks left by human feet. There was fear, fear of the woman who lay within the cave, whose labored breathing and smell of pain struck him like a blow as he paused in the entrance .He sighed and forced his feet to carry him to her side.
She was awake. Her eyes were half-closed in exhaustion, but she saw him at once as he stood over her.
If she had screamed, or gasped in fear, or flung out her hands to ward him off, something deep in his heart would have died, though he would not leave her when she needed him. But her eyes locked on his and, for an instant, were clear as she murmured his name “Luke.”
Then the rich depths of her eyes clouded and glazed over, her hand reaching out even as her head rolled back among the leaves. “Stay with me, Luke.” Her fingers clenched in his fur. “Stay with me.”
As her hand slid back he went with it, easing down beside her until the length of his body stretched out along the blankets. With infinite care he rested his head on her shoulder, her hand stroked over him once more as she sighed and turned into his warmth. He shivered from nose to tail at her touch.
There was nothing but waiting after that. Joey rested fitfully, falling into brief periods of sleep from which he woke her when they seemed deep enough to be dangerous. He took great care not to do more than nudge her gently, but she never seemed afraid, even in those few times when her eyes focused on his. It was as if she saw only his eyes and knew him with the instinctive understanding that linked them on a level beyond mere human senses.
The sound of human voices woke him from a light doze He lifted his head from Joey’s shoulder and called out, a bark in place of words. They heard and answered. With a shuddering sigh, he gathered his strength for the long run home.