TO CATCH A WOLF By Susan Krinard

Just as she finished speaking, the promised clowns arrived in the ring, accompanied by several dogs, a large ball, and objects as diverse as a trumpet and parasol. The leading clown, dressed in mismatched and exaggerated garments, had very white skin and hair that did not appear to be painted. He led the others in a series of tricks and pratfalls that had Athena laughing with far more abandon than she would have shown if her friends had been beside her.

The clowns bowed in Athena’s direction when their performance was finished, and after a pause, several handsome gray horses were led into the ring. Running lightly after them was Caitlin, with her mop of red hair. She held no whip, yet as soon as she entered the ring the horses fell into order and watched her every move with pricked ears.

“Caitlin is our equestrienne—our Lady Principal—but she has more than one skill,” Harry commented, beaming with pride. “She trains liberty horses and performs bareback riding. You will see an exhibition of her riding skills later. Such versatile performers are a great asset to a small troupe such as ours.”

Athena nodded, but her attention was on Caitlin. The girl was grace itself. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she stood at the center of the ring and gave brief commands to the caparisoned horses, which reared and danced and turned in an equine ballet.

Of all the things Athena might see in a circus, this was hardest. Once she had been as light on her feet as Caitlin.

Once she had ridden like the wind—and run faster. She felt her legs twitch, a moment of rare sensation, as they reacted in sympathy to the red-haired girl’s fluid motions.

Athena rested her hands in her lap and clasped them tightly. It was good that she should remind herself of what she could not have again. Years ago she had abandoned unrealistic hope, but every so often the old longing returned. As it had done, however briefly, in Morgan Holt’s company.

“She is truly amazing, Mr. French,” she said. “I compliment you on…” She lost the thread of her thoughts. A familiar, imposing figure had appeared across the ring, staring in her direction.

Morgan. Her heart soared to the top of the tent, and she knew if she were not very careful it would likely plummet to the ground most painfully.

Harry saw Morgan as well. He shifted in his seat and glanced at Athena. “Please continue to enjoy the show, Miss Athena,” he said. “If you will excuse me…” He heaved up from his chair and set out along the sawdust path that skirted the outside of the ring.

Athena tried to concentrate on Caitlin’s act, but her gaze sought Morgan across the ring as if some invisible wire connected them. She was hardly aware that one of Caitlin’s horses had begun to buck and plunge, surging away from the others.

Someone screamed. Athena turned her head just as the animal leaped the ring and charged straight at her.

Seconds passed as if they were minutes. Athena grasped the wheels of her chair and tried to make them move. She was not afraid. She looked calmly across the ring to where Morgan had been standing.

He was not there. He was already running into the ring, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in his wake. In mid-stride his body was lost in a dark blur, and when he hit the ground again he was no longer a man. Four large paws threw up sawdust as a great black wolf dashed after the panicky horse.

Athena had the fascinating sensation of floating, as if she had become an aerialist herself. The wolf put on a burst of incredible speed, overtook the horse just a few feet from Athena’s chair, and shouldered it aside. She could feel the rush of air as the wolf passed, hear its panting and the squeal of the horse.

Then she began to tremble. Raised voices faded in and out of her hearing. Only her vision remained sharp. With perfect clarity she saw Caitlin grab for the errant horse and take it in hand, watched the wolf skid to a stop and shake its dark coat. The unearthly mist surrounded it again, and when it cleared Morgan Holt stood in the wolf’s place.