"Says the guy who got kicked out."
"I wasn't kicked out."
"No, they just strongly suggested that Jeremy reconsider your readiness for school... and preferably find you another one to attend."
"Damned private schools. Elitist snobs."
"True. A public school would never get so worked up over a student dissecting the classroom guinea pig."
"It was already--"
"--dead. So I've heard. Which really wasn't the point."
"The point was that they failed to recognize my academic potential, and Logan is going to run into the same problems."
"We'll tell his teacher he's allergic to guinea pigs."
Clay let a branch fling back. I caught it before it hit my face.
"I'd agree," I said. "If Logan wasn't the one wanting to go to--"
Clay spun fast. I jumped, hands flying up, thinking he was goofing. Then I saw his face, rigid, as he stared out into the forest. A pair of eyes appeared from the darkness. Then another. And another.
"Shit," I said. "But we just heard them miles--That was another pack."
Clay stepped back toward me, my nylon coat whispering against his leather. I counted eleven pairs of eyes, and a couple more dark shapes farther back. A huge pack.
"Hear anything?" Clay asked.
He meant a growl or snarl, some warning of impending attack. But the wolves were silent, pale statues against the night, eyes glinting where the moonlight pierced the canopy.
"I think they'll leave us alone," Clay said.
"Just curious?"
He nodded and slipped behind me. "Keep walking. I'll keep a watch on the rear. No sudden moves or loud noises."
He knew I knew this--it was just his anxiety talking. For the first ten paces, the wolves stayed where they were. Then their eyes disappeared as they turned and started gliding along, still silent, keeping their distance, flanking us as we walked.
I'll never forget what that was like, the squeak of snow under my boots, adrenaline pumping so hard I didn't feel the cold, my breath coming in puffs, tiny clouds hanging in the air, the moonlight through the trees casting slices of light, the wolves gliding through them, then vanishing into the dark.
A wolf stopped in one of those moonlight slices. Its head swiveled as it looked the other way, deep into the forest. Another wolf stopped, then another, their gray shapes all turning.
One let out a low whine. Another growled. Clay tugged me back against him, his chin lifting, eyes searching, but the wolves paid us no attention. Then, on the wind, a scent whipped past, heavy and musky, the stink of it clinging to my throat.
Clay's face lifted, nostrils flaring. "What the hell is that?"
I took another sniff, but smelled only clean air now. The wolves hadn't budged. I swore I could feel their anxiety thrumming through the air.
The same wolf growled again. A bigger one twisted and snapped, like a grown-up telling a teenager to shut up. The younger wolf's ears lowered and his grumble vibrated across the air, but didn't rise to a growl again.
And then, as if in reaction to a command I couldn't hear, the wolves all turned and started to run, tearing back the way they'd come, paws pounding.
Only one remained--the wolf farthest from us, a dark shape I hadn't noticed hidden behind his lighter brethren. He stood his ground, hackles up, and even from here, I could hear the low warning growl.
The moon slid from behind wispy clouds, beaming light into the dark pockets between the trees, and I got a good look at him--not a black wolf but a dark red one, nearly twice the size of the others. It was the one I'd seen at the window. The wolf that I'd been sure, for a moment, wasn't a wolf at all.
Before I could say anything to Clay, a smaller gray wolf ran back, lunging and dancing in front of the dark wolf, then darting behind him and nipping at his heels. He looked out into the forest. The smaller wolf bumped him, whining. He snorted and turned toward us, green eyes meeting mine. Then he took off after the others.