Protector Panther (Protection, Inc 3)

An electric fence let out a low crackle and a smell of ozone. Roy tore toward it. He had no idea if he could jump high enough to clear it, but he’d rather die than be locked up forever. And now that he’d revealed what he was, they’d never let him go.

A dart hissed past his ear as he gathered his strength and leaped as high as he could. He cleared the fence and landed hard on the other side.

The shock of impact, in that unfamiliar body, sent him tumbling head over paws. When he finally fetched up in a heap, darts were hitting the ground all around him.

Lucky I rolled, he thought.

He gathered himself and leaped forward again. This time he landed smoothly. A forest was before him, dark and welcoming. He raced through it until all sounds and scents of pursuit were gone, and then he kept on running for the sheer joy of it.

In his wolf’s body, in this natural environment without electric lights or chemical smells or crowds of humans, he finally felt at ease. For the first time since he’d been wounded, his body was working as it should, strong and swift and without pain. Even as simple a movement as his paws striking the earth was a pleasure. It felt so much better to be a wolf than it did to be a human.

That thought gave him pause. What if he liked being a wolf so much that he stopped wanting to be a man?

He reached into himself, remembering the weight of his rucksack on his back, joking with his buddies, firing his SAW...

Roy stumbled, off-balance on two feet, and grabbed at a tree to stop from falling. He took a deep breath, focused on the rough texture of the bark under his fingers, and settled into his man’s body.

To his relief, the doctor’s clothes had come with him. To his greater relief, the moonlight didn’t hurt his eyes. The sounds and smells of the forest were distinct and noticeable, but not overwhelming. If he’d only been allowed into a natural environment earlier, he could have saved himself a whole lot of misery.

Remembering the tumble he’d taken, he checked himself for injuries. His knees and shoulders were bruised, and he’d strained his left wrist: nothing serious. Roy walked on, setting a brisk pace and taking care not to leave a trail.

For the first time, he examined the forest with a man’s mind, recognizing the landscape of huge gray boulders and enormously tall trees with corrugated, cinnamon-colored bark. He’d only been to northern California once, years ago, but he’d never forgotten the redwoods.

He wasn’t concerned about being alone in the wilderness with no supplies or weapons. He’d roughed it before. Weapons could be improvised, and food could be hunted or gathered.

The scents of rich earth and moss rose up with every footstep. Owls hooted, crickets chirped, and small animals rustled in the bushes. The moist dirt underfoot told him that water wouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t even need to make traps— as a wolf, he ought to be able to catch rabbits, maybe a deer.

His biggest concern, apart from pursuit, was the temperature. His breath condensed in puffs of mist, and the boulders were patched with frost. He didn’t feel cold, but that was probably because he’d exerted himself enough to work up a sweat. But as a wolf, he had a thick fur coat. If it got too cold, he’d change. He’d never heard of wolves getting hypothermia.

Wilderness survival was easy. But figuring out what he should do once he was out of the woods was much more complicated. It could have been months since his helicopter had been shot down. What did his team think had happened to him?

Even if they’re all still in-country, they’d never be okay with not hearing from me at all, Roy thought. They probably got told that I’m dead or MIA.

He hated to think how DJ must feel about that. It would just about kill Roy if he thought he’d done everything he’d could to save DJ and then learned that he’d died in the hospital, alone.

But now that Roy had revealed what he was, his captors would be after him for sure. They could have his entire unit’s phones and email tapped, waiting for Roy to contact one of them. He couldn’t risk getting in touch with anyone he knew until he learned more. He needed to find some safe place to lay low.

An odd feeling tugged at his mind, an inexplicable urge: That way.

That way didn’t look any different from any other way. But if he’d learned one thing in his years as a Marine, it was that funny little feelings were worth paying attention to.

Funny little feelings could mean that you’d noticed tiny clues, without even noticing that you’d noticed them, that meant that there was a bomb in the road, or that the innocent-looking civilian wasn’t innocent and wasn’t a civilian, or that the wild-eyed man trying to charge the roadblock was an innocent civilian who was trying to get help for his sick wife.

He’d travel faster as a wolf. And with no supplies of any kind, he’d probably sleep safer and enjoy eating raw rabbit more as a wolf, too.

Roy found his wolf. And loped off through the redwoods, heading that way.