Feral Northern Shifters 2

of them, because if they ever did scent Bram, they’d throw up a howl and he was to come immediately. Trey figured Ethan was the only one Bram would know, having never met Trey and having no reason to trust any of them. Rogue wolves had reason to give another group of wolves large berth. It was easy to get killed in these situations. But presumably Bram would be reassured by Ethan’s presence.
In truth, Ethan wasn’t entirely sure Bram would trust him, but he was willing to give it his best shot.
He still felt guilty that Bram had gone rogue after he’d freed Ethan, because he’d freed Ethan. It was one of the few things he shared with Trey—guilt. The werewolf felt he should have intervened in the Winter pack before. In fact, Trey thought he was responsible for the welfare of any and all shifters who’d ever existed, which was an interesting way to live, Ethan supposed, though hard to fathom. Ethan was used to living on his own, only responsible for himself.
Perhaps he’d been isolated too long.
Even now he was alone, but at least there were others in the vicinity. It was approaching dawn, and almost time for them to give up for the night like so many nights before, when the unexpected but hopedfor signal came—a long, low howl rose into the waning moonlight. Ethan went still, listening. When he had been chased, there’d been howls once he was cornered, usually a chorus of them. It had been their way of letting the pack know they had cornered their prey.
But Bram wasn’t prey. Still the resemblance was unsettling, and it was with a mixture of anticipation and dread that Ethan moved towards the howling wolf. He started out with a loping run and picked up speed until he was racing forward. Trees passed him by in a blur.
    At the howl Bram froze and reconsidered his next move. He’d come across the intruders’ scents the night before, but had managed, he thought, to elude them. Instead they had backtracked when he’d expected them to keep going east. He’d assumed they were passing through, and he hadn’t recognized any of their scents so they certainly weren’t some of his pack searching for him.
    However, that howl was a signal that something or someone had been found, and that someone was probably him, because it was from awfully close by.
There were potentially four wolves tracking him, but why? Strangers weren’t interested in rogue wolves unless they got in their face. Usually. Could Doug have hired someone to bring him in? The idea struck Bram as odd, given how Doug had tended to avoid non-pack wolves when possible. They were harder for him to control.
It was his own damn fault for coming back this way. It wasn’t that he intended to return to his pack. That would be foolish. But he’d disliked the heat that was settling in farther south where spring had already passed. So he’d headed back to the Midwest, even toying with going up into Canada. He felt a need for wide-open spaces, and they were easier to come by in the north. He probably should have headed north right from the get-go, but there hadn’t been a lot of thought involved in those first couple of months.
Those months as wolf had scared him enough that he’d forced himself to be human for a week and tried to think things through while he’d scavenged for food around some locked-up, years-abandoned shed. At that point he’d realized that he couldn’t face going entirely feral, that he wanted to try to find some balance on his own. Lone werewolves were rare, but they did exist.
The howl came again. Just one, calling to the others. Bram had planned to run, but if they were set on finding him, it was four against one, either in terms of tracking or a fight. He would face them.
It wasn’t a natural choice for an omega, but Bram wasn’t feeling natural or omega. Rather he felt reckless. Part of it, he knew, was a wolf’s desire not to be alone. Could he submit to being part of a pack again? He didn’t have high hopes they’d treat him well. People who hunted others usually didn’t. Still he would find out what the hell they wanted and try not to die in the process.
With that Bram trotted towards the howl. Maybe they would kill him, maybe they would maim him, maybe they would chase him off property they considered theirs.
Time to find out.
There was a breeze in the air this early morning, coming towards him from the wolf, blowing down the hill, and Bram used it to pick up any scents that might alert him to danger.
It was only